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Chapter Text

December 2nd, 1994 AD – Fuyuki City, Shinto District

In what seemed like the end of the world, a child walked through Hell.

Burning buildings and bodies surrounded him. Beneath his feet were scorched earth and broken stones, and above him a crimson sky illuminated by the baleful radiance of a black sun. There were screams, though the child did not see anyone else alive. All he could see where the corpses of the dead, charred black by the flames, burnt almost beyond recognition. The air was thick with smoke, and something else, something that burned the lungs and soul of the boy as he forced himself to keep walking, despite the pain, despite the grief, despite the horror.

This was not something a child could do, however. With every step, part of him was burned away, making him more and more hollow. His name was one of the first thing to go, followed by the names and faces of his family. He forgot who he was, and when those memories were gone, he began to lose emotions as well.

Some of these he abandoned in order to keep going : fear, sadness, horror. He threw them into the dark flames that burned around him, so that they would not overwhelm him and stop him walking. Others were lost as the flames that were not flames spread inside him, consuming parts of him just as they had consumed the bodies of the dead. Of these, hope was the last, burned by the fire that was not fire. Yet still, the child kept going, driven by a determination he could not understand.

In the end, it wasn't enough. The child had lost too much, sacrificed too much of himself to the inferno. His body still responded to his commands, but there simply wasn't a will left to drive it any longer. Why keep walking, why keep trying to survive ? Hollowed as he was, he couldn't think of any reason to not simply let go …

It was then that something else came, something beyond the flames and the devastation. Something which had been falling for a very long time, through time and space, drawn to the twisted light of this fire. Like the boy, it too was broken, having left much of itself behind as it tumbled through its own purgatory.

It had no flesh, no body, no presence in the material universe, for it was a thing of the spiritual realm. As it came in contact with the flames, it, too, began to burn, and despite the damage it had sustained, it retained more presence of mind than the boy still, and sought to escape the fire.

Seeking the closest place it could hide from the inferno, it burrowed into the boy's hollowed soul, seeping into the cracks of his spirit. In the supernatural heat of the cataclysm, the two damaged essences slowly alloyed together, and the boy took a deep, shuddering breath, twitching in pain as his lungs filled with the scorching air. Slowly, painfully, he forced himself back to his feet. Suddenly, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live, even though he had nothing left to live for.

But despite this sudden desire, in the end, his body was still that of a frail child. The heat and the smoke were too much, and he collapsed again. He crawled, on the ashes and the debris, no thought in his mind except to keep going. His limbs hurt so much, but he would not stop. He forgot about the flames, he forgot about the ruins, he forgot about the corpses. His world was reduced to the patch of broken ground in front of him, to the mechanical motion of pushing himself forward.

Then he felt something touch him, and he was lifted off the ground. He tried to cry out, to reach out to the scorched earth. How could he keep advancing if he couldn't touch the ground ?

His body turned, and he saw that he was held in the arms of a man, wearing a black coat covered in scratches and soot. He was looking at the boy, and as tears ran down his face, he was smiling. And that smile … the boy did not remember, but he felt that he should know … he should know what smiling meant …

Ah. Now he remembered. Happiness. That was what smiling meant, right ?

"I've got you," said the man. "Don't worry. You are safe."

He did not understand. He could not imagine what it would feel like, to smile like that. How could someone be so glad, so happy, just by having saved someone ? Something burned deep inside him, hotter even than the flames that had all but consumed him, and he wondered :

Could I smile like that, too ?

Time passed. To the boy, whose mind and body had been damaged so badly, it seemed to pass in a succession of flashes, stuttering forward before stopping.

The man who had found him in the flames, Kiritsugu Emiya, brought him to a hospital. The doctors didn't say it out loud, but the boy knew that they didn't expect him to survive. They still tried, though – they did what their duty, their oaths, compelled them to.

Later, the boy would look back upon it, and realize that they had been as desperate as Kiritsugu to save someone from the devastation. They bandaged his wounds and set up an IV drip to sustain him and ease the pain. They did other things, things that his hazy, empty mind did not recognize. But he knew it wasn't going to be enough. He could feel his body falling apart, unable to deal with the damage it had suffered.

He felt … angry. The thought that all he had gone through, that he had survived where so many others had died, only to die on a hospital bed … it angered him. It felt wrong, an affront to all those he had seen die in those flames. This, anger at the injustice of the universe, was the first emotion he felt since he had left all those pieces of himself behind amidst the flames. This wasn't fair, he knew. This wasn't right …

… But, once again, there was nothing he could do about it.

Time passed again, and he found himself laying on his bed at night, with Kiritsugu standing over him. The man visited him every day, but this time was different. In his hands, there was something golden, something which was turning into fine, shining particles, which sunk into the boy's body. He blinked, and time rushed in again, and it was daylight once more. He wasn't sure if that had actually happened. But he did feel that something had changed.

Whether it had or not, things did change after that. Slowly, the boy's perception of time corrected itself. His wounds, too, began to heal. Organs that had been almost cooked by the heat began to recover, and flakes of his skin fell off, revealing red, raw replacement in the places where the flames had touched him directly.

Several weeks after the dream of gold that might not have been a dream, the boy was told by the doctors that they now expected him to make a full recovery. What they did not tell him, but he heard anyway, was that no one else from the center of the cataclysm had survived. He heard the doctors and the nurses whisper of what a miracle his survival was.

This too wasn't fair, thought the boy. He had lost so much, cast away so many parts of himself, and yet in the end, if it hadn't been for that miracle, he would have died anyway. If miracles were real, then why hadn't a miracle come for all those other people who had been in the fire ? Why just him ?

Kiritsugu told the boy that there hadn't been any sign of his family. He told him that, if he wanted, he could adopt him, and continue to take care of him once he got out of the hospital.

The boy accepted. He wanted to remain near Kiritsugu. Perhaps if he did, he would learn more about the miracle that had saved him. More importantly, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he would understand how the man had been able to smile like he had when he had found him.

After completing the required paperwork, Kiritsugu gave the boy a new name, "Shirou". He took his new son home, and the slow, painful process of rehabilitation began.

"You are a wizard ?" asked Shirou to his father.

The two of them were sitting outside, watching the night sky. They did that often, even though it was getting cold – neither of them were disturbed by the lower temperatures.

"Yes," answered the older man. He had been the one to bring up magic, simply telling Shirou that he knew it straight out of the blue as they were stargazing. "Though the word 'magus' is preferred, and I hardly qualify as one in the first place."

Shirou pondered this new information. It had been six months since Kiritsugu had adopted him, and though he was getting better, it was still painfully obvious, even to himself, that his mental faculties had yet to recover from his ordeal. Slowly, deliberately, he put the pieces together.

"When I was in the hospital, and the doctors thought I was going to die," he said at last. "I woke up one night, and you were putting something golden inside me. Was that magic ?"

Kiritsugu nodded, looking lightly surprised that Shirou remembered it. "They were right : you were going to die. I … didn't want that to happen. I couldn't let it happen. So I used my magic to make sure you would survive. That's also why I thought you should know about it. The method I used to help you get back to health may have long-term consequences."

"What was that method ? That golden thing … what was it ?"

"It was Avalon, the scabbard of King Arthur. When worn by the King of Knights, it granted its owner agelessness, immunity to all diseases, and a prodigious regeneration. Since you are not King Arthur, it will never work at that level for you, but it is still powerful enough that it could repair the damage you had suffered before I found you."

Shirou spent a long time mulling over what his father had told him. Eventually, he asked :

"Can you teach me magic ?"

"Shirou …" Kiritsugu sighed. Evidently, he had known where that conversation might go. "To be a magus is to walk with death. Every use of magecraft carries the risk of death or injury. I don't even know if I could teach you, but I don't think I should. It will not bring you happiness, that's for sure … And furthermore, most magi … aren't good people. To them, the only thing that matters is the pursuit of knowledge, the discovery of new mysteries – that's how spells are called – and the mastery of the existing ones. They don't care if they hurt or even kill others. And you … magic cost you your parents, Shirou. It was magic that caused the fire, magic that nearly killed you."

Shirou wasn't sure, but he was quite certain this was not a conversation a responsible adult would have with a seven-years old (if that was Shirou's age : they couldn't know for certain). But then again, neither he nor Kiritsugu were normal people. He knew that much, at least.

"But you saved me with it," argued Shirou. "That means it can be used for good, right ?"

"I suppose so," Kiritsugu grudgingly admitted. His face took on a wistful expression, as if he were looking at something far, far away, that only he could see. "In the end, it's just a tool. How you use it is up to you. It's just that most people who practice it tend to abandon their morals very quickly."

"Then please, teach me."

"Why are you so insistent ?" sighed Kiritsugu.

"Because … because I want to be like you, dad. I want to save people, just like you did with me !"

Kiritsugu smiled again. But this time, his smile was far more bitter than the first time Shirou had seen him.

"You don't want to be like me, kid. Trust me. I wanted to save people, too, when I was your age. But in the end, you can only save so many. There will always be those you cannot save, and it will eat at you from the inside … I don't want you to make my mistakes, Shirou."

"Even if you cannot save everyone, you should still try," argued Shirou. "And saving one person is still better than none, isn't it ? Otherwise, why did you save me to begin with ?"

Kiritsugu looked shaken for a moment, then he smiled again, more softly this time.

"Fine," he sighed. "You win. I will teach you what I know, for what it's worth."

Kiritsugu Emiya sat in his garden, watching the stars and knowing he was going to die.

Of course, that knowledge wasn't exactly new to the retired assassin. From the moment he had stumbled away from the Grail, his body and Magic Circuits poisoned by the spiteful curse of the corrupt thing that had infected the artefact, he had known his days were numbered. Now, however, he had entered the final stretch of his miserable life.

There were methods that he could have employed to prolong his life : a lifetime of wandering in the dark places of the Moonlit World had left him with plenty of contacts, though he had burned most of the favors he had been owed in the preparations leading to the Grail War. Still, he could have found someone who could have bought him a little more time … but at what cost ?

When he had told Shirou that magi weren't nice people, he hadn't been so much understating the truth as outright lying to the boy. There were decent people among magi, that was true. But the overwhelming majority of them were somewhere between psychopaths and outright monsters. He should know : his father had been one of the latter category. Somehow, Kiritsugu doubted that any method of countering the Grail's curse wouldn't come with a cost he refused to pay.

He had committed too many sins, killed too many people. If this slow death was his punishment, then he couldn't argue that it was a deserved and just one. It would almost be enough to make him believe in karma, if he hadn't seen the things he had seen.

But if the curse was his punishment for the lives he had taken, then perhaps Shirou was his reward for those he had saved, he sometimes thought to himself. Not that raising Shirou had been easy. Admittedly, Kiritsugu's only experience with parenthood had been Illya (god how he missed his daughter), and she had been the daughter of a homunculus created to serve as a Lesser Grail. But even he knew children were bundles of instinct and energy, whose parents had the job of teaching, by example and by lecturing over the course of several years, how to function in society.

However, Shirou's instincts had been lost in the fire, and the kid had had to rebuild the whole model for his behaviour. Where other humans had a selfish core paved over with the laws of civilization, Shirou was his ideals. Helping others was his default action in all circumstances, and while it had made for interesting parent-teacher conferences, it worried Kiritsugu. A lot.

He had trained Shirou in magecraft because he had been terrified the boy would have tried it on his own otherwise, a recipe for disaster if ever there was one. Given that the brat had tried to use his own nervous system as an improvised Magic Circuit the first time Kiritsugu had had him perform the most rudimentary form of magecraft, the dying man shuddered to imagine what could have happened then. It was unlikely Shirou would have survived for long before accidentally frying his own brain trying to perform something other magi would have considered the simplest feat of magecraft.

Using a combination of simple spells and one of the few Mystic Codes he had kept from his time as the Magus Killer, Kiritsugu had identified Shirou's Element and Origin after the boy had learned to activate his Magic Circuits properly. To his surprise, the boy was an Incarnation : both Element and Origin were the same, in this case, "Sword".

Considering what was implanted within the boy and what had happened to him, Kiritsugu supposed that wasn't impossible. All that Shirou had been had been melted down, and by placing Avalon within him, Kiritsugu had unintentionally provided a cast for the boy's nature. Perhaps Avalon was also partly responsible for Shirou's behavior, an echo of the scabbard's former owner influencing his development. Kiritsugu could only hope Shirou wouldn't end up like her.

Being an Incarnation was incredibly rare, and it meant that training Shirou had been even more difficult than Kiritsugu had anticipated. The Magus Killer had never been a master of Magecraft, and what passed for his own mysteries were bastardized versions of the Emiya's bloodline's secrets combined with what he had gleaned from other freelancers during his career. In addition, with his crippled Magic Circuits, he had been unable to demonstrate anything for Shirou to learn from.

As a result, by the standards of the Clocktower, Shirou's abilities as a magus were just short of abysmal. He had a knack for, of all things, structural grasping, and was at a base level of competence at Projection and reinforcement. Shirou's Incarnation status meant that he could Project (though the boy stubbornly kept calling the process "Tracing") bladed objects much more easily than anything else, and to a much greater level of detail. For now, the kid was limited to kitchen knives, but he had already expressed interest in learning how to use real swords.

That wasn't so bad, but it was his iron-clad morals that would forever keep him from being first-rate in the eyes of London's self-styled elite. Shirou would never accept harming anyone else in pursuit of greater mysteries – not when the sole purpose behind him learning Magecraft in the first place was to help other people. Which was perfectly fine as far as Kiritsugu was concerned.

The issue, of course, was that Shirou was still entirely too willing to hurt himself in order to further his mastery of Magecraft. Kiritsugu had lost count of how many times the boy had damaged his body by over-reinforcing it. If not for Avalon granting him the ability to heal from pretty much anything eventually, the former Magus Killer was dreadfully certain that his son would have either killed or crippled himself long ago.

Of course, knowing that he could recover from injury faster than other people hadn't helped the boy's willingness to put himself at risk. That regrettable tendency was why Kiritsugu had left Avalon within his son, despite the effects it had had on his development. He had spoken to Shirou at length about the scabbard's properties, explaining to his son that while it could heal him beyond the means of modern medicine, it could do nothing for him if he was dead, and there were definitively limits to its regenerative abilities.

In the last months, he had also forced Shirou to swear to him to be more careful, knowing that he would not be there to take care of his son's messes much longer. Avalon may heal him, but it didn't erase the medical records that showed his injuries or make the doctors forget that he should have taken months to recover. The kid was terrible at hypnosis, although Kiritsugu's lacklustre teaching was probably to blame for that one rather than Shirou's own deficiencies.

He could make someone forget what had happened in the last hour or so and leave them to wake up with a massive headache, but that was about it. They had been forced to halt that training when the last of Kiritsugu's magical abilities had left, since he could no longer erase the memories of the vagrants they had used for training. And by the Root, what a challenge it had been to convince Shirou that was necessary … he had been forced to spend a good chunk of money on help to the homeless to assuage the boy's conscience, even after explaining to him that knowing how to erase memories would one day allow him to save someone's life.

Kiritsugu had also taught Shirou enough of Magus culture to make sure that the boy knew that he had to keep away from the Clocktower. He had revealed enough of his own past, keeping the sordid details to himself. Shirou knew that the name of Emiya was infamous in the Moonlit World, and that if he ever walked there, he would have to watch his back for his father's enemies. He had also told him of the inhumane methods far too many of the magi were willing to use : if Shirou's nature as an Incarnation were discovered without someone ridiculously high placed to protect him, his fate would be too terrible to contemplate.

Often, looking at Shirou, Kiritsugu felt like he was watching a younger version of himself as he had wanted to be. The boy spent every moment not dedicated to chores, his education or his Magecraft training himself in other ways, building his muscles and stamina. Shirou wanted to make sure that, if someone needed help, he could give it to them.

But while the core principles of Kiritsugu and Shirou were the same, the boy could not even conceive of the path the Magus Killer had walked. Despite all that he had endured, despite the horrors he had witnessed, Shirou was too pure, too innocent. Kiritsugu could only hope that life would be kinder to his son than it had been to him, and would not shatter that innocence too cruelly. Every time he saw Shirou risk himself to help someone, he prayed to gods he no longer believed in that his son may be spared of the path he himself had walked to its bitter end.

At least he would die knowing that his son wouldn't repeat his greatest mistake. There would be no more attempts to recreate the Heaven's Feel in Fuyuki, he had made sure of it. The Heaven's Feel, the attempt by some of the greatest magus families to reclaim a lost Sorcery, would be brought to an end, not in an epic confrontation between god-like Servants, not by a Master finally winning the damn thing, but because of the machinations of a dying mercenary with no magic left in his body but the curse killing him. Serve the Einzbern right for stealing his daughter from him and refusing to respond to his warnings about their masterpiece's corruption.

Of course, it was unlikely his daughter would even be alive in fifty years, when the magus families would expect the next Grail War to take place. He had known from the moment Illyasviel had been born that she wouldn't live long, and what the Einzbern had done to her in that accursed castle had only shortened her lifespan …

His gaze came down from the stars as he heard something crack. The tea cup he had been holding was starting to break in his grip as he subconsciously tightened his hands into fists. He forced himself to take a deep breath and relax, ignoring the pain that flared within his lungs at the action. He couldn't save Illya. He had tried, several times, and each of his failures had brought him a little closer to death. Now … he probably wouldn't even survive the flight to Germany.

"Dad ? Is everything okay ?"

Shirou's voice, coming from the kitchen behind him, caught Kiritsugu by surprise. He turned to see his son standing there, looking at him with worried eyes. He must have heard the sound of the cup cracking.

"Yes, everything is fine. Come." Kiritsugu patted the wood next to him. "Sit."

Putting the dish he had finished cleaning into the cupboard, Shirou walked to Kiritsugu's side and sat down, looking at him with curiosity battling worry in his eyes.

"Do you remember where I found you ?"

The boy nodded. Of course he remembered. He would probably never forget what he had seen, what he had experienced. Another sin to add to the list by which the Magus Killer was damned.

"I told you once that the fire was caused by Magecraft. I think … I think it's time I tell you a bit more about what happened."

"There is a ritual that is called Heaven's Feel, but is more commonly known as the Holy Grail War. It takes place in Fuyuki, and pitches seven magi against each other in a death match. Every participant is called a Master, and controls a Servant, a humanoid familiar created from the legendary heroes of the past. The last magus standing will claim the Holy Grail, an artefact that can supposedly grant any wish made upon it … Or at least, that was the idea. When I heard about it, it was like all my prayers had been answered. I thought that, with it, I could change the entire world, make it a place where no one had to suffer, no one had to be unhappy. A place without violence."

For all his issues, Shirou wasn't an idiot. "So … what went wrong ?"

He told him. He didn't go into too much detail – he didn't tell him the names of all the Servants involved, nor the existence of Irisviel or Illya (he could just imagine Shirou storming the gates of the Einzbern Castle and getting slaughtered by homunculi guards). But he told him about the mechanisms of the Grail War, about the battles that had been fought between superhuman Servants, and the destruction they had caused. He told him about how, against the expectations of the high-born magi of the Clocktower, he had managed to claim victory in the War. He told him of the Grail – and, at the end, of the lie it had been.

"The Grail was – is – corrupted," he explained. Again, he kept the details to himself – there was no need for Shirou to know about the thing that had dwelled within the Grail. The kid had enough nightmare fuel in his own memories, and anyway, he himself had never learned just what that thing had been, or how it had ended up in the Grail. "I am not sure whether it would ever have worked as intended, but now, it is only a monkey's paw …"

He stopped, realizing that Shirou had no idea what the expression meant.

"I mean, it will twist any wish made upon it to cause as much destruction and suffering as possible. When it activated at the end of the War, I realized that all that I had done to claim it, all that I had sacrificed in the hope of getting my wish, was in vain. I ordered my Servant to destroy it before it could destroy the world … and that destruction caused the fire in which I found you. Even to this day, the strength of the curse that was unleashed then lingers in Fuyuki Central Park, just as it does within my own body."

Even after five years, it was difficult to keep his voice from breaking as he remembered.

"You did the right thing, dad." He blinked, forcing back tears. Shirou was looking up at him, his hands around Kiritsugu's trembling own.

"How can you say that ?" he choked out. "If I hadn't -"

"If you hadn't been there," said Shirou far too calmly and reasonably for a child his age, "if you hadn't taken part in the War, then it would still have happened, right ?"

He was forced to nod. The Heaven's Feel would have found seven participants regardless of his presence in Fuyuki.

"And if you hadn't been here," pressed Shirou, "someone else would have ended up winning and facing the Grail. If that person was a magus like the ones you described to me, what would they have done ?"

Kiritsugu smiled bitterly. This wasn't a new argument to him. He had known for a long time that, had he not participated in the Grail War, things would likely have ended up much, much worse. The Einzbern would have found another representative : likely a typical magus who wouldn't have cared for the corruption of the Grail, only that it could provide them with a path to the Root.

And the thing he had seen would have been capable of such a thing … but the cost would have been astronomical. He very much doubted there would have been anyone left alive on the planet afterwards. Irisviel would still have died, turned into the receptacle for the prana of the Heaven's Feel. Illya … never would have been born at all.

A detestable part of him wondered if that wouldn't have been kinder that the life his daughter had ended up with.

"See ? Because you were there, because you fought for what you believed in, you ended up stopping an even bigger evil from happening."

"Even so," he said, "just because things could have been worse does not absolve me of my crimes. There is always a worse scenario, and it is never an acceptable excuse."

"So what ? We should just give up ? Do nothing, because anything we do could have bad results ?"

"No, but we all have to live with the guilt and the knowledge that while things may have been worse, they could also have been better … and maybe we have to accept that sometimes, no matter what we do, the result may end up the same."

It was something he had come up with in his ruminations on the Grail War. Thinking back, his victory had been all but a miracle. Sure, he had been more prepared to actually fight in a war than most of the other participants, his professional methods giving him an edge over those who relied on their mysteries in battles involving Servants who were so far beyond modern Magecraft it may as well not concern them at all. And he had had Artoria to help him, even if she had been … difficult to work with.

But.

The fact that the city, that the world had survived the Fourth Grail War, was nothing short of miraculous, and Kiritsugu had long stopped to believe in miracles, before the possibility of winning the Grail had led him into deceiving himself that his ideals may actually be accomplished, after all.

Why had the Einzbern, known for their pride in simply growing the people they needed, called upon a disreputable mercenary to be their champion in the Grail War ?

Why had the one meant to be sacrificed to host the Grail's power developed a mind and heart of her own, falling in love with one of the Masters and reawakening the humanity he had long since cast away ?

Why had Rider's Master been a boy with no idea how to fight in the Grail War, rather than a callous magus who would have been able to compel the Servant's obedience and make full use of his Noble Phantasm ?

Why had the Grail chosen a random serial killer as a Master, resulting in Blue Beard of all people being summoned and leading to his first suspicions that not all was well with the Grail ?

Why had Archer held back so much instead of crushing them all with his overpowered Noble Phantasms, claiming the Grail and unleashing its horrors upon the world ?

Why had he, the one Master whose pride and ambition were the least likely to be willing to ignore the Grail's corruption and claim the prize no matter the cost, been the one in a position to destroy it ?

There was a painfully obvious answer to those questions, one that had come to Kiritsugu mere months after the end of the Grail War. Counter Force. Alaya's instrument, the collective will of Mankind to protect itself by making small changes that resulted in disasters being averted.

He would not – could not – tell that to Shirou, though. Knowledge of the Counter Force was a poison. It led to paranoia, to self-doubt and existential crises. Shirou had enough problems without being forced to question whether his own actions were being manipulated by an unknowable entity.

It did haunt him, though. Just how in control of his actions had he really been during the War ?

Shirou's face hardened. Though the boy was far more reasonable than any other child his age Kiritsugu knew, there was steel laying just under the surface. It took a lot to reveal it, but Kiritsugu's defeatist words had been enough.

"I refuse to believe that, dad. What we choose to do matters. No matter the consequences."

There it was. The one thing that worried the Magus Killer most about his son, during the dark of the sleepless, pain-filled nights. Sometimes, when Shirou discussed his ideals, his determination to save others as he had been saved, Kiritsugu would catch a glimpse of something in his son's eyes. He could never identify what it was, but it was there, and it made him very, very worried. Somehow, his instincts screamed at him, whatever it was he saw would play a huge part in whatever future awaited his son.

"Perhaps you are right," he sighed, looking back up at the stars. They shone, just as they had when he and Irisviel had looked at them together for the first time, in the cold gardens of the Einzbern castle. Was there anything up there, he wondered, that cared for their fates ?

He doubted it.

"I have taken steps to ensure that the Grail War can never happen again," he continued. "I have set explosive charges along the ley lines that will detonate in about twenty years, severing the flow of energy necessary for the ritual to take place. They are buried deep enough and are well hidden that no one will be able to find them without knowing where they are, and I haven't told anyone. When the charges explode, the Grail will be cut off from the land, and it will wither and disappear long before anyone notices, taking its corruption along with it.

"Still, if you are in Fuyuki in, say, fifty to sixty years, when the next Grail War is supposed to happen, you better be careful. There will be an investigation by the families that set up the Grail War, and they won't be happy when they discover my sabotage. Come to think of it, you should probably make sure not to be anywhere near this town at that time. Having the name 'Emiya' will paint a target on your back. And don't think that you need to stay there to make sure that the investigators don't hurt anyone while looking for you, alright ? Unless you are willing to surrender to them – and you better not, or I swear I will find a way to return from the grave to make you regret it – that would only result in a conflict that would cause far more damage than they would if left on their own."

"I understand," answered Shirou, his head bobbing up and down, eyes wide at his father's sudden seriousness. He didn't, and likely never would, but Kiritsugu was fairly certain he would obey. He glanced at the clock, and frowned. It was already past ten o'clock, and Shirou had school tomorrow.

"Go to bed, Shirou."

"Okay." He paused. "Don't stay out too late, alright ? It's getting cold at night."

Kiritsugu absent-mindedly nodded. After Shirou had left, he took another sip from the cracked cup. In the night sky above, the light of distant stars continued to shine, indifferent as ever to the struggles of those who lived on the Earth.

The tea, brewed by Shirou – it had been months since the last time the boy had allowed his father to enter the kitchen – had grown cold. Even so, it still tasted really nice.

A few days after that conversation between father and son beneath the stars, Kiritsugu died. Shirou found him one morning, sitting in his chair facing the window, his eyes closed, his expression peaceful.

Shirou, for all his many issues, wasn't an idiot. He had known Kiritsugu's health had been deteriorating since the man had adopted him. He had seen the twitches, the trembling hands, the times his father had needed to stop what he was doing and wait for a sudden surge of pain to pass.

He still cried.

The funeral was taken care of by the Emiya's neighbours, the Fujimura family. Shirou knew that his dad had some kind of accord with the Fujimura patriarch, Raiga, who was the leader of the local Yakuza gang. His granddaughter, Taiga, was named as Shirou's guardian in Kiritsugu's will – and, thanks to Raiga pulling some strings, the young, wild woman was actually granted the guardianship without issues despite the fact that no judge in his right mind would have even considered it.

Time passed. Shirou went to school, grew up, continued to practice his Magecraft and train his body. As he grew up, he began to practice his beliefs, helping many people across Fuyuki, though never in as dramatic a fashion as he had been helped by Kiritsugu. In his school and in the town, he grew a reputation as a good, helpful boy, always willing to help others. With the unspoken protection of the Fujimura group, no one dared try to mess with him – at least no more than once.

No one other than Kiritsugu saw whatever it was the Magus Killer had glimpsed into Shirou's eyes that frightened him so much for his son's future …

… But it was still there.

Chapter Text

Fire.
Pain.
His skin cracks from the heat.
The reek of burned flesh fills his nose.
The screams of the dying echo in his skull.
In the distance looms a dark tower, radiating its evil upon the ruined land.
Is it … laughing ?
He forces himself to walk, his tearful eyes taking in vision after vision of horror ...
… The fire fades.
The smoke turns into mist, which dissipates to reveal a forest of dark trees that stretch up and up, blocking all sunlight.
The pain vanishes from his body, replaced by tension.
His heart beats in his chest, lightning-quick.
He knows he is not alone ...
He feels the hot breath of a monster on his neck, and turns to face it, raising a sword he does not remember drawing -

November 28th, 2002 AD – Emiya residence

Golden eyes snapped open as Shirou woke up, drenched in cold sweat, the image of the beast his dream-self had been about to face already fading from his mind. The reality of his room crashed back into focus, banishing the last remnants of his nightmare clinging to his awareness. For a moment, he remained immobile, taking deep breaths and waiting for his racing heart to slow down. Once he no longer felt on the verge of cardiac arrest, he focused on his tensed muscles and forced them to relax. Only when he knew he wasn't at risk of a nasty cramp did he rise from his futon and begin his morning routine, his mind still trying to make sense of his dream.

After leaving him alone for a long time, the nightmares had returned since Kiritsugu's death, seemingly stronger than ever. At first, there had only been memories of the fire – ashes and burnt flesh, red sky and a black sun hanging overhead – but then the other, even stranger images had started to creep in – strange shapes darting in the mist, furtive silhouettes hiding in the shadows …

He had no idea where they came from. As far as he remembered, he had never been in a forest like the one in his nightmares. He had even done some research, and it didn't look like any forest in Japan. The trees weren't of any breed he could find in the books, and the beasts – when he managed to remember anything about them beyond a sense of wrongness – were anatomically impossible. Scales and fur met along random lines across their enormous bodies, and mouths with fangs too large to be able to close flowed with venom … the only thing he could imagine them to be were the ancient Magical Beasts that had roamed over the Earth long ago, in the long-gone Age of Gods.

Even the sword he wielded in those dreams was strange. Where the rest of his nightmares were mercifully vague upon waking, that weapon was burned into his mind with perfect clarity. More research had shown that it was of western make, but again, Shirou had never seen a weapon like that before. So were those dreams simply the product of his imagination, or some lingering memory of his life before the fire that his mind was trying to complete with pieces of his Magecraft-related lore ? The doctors had told him that there was very little chance that he would ever recover his memories from before his adoption.

Of course, the most obvious source for these dreams was Avalon. The scabbard was still implanted inside him, and he had no idea how to remove it, or even if it could be. But the forest of his dreams was unlike any of England, and the sword certainly wasn't Excalibur. Even if it were, how …

"SHIROU !"

The shout drew his attention away from his ruminations. He recognized the voice, and it nearly made him panic as he realized the nightmare had made him rise from bed far later than he thought.

"I am coming, Fuji-nee !" he replied, putting on the last of his clothes. His nightmares could wait : the Tiger of Fuyuki needed to be fed.

In the three years since Kiritsugu had died, the now-fifteen years old Shirou must have cooked breakfast for Taiga Fujimura hundreds of times, to the point that he was confident he could do it in his sleep if needed. His big sister and guardian came to the Emiya residence almost every morning, fully expecting Shirou to treat her to another chief-class breakfast. The teenager put up with it because he liked to cook for other people, because he liked Taiga, and because even he could recognize a cause that doomed when he saw one.

"Hello, Fuji-nee," he said as he entered the main room. "Hello, Sakura."

"Good morning, Shirou !"

"Hello, Senpai."

The purple-haired girl standing in the kitchen smiled as she saw him approach.

"Sorry, Senpai," she said in an apologetic tone. "I started without you."

"That's not a problem. It was probably a good idea anyway."

"Are you okay ? Usually, you are ready before I arrive …"

"It's nothing. I just had a nightmare."

She stared at him a bit longer, trying to decide whether he was putting on a strong front or not. Eventually, whatever she saw must have satisfied her, and she turned back to her cooking.

Falling into the familiar routine, the two of them quickly prepared breakfast with the sound of the TV in the background. Taiga had tried to help prepare breakfast once – once being the operative word. She hadn't been quite as bad as Kiritsugu, but that was such a low bar to clear as to be meaningless. Shirou had made it clear after that that barring extreme circumstances such as severe illness on his part or the end of the world, Taiga wasn't welcome in his kitchen.

Sakura hadn't been good either at the start, but unlike Taiga, she had been willing to learn. After a year, she wasn't at Shirou's level yet, but she could help him, and even cook on her own to Taiga's lofty standards when it came to Emiya cuisine.

The three of them ate together, before Taiga left for her job at the city's high school and Shirou and Sakura began walking together to the middle-school where the two of them were students. They were all going almost to the same place – Homurahara Academy provided education from elementary school to high-school, though in separate buildings – but as a junior assistant teacher, Taiga needed to arrive early to prepare for the day.

The November air was cold, only beginning to warm up under the rays of the sun. The two teenagers walked quietly side by side. In the year since they had first properly met, they had grown comfortable with each other's presence.

Shirou remembered how he had first met Sakura. She had been looking up at him from the floor of a grocery store, staring at him without any emotion while he held the fire extinguisher he had just used to clobber a would-be robber into unconsciousness. The criminal had been on the run after his gang had been crushed by the Fujimura Group and had needed some quick cash. Unfortunately for him, he had chosen to rob the very store where Shirou had been buying food that day.

Seeing Sakura in shock, Shirou had asked her where she lived so that he could escort her home … but the suggestion had only resulted in her showing emotion for the first time – fear. Somehow, he had ended up bringing her home with him, given her some hot tea and called Taiga for help. It had been an … interesting conversation with his guardian, but he had managed to convince her he hadn't had any nefarious intention for the girl sitting in his living room. Taiga had called Sakura's family to inform them of the situation, and after dinner, her grandfather had come to pick her up.

Apparently, Sakura's father, Byakuya Matou, had died not long before, and Sakura was still distraught. Shirou had made sure to tell Sakura that she was welcome in his home whenever she wanted, and the very next day, Sakura had turned up on Shirou's doorstep in the evening, asking if he could teach her to cook. Things had grown from that point until Sakura came to the Emiya residence almost every morning to help cook breakfast, and often in the evenings as well.

Shirou didn't know for sure why the girl chose to spend so much time in his house, but as they reached the gates of Homurahara Academy, he was fairly confident that one of the reasons was waiting for them.

Shinji Matou didn't look happy to see his sister come to school with his friend – but then again, Shinji rarely looked happy, except when he was flirting with a girl – or several. The blue-haired teenager was well known as the school's playboy, seducing and dumping girls after a few weeks – and yet somehow there were always more willing to let themselves fall for him. Shirou was baffled by it all, and he could understand if Sakura didn't want to spend much time in her family home. Shinji was always boasting about bringing his latest conquest home … though strangely, his relationships always tended to end not long after. There had even been a few cases of the girl in question leaving Fuyuki altogether, though Shinji's involvement had never been proven.

"Here is your bento, Onii-sama," said Sakura, handing over a wrapped lunch to Shinji. He took it with a scowl before turning away and going inside without saying a single word. Shirou sighed, and at his side, Sakura's shoulders slumped. Her relationship with her brother … wasn't the best. Part of him felt guilty for knowing that it had only gotten worse since Sakura had begun coming to his house – but he would not turn her away, even when Shinji had demanded it of him.

"Hello, Emiya-kun, Sakura-chan," came a feminine voice from behind him. "You shouldn't waste your time on him, you know."

"Hello, Tohsaka," greeted Shirou as he turned back, followed by Sakura's own mumbled greeting. For some reason he had never been able to find out, the purple-haired girl seemed to dislike Shirou's classmate. It couldn't be jealousy : while Rin Tohsaka was considered the most beautiful girl in their school according to what Shinji had told him, he didn't think Sakura's own beauty was inferior in any way. Maybe the older girl just rubbed Sakura wrong.

Shirou was always cautious when around Rin Tohsaka. He knew she was a magus, and he was fairly certain she didn't know he was one : like his father had told him, he was very careful to keep his hidden talents secret. Not that Tohsaka was any slouch in that department : the only reason Shirou knew she was a magus was because Kiritsugu had told him that the Tohsaka family were the Second Owners of Fuyuki, the magi responsible for the territory in the eyes of the Mage Association.

Rin Tohsaka didn't resemble the picture of a typical magus that Kiritsugu had painted for him. While not exactly approachable, she was always polite, and was one of their year's top students. He was also fairly certain she didn't have a basement full of the corpses of her experiment victims.

"He's just a prat," continued Rin, glaring toward the direction Shinji had left. Her distaste for Shinji had been known across the Academy since she had very publicly rejected his advances. "And you shouldn't waste your time cooking for him if he isn't even going to thank you, Sakura."

"For all his flaws, Shinji is my friend," he intervened, sheepishly, "and Sakura's brother. Please don't say that sort of things about him …"

Rin shook her head, letting a glimmer of frustration enter her voice. "He is a pervert and a playboy," she said, and neither Shirou nor Sakura could deny it. "You shouldn't make excuses for him ..."

"Senpai," Sakura raised her voice, "the bell is about to ring. We need to get to our classrooms ..."

"Ah," realized Shirou, noticing the time. "You are right. Well, see you at lunch, Sakura."

"Yes," replied the younger girl, smiling at him. "Have a nice day, Tohsaka-senpai."

Rin looked between the two of them before sighing and giving up.

"Fine, fine. You are right. Let's get to class."

Following Shinji, the three of them passed through the gate leading to the middle-school section of Homurahara Academy. After they entered the building, Shirou and Sakura parted ways, the latter going to her classroom on the first floor while Shirou followed Rin to the second, taking care to keep enough distance between them that no one would think they were walking together. He had already made that mistake once, and explaining to the girl's rabid fans it had just been a coincidence they had met at the school's entrance wasn't worth the effort. Thankfully, they weren't in the same class, so doing so didn't risk him arriving late.

Reaching the classroom for the class 1-C with only a few moments to spare, Shirou greeted his classmates and sat down, prepared for another day of Japanese education.

"That is all for today's lesson. I know the week-end is coming up, but you still have class tomorrow, so remember to do all your homework. Issei-kun, if you would ?"

"Yes, sensei," answered Issei Ryuudou, the class representative. "Everyone, stand … bow."

"Emiya-kun. You are going to that bar again ?" asked Issei as Shirou gathered his things.

"It's a diner," the redhead replied defensively, "not a bar. And yes, I am."

"You do know our school doesn't allow us to have part-time jobs, right ?" said Issei, pushing his glasses up with a long-suffering look.

"It's not a part-time job," protested Shirou. "I am just helping a friend of my sister move some boxes around. I am not paid or anything."

"That may be so," sighed Issei, "but while you are technically in the clear according to the letter of the rules, you are definitely breaking their spirit. The prohibition of part-time jobs isn't just because of under-age labour laws. It's also so that we can focus on our studies. And whether you are paid or not, you are still spending time there that should be used learning and doing homework … not to mention the fact that, regardless of what you claim, I know for a fact this place also serves alcohol."

"As long as I keep up my grades, I don't see the problem," pointed out Shirou.

Issei sighed again. It was something he often did when talking with Shirou. As the heir of the Ryuudou Temple, Issei was already training to be a monk, and he was fond of saying that dealing Shirou was testing his patience more than any trial his father had set upon him.

But Shirou had a point, and he knew it. While not an academic prodigy, Shirou was still within the top ten percent students of his year. In mathematics, his scores had even surpassed those of Issei himself on a couple occasions … and the only reason the class representative hadn't taken it badly was that Shirou had also beaten his nemesis Rin Tohsaka at the same time. The look of utter shock and disbelief on the girl's face when the test results had been displayed had been more than enough to dispel any discontent on Issei's part. It had also resulted in some of the girl's admirers stupidly thinking that hurting him could earn them her favor … but that wasn't important.

"Just make sure not to go home too late," Issei surrendered. "Like sensei said, just because it's Friday tomorrow is no reason to exhaust yourself."

"Yes, mom," replied Shirou, rolling his eyes. "See you tomorrow !"

On the way to the school gates, Shirou met Sakura. He had already told the girl that he was working this evening; the two of them would meet again tomorrow morning. Before leaving, he repeated his promise to teach the girl how to cook Salisbury steak, one of Taiga's favorite foods, over the week-end.

"I will see you tomorrow," he called out before leaving the girl. She nodded and waved back.

Shirou didn't notice that, as soon as he left Sakura's sight, the girl's eyes turned lifeless, even as her face lost all expression. Slowly, mechanically, the girl started her own walk – but, like every time she didn't go to her senpai's home, it would be a long time before she returned to her own 'home'.

The backdoor of the Copenhagen opened, and Shirou emerged from the bar – no matter what he had told Issei, one couldn't deny that the Copenhagen was a bar first and foremost, even if it also served food – and into the twilight. Immediately, he noticed someone waiting in the dark, shadowed alleyway, their back resting against the wall, a cigarette glowing between their lips.

The tall, muscular man with tanned skin and short, spiky hair was dressed in a nice white suit that, for all that it would have looked right at home at any business meeting, was also carefully tailored so as not to hinder movement. It was also cut to hide the small bulge on the man's waist, where he was hiding his concealed weapon. The camouflage was enough to trick a quick glance and allow him to walk in public without the crowd panicking, but Shirou had more than enough experience to recognize it.

Ordinarily, a middle-schooler's reaction to being face-to-face with an armed man in a dark street would have been panic. But Shirou was not an ordinary middle-school student. He also knew this man, and knew that he had nothing in particular to fear from him, nor from any member of the Fujimura Group. There were some perks of being Taiga's little brother and food provider, even if he would still love her without them.

"Good evening, Kamido-san," greeted Shirou with a respectful nod.

"Hey, kiddo," replied the man in a gruff voice. "Taiga-chan told me you were working here, though I have no idea why … You done for tonight ?"

"Yes. Hotaruzuka-san just needed help with the inventory. Is there anything wrong ?"

The man looked down at him with a weary expression for a few seconds, before sighing and handing over a thick envelope.

"There," he said. "It's our thanks for your help last month."

Shirou made no move to take the envelope. "I didn't-"

"You didn't help us because you expected a reward, I know," interrupted the Yakuza. "But cleaning out that warehouse and leaving those punks tied up for us was still a big favor. If we had gone in ourselves, things would have turned ugly real fast. Same if the police had gone in. I don't know how you did it, and I don't want to know, but you prevented a few of our guys from being either injured or killed."

Shirou grimaced. That was true. The Russian mobsters who had taken over the warehouse in Fuyuki's harbor had been using it both as a drug lab and as a fortress. They had known they were on another gang's turf, and they hadn't hesitated to use their weapons. If not for his 'special talents', he wouldn't have made it out in one piece.

Even with those, he had been forced to employ violence to render all twenty-nine men unconscious once stealth had failed him. He hadn't technically breached the rules against revealing Magecraft since he hadn't used any flashy mysteries, nor displayed any abilities that were beyond those reachable by normal people … but had the mobsters known that the masked individual they had been desperately fighting was only fifteen, even they would have thought something unnatural was going on. Thankfully, he was quite tall for his age : even someone like Kamido-san only had a few centimeters on him.

Since the mobsters hadn't seen his face or heard him speak – he would have tried to ask them to surrender, hadn't he known from experience that it was useless – the odds of them realizing they had been beaten up by a teenager using magical powers were so slim as to be negligible. Their own sense of pride would keep them from revealing the details of their defeat, and the Fujimura Group knew better than to discuss their secret trump card where outsiders could hear them, so the chances of the confrontation reaching the ears of the Clocktower were also small.

The main point was that Shirou's intervention had guaranteed nobody had died. Even the Russian mobsters had been delivered to the police alive, if a little roughed up. The Fujimura Group had made sure that there had been plenty of evidence linking them to the warehouse for the policemen to find, while also removing all traces of Shirou's own passage. Nobody had been too badly hurt, and the hard drugs the Russians had planned to introduce to Fuyuki's underground had been seized and destroyed before they could ruin someone's life.

"Regardless of your reasons," Kamido continued, "we owe you for that – I owe you for that, since these fuckers set up shop on the docks and I am responsible for that part of town. How do you think I felt, sending a brat into that den of snakes ? When the boss said you could do it, I thought he had gone senile. When you actually came back and told us it was done, I thought you were lying. So just take the money, kiddo. Give it to charity or something if you don't want it."

Finally relenting, Shirou took the proffered envelope, pocketing it without checking its contents. The gangster sighed at that complete lack of interest, before shaking his head.

"Still, your dad must have been a tough son of a bitch, to raise someone like you. I would have hated to be on his bad side when he was in his prime, that's for sure."

"Ahah …" Shirou laughed nervously. "I still have a long way to go to be my dad's equal."

"Please don't," deadpanned Kamido. "I have heard Fujimura-sama's stories, and I like being able to sleep peacefully at night, thank you very much."

"You are a Yakuza," Shirou pointed out. "I don't think you are supposed to sleep peacefully."

"Tch. Very funny. You are a regular comedian, kiddo. Anyway, I have paid you back now."

Those in the Fujimura Group who knew about Shirou's "work" were all persuaded that Kiritsugu had been some big shot international hitman, who had retired in Fuyuki after adopting Shirou had had trained him to follow in his footsteps. There had been several jokes made at his expense about a movie being made out of that story, and with every seemingly impossible feat Shirou pulled off, Kiritsugu's legend grew, aided by Shirou's insistence that he wasn't at his dad's level yet.

Shirou didn't know what deal his father had made with the Fujimura patriarch, Taiga's grandfather. He suspected that the old man knew about the Moonlit World, but had never raised the issue during their discussions. He had his own deal with the Fujimura Group, separate from him being technically Taiga's ward and actually her main food source.

As long as the Fujimura Group continued being reasonable in its criminal enterprises, he would help them protect their territory from rival gangs. 'Reasonable' meant no civilian deaths, as little public violence as possible, and no drug or human trafficking.

"You gonna stand here all night, kiddo ?" Kamido's voice pulled Shirou out of his recollection. "Isn't tomorrow a school day ? Hurry up and get back home."

He blinked. "You are right. Good night, Kamido-san."

"Yeah, yeah, good night to you too."

The clock in Shirou's workshop ticked, marking the passage of the eleventh hour. It was getting quite late, but Shirou didn't need much sleep, especially when all that awaited him were more strange dreams. He had found out through trial and error that the more exhausted he was when he went to sleep, the less likely he was to experience another dream. He knew Sakura and Taiga were already worried after he had woken up late this morning : it was better to spend Friday half-exhausted than risking repeating the offence due to another nightmare.

The Emiya workshop was a simple one. According to what Kiritsugu had told him of other Magi, calling it a Workshop at all would result in a quick death sentence for the crime of insulting the sacred precepts of Magecraft. From the outside, it looked like a typical garden shed, built at the back of the estate. A variety of tools and pieces laid around, both thaumaturgic and mechanic in nature. A nondescript rug hid the arcane circle Kiritsugu had drawn there years ago at the dawn of the last Grail War, still perfectly preserved.

This was where Shirou worked on repairing and building mundane tools and machines as well as where he honed his limited magical skills – such as Reinforcement.

Of the few skills he had learned from his father, Reinforcement was by far the most useful in his "extra-curricular activities" for the Fujimura Clan. On the surface, Reinforcement was deceptively simple. By pouring prana into an object, a magus could make that object stronger, more resilient, better at performing its intended function. In the field, Shirou could use it to make his clothes able to withstand bullet impacts and bladed weapons – and Avalon could take care of the bashing damage that went through. In addition, filling something with prana beyond its capability would cause it to shatter, which was always a useful trick when he needed to get past an obstacle in a hurry and stealth wasn't an option anymore.

But the true use of Reinforcement came when the son of the Magus Killer used it on himself, filling his human body with prana drawn from his spirit. He was a Sword, after all, and a sword could be tempered. If he could reinforce a length of metal, why would his own body be any different ?

Well, for one thing, his own body was a lot more complicated than any object he had ever practiced Magecraft on in his life. It took medical professionals years of study before they were able to ply their craft, and even they would not claim to know everything about the human body.

For another, if he failed in reinforcing a piece of metal, the worst that could happen was it turning into dust in his hands. If he failed while reinforcing his body …

Even so, he had still learned it. Kiritsugu had been able to teach him to reinforce his bones and the whole of his fists, so that he could punch through metal and take blows without breaking his bones – though the skin and muscle beneath were another story. Even reaching that meager level was easier said than done. The first time he had attempted to reinforce his fist, he had ended up breaking almost every bone in his right hand. It had taken Avalon an entire week to heal the damage, which had made it awkward around the home and at school. Kiritsugu had told Taiga that he had strained his wrist while training alone, and she had thankfully bought it, accepting that all he needed was a few days with a sling instead of dragging him to the hospital, where explaining how such an impossible injury had happened would have been much more difficult.

Since his father's death, Shirou had slowly expanded those lessons, until he could reinforce all of his body's outermost layers. Through years of studying human anatomy and trial and error, he had managed to develop a method that worked every time, as long as his focus didn't slip. That was about as good as it was possible to get : as Kiritsugu had repeatedly told him, to be a magus was to walk with Death.

There were parts of himself that he had never touched, however : his brain, his heart, his lungs – all of his inner organs, really – and, of course, his eyes.

Eyes were fragile, almost ridiculously so. Reinforcing them was very dangerous and difficult, Kiritsugu had warned him. The Magus Killer himself had never done it, though he had heard that it was possible – but only among some of the best Enforcers under the control of the Association. And it wasn't as if Shirou could call one of them and ask them for their help.

Nonetheless, the potential benefits were enough that Shirou had spent the last month studying and preparing for his first attempt. In theory, reinforced eyes would be able to see clearly in poor light conditions, and even in absolute darkness – if he was willing to have them glow like a lamp and be an obvious target, of course. And that was only the most obvious benefit – he would be able to make out more details from a greater distance, see motions that were too fast for the normal eye … even, if his calculations were correct, see the flow of prana itself.

So, even if the risk to have his eyeballs explode was very real, he was still going to try it.

Shirou checked his preparations one final time. The containment circle was in place. A quick pulse of prana ensured that it was working as intended. A first aid kit laid just outside it, though it was optimistic of him to believe he would be able to use if something went wrong.

He sat cross-legged in the circle, and took several deep breaths. Then …

Trace, On.

He activated his Magic Circuits, one by one, checking that his od – the only source available within the circle – flowed through each of them correctly. Then, his gaze fixed on the piece of tissue he had brought with him into the circle, he began to reinforce his eyes.

His research had shown him early on that eyes were made up of multiple parts, and he needed to infuse them with prana separately since their capacity was minutely different. First, the optic nerve, which carried the information to the brain. Then the blood vessels and vitreous humor, and finally the cornea, sclera, pupil and lens. He reinforced each individual part in both eyes at once, and as he moved on from one component to the next, part of his focus had to remain on all the ones already done. He could already feel a headache growing, and the spell wasn't even properly active yet.

Without self-hypnosis, even attempting to focus on so many different things at once would have been impossible. But eventually, Shirou finished infusing every part of his eyeballs with prana, and slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes and looked at the floor in front of him.

He had not realized that there was so much details on the floor of the shed. It had always seemed a smooth, uniform surface, but now he could see all the tiny imperfections in the concrete. He could see every strand of fabric in the tissue, and the traces of sweat and dead skin where he had held it. He could see the lines of the containment circle around him, which … glowed slightly ?

He felt a shiver of excitement, which he quickly suppressed before it broke his concentration. The reinforcement had worked, and, it seemed, the process had met his highest expectations. If he could see the minute amount of prana coursing through the Formalcraft array around him, then his calculations must have been correct.

This was different from Structural Grasping, which allowed him to absorb information about whatever he was using the spell on. This was less detailed, but could affect everything in his field of vision at once. It would take a lot of practice before he could use it reliably in combat, but now that he knew it was possible, all that was left was the gruelling training and conditioning. As far as Shirou was concerned, the hard part had been done.

He suddenly realized that he could also see a golden glow emanating from his chest, one that he recognized. He had seen it when Kiritsugu had implanted it inside of him. It was the light of Avalon, just like in his memories … But no. Now that he looked at it again, he realized that he had seen that radiance elsewhere, before Kiritsugu had put the scabbard inside his body. He could not remember where, but …

Metal clashing on metal -

The scent of ozone in the air -

A wall breached -

A forest burning -

A cacophony of angry screams -

Black wings covering his sight -

Caught in his effort of recollection, Shirou didn't notice he had lost control of his spell. His frustration at being incapable to remember made him pour more and more prana into his eyes without even realizing it. Eventually, just as his father had warned him would happen, it was too much for the fragile tissues to bear.

But unlike what Kiritsugu had told Shirou, his eyeballs didn't explode from the overdose of prana – though the result felt just as painful. Instead, without warning, the young magus' eyes suddenly absorbed the magical energy saturating them, draining Shirou's reserves entirely in the time it would have taken him to blink if he had dared do so at this stage.

Around him, the Formalcraft circle shone brightly, the paint he had used to draw it burning itself permanently into the concrete below. Shirou felt the barrier between him and the rest of the world tremble and shatter, and prana flowed into him without his control, passing through his Circuits before vanishing into the seemingly endless pit of his eyes. For several seconds, it was all Shirou could do to maintain the barest of control on his Circuits, keeping them all open so that they weren't burst by the flow of magical energy. Then, finally, it stopped.

To his relief, Shirou could still see – in fact, he could see better than ever. The moonlight passing through the workshop's window seemed to illuminate it like the midday sun, and his own body was nimbed in a faint golden halo as Avalon was activated to begin the slow process of repairing the damage his body had suffered. Looking down at himself, Shirou could see that this damage was extensive : his Circuits had badly overheated, and while they weren't damaged, the flesh around them had been strained to its limits.

Without the protection of the Formalcraft circle, however, his eyes were reflexively Grasping every object in his field of vision, overwhelming his brain with information concerning the age, shape and molecular composition of every object in his workshop. He closed his eyes before his brain broke under the strain, only to be fed a stream of data about the composition of his own eyelids. Still, it was more tolerable.

Slowly, Shirou felt the flow of data diminish and stop as the prana leftover in his eyeballs was consumed by the non-stop Structural Grasping. Carefully, he stood up, opening his eyes to find that he could still see his workshop as if in bright daylight, and half-walked, half-limped toward a table laid against the wall. Using it as support to hold himself up, he looked into the mirror that laid on it, dreading what he would see.

The white of his eyes was criss-crossed by glowing lines, but that radiance was fading away, revealing two perfectly normal eyeballs. Whatever he had accidentally done to himself seemed to be reversible, though his eyes still felt different to him. It seemed that, somehow, the excess prana consumed by the reinforcement had permanently altered the structure of his eyes. He remembered Kiritsugu mentioning something about it at some point, but the memory was distant. At least he hadn't turned himself blind or changed his eye color or any other secrecy-endangering change.

As relief flooded him, the teenager wavered. Then the pain he had managed to block thus far finally hit, and he collapsed outright.

Chapter Text

November 29th, 2002 AD – Emiya residence

"You are an idiot, Shirou. No, you are more than that : you are the king of idiots !"

"Sorry to make you take care of me like this, Fuji-nee" Shirou apologized. He was laying in his futon, a cold compress pressed on his forehead and a blindfold on his eyes, wearing a fresh set of pyjamas Taiga had helped him into, mercifully without making any comment.

"I swear, working yourself to the point that you collapse like that … How am I supposed to face Kiritsugu if you keep doing that kind of thing to yourself, Shirou ?"

"I will be fine, Fuji-nee. It's … not pleasant, I am not gonna lie, but nothing I won't recover from with some rest."

"Of course you would say that. If you aren't better by tomorrow I am calling a doctor."

After his catastrophic experiment last evening, he had barely managed to crawl out of his workshop, lock the gate behind him and make it to his futon before collapsing from the splitting headache, still fully clothed.

Contrary to what he had thought when the glowing in his eyes had dissipated, the effects of his mystery going awry weren't gone yet. He hadn't been able to sleep during the entire night, as every few moments his eyes had suddenly 're-activated', drawing prana from his Circuits by forcefully opening them. He had spent the night laid down, trying to ignore the splitting headache that diminished after every episode, only to get worse when his eyes blazed once more and more information was poured into his brain. These involuntary activations had becoming more spaced, until he had finally been able to sleep for a couple of hours … just in time for Taiga and Sakura to arrive. With his vision apparently permanently enhanced, he hadn't noticed the sun rising.

Taiga had panicked when she had found him laying down, pale and covered in sweat, his forehead burning. He had managed to reassure her, telling his guardian that he had come down with a fever last evening, and if she could please not shout so loudly, that would be very nice.

"You really should take more care of yourself, Senpai" said a gently chiding voice to his side.

"Great. Look at what you have done now, Shirou. You have made Sakura-chan worried !"

He groaned. Taiga knew exactly how to make him feel guilty. Sakura had arrived a bit after his big sister, and had been even more distraught by his sickness. An empty bowl laid next to him : she had cooked him some porridge and, despite his protests, fed it to him herself – with Taiga quietly laughing as she watched. Between the food, the clean clothes, the compress and the blindfold, Shirou felt much better, though he would not be going to school today, that much was clear.

"Sorry, Senpai," Sakura said as she leant over him. "Please bear with the light for a moment. I need to check that there is no problem with your eyes."

She removed the blindfold, and Shirou focused all his will on suppressing his eyes' new ability as she examined them for a few seconds, briefly shining a flashlight into them before nodding in visible relief. She turned toward Taiga to say something – and in that moment, Shirou's control slipped, though only for a fraction of a second. Prana flowed into his eyes, and he …

He saw her. Really saw her.

Until then, he had never performed Structural Grasping on another human. Never mind the risk of being discovered back when his only mean of doing so was through physical contact, it was an invasion of privacy, a violation of the basic principles of human interaction. But in that moment, he could not control his gaze, and he saw Sakura Matou. He saw what was inside her. Black, writhing things shaped like bloated worms that clung to her insides, burrowing into her flesh, attached to her heart and lungs and … Magic Circuits ?

The revelation that Sakura was a magus was already shocking enough, but that surprise was nothing compared to the horror Shirou felt as he saw what had been done to his friend. This … he could not even begin to imagine the agony this must have caused her – no, must still be causing her. The worms were attached to her flesh by their teeth, biting into her and draining her od to sustain their abominable existence. The prana resulting of this disgusting act was transmitted across the threads of Magecraft that linked all the worms together and expanded beyond Sakura, doubtlessly reaching toward more of their kin in an arcane parody of a true insect hive.

And … this wasn't all. His gaze lowered. As if it wasn't horrible enough already, he could also see the worms – familiars, he could tell now, somehow acting as implanted Circuits for the girl – in Sakura's … in her uterus, and all her reproductive organs. In fact, they were focused there, pulsating with energy as they fed off her body's fluids just as the rest fed off her od. The sight sickened him to his core, and it was all he could do not to throw up.

She turned back toward him, her expression showing nothing of what she was going through, and he forced himself to smile back as she put the blindfold back on, hating himself for the deception. He wanted nothing more than to shout, to ask her who had done this to her ... but he knew, with a cold certainty, that doing so would only doom them both. For among all the questions raised by what his new eyes had revealed to him, there was one more important than any other :

Who ?

Who had done this to her ?

Sakura wouldn't have done this to herself or let it be done willingly, of that much he was certain. Even the greatest magus wouldn't have been able to fake her personality after degenerating to the point where what she had suffered was acceptable. He absolutely refused to believe otherwise, which left one option.

Someone else had done this to her. And this wasn't recent, either. The worms were burrowed too deeply within her for them to have been implanted recently. For better or worse – very much for worse – Sakura had suffered from this abominable condition for years, long before he had met her.

And he had never found out. Some hero of justice, some friend he was … No. He crushed the guilt – he couldn't afford it right now. The wrath that replaced it was harder to suppress, and the sudden emotion caused his headache to intensify. But he managed to suppress it as well, though he didn't throw it away, merely stored it for later instead. He had learned some time ago, when fighting a particularly vicious gang, that anger had its uses.

Instead, he focused on what he knew, and what that implied.

Fact one : Sakura Matou was a magus. Fact two : she had been subjected to monstrous experiments on her body and Circuits. Conclusion one : the Matou family was a bloodline of magi. Fact three : since the death of Sakura's father Byakuya, the only other members of the Matou family were Shinji and Zouken. Somehow the thought that Shinji belonged to a Magus family seemed even more impossible than Sakura being the same.

Fact four : regardless of Shinji's moral fiber or lack thereof, there was no way he was the one responsible for Sakura's affliction. He would simply have been too young to perform the implantation at the time. Conclusion two : that left Zouken, the Matou patriarch and grandfather of his friends, as the most likely culprit.

Laying back down on his futon, Shirou made his decision. Part of him was aware that it was a rash one, but he couldn't help himself.

Fact five : now that he knew of Sakura's predicament, he could not ignore it. Final conclusion : he would spend the day in bed, focused on recovering from the backlash of his spell. Sakura would be in school, safe from further harm.

Then, once Taiga had left after checking up on him in the evening, he would go to the Matou household, and not leave until, one way or another, he had saved Sakura.

Miyama Town wasn't the most active of areas after sundown, especially in the late autumn. The streets were empty, every inhabitant having returned to their homes for the night. Those who were spending their Friday evening partying were still out, enjoying their free time in another district. Western-styled mansions were lined up, most of them having been built decades ago by foreign families as they claimed this particular side of Miyama as their own.

Dressed in the dark clothing he wore when on a job for the Fujimura Group, Shirou Emiya stood across the street from the Matou mansion, his eyes fully opened as he stared at the house's many-layered defenses. His new ability was serving him well there : though night had fallen, he could see perfectly well, and by channelling the tiniest amount of his od into his eyes, he could see the magical defenses surrounding the estate.

There were plenty of Bounded Fields surrounding the area, far more than a single magus could have applied over an entire lifetime. This was the work of generations of magi, each working to add to their family's defenses.

I wish Dad had told me more about the bloodlines of Fuyuki, he thought.

He knew why Kiritsugu hadn't : he hadn't wanted Shirou to get involved with the Moonlit World at all. He had told him about the Tohsaka, who were one of the three founding families of the Grail War, and the Second Owners for Fuyuki, but nothing more. Given what Shirou now knew about Sakura, it wasn't difficult to understand why his dad hadn't told him about the Matou. Kiritsugu had known his son well, and realized that Shirou wouldn't have been able to stop himself from trying to save Sakura, even if it was from her own family, even if he had very little chance of succeeding.

Shirou wasn't blind to the fact that the odds were against him. He may have spent training his physical abilities and limited Magecraft, but he was still nothing but a third-rate magus, if he even qualified as one given his focus on practical applications over pure research. Even if the Matou family had diminished from its former heights – and it must have, because neither Sakura nor Shinji had ever given out any magical aura that he had been able to detect before literally looking under their skin – the way magus families worked meant that their legacies were often far more dangerous than their individual members.

He took stock of what he had to work with. The backlash to his Circuits and body from the previous evening had mostly healed. His muscles were still a bit sore, but he could ignore it and operate at peak capacity. His od reserves had refilled over the day, thanks to a lot of meditation as he rested his body. A pair of tonfas were attached to his belt, along with a few other surprises, not all of which were strictly legal for a minor to carry on him in a Japanese city. He was so used to reinforcing his current clothes that he could do so in less than a tenth of a second.

On the other side, over a dozen Bounded Fields covered the Matou estate. Most of them were focused on the mansion itself, but several extended all the way to the garden walls. If he tried to force his way through these defenses, he would die. It was as simple as that.

Fortunately, he didn't need to. There were exceptions programmed into the wards so that outsiders could enter when they were invited, and the bulk of the others were intent-based : they would only trigger if the intruder harboured hostile intentions toward the mansion's inhabitants. And while Shirou wasn't foolish enough to believe that he could accomplish his goal without violence, his intent was entirely peaceful – indeed, it could be construed as benevolent. He spent several minutes repeating this to himself, hoping that the self-hypnosis would be enough to deceive the wards, fully prepared to die if it wasn't.

Schooling his features into his usual composed and friendly expression, he crossed the street, walked to the door, and rung the doorbell. Then he waited for several minutes, until the door of the house opened, revealing a frowning Shinji.

"Emiya ?" his friend called out. "What are you doing here ? Aren't you supposed to be sick ?"

"I am better," he answered. "Sakura forgot something at home and I came to return it."

"Of course you did, you bloody idiot," sighed Shinji. "Wait a second, I am coming."

The blue-haired teenager walked through the mansion's garden and unlocked the metal gate barring Shirou's passage, sliding it aside and holding out his hand.

"Give it to me and I will – eh, wait !"

The moment the door opened, Shirou moved. Before Shinji could react, he was inside, his right hand was slamming the gate closed behind the two of them, and his left one was around Shinji's throat, holding him aloft with barely any effort.

"Where is Sakura, Shinji ?" he growled.

"W-what the hell, Emiya ?! What are you -"

"I know what was done to her," he continued, and Shinji's sudden pallor instantly damned his former friend in Shirou's eyes. "And so do you, it seems." His left hand tightened around Shinji's throat, not enough to cut off his air supply, but more than enough to hurt. "Where is she ?"

"D-downstairs !" the blue-haired teen choked out, eyes wide in schock and terror. "In the basement ! That-that's where Grandfather has … has …"

"His workshop ?"

"W-what ? No, it's … it's her training roo-gah !"

Shirou threw Shinji out of the way and moved.

Usually, the red-haired teen was very careful with his strength. Even without using reinforcement, years of training had left him far stronger than any teenager his age he knew. He had read enough comic books to know that revealing just how naturally fit he was wasn't a good idea, as it may clue people into his other activities. He did well in gym classes, but not too well, always holding back the full measure of his strength and using the lessons to perfect his precision and control instead.

He wasn't holding back now, however, and Shinji was sent crashing into a bush. Shirou didn't stop to check his hadn't injured the other teen, for he was already moving by the time Shinji slid down to the floor. Sakura took priority over her brother – took priority over everything else.

The Matou mansion was vast, but finding his way wasn't difficult. All he needed to do was follow the stench of Magecraft that had saturated his senses since he crossed the threshold. Every magus worth their salt could perceive It led him to a rusted metallic door, which he forced open with a single kick, revealing a long set of stairs going down into darkness. The scent of rot stopped being metaphorical and became all too real.

I am coming, Sakura.

The young hero did not notice, as he rushed down the stairs, that the air behind him was rippling with invisible shock waves, and the walls covered in scorch marks where the Bounded Fields had tried, and failed, to target him. Nor did he realize that one of the reasons for Shinji's quick capitulation was that his eyes were blazing golden, while black and crimson lines were running across his face.

Far away, in a library that was sealed to all but a select few, a sigil that had laid dormant for a very long time briefly flickered to life.

In the Matou Workshop, the only source of light were the black candles scattered along the walls, casting a feeble illumination upon the horrors within. The darkness could be considered a mercy, hiding the full horror of the Workshop, but it did nothing to silence the fleshy, squirming noises. The so-called 'Workshop' was a pit, a hole in the earth filled with all manners of monstrosities birthed by the Matou craft. Enormous insects crawled and buzzed within it, nesting into the alcoves carved into the walls. The greatest part of them were the familiar worms : bloated, repugnant things that pulsated with stolen vitality and prana.

The other insects were subservient to the worms, placed there to help defend them and play their part in their feeding and reproduction cycles. Yet perhaps the most disturbing sound to emanate from that pit of nightmares was the regular breathing of the human girl who laid amidst these abominations. Even as the worms crawled on and in her body, subjecting her to every defilement imaginable in order to feed off her body's secretions, she did not show any outward sign of distress, merely laying down with her eyes closed and her face utterly expressionless.

Standing on the small platform around the Workshop's entrance, looking down at the writhing sea, was the only other human silhouette in the room. In truth, it was no more human than the insectoid monsters, yet it kept up the pretence of humanity for its own purposes. It resembled an old man, so old and thin that his dry skin was stretched across his bones, revealing the shape of his skull, at once disturbingly familiar and alien to other humans.

Colourless eyes looked down upon the girl. No emotion showed in them, only cold observation and calculation. The girl had grown strong since she had come under his influence, taking to the Matou craft like a natural ... which was to be expected, given what had been done to her so that she could become a natural. The changes in her hair and eye colour were but the least of her alterations. She no longer screamed when thrown into the worm pit so that the familiars could feed on her abnormally large prana reserves, or burrow into her flesh to replace those that had died inside her.

Zouken could have made it so that his familiars lived longer. The worm that was nested around Sakura's heart, the one that hosted Zouken's soul, had been inside her since the end of the last Grail War, and remained as strong as ever. He could not make the rest of his pets as long-lived as that particular one, but increasing their lifespan tenfold was still very much within his capabilities, and would only have required the smallest effort on his part. But why would he ? The torment the girl was suffering in the worm pit was part of her training. Like a precious jewel, she had to be carefully shaped so that she could shine with her full potential.

After nine years of training, the girl was almost as much beyond physical pain as he was. But since suffering was part of Zouken's preparations, the old magus had simply adapted his methods. The girl could ignore physical discomfort, but psychological torture was another issue. When Byakuya – another worthless failure – had died, her complete lack of reaction had disturbed Zouken. If the girl had completely walled off her own emotions, then manipulating her would become all but impossible, and he couldn't have that. Thankfully, a solution had presented itself to him mere weeks after the "head" of the Matou family had drunk himself into an early grave.

He had let her befriend that Emiya boy, knowing that she would do anything to hide her true nature from him. The mere suggestion of removing her access to that small happiness she had found was enough to remove any thoughts of rebellion from her.

It was obvious, even to one as removed from humanity as Zouken, that the girl was completely smitten with the Emiya boy. This would be useful when the next Grail War started. There was little doubt in the old magus' mind that the Emiya boy would be chosen as a Master : even if he wasn't related to the Magus Killer by blood, he was still the heir of his legacy. And if he was even half as skilled as Kiritsugu Emiya had been, using his relationship with the girl against him may be Zouken's only chance at winning the Grail.

He had to get his hands on the Grail this time. After three hundred years, he was running out of time : his Magecraft would not be able to hold death at bay another ten years, let alone the fifty that would be required if the Grail's reserves of mana were exhausted. Once, every artificial body constructed from his worm familiars had lasted for years before falling apart, but now he could barely go for a single month before needing to devour someone else to replace it, and the duration continued to shorten with each new one.

Even if he managed to hold on, the Matou were a lost cause. His worthless grandson had no magic circuits, and while the girl could have made a suitable heir, what he had done to her made it impossible for her to continue the bloodline. With no descendant to manipulate into fighting the War for him, Zouken would be forced to either fight himself or deceive an unknown Master, and neither of these options appealed to him. He had witnessed every Grail War, and he knew full well how dangerous they were, even for someone like him.

No, the next Grail War was his best shot at getting the Grail and obtaining true immortality.

Shinji would get a chance to play at being a Master, and when he inevitably failed, all the other Masters would think the Matous had been eliminated from the competition. No one would pay attention to the girl, and it would be their downfall.

Zouken's alterations would allow her to act as a Lesser Grail, absorbing the energies of slain Servants. It would be easy to manipulate the Emiya boy into protecting her for the duration of the conflict – she could defend herself, but it would be better to hide her abilities until the end. Then, once enough of them had perished, he could use her conditioning to trigger the activation of the Greater Grail and bypass the rules of the Heaven's Feel ritual entirely.

The other Masters would be too caught up in the fighting to notice anything wrong until it would be too late, and with immortality at long last his, he would be able to leave Fuyuki and … well, he wasn't sure what he would do afterwards. He had spent so long pursuing eternal life that it was difficult to imagine living without such an all-consuming purpose. But he was sure he would think of something. He would have all eternity to do so, after all.

"Oh ?"

Zouken's glance turned away from Sakura, looking up the stairs beyond the archway that led into the grotesque Workshop. Something like a smile warped his face, the skin contorting with an almost audible noise.

"My, my," he said, in a warm and kind voice he had no right to speak in. "It appears we have a visitor. Were you expecting someone, Sakura ?"

In the worm pit, the girl blinked at the sound of her name. Her mind had been far away, as it always was when she entered this room, until the voice of her grandfather – her tormentor – dragged her back to her immediate surroundings. It was not a pleasant return, Zouken knew.

"N-no," she managed to whisper.

"Really ? Then it seems we have an intruder in our home. Well, don't worry, dear. I will take care of this. You just stay there and focus on your training."

Without waiting for a reply – what else could the girl do in her situation ? – Zouken walked through the archway and into the corridor leading upstairs. He could feel the unwanted visitor ripping through the house's Bounded Fields as if they weren't there. It wasn't that the wards weren't reacting to the intruder's presence : all manner of vicious defences were being triggered, from the benign ones sending away curious teens wanting to explore the spooky Western mansion to those meant to send would-be burglars to sleep so Zouken could feed them to his worms. He could sense the spells firing off … and completely failing to affect their target at all.

Interesting … and a little worrying. The intruder was at the gate leading to the Workshop. Would the greater defenses laid down there – no, never mind. They too had failed to even slow the intruder down. It seemed it would indeed fall to Zouken to deal with this uninvited guest.

The ancient magus was curious now. There weren't many magi left in Fuyuki : the Matou bloodline wasn't the only one to have diminished. Only one Tohsaka remained, and that girl was neither skilled nor violent enough to barge into his home like this … unless she had learned what was happening to her dear estranged sister ? No, she didn't have the strength to ignore his wards like this. The priest at the church, then ? Perhaps. That man certainly despised him enough, but why would he act now ?

Well, he would find out soon enough. Raising his cane, Zouken called upon his bond to the defenses of the house, drawing upon its reserves of prana to power his spell. It had been many, many years since the true head of the Matou family had last cast a spell using his own od reserves, for what he had made of himself did not have such reserves to speak of at all. But the knowledge of his Mysteries remained, cultivated and perfected throughout the decades.

Responding to his will, the skeletons that decorated the corridor's walls, remnants of those who had died so that Zouken may live, twitched, before beginning to move. They were weak familiars, but there were a great many of them, and the stairs soon echoed with the sound of dozens of bony feet rushing up to meet the intruder and drag them down before their master.

Maybe Zouken should have been a bit more cautious, but there was very little left in the world that could hurt him. Even if the intruder managed to fight their way past the skeletal horde, the old magus was still far, far from defenceless. To confront a magus in their Workshop was not just the very height of impoliteness : it was also almost certain suicide.

The further Shirou went down the stairs, the more powerful the stench grew. The very stones reeked of rotting flesh, dried blood, and other stuff he couldn't identify.

The darkness didn't bother him, and he ran at full speed, holding his tonfas in both hands, prana coursing through them and reinforcing the wooden weapons beyond the solidity of steel. The same reinforcement coursed through his limbs, propelling him forward faster and leaving footprints in the concrete stairs.

He saw movement ahead, and raised his weapons without slowing down. His eyes widened as he saw the nature of the obstacle : human skeletons, their bones completely smooth, their empty eye sockets glowing with pinpricks of light. They were clawing their way up the stairs, forming a wall of bones that completely blocked the passage.

How many of those are there ? How many people died in here ?

Shirou forced these thoughts away. He couldn't afford to become distracted. He could not save the dead, only the living. In the few seconds before impact, he poured prana into his eyes and measured the thickness of the skeleton wall, finding it to be around three meters. Focusing all of his Reinforcement on his forward side, he smashed into the wall of bones, holding his tonfas before his face, the skeletal claws and teeth smashing uselessly against his reinforced clothes.

More skeletons awaited him on the other side, dragging lumps of stone which they swung at him with clumsy strength. Twirling his tonfas, the young magus engaged the undead familiars. His weapons smashed into skulls, shattering them to pieces while he dodged the blows aimed his way. Those few attacks he took were barely felt, and Shirou barely slowed down as he annihilated the skeletons, every blow infused with enough prana to disturb the familiar bond and shatter the mystery animating the bones.

Finally, he reached the bottom of the stairs. He passed through the archway leading into the Workshop … and stopped dead in his tracks, the strength of his sudden stop sending cracks across the platform on which he stood.

In one second, his eyes took in the scene. The pit, the worms – Sakura, laying down amidst these horrors – and the one other magus in the room.

"Hoya ? … So it is you, Emiya-kun. I admit that I didn't expect you to be the one. These are interesting eyes that you have … very interesting indeed. And these markings … your father never showed them, but then again, he was a poor magus, for all his talent in dealing death."

Despite having been Sakura's friend for over a year, this was only the second time Shirou saw Zouken in person. The only previous time had been when he had made Sakura's acquaintance, and her grandfather had come to the Emiya residence to recover her in person. Shirou hadn't thought anything was strange about that : Zouken was a really old man, and it made sense that he would spend most of his time in his home.

Now, however, looking at Zouken with his new, enhanced vision, he could see what he ... no, what it really was. Whatever Zouken had begun as, there was nothing remotely human about him now. The clothes and skin that covered his body were fake, the product of Magecraft much less offensive than the one that animated his fake flesh.

Shirou had found where was going the prana that the worms embedded within Sakura extracted from her. He had known that it flowed into the hive of the worm familiars, and now he beheld the heart of that repugnant collective.

"Your father was much subtler than you," noted Zouken, his voice sounding exactly like a grandfather chastising a child for failing a school assignment. "His target would rarely even know he was on their trail until they were dead. He would be ashamed of you for rushing into unknown territory like this."

"My father would be ashamed," Shirou acknowledged, glaring at the monster masquerading as an old man. "Ashamed that it took me this long to realize what you had done. Release Sakura. Now. Do this, and I will leave. There will be no need for further violence."

"And then what ?" the ancient magus asked, his tone a mix of mockery and genuine curiosity. "What will you do then, Emiya ? She belongs to the Matou. Her body has been altered by our Magecraft far beyond the possibility of undoing the changes. Whatever you see with those fey eyes of yours will remain for her entire life."

"Even if that were true, I don't care." He knew he was being foolish. He knew that even if he took Sakura away from this horrible place, he didn't have the means to heal her. But he would not – could not – leave her here. Even if it was foolish, selfish even …

Shirou Emiya wanted to save Sakura. That was all there was to it.

"I am taking her out of here, and that's final," he said, in a voice as cold as the void between the stars and just as inevitable. "You will never hurt her again."

Zouken made a sound like the dried shells of dead bugs being crushed underfoot. It took Shirou several seconds to realize that he was laughing.

"Let us ask Sakura herself what she thinks, shall we ?"

The writhing of the worms outside and inside her stopped. Slowly, those that weren't already bound to her body withdrew. The pain and degradation ended, leaving her exposed to the Workshop's tepid, foetid air.

Like she did every time she entered the pit, she had shut down her consciousness, waiting for her torture to end. But even so, she knew that this was too soon. Her 'training' should still continue. Curiosity sparked inside her empty mind. What had happened ?

She opened her eyes. Slowly, her vision swam into focus.

She was still down into the worm pit, the stairs leading to the entrance only a few steps from where she laid – but in her state, they might as well have been on the other side of the planet.

Her grandfather was there – and he wasn't alone. Had Shinji come to the pit ? Her brother didn't like this place anymore than she did, and only ever came when their grandfather ordered him to so that he could assist in her 'training'.

But ... no, this wasn't Shinji. Red hair, not blue, and the face ...

That face ... She knew that face. But ...

No. No. No. It couldn't be. Surely God couldn't be so cruel. Sakura's eyes widened, and she cried out without sound as she recognized the one who had broken into her accursed family's Workshop.

Why ?!

Why was he here ?!

He had seen her. Oh god, he had seen her. Now he knew what she really was like. All of her worst fears had come true. Her Senpai, her one island of peace, her one shard of happiness in her accursed existence, had come to this wretched place, and seen her for what she really was – seen the disgusting truth that she hid behind her hollow smile every day …

She screwed her eyes shut. She couldn't bear to look at him, couldn't bear to see the look of disgust in his eyes. It hurt even to imagine it, to think of those kind golden eyes looking at her like that ...

"I told you : I am taking her with me, Zouken. This ... abomination ... ends now."

... What ?

What was her Senpai saying ?

Hope, that most bitter of poison, flickered in her heart, accompanied by renewed dread. Sakura opened her eyes and looked up to see her Senpai, the boy that, in her most secret heart, she allowed herself to admit she loved.

He stood in front of her grandfather, and his face, ordinarily so calm, was full of anger. His eyes were glowing, and there were strange markings of black and red running on his face, but the wrath he felt was on full display.

... Was he angry because of her ? Because of … of what had been done to her ?

He cares, she thought. Even if he knows … he cares. He -

He is going to die.

Grandfather will kill him.

He is going to die because of me.

The thought horrified her. She was disgusted with herself for the first rush of elation that had filled her when she had realized that, even after seeing her laying down among the worms, her Senpai still cared for her.

She didn't deserve his care, not when she was tainted, not when he was going to die because of it.

Senpai looked strong. She had always seen him as a kind and gentle boy, but now he looked like a man – like a warrior. Through her connection to the worm familiars, she could sense the prana that radiated from him. He was using some sort of mystery on his entire body – that must be how he had managed to get here in the first place. But against her grandfather … it wouldn't be enough.

Her uncle Kariya had been strong too. He had sacrificed everything to gain strength in the hope of saving her. And it had not been enough. He had died a miserable death, and Sakura had learned that defying Zouken was impossible. And now, her Senpai was doing the exact same thing as her uncle.

"R-run ..." she forced the words out, despite the flare of pain they caused as her body strained against the worms holding her down. "Run, Senpai !"

"Do you hear that, Emiya-kun ? Should you not respect her wishes ?"

"I am not leaving you here," he said, his gaze briefly flickering to her before returning to her grandfather – and her heart broke at the concern in his eyes and the soft tone of his voice.

"This is your last warning, Zouken," he continued, his golden eyes turning again upon her grandfather. "Get these things off her."

"As amusing as it would be to let you take her and watch what would happen ... I think not. You have trespassed into my home, boy, and that is not something that can go unpunished."

The old magus tapped his cane on the floor, and as one, the enormous insects flying in the room stopped in their tracks, turning toward Shirou. An particularly enormous mosquito-shaped creature hovered to Zouken's side, multifaceted eyes aimed at Senpai.

"If you leave now," offered Zouken, "I will let you live. We can talk later to discuss reparations for your lack of manners."

At her grandfather's words, Sakura felt something like despair mixed with hope. She didn't want Senpai to die …

"S-senpai," she called out, she begged. "... P-please leave me here. I ... I a-am not worth-"

"Sakura," Shirou said in a voice that was as kind as it was commanding, "don't ever say that. I told you : I am not leaving you here. Do your worst, Zouken."

"Fool," scoffed Zouken, before gesturing with one hand to the familiar at his side : "Kill him."

As if in slow motion, Shirou saw the familiar fly toward him. He could see the buzzing of its wings, the gleaming of its eyes in the basement's half-light. He saw how it contorted its body mid-flight to bring its stinger to bear. He saw the drops of venom flying off the stabbing appendage as glands contorted in preparation of the attack.

He saw much more, his eyes burning bright as he poured prana into them non-stop. He saw the thickness of the creature's hide, the toxins in its venom. From this, he understood that the stinger would pierce through even his reinforced clothes and skin, and not even Avalon would save him from the poison. In addition, the size of the stinger meant that he would enter the familiar's range before it entered his. Which meant that he had to rely on his speed and reflexes to dodge the glow, and then counter-attack with all his strength – otherwise, he wouldn't be able to get through its hide.

At that moment, a voice came from behind Shirou. So focused had the young man been on the threat before him he had forgotten to pay attention to his back.

"Grandfather ! Emiya is -"

Shinji. The fool had followed him. He should have taken the time to knock him unconscious, but he had been too focused on getting Sakura out of here as soon as possible. Sloppy. Too sloppy.

In one flash, his mind processed that new information. He estimated the location of Shinji in regard to himself and to the attacker bearing down on him. He analysed everything he knew of Shinji, weighted it against what he had learned this day, and came to a conclusion. There was no sadness, no anger : only a cold, merciless calculation. And its results were thus :

Shinji Matou didn't deserve to be saved. Not if the cost was risking death, and leaving Sakura here, in the grasp of the monster that played at being her grandfather. And so, Shirou Emiya acted in accordance to that conclusion.

He dodged the blow, the stinger passing mere centimeters from his chest. The grotesque mosquito flew past him at full speed, and its dart plunged into Shinji's chest with a sickening crunch. The blue-haired teen's eyes widened in shock and agony, and blood poured from his wound and his mouth as the Magecraft-reinforced venom dissolved his blood vessels.

Less than a second later, Shirou's left tonfa smashed into the creature's head, bursting it apart. Its body slid down, the stinger pulled out of Shinji's chest by gravity.

For a few seconds, all was silent, save for the endless writhing of the worms in the pit and Shinji's failed attempts to breathe and close his wound with trembling hands. His mouth opened as he tried to speak, but only poisoned blood and bile came out. Then, after what Shirou's eyes told him was unspeakable agony, the boy Shirou had believed was his friend collapsed to the ground, dead.

Shirou heard a whimper from the pit, and his icy calmness broke as he realized that Sakura had just seen her brother die before her eyes.

Zouken didn't seem overly perturbed by the death of his grandson. He was looking at the corpse with the same level of annoyance one might direct at a dog that just dirtied the kitchen floor.

"Worthless to the end," the ancient magus muttered, before returning his colourless eyes to Shirou. "I am willing to reconsider my previous offer, Emiya. With my grandson dead, I find myself in need of a … replacement. For all his faults, I still had some use for Shinji yet."

"Explain," asked Shirou in a voice utterly devoid of emotion. He had no intention of accepting whatever deal the monster was about to offer, but he could always use additional knowledge of the Matou so-called family.

"I understand that your eyes see much more nowadays, Emiya. That is why you are here : because you saw some of the modifications that were performed upon Sakura. But you do not understand all the consequences of her condition."

Sakura whimpered in protest, but a single gesture from Zouken silenced her, as more worms crawled over her face and blocked her mouth. Shirou's grip on his tonfas tightened, but he did not move – not yet.

"The Matou Crest Worms implanted within Sakura's body act as makeshift Magic Circuits, not just as parasites feeding off her od. In exchange for granting access to Magecraft beyond one's natural capabilities, they sustain themselves by devouring the life-bearing fluids of their host. Long ago, when the method was first designed, that was the blood of the magus … but as you can imagine, the host did not survive for long before being drained dry. The worms within Sakura feed off something different altogether."

"I know," said Shirou, and there was a deep and cold anger in his tone. "They feed off her … sexual excretions."

"Indeed. The worms simulate the part of her brain responsible for feeling pleasure, as well as the corresponding organs, in order to accelerate the production of her nourishment. But the process also causes an unbalance in Sakura's od. In order for her to retain her sanity, she needs to receive prana from an external source so that the disturbance caused by the worms' feeding can be assuaged."

Zouken fixed his dead eyes upon Shirou's burning ones, and continued :

"It was Shinji who was responsible for that part of Sakura's training, by injecting his own od inside her. He may have lacked Magic Circuits of his own, but like every human, he still had od within him. Of course, since he couldn't use Magecraft and using Sakura's own magical talents would have been unviable as a long-term solution, I had to make him employ … alternate methods."

"What 'methods' ?" asked Shirou, feeling a pit of dread form in his stomach as he realized what this explanation was leading to.

"Sexual intercourse," told Zouken, his voice never wavering. "As soon as his body became capable of it, he took part in Sakura's training and stabilization.

"You ... you made Shinji do this to her ?"

"At first. I assure you, he soon became all too willing to assist me. But now, Sakura requires another source of prana to keep her condition from degenerating. You are a capable Magus, with potent Magic Circuits and a strong body. In addition, my granddaughter is fond of you. I believe having you replace Shinji is acceptable for both of us."

Shirou did not answer. Zouken continued :

"If not you, then it will be someone else. It can be anyone, really, so long as they are male and relatively healthy. I understand that her body is considered quite attractive by today's standards. Once the worms get hungry, she won't have a choice. Surely you don't want her to go through this ?"

"... I can't tell if you are trying to anger me, or actually monstrous enough to think I would even consider this," said Shirou at last. "No, Zouken. There will be no negotiation, and certainly no replacement. And I am no longer willing to let you live. I am going to kill you and save Sakura."

Zouken smiled. "Will you ?"

Before Shirou could react, the old man's body collapsed in on itself. Both his clothes and skin folded on the ground as a swarm of worms fled from them in all directions, joining with the others in the pit. Behind Sakura, the mass of worms grew, forming a shape that soon grew in definition, until Zouken stood behind his granddaughter, a hand cupping her throat. Sakura cried out at the old magus' touch, and Shirou slowly walked to the edge of the pit, his mind ablaze with possible plans.

"Be careful, boy," warned Zouken. "There is much more at stake here than you comprehend. I can tell you things that your father kept from you – I can tell you about the Einzbern, and the girl he left behind."

"I want nothing from you, monster. You won't kill Sakura," said Shirou, praying that he hadn't misread the situation even more badly than he thought. "You need her. She is your only heir."

Zouken scoffed. "Blind fool. I have no need of heirs. What use is bloodline to one such as I ? And in any case, she won't die by my hand … only you will, if you refuse."

Though his eyes were fixed on Zouken and Sakura, Shirou could see the insect familiars crawling around him, leaving on a small circle of bare concrete around his feet. More of the enormous mosquito creatures were buzzing at the circle's edge, wary of his weapons, but ready to attack at their master's command. He cursed himself for a fool. Zouken hadn't taken Sakura's hostage – he had made him focus his attention on the two of them, so that he wouldn't notice the encirclement until it was too late. Maybe, if he focused his Reinforcement to his utmost limits, he could break through and reach the stairs … but that option wasn't even worth considering.

He would not leave Sakura behind. He would not fail her.

Never again.

"Senpai …" the girl called out, struggling weakly against her grandfather's deceptively strong grip. "Don't worry about me."

"I promised to save you," whispered Shirou in reply, the sound somehow carrying over the scurrying and scuttling of the insects.

"Please …" She begged him, tears running down her face. How long had it been since she had last cried within that horrid pit, Shirou wondered ? How long since her tears had run dry ? "I don't want you to die because of me. Run, Senpai. Get away …"

Zouken chuckled. "Ah, love. How wonderfully naive. What will you do, Emiya ? Accept my offer and live ? Or refuse, and die for nothing ? Choose."

Shirou looked at Zouken with his ensorcelled eyes, seeing past the thin disguise and into the abomination beneath. For the first time he could remember, the first time since he had lost his emotions in the fire that had destroyed the child he had once been, as he saw the monster the old magus really was, Shirou felt hatred. The emotion flowed through him, at once ice-cold and burning hot. It felt right. It felt … familiar.

He could see how Zouken's withered soul was stretched across his worm familiars, animating the fake human body and controlling the seething mass beneath them all. He could see the worm in Sakura's chest, coiled around her heart like the grotesque parasite that it was, and the link between it and its master. He could see the other foreign elements implanted within the body of his friend, glowing with tainted and unstable prana. Even without the worms, they would kill Sakura eventually, burning her from the inside until nothing but them was left.

"Please, Senpai. Let me die …"

Shirou had never felt so powerless before. Was this it ? All his training, all his preparation, all his efforts to be a hero, and he couldn't even save his friend ? Some champion of justice he was …

I refuse this.

The thought came unbidden, rising from the depths of his distorted mind. Like a bubble of volatile gas, it rose and rose, until it touched the fires of his hate, and ignited.

"You know nothing of love, Zolgen Makiri," he said, his voice deep and charged with power. He looked upon the thing that pretended to be an old man with eyes that blazed with a fire that was suddenly dark, and he knew that this was the creature's true name.

He could also see how to kill it.

Zouken flinched back from Shirou, his empty eyes widening. "What … what is this ?"

"And I will choose my own path," continued Shirou, ignoring the ancient magus. He opened his hands, letting his tonfas fall on the ground.

Trace, On.

Every circuit in his body suddenly flared to life, fully opened. Twenty-seven of them, channelling his od through his flesh and soul. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt. It felt as if his muscles were being cut apart by rusted knives, as if his nerve endings were plunged into acid. But that pain was nothing compared to the memory of the fire, and less than nothing next to the idea of failing Sakura again.

Judging the concept of creation.

From the memories of dreams, he pulled the image of a sword. In his nightmares, he had used that weapon against monsters hundreds of times – and before him stood a monster worse than any of these. A monster deserving of hate, deserving of the blade's judgment.

Hypothesizing the basic structure.

Blade, hilt, pommel. A standard, deceptively simple shape, shared by countless millions of swords that had been forged during Mankind's brutal history. Except that there were other mechanisms hidden within the sword, devices that he did not understand but could remember with crystal-clear precision.

Duplicating the composition material.

Chemical structures flashed in his mind's eye, showing the arrangement of atoms forming the elements that had gone into the sword's creation. Minute nerve impulses commanded the power flowing through his circuits, shaping it into replicas of these molecules, forming elements that had never been recorded in any chemistry book.

Imitating the skill of its making.

Knowledge flowed through his skull, unbidden, its origin beyond him. He saw the forge in which the sword of his dreams had been forged. He felt his hands on the hammer that shaped the metal. He felt the heat of the furnace on the exposed skin of his arms, felt the rush of pride as the weapon was presented to the one to wield it – a knight in plated armor on his knees, receiving it from his liege's hands …

Sympathizing with the experience of its growth.

He saw the first battle, the first time the sword had spilled blood. He saw every battle it had ever been wielded in, all at once. It was too much, too much for him to understand, too much for him to process except in flashes and snapshots. A fortress falling, its defenders unleashing monsters upon the attackers – a labyrinth haunted by spectres of blue and pink – black sands, red blood – crumbling walls and the howl of titans battling above him …

Reproducing the accumulated years.

Every change, every alteration was reproduced. What the sword had begun as was not what it had stayed. It had changed, just as the one who had wielded it – who ? – had changed. The sword was no mere instrument of murder, but a weapon worthy of legend, its deeds echoing through time – then why had he never found any trace of it in history books ? – and from that legend, it had gained great power.

Excelling every manufacturing process.

In his mind's eye, Shirou held the image of the sword. It was a perfect replica of the weapon of his dreams. Now all that was left to do was to pull it from his mental world into the real one.

I name thee, ███████ ████.

His circuits were burning, prana pouring through them in greater quantity than it ever had before, going far beyond what he had previously thought were his limits. Like his body, they burned, but would not break, and power continued to flow, far more than he should have been able to draw from his surroundings. No, this power was coming from inside him – his own od, rather than the mana of the world around him. But this … this was too much. Even as his mind was consumed by anger, the need to save Sakura, and the incredibly complicated process of Tracing, part of Shirou still realized that what he was doing should not be possible. Like Zouken had said, he had a healthy body with great od reserves, but not nearly enough for this. But he did not care, as long as it worked.

And work it did, as suddenly the sword that he had carried in his dreams of that mist-filled forest was in his hands.

It was huge. Too big for human hands, and it looked ridiculously out of place in the teenager's grip. He should barely have been able to lift it, if at all. And yet, not only did it feel incredibly familiar, it was also light as a feather. Prana coursed through his limbs, reinforcing them way beyond anything he had ever attempted before, yet he could not feel any strain on his circuits.

For just as he had recreated the changes the weapon had gone through during its history upon the Projected copy, so too had he, without realizing it, recreated some of the changes its wielder had gone through upon his own body. The black lines that had marked his face now spread all over his body, and the shadows behind him were warped to form the impression of great wings.

The sword swirled around him, cutting through the nearest insects with ease and sending a shockwave that pushed the swarm back with a cacophony of monstrous shrieks. Then, without hesitation, Shirou stepped forward, and landed into the pit. The worms beneath his feet screeched as they burned, unable to withstand his proximity. They fled from him, leaving him standing above a hole in the seething mass of familiars. He did not fall down, however, held aloft by wings he could not see but somehow knew were there.

"Zolgen," he said again, raising the sword with both hands. "You are unforgiven."

Zouken was angry. His worthless grandson was dead, his home had been invaded, and his artificial Lesser Grail was displaying a willingness to die far too early for his plans. But his anger paled in comparison to the shock – and yes, the fear – he felt as Shirou Emiya descended into the pit like a vengeful angel of darkness come to deliver retribution in the name of a God that Zouken had stopped believing into more than half a millennia ago.

Where had the Magus Killer found this boy ?! Inhuman bloodlines weren't unheard of in Japan, but he had never heard of any with such an aspect when invoked. Beyond the physical alterations of Emiya, the boy was radiating prana in such quantity his circuits should have been turned to ash, along with his entire body.

He could feel the pain of the worms that were closest to the boy, and even his control over them wasn't enough to keep them from instinctively fleeing from him in abject panic. Whatever Emiya had become was something anathema to his Magecraft, and seeing that his mysteries were the only thing anchoring him to the world of the living, this made Zouken very nervous indeed.

And that sword … what the hell was that sword ?! Zouken was no stranger to weapons. He had witnessed every Grail War, seen the weapons used by Servants from all eras of Humanity. That sword superficially resembled many of those, but he could tell it was something different altogether, and not just because of its absurd size. He had sensed anything like what he sensed emanating from that blade – and come to think of it, where the hell had it come from too ?!

"Do you think this change anything, Emiya !?" he shouted – raising his voice for the first time in decades. "No matter how freakish you turn yourself, I am beyond your power to kill, and I hold Sakura's life in my hand ! Maybe I can't kill you, but you will submit, or Sakura will suffer !"

The teenager cocked his head to the side, seemingly considering Zouken's words. Then his attention focused completely on Sakura.

"Sakura. Do you trust me ?"

The girl nodded. Tears ran across her face, and yet she looked upon the creature that the boy she loved had become without fear. Foolishness, but Zouken supposed that after all she had been through, even such a sight could hardly faze her.

"Then close your eyes … and hold still."

Zouken felt his last living descendant stop struggling against his grip. Then, faster than he could see through the hundreds of eyes with which he was watching the scene, the Emiya boy moved.

Suddenly he was in front of him, towering over Zouken and Sakura both. Zouken opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say – and then Shirou rammed his sword through Sakura's chest. The blade erupted from her back and kept going, impaling Zouken's false body as well.

There was a flash of searing light, and Zouken's perception was filled with agony the likes of which he had never experienced. He sensed the worms implanted within Sakura's flesh cry out as they were obliterated, and barely managed to draw his soul away from the familiar curling next to the girl's heart before it too vanished.

In shock, Zouken relaxed his grip on Sakura. Like a puppet with its strings cut, the girl fell forward, somehow sliding through the sword that had skewered her and falling into Shirou's extended left arm. Her naked body showed no wounds, no damage whatsoever.

The same could not be said of Zouken himself. Since he had abandoned his original body for the fake ones constructed by his familiars, the ancient magus had never felt so much pain. Even the slow, constant agony of feeling his current incarnation rot and fall apart was nothing compared to the blazing inferno that emanated from the weapon impaling him. He tried to abandon that body, to flee through his connection to the rest of his familiars' swarm, only to find that his awareness was held in place by whatever Magecraft the blade was imbued with.

"How ?" he gasped, black liquid flowing from his mouth as he spoke.

"This blade was meant to kill monsters," replied the thing that had invaded his home. "And despite all that you did to her, Sakura never gave in into your darkness."

"What … are you ?"

"Her friend."

"Her friend ? Is that it ?! Is that the only reason why a creature such as you would do such a thing ?!"

"Yes. What other reason could I need ?" answered Shirou, before setting Zouken's soul ablaze.

Zouken screamed through ten thousand mouths as he died. The Matou Workshop was filled with the discordant sound of countless insects screeching as they burned from the inside, the Magic Circuits within them igniting as the wrath of Shirou Emiya circulated through the very links that had kept the abominations alive. Outside the Matou household, the familiars Zouken had scattered across Fuyuki as spies and backups also screeched, but the sound was much lesser, picked up only by cats and dogs – who in turn suddenly began to cry out, filling the night with panicked howls and distressed meows.

Zouken burned, feeling every part of his ancient, rotting soul being consumed. Centuries of memories turned to ash and less than ash. Such was the pain of this most total of annihilation, he did not have any last thoughts, any final moment of realization – only torment, and then the void.

And so it was that Zolgen Makiri, one of the three Magi who had helped build the mechanism of the Holy Grail War in centuries past, died after clinging to life for far too long. Alone, despised by all who knew of his ongoing existence, with his bloodline extinct and the last heir of his Magecraft purified of all that he had done to her.

Still holding Sakura close to him, Shirou fell on the mass of dried-up insect corpses, trying not to hurl at the feel and stench of them.

He had no idea what had just happened. His brain had felt – still felt – like it was on fire, and everything he had done was clear in his memory. But he could remember neither how or why he had done it. It had felt as if he suddenly knew what to do, but that knowledge had vanished along with the transformation. Third-rate magus as he was, Shirou still knew that this was a very bad sign.

Possible explanations flashed in his mind, but he was simply too ignorant to know whether any of them were plausible. Inhuman ancestry somewhere in his blood family tree, a curse leftover from the Grail Fire, an enemy of Zouken using him as a puppet without his knowledge … There was no way to know. But that was not to say that the experience, whatever it had been, had left him completely in the dark.

He understood now. He wasn't a hero. Not just because it had taken him so long to find out what had happened to Sakura – that just meant he was a poor hero.

But no hero would have risked Sakura's life like this. A hero would have found an other way to save her, without stabbing her and relying on an unknown weapon's properties to leave her unharmed. A hero would have saved his friend without Shinji dying, maybe even without Zouken dying. At the very least, a hero would regret their deaths, would have hesitated to let his friend die.

But … he didn't. His friendship with Shinji had turned to dust the moment he had learned that the boy had taken part in Sakura's torture, and try as he might, he could find no possible justification for letting a monster like Zouken live. He would do it all again to save Sakura, and he knew that this wasn't what a hero would do. A hero was supposed to save everyone, not kill those who stood against him to save only those who were precious to him.

Most of all, though, a hero wouldn't call upon unknown and dark powers to annihilate his foe.

And yet, again, Shirou did not regret what he had done. He had chosen to come to the Matou estate, and would bear the consequences of that choice – whatever they might be.

He looked at Sakura as she stirred in his arms, and her face reminded him of why he had chosen as he had.

"Senpai ?" she whispered, her eyes half-opened.

"I am here, Sakura," he replied, cupping her face in his free hand to keep her looking straight at him. She didn't need to see what had happened in the room. "Don't worry. It's safe now. Everything is going to be okay."

"The worms …" she spaced out, as if trying to make sense of something she couldn't comprehend. "… they don't hurt anymore ..."

He felt his heart break all over again. Of course the parasites had hurt her. She had been hurting the entire time he had known her, and he had never noticed.

"They are gone. I … removed them. You will never go through something like that again."

"But … Grandfather ..."

"I removed him too. Rest, Sakura. I am bringing you home."

"H-home … ?"

"Yes. You are safe now. I promise."

She smiled, and though it was different, the smile reminded Shirou of Kiritsugu's, when he had first seen the man amidst the ruins and ashes. It was so … relieved. So … happy.

He knew he was smiling too, seeing his reflection in Sakura's eyes before they closed, and she fell back into exhausted unconsciousness. He checked her pulse, finding it slow but regular. Picking her up, he slowly made his way out of the pit, climbing up the steps Sakura had walked down countless times before as she descended into her personal Hell. He passed by Shinji's corpse, laying where it had fallen. The blue-haired teenager's eyes were wide open, his face contorted into an expression of agony reflecting his last moments.

For several seconds, Shirou looked at the body of his former friend, trying to process how he was supposed to feel. It wasn't difficult to imagine Shinji's story. Born without Magic Circuits to a magus bloodline, he must have always resented Sakura for being chosen as the heir over him. Such insecurities would have made him easy prey for Zouken's manipulations.

He didn't hate Shinji, not like he had hated Zouken in the final moments of their confrontation. He … pitied the boy. He mourned the death of who he could have been.

But he still did not regret that he had died, not if his death had earned Sakura's salvation. Perhaps that was another sign that he wasn't a hero.

At the archway, Shirou looked back at the mass of dried-up insects corpses. Simply leaving them here felt wrong, and dangerous. He took a canister from his belt, turned the dial on it all the way and poured some prana into it. Then, as he carried Sakura past the archway and up the stairs, he tossed the delayed, Reinforced incendiary grenade into the pit.

Two minutes later, the incendiary activated, and Shirou sped up his climb to avoid subjecting Sakura to the fumes rising from the 'Workshop'.

On his way out, Shirou tore a curtain and wrapped it around Sakura's naked body, Reinforcing the fabric so that it would keep her from freezing. He didn't know where her room was, and didn't want to risk exploring the mansion, even with its monsters dead. The curtain would do for now. There were clothes at his home that she could use, leftover from when Fuji-nee had slept over, and they could see about procuring more later.

Shirou wasn't sure when he had decided that Sakura would live with him after this. Truth be told, he hadn't had much of a plan when coming to the Matou residence beyond "save Sakura". But he had just caused the death of her entire direct family … so he had to take care of her. She was his responsibility now.

And he would keep his promise to her. He would keep her safe.

Carrying Sakura through the streets was easy at first. It was late enough that there were almost no people out, and eluding those who were there wasn't difficult, even while carrying the young girl on his back. Thanks to his training, her weight barely registered, even when he let go of his Reinforcement spell and relied purely on physical strength.

He was halfway to his home, near the undefined border when the Western-styled houses were replaced by the more Japanese-styled ones, when he heard the sirens. Turning back, he blinked as he saw the smoke rising from whence he had come. With his enhanced vision, he could see that it was coming from the Matou household.

Had he reinforced the incendiary too much ? No, even if he had, the fire it started wouldn't have been able to spread up the concrete stairs without anything to burn on the way.

Maybe ... the web of Zouken's abominable existence had spread across all the insects on the property and beyond. The Bounded Fields that surrounded the estate had drawn upon the pit for energy. Maybe, when he had destroyed Zouken, he had also broken the Bounded Fields, triggering some sort of last-ditch defense to keep the secrets of the Matou bloodline from falling into the hands of their attackers ? Given what Kiritsugu had told him of Magus mentality, it made sense that would be the case.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it. He had hoped that he would have a bit of time to cover his tracks before his actions of the night were revealed, but it looked like he would have to move quickly.

For now, though, getting Sakura to safety was the top priority. And with the firemen – and no doubt the police – on their way, he had to be even more careful and fast. Despite the overtaxing of his Circuits, he forced them open once again, ignoring the pain and Reinforcing his legs to move quicker. Miyama Town wasn't the area of Fuyuki he was the most familiar with – there had never been any operation that had required the Fujimura Clan to ask for his help – but he had still taken the time to memorize its layout. Running in the side-streets between houses, it took him less than half an hour to make it back to his home.

The meagre Bounded Field that surrounded the Emiya residence was nothing compared to those that had protected the Matou estate. Shirou was aware that his training in that subject was simply pathetic : it was all he could do to maintain the field Kiritsugu had set up before the Fourth War and the crippling of his Circuits. And the Magus Killer had been much more focused on how to subvert Bounded Fields than on how to use them himself. This one kept loud noises inside, subtly influenced unwanted people from trying to force their way in, and – most importantly, where Kiritsugu had been concerned – it warned the magus it was attuned to whenever an active prana source entered it. Only active ones, unfortunately – it might have alerted Shirou to Sakura's predicament soon otherwise.

Maybe Sakura knows how to build a better one, idly thought Shirou as he carried Sakura inside.

There were plenty of spare rooms in the Emiya household, all of which Shirou kept clean. It had been a challenge in the first years – even before Kiritsugu had died, the old man hadn't exactly been adept at housework, though he had somehow still managed to be better than Fuji-nee. Lately, Sakura had started to help him … and now he felt horrible for trying to convince her that she shouldn't waste her week-ends helping him, when it was obvious in hindsight that she had been trying to get as much time away from Zouken as possible.

He would make it up to her. For now, that meant getting her to a comfortable bed in one of the Western-styled bedrooms. Gently, he laid her down on the bed, removing the curtain he had wrapped around her and replacing it with a spare bathrobe – not the best sleepwear, but still better than the piece of fabric. He drew the covers over her sleeping form, careful not to disturb her.

Once done, Shirou looked at Sakura again, flashing his eyes to Grasp her entire body. Somehow, he felt that they were way past the point of him bothering with respecting her privacy. All the worms were gone, but the marks of their teeth on her muscles and organs were still there. Thankfully, whatever had destroyed the familiars had done so in a manner that had sealed the puncture wounds and prevented Sakura from bleeding internally to death.

Maybe modern medicine could help. As disgusting as it was, maybe there existed some natural parasites similar enough to the worm familiars that a treatment existed that could be adapted. The natural world was full of as many horrors as it was wonders, after all. But how could he explain the disappearance of the "parasites" without any trace of what should have been a very extensive surgical operation ? No, he couldn't go to the hospital for this.

Wait … Didn't he have something that could heal injuries, no matter how deep or extensive ?

If Shirou had been in his normal state of mind, he would never have attempted something like this without extensive preparations, especially with how exhausted he already was. But in his half-delirium, and with the guilt of having let Sakura suffer alone for so long weighing on him, he didn't pause to consider the dangers.

He held up a hand and, with one last push of his Magic Circuits, summoned the object which had healed his wounds nine years ago, the holy relic which dwelled within him.

Avalon, the scabbard of King Arthur, appeared in his palm, shining faintly in the moonlight seeping in from the window. It was the first time Shirou saw it clearly, and it was as beautiful in physical form as the light he remembered from when Kiritsugu had put it inside him.

It wasn't the true scabbard, but a Traced copy, and had Shirou been more awake he would have realized how incredible a Magecraft feat Tracing a Noble Phantasm was. Especially one like Avalon, forged not by human hands but by the mysterious Fae, of which the only thing Shirou knew was that they were almost entirely alien to Humanity, both in their mentality and their approach to Magecraft.

But instead, he simply focused on the replica in his hand. With the insight granted to him by Tracing it, he now understood how his father had been able to implant it within him. And so, it was the easiest thing in the world to dissolve the Traced Avalon into golden motes and direct them down into Sakura's body.

A quick scan of her body revealed that her od was already reacting to the foreign object. Even in her exhausted state, Sakura's prana reserves were massive, and the Noble Phantasm was drawing upon them as it began to repair her body. Shirou doubted the Traced artefact would last long enough to undo all the accumulated damage Sakura had suffered, but it was better than nothing.

A wave of relief and exhaustion struck him, and he sat next to Sakura's bed. Within seconds, he had fallen asleep, his head resting on the bed, still holding Sakura's hand.

Chapter Text

A corpse-star burns overhead as he walks on dead stone.

There is a figure at his side, guiding him out of this labyrinth of writhing horrors contained within glass tanks. His time among these monstrosities may be coming to an end, but the things he saw will mark him forever.

He hears a voice, and it takes him a moment to realize that it is his own, even if the words aren't.

"There is one last thing we must discuss. You were given a thousand subjects culled from dozens of Households, yet you only have one success to show for it. Why ?"
"Only one female one. The rate of conversion for males is much higher. But … yes. She was the only successfully subject. The others … did not survive the process."

"This is not acceptable. The final stage of the war to come will require a great deal of firepower for us to breach the final walls. We cannot afford to have half the candidates wasted."

"I know. We have plans to use her to create more viable candidates. She is very strong – perhaps too strong in some ways."

"How so ?"

"She sings to the others from within her confinement : we think it grants them some comfort. We have tolerated it for now, but it will end when we reinforce her containment before we begin the next phase. I swear to you that by the time you and our lord return, we will have succeeded."

"… I see. Very well, I shall trust you to do as you have promised. But one last thing, out of curiosity. Names have power, and if she is to serve as you intend, then her name should be chosen very carefully. What do you call her ?"

"Altani."

November 30th, 2002 AD – Emiya residence

For the first time since she had lost her innocence to the Matou Magecraft, Sakura woke up without feeling pain or discomfort anywhere in her body. There were no small teeth gnawing at her bones, no slimy feelers tightening around her organs, no unnatural heat driving her ever so slowly to abhorrent madness. She awoke confused, uncertain of what was happening. After so many years of emerging from the nightmares that haunted her every night only to be confronted once more with the horror of her waking existence, this new development left her groggy and uncertain.

Her eyes opened slowly, revealing to her a ceiling that wasn't her room's. She had spent countless hours staring at it, in that fake room she had been given to hold the possessions she needed to maintain the masquerade of normal life outside the Matou estate. A diffuse light came through the curtains covering the window, giving just enough illumination for her to finally recognize the room. This was one of the Emiya residence's guest rooms, one of those which hadn't been used since her Senpai had inherited the house. What was she doing here ? The last thing she could remember was …

She froze as the memories rushed in. The basement – the worms – Grandfather – Senpai – Nii-sama … Nii-sama.

Shinji … her brother was dead. He had died because Grandfather had tried to kill Senpai – Senpai had come to save her – it was her fault that Shinji was dead – her brother had died because of her –

As guilt and confusion threatened to overwhelm her, she suddenly realized someone was holding her left hand. Already halfway to panicking, she turned and she saw a red-haired young man – and just like that, the panic receded, and the self-accusing voice went silent. He was there.

Her Senpai was sitting on a chair next to her. His head laid on the bed, and he was asleep – still fully clothed. She blushed at his proximity and contact, but didn't move away. She breathed deeply, slowly, trying to calm down. More memories returned to her. She remembered Shirou's eyes burning bright, and the sudden transformation that had fallen upon him when Grandfather had tried to threaten him into doing the old monster's bidding. She remembered the sword that had pierced her, too. But when she looked at her chest under the bathrobe she wore – her face suddenly flushed as she realized he had changed her while she was unconscious – she saw no mark or scar.

Yet she remembered it clearly now – that look on Senpai's face as he asked her if she trusted him, and the burning sensation as her body was filled with an energy unlike any she had ever tasted. She remembered the words they had exchanged, just before she had fallen unconscious.

The worms are gone, Senpai had said. And … she truly couldn't feel them anymore. She had thought them to be impossible to remove – Zouken had explained their nature to her in great details when she had begun her "training", in order to crush any semblance of hope she might have had left after being abandoned by her birth family. But they were gone, and she knew enough about her condition to know that that meant Zouken was gone too.

The mere thought that her grandfather – her tormentor – was dead sent Sakura's mind reeling. It had been years since she had stopped wishing Zouken dead, since he had broken her to the point where she had stopped believing he could die. Just like removing the worms, her grandfather dying had seemed impossible to her. She had to think that way, because to believe otherwise would have let her cling to hope – and in the worm pit, hope was the cruellest of poisons.

But … her Senpai had done it. He had done both of these impossible things. He …

He saved me.

The how didn't matter to Sakura nearly as much as the why. Why ? Why had he done such a thing ? Why hadn't he turned away from her when he had realized what she was – when he had beheld her ugly, defiled, lewd body ?

Could it be that he, too …

Sakura looked at her Senpai's face more closely, and startled. Shirou was twitching in his sleep, and his face was contorted in a distressed grimace. Was he ... was he having a nightmare ? It felt strange to imagine her Senpai suffering from something as mundane as a nightmare, after he had confronted Grandfather in the heart of his power and emerged victorious.

"Senpai," she whispered, reaching out to shake his shoulder gently. It didn't work, and he looked like he was really in pain, so she shook him harder and called out louder. "Senpai !"

He jerked awake, his golden eyes snapping open. His mouth opened as well, as if he were about to speak – but it closed, and he blinked, the words he had brought back from his dreams visibly slipping from his grasp. His gaze fell upon her, and the sharpness in his expression vanished, replaced by concern.

"Good morning, Sakura." His voice was just as she remembered it – soft and kind, not at all like the commandeering and coldly furious tone he had employed with Grandfather. "How are you feeling ?"

How long had it been since she had been asked that question by someone she trusted and to whom she felt no need to lie ? How long had it been since the answer hadn't been 'horrible' ?

"I am feeling … good. Better than ever."

He looked at her, and his eyes flashed before he sighed, his shoulders sagging in visible relief.

"It looks like the magic I used to heal the leftover damage worked. Are you hurting anywhere ?"

She shook her head, unsure of what he had just done but trusting his judgment. "I feel a bit sore. And …" Her stomach grumbled. She blushed, and Senpai laughed gently, before helping her get up. When he was sure she could stand on her own, he released his hold on her.

"Come on. I am hungry too. Take a bath : I will prepare us some breakfast."

She was about to protest, to say that she would help him, but he raised his hand pre-emptively.

"Sakura, you have just been through a traumatic event. Your home and your family are gone, and you have been rescued from something horrible ..." He trailed off, gazing into the distance, and blinked. "Huh. So that's how Dad felt. Anyway, I am not letting you help with the chores until you have recovered, and that's final."

She wanted to insist, but a treacherously weak part of herself wanted to indulge in his care – wanted to let him spoil her, if only a little bit. And so she nodded.

By the time Sakura emerged from the bathroom, clad in a fresh bathrobe, Shirou had finished cooking a simple but plentiful breakfast. Both teenagers were hungry from their efforts of the last night. Shirou had gone to the Matou residence after eating only a little rice to ensure hunger didn't distract him, and Sakura never ate when she was going to the pit. In addition, the copy of Avalon had drawn upon the young girl's reserves to heal her.

All of that combined made the two of them eat like famished lions. Shirou kept an eye on Sakura as they ate, and the girl secretly revelled in being the focus of his attention in such a way.

"There are several things we need to discuss," Shirou began as he put down his empty bowl. He looked silently at Sakura for a few seconds, before forcing himself to continue : "First … I am sorry. For many reasons. This whole situation … I should have handled it much better. I should have seen what was happened to you earlier. I should have rescued you from that sooner."

"That's not true," Sakura protested. "You saved me, Senpai. I didn't – I kept the truth hidden from you all this time. I lied to you …"

"If you did, it was because you were scared," he cut her off gently. "Scared of what would happen to you or to me. And I should still have seen something was wrong. Looking back, it's so obvious … I knew there was something weird going on with your family, but I never suspected it was something Magecraft-related."

He sighed. "And even after that, I still failed you. Even if I saved you from Zouken, I should have found a way to do it without … without Shinji dying. Even if he was … who he was, even after all that he did to you, I know he was your brother."

"Nii-sama … Nii-sama used to be kind to me," said Sakura softly. "When I was little. Before Grandfather told him he could never become a magus himself, because he didn't have Magic Circuits. It was after that he started to take out his anger on me. But before that … before that, I think he did love me as his little sister, even if I wasn't really …"

"And he died because of me," finished Shirou. "I am sorry, Sakura."

There was a moment of silence as the two of them grieved for the boy who had been friend to one of them and brother to the other. It was Sakura who broke the silence first :

"I didn't know you were a magus, Senpai."

"I am not. Not really, not by the definition of the Association. A magus is someone who researches Magecraft in order to reach the Root, either for themselves or by helping their family advance their research so that their descendants will succeed one day. Like my dad, I am a magic-user : I use what Magecraft I know for my own goals, and my research is geared toward practical applications, not furthering my family's progress toward some elusive transcendence. Even if your 'education' wasn't typical of Magi families, you probably know more about Magecraft than me."

"But … you are the heir of the Emiya family," she protested. "And you can do incredible things. I didn't think anyone could kill Grandfather, or remove the worms without killing me. What you did yesterday … if you aren't a great magus, then you must have a powerful Crest then ?"

"Oh no," he waved off the idea. "I don't have anything like that. Dad adopted me, and if he had a Magic Crest, he never passed it on to me."

Sakura froze at the words. He … he had been adopted ? She hadn't known that. She had known his father was dead, and that Fujimura-sensei was his guardian, but that was all.

He is like me, came the thought.

"How did you do it then ?" she forced herself to continue. There was no academic curiosity in her words – she was even less of a Magus than her Senpai in that way, for to her, Magecraft had only ever been a source of torment. But the answer was part of her Senpai, and so she wanted to know.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I had never done anything like that before. When Zouken took you hostage ... No, even before that. Thinking back on it, I shouldn't even have made it to the basement without the Bounded Fields stopping me." He looked down at his hands, strong and calloused, and frowned. "I have theories, but they are just that, and not even good ones. I will try to look into it in the future, of course. For now … I am just glad that whatever happened did happen. Whatever that power was, wherever it came from, I couldn't have saved you without it."

"I am glad too, Senpai. You … You looked like an angel," the young girl whispered as she remembered the wings she had seen emerging from her Senpai's back, cloaking him in shadows as he looked at her Zouken with burning eyes.

Shirou scoffed. "Sakura, whatever that power was, I am confident it didn't come from anything we would call an angel. I don't really remember what I was thinking at the time, but I do remember that I was feeling a lot of anger and hatred toward Zouken."

Sakura didn't know much about angels – the Matou family wasn't exactly close to the Church, not since Zouken had abandoned all but the pretence of humanity to prolong his life. And she had never truly believed anyway – she had been too young to hold any true faith when she had been given to the Matou, and what benevolent God would have let what had been done to her happen ? It had been simpler to accept that the world was just cruel in a meaningless and senseless fashion than to believe that her torment had been part of some divine plan. Her fate had been in Zouken's hands from the moment she had been abandoned into the Matou's care. But now …

"Senpai, what's going to happen to me now ?"

"You are going to stay here and live with me," said Shirou matter-of-factly. "I didn't notice that you were hurting since we knew each other, and my actions resulted in the loss of your family and home. I have a responsibility to look after you now."

She looked at him, not daring to believe what she was hearing. She had dreamt of living with her Senpai every time she had come to visit him, every time she had helped him cook or clean. She hadn't been able to help herself, even as that dream tore her heart apart when she inevitably had to leave and return to her real, nightmarish life outside that small island of happiness.

"You should know that your house burned down last night," Shirou continued. "I saw the flames as I was carrying you here. I think the fire was started by some sort of magical dead-man switch, but it could also have been triggered by the incendiary I used to purge the … the basement. Sorry about that – you won't be getting any of your stuff back from there."

She shook her head wordlessly. There was nothing in that home that she would have wanted to keep anyway. There were only two possessions she truly treasured : the ribbon she had been given by her sister before the two of them had been torn apart, which she still wore in her hair even now; and the keyring Senpai had given her with the key to his home when she had told him she wanted to repay his saving her from that criminal. That keyring may be lost alongside the other, lesser possessions that had been in her fake room, but she didn't care about it – how could she, when it seemed that she had gained so much more in exchange ?

"The police will be all over the site," Senpai said. "And while I know how to perform simple hypnosis to keep the secrecy of Magecraft, it's far too late to hide what happened yesterday. So we are going to have to rely on more mundane methods to make sure neither of us get in trouble."

Senpai picked up the phone in the living room. Like most of the house's equipment, it was modern, one of the reasons why Sakura had never considered her Senpai could be a practitioner of Magecraft. Magi tended to look down on technology, and Zouken hadn't been any different – though he had admittedly had better reasons than most, since he was a very old man-shaped abomination.

After asking Sakura to remain silent, Shirou made a call, putting the phone on speaker so that she could hear both sides of the conversation. Five rings after the call connected, it was picked up.

"Kamido here," said a gruff voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Kamido-san. It's Shirou."

"Kiddo ? What's wrong ? I heard from the boss' granddaughter that you were sick."

"I am better, thank you. I need to meet with Fujimura-san as soon as possible. It's about the events that occurred last night in Miyama Town. I am sure you have already heard about them ?"

"... What the hell ? Yeah, we did. Kid, what happened ? That area is far from the contested territories – there is nothing there of interest to our rivals. Do I need to gather the boys ?"

"No, the immediate danger has already been dealt with. I need help managing the fallout, though. I have a guest in my home, and she too needs to meet Fujimura-san."

"'She' , huh ? Why am I not surprised ? … Fine. Wait a minute, I will go ask the boss."

Several moments later, the man called Kamido picked up the phone again : "Okay, kid, the boss is willing to meet you and your guest this morning. Be at the gates in one hour."

"Thank you, Kamido-san. I am sorry to intrude further, but could you send a vehicle to pick us up ?" Shirou looked at where Sakura was sitting. "And … if you could also bring some of Fuji-nee's old clothes – from her middle-school years ?"

"What." Kamido's response was utterly flat.

"As I said, I have a friend over," Shirou explained hastily, apparently only just realizing how what he had asked could be interpreted. "She is part of the reason I need to speak with Fujimura-san. I want her to be present at the meeting, and I don't have any clothing her size. She is younger than me, but anything you have would be better than what she is wearing right now."

"Tch. Fine. I will come pick you up myself and bring something for your girlfriend. But this better be important, kid," warned the man. "The boss likes you and you are useful, but asking for a meeting on such short notice ..."

"I know. I swear to you that it is important. I will see you soon, then."

"Yeah, yeah. Bye."

The line went dead, and Shirou hung up the phone.

"Who was that, Senpai ?" Sakura asked timidly.

"Someone I occasionally do odd jobs for," he replied, opening a drawer and pulling out an unmarked envelope. He opened the envelope, and Sakura's eyes widened as she saw the stack of bills inside.

Shirou counted the cash, before nodding. "This should be enough to buy you everything you need. I know some good shops where we can go. I will take you there after meeting with Fujimura-san."

"Why do you need to meet Fujimura-sensei ?" She asked, confused. What did the young woman who was almost always at Senpai's home whenever Sakura went there have to do with this ?

"No, not Fuji-nee : her grandfather, Raiga. Leader of the Fujimura Group, also known as the one and only Yakuza syndicate in Fuyuki." He smiled at Sakura's shocked expression. "I know. I was surprised too, when I heard Fuji-nee was related to a gang boss. Don't worry, he isn't too bad. Anyway, that's why we need to go see him : we need his help dealing with what happened yesterday."

She looked at him, trying to look past her surprise at the revelation that the ditzy woman who was almost always in Senpai's home when she came was related to a crime syndicate – or that her kind Senpai had apparently 'worked' for such an organization in the past.

Did Senpai think the influence of this Fujimura-san would be enough ? Maybe it would. Part of her wanted to believe that it would be – wanted to trust him. But Senpai had already admitted that he wasn't a Magus, that he wasn't perfect or infallible. And the thought that this unexpected happiness he was offering her may be snatched from her grasp was enough to stir her to speak.

"Even if Fujimura-san can help us with the mundane side of things," she began "what about the other magi of Fuyuki ? Grandfather was known to them, even if none of them liked him. They will come for you, Senpai. Does the Second Owner know you are a magus ?"

The idea that she did – that all along, she had known something about Senpai which Sakura hadn't – was … unpleasant.

"The Second Owner … that's Tohsaka, right ?" Sakura nodded, her shoulders tense. "I thought so. No, she doesn't know, or at least I don't think she does." All of a sudden, she relaxed, her fears, no matter how irrational, dispelled. "Her home isn't far from yours, so she probably picked up on what happened … That's even more reason we need to deal with the protection of the secrecy first. Then if she comes to investigate, I will tell her what happened. I am sure she will understand why I had to go and save you. As for living on her territory without her permission, I suppose I will have to find a way to make it up to her."

Despite her best efforts, something of Sakura's ugly feelings must have shown on her face, and he looked at her with renewed concern.

"You don't like Tohsaka much, do you, Sakura ? I noticed that, but I never thought about it."

"It's … it's not that I don't like her," she whispered, looking down at the table as she wrestled with a confusing mess of emotions – shame, guilt, and the one that caused the other two – anger.

"She is my sister," she finally said, daring to look up at him. "My birth sister. I … I was born Sakura Tohsaka, and was adopted into the Matou family when it was discovered that their only living descendant didn't have Magic Circuits. It was only later that Nii-sama was told, but it was always intended that I would become the heir of the Matou family, to carry on their Magecraft."

She ran her hand through her hair. "Zouken did … things to me, when I was first adopted, with the help of Byakuya – Nii-sama's father and the official head of the Matou family, even if he was always Grandfather's puppet. They changed my body so that I could use the Matou Mysteries. It changed the color of my hair and my eyes, along with other things."

"Magi," whispered Shirou, the word sounding like a curse. "Did … did your parents know what they were condemning you to ?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I don't think they did, and now that they are dead I will never know for certain. But our families were allies for a long time, Senpai – they wouldn't have given me away to the Matou otherwise. I find it hard to believe they didn't know what the Matou Magecraft was like …"

Her Senpai closed his eyes for several seconds, taking deep breaths. When he re-opened them, there was steel in them along with the kindness and care.

"It doesn't matter. If Tohsaka comes, I will tell her the truth. If you want to reconnect with her, then you can. For now … let's clean up the dishes, shall we ? We can do that much together."

Less than twenty minutes after Shirou's phone call, a car parked in front of the Emiya residence. The Fujimura estate wasn't that far away, but Shirou felt it was best to avoid being seen outside with Sakura on the very tomorrow of her so-called "family's" demise. And he hadn't been lying when he had told Kamido-san he didn't have clothes that fit Sakura. For some reason, Kiritsugu had left him several wardrobes full of women's clothes, but all of them were sized for an adult woman – nothing that would fit Sakura, even if she were more developed than most girls her age.

Muttering something about how he would make Shirou pay for the humiliation, Kamido handed over an old school uniform of Fuji-nee, and Sakura changed quickly before following Shirou into the Yakuza's car.

Kamido drove the two teenagers across Miyama Town's Japanese section. Within a few minutes, they had arrived at the Fujimura estate – which was several times the size of the Emiya household. The guards at the entrance let them pass without problem, though Shirou noted that they were more tense than usual. It appeared that the events of last night had had more repercussions than he thought. That was something he would need to keep in mind.

Kamido escorted Shirou and Sakura through the estate. It was an old Japanese mansion, with plenty of signs of the Fujimura Group's prosperity in evidence. Like most Yakuza groups, the Fujimura had risen after the second World War, bringing a semblance of order to the war-torn nation. Raiga Fujimura, the current patriarch of the Group, was old enough to actually remember those days, even if he had just been a child back then.

It was under Raiga's guidance that the Fujimura Group had become something that Shirou felt comfortable supporting despite technically remaining an illegal organization. Raiga had remade the Fujimura, once a military family, into a syndicate that protected Fuyuki from the shadows. They had carved their territory through Raiga's cunning and held it because the people of the city recognized that they were better than any alternative.

For all intents and purposes, the Fujimura Group was more akin to a militia than an actual criminal gang, dedicated to keeping the worst of the underworld's scum from establishing any kind of influence in Fuyuki. They had regular contacts with the police force and other city officials. Most of their resources were tied down to legitimate businesses, which were supplemented by contributions from concerned business owners who didn't want the city's tranquillity to be disturbed, along with a few seedier businesses in the entertainment district.

Raiga had once described his position to Shirou as that of a castle's lord watching against foreign invasions. Having taken part in several operations against such "invasions", Shirou felt that the comparison was an apt one. The men in suits that Raiga employed were mostly uncouth brutes, but in Raiga's employ, they found a purpose that didn't involve hurting innocent people. The regular martial arts training sessions Raiga imposed upon his followers helped discipline them, along with providing them an edge in a country where firearms were much less prevalent than in others.

Shirou had told all of this to Sakura as they cleaned up after breakfast and waited for Kamido to arrive. He didn't expect her to have to say much during the meeting, but she should know what they were getting into.

Kamido guided Shirou and Sakura to a room deep within the estate, and gestured for the two of them to enter. They would meet Raiga alone, which was a sign of how much the old man trusted the teenager – or perhaps one that he knew whatever they were going to discuss wasn't for anyone else's ears. Side by side, the two teens entered, Kamido closing the door behind them.

At the end of the room was Raiga Fujimura himself, seated like a noble from a period drama welcoming a supplicant to an audience. The Oyabun was an elderly gentleman in his seventies, with a mane of white hair and a long beard of the same color. Despite his old age, he still commanded an impressive presence, and his brown eyes remained as piercing as ever. He smiled as Shirou and Sakura entered.

"Shirou-kun !" he greeted them with a wide smile that revealed several silver teeth – legacy of a misspent youth, as he liked to call them. "It has been a long time since you visited me in person. And who is your lady friend ?"

"Good morning, Raiga-san. This is Sakura Matou," explained Shirou, "a dear friend of mine."

Sakura mumbled her own greetings, staying close to Shirou. She wasn't exactly afraid – after what she had been through, it would take a lot to scare her – but she was definitely uneasy.

"Ah, I see. My granddaughter told me about her." The Oyabun's expression grew more serious as he focused on the girl. "I believe I owe you an apology, Sakura-san. It was because of the Fujimura Group's failings that you were subjected to that … situation one year ago. Our failings resulted in that particular individual escaping us, and Shirou-kun had to clean up our mess. I am sorry that you had to go through that traumatic experience." He lowered his head in apology.

"Ah ... that's not a problem. I wasn't really scared ... and it was thanks to it that I met Senpai."

Raiga frowned as he looked at her, no doubt finding no lie in her words and wondering how it was possible for a child not to have been scared when witnessing an armed robbery. He quickly shook it off, however, and gestured for the two teenagers to sit before him. A clap of his hands summoned someone bringing them cups and a fresh pot of tea before leaving them alone once more, and soon the three of them were drinking together.

The tea was excellent, Shirou noted, and not the standard fare he was typically offered when he came to the Fujimura estate on business.

"In case you weren't aware," the Oyabun told Sakura as they put down their cups, "Shirou has been working for me on and off for some time now. He has inherited some of his father's special talents."

"Not all of them," muttered the red-headed teenager.

"Something for which I have been grateful in the past years, considering some of the stories I heard about Kiritsugu. And yet, I find myself wondering if that has changed." The levity left the older man's eyes, and he fixed a serious stare on Shirou. "I have heard from my contacts in the force, Shirou-kun. They told me that the Matou estate completely burned down last night, though the firemen were able to contain the blaze to the property's boundaries … its exact boundaries, in fact. The greenhouse burned down too, but none of the neighbouring homes got so much as a fright. Quite strange, don't you think ?"

"Yes," replied Shirou. "It's lucky for those neighbours that the firemen were so efficient."

The Oyabun stared at the boy for a few seconds before shaking his head.

"Fine. Far from me to ask about your methods. Still, I need to know what happened, especially if you are going to ask a favor of me related to this situation." He stopped here expectantly, and Shirou took the offered opening.

"Yesterday, I learned that Sakura had been abused for years by her brother and her grandfather, and decided to put an end to it."

He wished he could have been less blunt, especially with Sakura being in the room. But he knew that brutal honesty was his best option there. He reached to his right and took Sakura's hand in his own, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Long story short," he went on, "Shinji – the brother – died in an accident during the confrontation, and I killed Zouken, the grandfather when he tried to hold Sakura hostage and force me to take Shinji's place in the abuse."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Raiga was a hard man, Shirou knew. His conquest of Fuyuki's underworld hadn't been bloodless, nor had been his reign since then. But even he was shaken by what Shirou was describing in the same neutral tone he had always used when reporting to the Oyabun or his subordinates after an operation.

If the ones responsible weren't already dead, Shirou had little doubt that the Fujimura Group would have gone after them without hesitation. He also knew that, had the Yakuza attacked the Matou residence, they would have been slaughtered. Their orders might have been enough for them to overcome the redirection wards, but the other defenses of the estate would have butchered them.

"I did not start the fire that consumed the estate," Shirou continued, "but it's possible that it was an unintended result of my actions. I left in a hurry after rescuing Sakura, and wasn't exactly thinking clearly. I brought her to my home and we spent the night there, until I called Kamido-san this morning to arrange this meeting."

For a long moment, Raiga remained immobile, looking down at his empty tea cup. Shirou didn't know what the old man was seeing, but he doubted it was pleasant.

"The Matou were one of the few families whose presence in Fuyuki predates even my own," the Oyabun said at last. "Far older than my own clan, and even more influential in certain ways. They had fallen from grace in recent times, yet even so, I made sure that my people know not to mess with them. And you claim to have all but destroyed them ?" The old man raised an eyebrow. "This is quite the escalation from your normal methods, Shirou-kun. Do you intent to follow in your father's footsteps ?"

Shirou shook his head. "No, Raiga-san. As I said, there were ... exceptional circumstances at play. And I didn't go there with the intent to kill anyone, even if I would be lying if I said I wasn't prepared to if needed. Even so, I didn't kill Shinji, and as for Zouken … let's just say that no court of law would recognize what I did to him as murder."

Raiga still seemed uneasy, not that Shirou could blame the old man. Even he knew that hearing a teenager talk about that kind of things so calmly was disturbing. Finally, the Oyabun sighed.

"Fine. I understand the situation more clearly. Now, what is it that you need from me, Shirou-kun ?"

"There are two things, Raiga-san. First, I need you to make sure that the investigation in the Matou residence burning down concludes that it was an accident, one that claimed both the lives of Zouken and Shinji Matou."

"That won't be easy," mused Raiga. "Zouken had his own contacts among the police, which he controlled through both bribery and blackmail. They will want to make sure that no trace of their illegal dealings can come to light. But as long as they have confirmation that Zouken is dead …"

"That's going to be problematic," Shirou cut in. "I know Zouken didn't leave a body behind, and I am not sure Shinji did either."

That had Raiga raising an eyebrow again. Shirou held the Oyabun's stare, schooling his features, revealing nothing.

"Hmm. Well, it's still doable. Let's see … Alright. The official story will be that Sakura-chan was spending the night at your place when her home caught fire due to a gas leak and a faulty electrical appliance, tragically killing her brother and grandfather in such a way not even the bodies remained. Thankfully, Sakura-chan was visiting you in your home, since you were sick – something which the school records will confirm – and decided to spend the night, which ended up saving her life. The fire spread across the entire estate, but the firemen were able to keep it contained and prevent damage to the other houses – I will have someone more versed in these matters come up with a suitable justification for the media. Yes, it should not be too difficult to arrange for this to become the official conclusion. I will contact some of my men to iron out the details, but that should be all you two need to know to keep up appearances on your end. What else do you want, Shirou-kun ?"

Shirou swallowed. This was it. The previous favor was important, to be sure, but this one was much more so.

"Sakura has lost her entire family, such as it was," he began. "With the circumstances of her upbringing, I don't think it would be a good idea for her to be passed on to social services. I need you to set things up so that she can live with me until she reaches adulthood."

Raiga cocked his head to the side, looking at Shirou and Sakura in turn with a thoughtful expression.

"I don't know if I should help you with that, Shirou-kun. Don't misunderstand, I am sorry for what has happened to the young lady, and I would be glad to help her. But despite your unique circumstances, you are still a minor living on his own, with my granddaughter as your guardian."

"Which is why I am calling in all of my markers for it," replied Shirou. "Do this for me, Raiga-san, and every debt between us will be cleared."

"I thought you were helping us because it helped keep the city safe ?"

"I do," confirmed Shirou, "but you and your men were the ones who kept insisting that you would pay me back someday. That day has come, Raiga-san."

"Hmm. Is that girl so important to you ?"

"She is," replied Shirou without hesitation.

There was a moment of silence, with Sakura fidgeting nervously at Shirou's side, her face red from Shirou's words. Then Raiga laughed.

"Good ! Good ! I am glad you are finally showing some desire of your own, even if it is to help someone. You are growing into a fine young man, Shirou-kun. But what of you, Sakura-chan ? Do you want to live with Shirou-kun ? If you are afraid of being separated from him, I can make sure you are put in the care of someone living close by. I have plenty of contacts with people outside of the underworld who would be happy to take in a nice young girl like you."

"I," began Sakura timidly. She glanced at Shirou."I want to live with Senpai."

"Then it shall be done. I will have to pull a lot of strings, and she will be marked down as the ward of someone – there is no going around that, Shirou-kun. But that person will be under my employ, or as long as Sakura-chan is fine at your home we will let it continue."

Shirou glanced at Sakura. There was an expression of mixed relief, joy and shock on her face – as if she could not believe that all of this was happening.

I will not fail her again, he swore to himself for what felt like the hundredth time since he had pulled her out of that dreadful pit in the Matou residence.

"One last thing, however," said Raiga, a worrying smile on his face. "I am fine with Sakura-chan living with you, Emiya-kun, but you are the one who will need to convince my granddaughter to let it happen."

You old bastard, thought Shirou, though without much heat. This was not a conversation he looked forward to, even if it needed to happen sooner or later.

By the time they left the Fujimura estate, there was still one hour left until noon, so Shirou kept his promise and took Sakura shopping. Feeling guilty for the fact that circumstances hadn't let her keep anything she owed, Shirou told Sakura not to hold back and pick up anything she liked. It took several attempts, but he eventually convinced her.

They bought an entire wardrobe, replacement for the school supplies she had lost (Shirou had already told her she could copy his own notes from last year), and an assortment of other day-to-day tools needed for any teenage girl. The minutes Shirou spent standing in front of the underwear store while Sakura was inside were some of the most awkward of the teen's young life.

Then Shirou, already carrying several increasingly heavy bags, had to nearly drag Sakura into the bookstore after he caught Sakura wistfully glancing at it.

The store's owner recognized Sakura. As Sakura ventured into the shop to find some books to buy, the old lady told Shirou that the girl had often spent hours in here after school, leaving only when the store closed, reading books and rarely buying any.

"Normally I wouldn't allow it," she confessed, "but the poor thing looked so sad ... I almost didn't recognize her when she came in with that smile on her face. You take care of her, you hear me, dear ?"

"I will," Shirou promised. "We are ... I am not sure what we are, but I will take care of her. And … thank you."

She smiled knowingly at him. When Sakura came back with a handful of books, she wished her good luck as she rang them at the counter.

With their shopping finished, the two of them ate together at a small family restaurant. While the food wasn't on the level of either of their cooking, it was still good, and Sakura ate with the same appetite she had displayed at breakfast.

"Were you really that hungry ?" asked Shirou, slightly concerned.

"No," said Sakura, blushing once more. "It's just ... food tastes much better now."

Was it because of the worms' removal ? Because of Avalon's copy ? Or just because she was free now ?

Shirou didn't know. In truth, he didn't really care, so long as she continued to smile.

"Alright," said Shirou once they had finished eating and paid their tab. "Time to go home and face the Tiger."

"Does Fujimura-sensei know about your involvement with her grandfather ?" asked Sakura.

"No. She knows I sometimes repair bikes and cars for the gang, but that's all. She doesn't know about Magecraft or my jobs for Raiga-san. And I think it would be better to keep it that way."

She nodded. Sakura's education into Magecraft may have been unconventional to say the least, but she understood the importance of preserving its secrecy.

As it turned out, Taiga was waiting for them when they arrived to the Emiya residence. Raiga had contacted her, and told her both the fabricated story about the Matou household catching fire and Shirou's request that Sakura live with him from that point on.

Of course, the first thing Taiga did when they arrived was fret over Sakura while Shirou carried their purchases to the room Sakura had woken up in, and which would be hers from now on. Then, once Shirou returned, she immediately turned on him – both figuratively and literally.

"Shirou, you are fifteen. You aren't old enough to take care of a teenage girl, and old enough that letting you live under the same roof as one goes against my duties as your guardian. The fact that it saved her life is the only reason I am not angry you let her stay here last night without telling me !"

"I have to take care of Sakura, Fuji-nee," he replied calmly. "It's my responsibility."

"Why would it ... Oh God." Taiga turned green, and shook visibly, before her anger resurged. "Sakura-chan, are you pregnant ?! Shirou ! How could you ?! She is only fourteen !"

"What ?! NO ! No, no, no ! We haven't ... we haven't done anything like that !" shouted Shirou, his face looking like a tomato.

"Oh thank God," breathed Taiga, sitting back down. "I was actually worried there for a second ..."

The three of them were in the living room. Sakura was sitting at the table while Shirou and Taiga talked. Thankfully, she wasn't wearing Taiga's old clothes, having changed into new ones at the store where they had bought them. Shirou didn't know if Kamido had told his big sister that he had borrowed them, and if the Yakuza hadn't he didn't want to be the one to open that particular can of worms.

"So," said Taiga. "If not because you made her … that, why is it that Sakura-chan should live with you, Shirou ?"

"She is my friend. And … and so was Shinji." Shirou's face turned grim. "Isn't there a saying that once you save someone's life, you are responsible for it afterwards ?"

"Yes, but … that's just a saying, Shirou," sighed Taiga. "You aren't supposed to take it literally, especially when you are still a kid yourself."

"You are always telling me that I am more mature than most adults you know," Shirou pointed out.

"And you are," she admitted, sounding more serious than Shirou could ever remember her being, "you really are. But this … If it comes out, it won't just be me in trouble as your guardian. Grandfather can keep you from legal troubles, but even he can't stop the rumors that will spread – and those may very well follow you all your life, so long as you stay in Fuyuki."

"I," Sakura began, and Shirou and Taiga immediately turned toward her. "I want to stay here. I want to live with Senpai."

Conflicting emotions flashed on Taiga's face, finally settling on a rueful smile.

"Argh. How am I supposed to say no to that face ? I feel like the evil stepmother trying to separate the two lovebirds … Fine, then. I will allow it. But !" She turned toward Shirou, pointing a threatening finger at the teenage boy.

"You better take care of Sakura-chan," she warned. "If you make her cry, I will never forgive you !"

"I won't," promised Shirou.

The young woman looked at the two teenagers, a wide grin slowly forming on her face. Then she shook her head, and started walking toward the door.

"I'll come back tomorrow for lunch," she called out "Don't do anything I wouldn't approve of !"

Shirou rolled his eyes at his guardian's parting words. Had he not done so, he might have noticed the wink Taiga directed at Sakura before leaving.

After Taiga left, Sakura worked together with Shirou to put everything they had bought inside the dressers of her new room, before going back to the living room, where they sat together in the quiet. After everything that had happened today, the sudden tranquillity was a welcome respite.

Sakura felt light-headed, giddy almost. Her entire being as high strung, her mind filled with disbelieving joy. She was safe. She was free. She was living with her Senpai now.

And yet …

"Senpai-""Sakura-"

The two of them paused as they began talking at the exact same time. With a smile, Shirou gestured for Sakura to go first.

"I wanted to thank you, Senpai. For everything you did yesterday, and today … and before."

Shirou frowned. "It wasn't the cleanest of rescues, and it took far too long to come. I am sorry you couldn't be saved by a knight in white armor," he half-jested. "You had to settle for me instead."

"I don't care," she whispered. "You saved me, Senpai. You saw me ... and you didn't abandon me. You didn't turn away in disgust, even if I was filthy-"

"You were not filthy."

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment some of the fierce figure he had been when he had stood atop the pit and faced Zouken without a speck of fear in his eyes returned.

"Whatever it was I did yesterday purged Zouken's manipulations from you, and Avalon's copy restored you to your normal state over the night. Even then, there are still traces left – like scars, except on the inside of your body. But, Sakura ... even before that, you were not filthy. Never think of yourself like that. You were an innocent caught in the clutches of an evil monster. Nothing that was done to you is your own fault."

"If it wasn't my fault ..." she began slowly, before she pushed through her shyness and looked up straight into Shirou's eyes, "then it wasn't yours either, Senpai. I am not an idiot. I can see that you are blaming yourself for what happened to me ... and for Nii-sama's death."

"Sakura, the only reason I was able to get you out was because I turned into some kind of monster without any idea how I did it. I went in without a plan, with only the thought that I had to save you without thinking about how I could do it. I was stupid, and only a miracle let us get out of there alive. You should not thank me for that. I didn't save you – I merely pulled you out of the wreckage of my mistakes …"

The same expression he had shown her this morning when she had woken up – that look of understanding as some epiphany flashed behind his eyes – briefly passed on Senpai's face, before barely-masked guilt replaced it. This … Sakura would not allow this.

"But you did save me," she replied, her voice as soft and unyielding as the sea. "You saved me long ago, when I first saw you."

"You mean in that store ? Sakura, that wasn't -"

"No, Senpai. It was long before that." She blushed and looked down. "It was at school. I had finished cleaning up the classroom and was leaving when I saw that there was someone in the courtyard, trying to do a high jump over and over again."

She smiled softly, briefly lost in her recollection.

"I thought he should just stop. I remember that it annoyed me that he kept going at it again and again, even if he kept failing. I thought that this boy should just give up, should just stop trying. But … you didn't. And I kept watching you, until you succeeded."

"Sakura ..."

"I sound like a stalker, don't I ? But … seeing you keep trying despite always failing … By that point, I had already stopped trying to fight against Gran-against Zouken."

Somehow, Shirou knew that Sakura would never refer to that old monster as her Grandfather.

"I had stopped even thinking about fighting him," she continued, "about resisting him. I was falling apart and I didn't even have the strength to care about it, or about what he would make of me after I had broken completely. But seeing you … it gave me the strength to keep going."

She felt his hands around her shoulders then, pulling her close. She laid her head on his chest, part of her revelling in his closeness, something she had not dared to hope for before.

"So … thank you, Senpai. Even if you didn't realize it, even if it was a small, silly thing, you saved me from myself then." She looked up at him, and her smile was bright as the noon sun. "Then you saved me from that robber, and now you have saved me from Zouken. You are making a habit of it."

"I will save you as many times as it takes," he promised. "I won't abandon you, Sakura."

"Part of me still thinks that this is a dream," she whispered. "That I will wake up and be back in the pit, with the worms inside me and Zouken looking down."

He hugged her. "This is real," he whispered back to her.

"How do you know ?" she asked him, her voice almost breaking. "How can I be sure ?"

Shirou thought on it for a moment. He had learned to distinguish between dreams and reality years ago, when the nightmares from the Fire had haunted his nights and he had thought he was back amidst the flames. He remembered that, the first times he had had those nightmares, he had thought that everything since – his adoption, his training, his life – had been the dream, that he had never escaped that place of ashes and ruin.

Maybe …

"I know," he said, "because I was saved once too."

He told her, holding her tight in his arms all the while. He told her about everything : about the Fire, about him being found by Kiritsugu. He told her about Avalon, and about Kiritsugu's activities as the Magus Killer and his participation in the Grail War – and the reason why his father had destroyed the Holy Grail at its conclusion. He told her about being a Sword Incarnation, and about the dreams of mist-filled forests. He told her of his dreams of being a hero, of fulfilling his father's ruined dream.

After years of keeping so many secrets, it felt good to share it all with someone he trusted. He felt Sakura relax in his arms as he spoke. The secrets he was telling her could not possibly have been imagined by her, and therefore this couldn't be a dream, no matter how outlandish reality was.

"You told Fujimura-sensei you would take responsibility," she whispered, her head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I will." There was no doubt, no question about it. Much of what Shirou believed had been shaken by what had happened in the last forty-eight hours, but this ? This, he knew.

"Really ?" She looked up at him. He met her gaze, and she saw only truth in his golden eyes. She hesitated, a sudden rush of fear nearly causing her to step back – and then Sakura Matou chose.

She kissed him. After a first instant of shock, Shirou returned her kiss. Within moments, Sakura was half-dragging him across the residence and to his room.

For all his maturity, Shirou was still very much an innocent in some aspects. It took him several moments, even as Sakura's hands began to fiddle with his clothes, to realize what was happening – but once he did, even his self-control could not keep him from answering Sakura's advances. Any reluctance he may have felt from Sakura still being in shock was swept aside by a combination of love, desire, and the will to prove to Sakura that he would never consider her tainted by what had been done to her.

Hours later, long after the sun had set on the horizon, the two of them finally fell asleep in each other's arms, utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Once again, they dreamt, but neither was tormented by the nightmares that had plagued them all their lives. Instead, they dreamt of one another, and of the life that, by miracles dark and bright, they would make together.

Chapter Text

December 1st, 2002 AD – Tohsaka residence

Rin Tohsaka was not happy.

This was not uncommon for her, especially when it was Sunday morning and she had been awoken from her sleep a mere three hours after she had emerged from her Workshop, gotten into her pajamas and crashed into her bed, her latest set of experiments finally complete. She had spent over twenty hours working on her jewels, and had been looking forward to spending the entire day in bed before going back to school on Monday.

Instead, she had woken up when that damned rotary phone she had inherited from her father (who had been surprisingly modern by magi standards) had rung – and kept ringing, despite her attempts to silence it by burrowing her head in cushions and stubbornly refusing to move. Eventually, she had dragged herself out of bed and down the stairs, the journey barely enough for some of her fatigue to be replaced by a cold, seething rage at whoever had disturbed her rest.

"What," she snarled as she picked up the phone, barely refraining herself from crushing it to pieces.

"Good morning, Rin," replied the voice on the line, utterly unfazed by the hatred in her tone.

"Kirei," she all but growled. "Why are you calling me this early on a Sunday ?"

"It is nearly eleven AM," answered the priest, not even bothering to hide his amusement. "As your guardian, I feel I should be worried about the hours my charge keeps on off-school days."

"If you called me just to wake me up, so help me God -"

"Of course not," he interrupted her, his tone suddenly all business. "Amusing as that would be, even I would not be so crass. I have called you not as my ward, but as Fuyuki's Second Owner."

The words felt like cold water thrown in Rin's face. Since she had completed her tutelage under Kirei, taken the reins of the Tohsaka family – along with its much-diminished finances – and assumed the position that had belonged to her forebears for generations, the fake priest had never contacted her in that aspect of their relationship.

She could think of many reasons why Kirei was calling her right now – few of them good.

She swallowed, and asked : "What has happened ?"

"Zouken and Shinji Matou died on Friday night, and the Matou residence burned to the ground."

For several seconds, Rin remained silent, the last traces of her sleepiness banished and replaced by shock. Eventually, her mind managed to reboot, and she asked :

"Are you sure the old monster is dead ? I was under the impression he was using some kind of Magecraft to keep himself alive, and that sort of thing isn't easy to overcome."

Kirei chuckled. "Believe me, I know more about the means by which Zouken preserved his loathsome existence than you did. I made sure to check, using some of the methods at my disposal as an Exorcist. Yes, Rin, I am sure. Zouken is dead."

Rin forced herself not to let any emotion show in her voice as she continued : "And what of the Matou heir ? Did she … die too ?" She didn't think so, or Kirei would have mentioned it – but she wouldn't put it beyond the fake priest to hold that information just so that she would have to ask.

"It does not seem so. The police thinks that she is alive. Apparently, she was spending the night at a friend's home and was thus spared from the destruction."

A friend ? As far as Rin knew, Sakura didn't have any friend at school, except – Emiya. Of course. She knew Sakura visited him in his house – they came to school together more often than not. And Sakura's crush on the red-haired boy couldn't have been more obvious. Not that Rin couldn't understand – Emiya was the only one who showed any kindness to the girl, and he wasn't bad-looking besides – but it still surprised her that Shinji would let his sister spend the night out, given how he always reacted when Sakura and Emiya came to school together.

"She was at Emiya's, wasn't she ?"

There was a pause, and when Kirei spoke up again, there was the faintest hint of surprise in his voice :

"… Yes, she was in the home of one Shirou Emiya, according to the latest police report. My contacts also told me that the paperwork is being filed for her to live there from now on, and that there is a certain amount of push to make it go through quickly and without fanfare. The same kind of pressure is also being applied on the investigation of the Matou residence's destruction, to make sure it is classified as an accident."

"Where is that pressure coming from ?" She would have expected Kirei to be the one to do that; there was no telling what the police could find investigating the ruins of the Matou residence that would threaten the secrecy of Magecraft. But if it wasn't him and Zouken (the only other Magus in Fuyuki with that kind of pull with the police force after her father's death) was dead, then who ?

"I don't know," admitted the fake priest, and Rin almost smiled as she heard how much he disliked saying it out loud. "Which in itself is a clue, since it means that whoever is behind this has enough influence to counter mine."

That … was worrying. Left unsaid was the implication that whoever had managed to kill Zouken in the heart of his power – she barely gave a second thought to Shinji's demise, as even a particularly dim child could have figured out a way to kill the preening teenager – was the most likely suspect. Which meant that they had managed to infiltrate the city rather thoroughly before striking, if they could wield that kind of influence over the police.

"Fine. I admit that you had a pretty good reason to wake me up," Rin grumbled. "I will go visit Sa-the Matou heir, and get the story from her. Give me the address."

She knew Kirei had caught her last-second word swap, but wonder of wonder, the fake priest didn't mention it. He told her the address, before going silent. Just when Rin was about to hang up on him, he spoke up once more :

"Rin, there is something you should know. The boy, Emiya … he is most likely a magus."

She frowned. "I have met him many times at school, Kirei. He never struck me as a practitioner."

"That just means that he's good at keeping his true nature hidden, which is a trait shared by every Magus worth the name," the fake priest chided her. "It was the name 'Emiya' that drew my curiosity when I saw it in the report. When I dug deeper, I found that he was the adoptive son of Kiritsugu Emiya, known to both the Association and the Church as the Magus Killer – a freelancer of dreadful reputation among both your peers and mine. I wasn't aware of the boy's presence in the city until today, nor that you were close to him in any fashion, or I would have warned you before now. Rin, if he is anything like his father, then he will be far more dangerous than you can handle. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me overmuch if he were the one who put Zouken down."

"That's ridiculous," she snapped. "Emiya, a threat ? He doesn't even react when Shinji insults him to his face !"

"Rin … Kiritsugu Emiya was one of the last Grail War's Masters. He fought in the name of the Einzbern, and was the Master with the higher kill counter. Official Church records mark him as having died around that time, but there were many who suspected he had merely faked his death. Yet for all his enemies who sought him out – and believe me, he had many enemies – none of them could find him. If he stayed in Japan after the War, that explains it : the Association has little influence on this continent, as you well know."

Of course she knew. As far as the Mage Association was concerned, Japan – and the entirety of Asia, if she were honest – was a backwater, populated only by amateur magi and a handful of inhuman bloodlines whose sole interest was as test subjects for the experiments of their "betters". And for all that Fuyuki stood at the confluence of several ley lines, it was devoid of any such bloodlines, making its sole interest to Western magi the Grail War that took place there every fifty years. If this "Magus Killer" really had such a dreadful reputation as Kirei seemed to imply, then hiding in Fuyuki had actually been quite clever : the Association only concerned itself with the city when a Grail War was coming, and he would have known exactly how distant that was.

"Even I believed him dead," continued Kirei, "which I admit was quite the blunder considering he apparently spent years in this city before finally passing away."

"And he didn't even bother to change his name," Rin pointed out, taking some pleasure in forcing Kirei to confront the scale of his failure. "Are you sure he was that good, and you aren't inflating the threat he posed to justify your own mistakes ?"

"I am aware that I have erred in this, Rin, but I still need you to listen to me. Only a Magus could have destroyed Zouken, and you and I would have noticed it if one had come from outside Fuyuki. As a rule, magi are not the most subtle people, and while one could possibly have slipped by the two of us, it is much more unlikely they would have been able to build up the influence required to clean up after them like this. I supposed a Dead Apostle could also be responsible, but there haven't been any report of disappearances, and such a creature wouldn't have left a survivor behind. This is why I believe it likely that Shirou Emiya was the one to kill Zouken and his grandson, and to engineer the ongoing cover-up of the attack."

Rin forced herself to put aside her emotions and consider what Kirei was saying objectively. Was it possible ? Could Emiya have fooled her all this time, keeping his abilities a secret from her – the Second Owner of this city ?

"I strongly advise you to not go to the residence of such an individual alone," Kirei pressed. "Strong as you may be, you are nowhere near -"

Rin slammed the phone down, fuming. Who did Kirei think he was, telling her what to do or not to do ?! She wasn't afraid of Emiya, even if he was apparently the adopted son of some boogeyman of the Moonlit World. She was the Tohsaka Head, heiress to a thaumaturgical legacy that went back hundreds of years. She was the Second Owner of Fuyuki, and it burned her pride that she had to learn what had happened to the Matou from Kirei instead of figuring out herself.

She was honest with herself enough to know that she hadn't been a good sister to Sakura. When the two of them had been separated, she had followed her father's instructions and treated her as a stranger. Forget that you had a sister, Tokiomi had said, and when she thought back on it she fancied that there had been a shade of regret in the magus' voice as he told her this, though perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

Then her father had died, her mother had slowly faded away, and she had been left with Kirei Kotomine of all people as a mentor and guardian. He had not treated her badly – her training had been harsh, but no more than should be expected from an Exorcist teaching the heir to an old Magus bloodline. And yet, there had always been something … wrong about the man. Something that made her despise him from the bottom of her heart, without being able to say why.

She had wanted to get closer to Sakura, as a friend if not as a sister. Their families were supposed to be allies, after all. But by the time she had been freed of Kirei's tutelage and had taken her independence in the Moonlit World, she had not dared to try. What was she supposed to say to the sister her family had abandoned ? After spending years learning the mysteries that were the heritage from which Sakura had been deprived, how could she try to reconnect with her ?

She couldn't do it. She was bitterly aware that it was her cowardice that had kept her from reaching out to her younger sister. All she had done was watch as Shinji continued to insult her, and try to draw some of the fool's attention to herself by making her rejections of his pitiful attempts at wooing her as humiliating as possible. Even then, she knew she had done a lot less for Sakura than Emiya – in the last year, the two of them had become almost inseparable, with Sakura becoming a lot more lively as soon as the red-haired boy approached. She could not bring her sister's happiness.

But this ? This she could do. She would go to Emiya's house, she would extract the truth from him at gempoint if necessary, and if he had hurt Sakura in any way, if Rin's darkest fears proved true – if Emiya's friendship with Sakura had only been the manipulations of a cold-hearted magus seeking to use her to steal the secrets of the Matou family – then he would face the fullness of her wrath as Second Owner. According to Kirei, Emiya was an undeclared magus operating in her territory. She had grounds to kill him even without the recent events.

First, though, she was going to down an entire pot of coffee. She had a feeling she would need it.

An hour later, after cleaning herself up and taking her prana-charged jewels with her, Rin stood before the gates of the Emiya residence. It had apparently started to snow some time before she went to bed, and Fuyuki was covered in a thick layer of snow, with the streets having thankfully already been cleaned. She had passed by the Matou household on the way there, checking for herself that there wasn't any magical activity emanating from the ruins. The area was still closed off, with a couple of policemen checking nobody came too close – openly so that no one would get hurt if there was a collapse in the rubble.

Like Rin, Emiya lived in Miyama Town, though his home was located in the Eastern-style quarter rather than the Western district. Judging by the wooden wall surrounding it, the property was larger than her own – what was left of it anyway, after years of Kirei's mismanagement of her family's finances.

After checking there wasn't anyone else in the street, she closed her eyes and focused inward. She constructed the image of her heart, held it in her mind, then pierced it with an imaginary dagger, triggering her Magic Circuits. Prana flowed through her, leaving her feeling more alive than she had all morning.

She whispered "Strukturanalyse" under her breath, activating the spell stored in her Magic Crest. Her perceptions expended, and she felt the Bounded Field surrounding the property. Unlike the multi-layered wards that covered her home, she could only detect one Field – a weak one, seemingly aimed at privacy rather than defense … ah. There was a component to detect the use of prana. She wasn't sure if her jewels would be enough to trigger it – she had all but emptied her stock before coming, taking even her heirloom ruby pendant. That particular item was charged with enough prana that the slightest draw on its reserves would undoubtedly trigger the ward – but then again, she had brought it as a last measure only.

She took a deep breath, and raised a hand to press the doorbell …

"Oh ? What are you doing here, Tohsaka-san ?"

Sakura Matou was happy.

The sensation still felt alien to her, though she no longer expected to wake up in the worm pit. Yesterday's talk with Senpai, combined with their passionate night together, had put that particular fear to rest. At least for now, she could tell herself that even in her wildest dreams, she had never imagined her current situation, nor the details of the last night.

For the first time, she understood why people said "making love" when speaking of sex. To her, sex had always been a brutal and debased affair, either at the hands of her brother or in the worm pit. But last night had been different. Without the worms to force her to feel pleasure against her will, the sensations had paradoxically run deeper, felt more real than when they had been imposed upon her. Without the guilt, the disgust and the self-hatred, she had been able to let herself experience the feelings the night had brought in full. Senpai hadn't had any experience, but he had still been a more attentive partner than Shinji had ever been, and the sheer joy of being with him had brought her to ecstasy time and time again, until she had collapsed in his arms, exhausted and content. Waking up with his arms around her had been another joy.

She was hungry. Neither her nor Senpai had eaten breakfast, since by the time they had woken up they had needed to hurry up and get dressed before starting to cook lunch. Senpai had been sure Fujimura-sensei would come to eat with them, so he had started to cook up a feast – half to distract his guardian and make sure she didn't notice what they had done last night, and half in celebration of the same. The two of them agreed that it was too soon to tell Fujimura-sensei about the change in their relationship's nature, especially since it hadn't even taken them twenty-four hours to do what she had told them they were both too young to do.

Sakura wasn't certain Fujimura-sensei would disapprove – she had seen the wink the teacher had sent her before leaving yesterday. But she went along with Senpai anyway, since it was a bit quick for them to become lovers so quickly – and merely thinking the word sent a new rush of heat up her cheeks.

So Sakura was hungry, but that wasn't enough to put a damper on her happiness. After all, she was cooking alongside Senpai, and since he had saved her, food tasted so much better.

"SHIROU ! SAKURA ! COME SEE WHAT I HAVE BROUGHT !"

"Can you go take care of that ?" asked Senpai with a smile, not frazzled by the sudden shout whatsoever. "I am finishing things up here."

"Of course, Senpai."

Leaving her Senpai in the kitchen, where the last elements of lunch were being prepared, Sakura went to the house's entrance, checking her clothes one last time to make sure there was no sign of last night's activities on her.

"Hello, Fujimura-sensei, and … Tohsaka-san ?"

She froze. Next to Fujimura-sensei was her estranged sister. She was wearing a red cloak and a black skirt, with long black leggings underneath. There were dark rings under her eyes, which were wide and staring at her.

"Hi, Sakura-chan !" greeted Taiga, her voice filled with cheer. "I came to check how the two of you are doing. Tohsaka-san here heard about what happened, and came to see if you were well ! Isn't that nice of her ?"

"Hello, Sakura," said Rin in a weary tone. "I am glad you seem to be okay."

Sakura blinked as she looked between the over-energetic teacher and the exhausted-looking magus, unsure what to think or do. Finally, she fell back on what she knew : acting politely and welcoming the guests in Senpai's home.

"Hello, Fujimura-sensei, Tohsaka-san. Please come in. Sempai is finishing cooking lunch. Will the two of you join us ?"

"I wouldn't want to impose ..." muttered Rin, her eyes still fixed on Sakura, looking her up and down.

"Don't worry, Tohsaka-san," laughed Taiga. "Shirou always cooks a lot when he knows I am coming. I will … ugh … I will give up taking the leftovers back home so that you can join us."

If the adult realized how childish she sounded as she said the last sentence as if she were making a terrible sacrifice, she showed no sign of it.

"Really, you would miss out by not joining us. Shirou is a great cook, and Sakura-chan is almost as good. By the way, here, Sakura-chan," said Taiga, handing a bag to her. "I went by the school this morning and got you a replacement uniform."

Sakura glanced inside the paper bag, seeing the folded clothes inside, and bowed in thanks.

"Of course, you won't need it immediately, but I thought it was best to get that out of the way as soon as possible. Now ! What is it that I smell ?"

Rin wasn't sure what was going on. Whatever she had expected to happen when going to the house of another Magus who had slain Zouken and Shinji, destroyed the Matou estate, taken her sister captive and swept it all under the rug in the eyes of the mundane authorities, this wasn't it.

From the moment that weird teacher – she had seen Fujimura-san accompanying Sakura and Emiya often enough to know that she worked at the high school section of Homurahara Academy – had called out to her, nothing had gone like she had thought it would. She had come half-expecting a fight to rescue her long-lost sister, and instead had been ushered in by that same sister and invited to lunch. And how had that woman snuck up on her, by the way ?! She had been sure there hadn't been anyone else in the street !

"Welcome, Tohsaka," greeted Shirou as he put down another set of cutlery. "Please, have a seat. We have cooked more than enough for an additional person."

It would be stupid to accept. She was in the territory of a Magus of unknown talents and skills, but one powerful enough to take down Zouken in his own home.

Growl.

Except that she had only eaten a cup of soup before going to bed a few hours ago, hadn't eaten any breakfast beyond her coffee, and there was only so much Magus discipline could do against the delicious smells emanating from the meal. Her stomach betrayed her and, defeated and red-faced, Rin Tohsaka sat at the table.

She started to eat, and froze for a moment as her mouth exploded with flavours. With her financial situation always being tense and neither she nor Kirei being great cooks – or rather, in the fake priest's case, not being great at cooking stuff that normal people would recognize as food – Rin wasn't used to eating delicious meals.

She sat, stunned, until she saw Fujimura and the others devour their own portions and take seconds. Then she started eating again, afraid that there would be nothing left by the time she had finished her current serving.

In what seemed the blink of an eye, the food on the table was gone. There had been plenty of it, but everyone had eaten a lot – and while Rin knew why she had been hungry, she wondered what the reasons were for the three others.

"That was delicious," she complimented Shirou and Sakura, still stunned at the display of culinary prowess. The boy accepted the praise with only a slight smile, while the younger girl blushed and looked down as she placed cups of fragrant tea on the table.

"It sure was !" guffawed Taiga. "You put all the stops today, Shirou. Is there something you want to tell me ?"

"Nothing in particular, Fuji-nee. Sakura and me just started working on lunch early."

"Hmm, reaaallly ? That's suspicious ..." The teacher was interrupted by a truly massive yawn.

"You got up early to get Sakura's uniform, didn't you Sensei ?" said Rin. "Aren't you going to be tired tomorrow ?"

"Maaaybe," the adult groaned. "But I didn't want Sakura-chan to worry about it …"

"That's very nice of you, but perhaps you should take a nap then," suggested Rin, looking straight at Taiga as she spoke. The older woman blinked once, twice, before nodding.

"You are right, Rin-chan …" Shirou removed her plate just in time for her arms to hit the table, quickly followed by her head between them as she fell asleep, snoring slightly.

"What did you do ?" asked Shirou in a flat voice. Both he and Sakura had stopped moving and were staring at her warily.

"A minor hypnotism," replied Rin, fixing the boy. "She won't wake up until a couple of hours or any magus disrupts the spell. We need to talk, Emiya-kun, Sakura."

Shirou sighed. "You are right. Please don't cast magecraft on my guardian in the future, though."

"S-senpai …" Sakura whispered, drawing close to Shirou.

She was afraid, Rin realized, and not of Emiya, though that would be bad enough. She was afraid of her. The realization hit Rin like a hammer, and she felt sick.

"Emiya-kun," she began, "I am here as the Second Owner of Fuyuki City. I trust you at least know what that is ?"

Shirou nodded. "Yes. Dad taught me about the Association and its rules."

"Then why was this morning the first time I heard about your presence in my territory ?"

The red-haired teen shrugged. "I didn't know for sure you were the Second Owner until yesterday when Sakura confirmed it for me, but it was mainly on dad's instructions. He had enemies who he knew wouldn't be above taking their anger out on his son, even an adopted one. It was safer if no one in the Association even knew I existed."

That matched what Kirei had told her, Rin had to admit, even if it didn't diminish the insult to her position in the slightest. Still …

"As a magus in my territory, you fall under my responsibility, Emiya-kun. Anything you did that broke the laws of the Association would be my fault."

"I am not a magus, Tohsaka."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I am an idiot ? There is a Bounded Field around this house, weak as it may be. And I know you practice Magecraft."

"Oh, I do," he confirmed, taking her off-guard. "But I am not a magus. I don't seek the Root, nor have I inherited my father's Magic Crest. I am a magic user, not a magus. My magecraft is just a tool to an end to me, not an end in itself."

"… Fine," she conceded the point, "but that would still put you under my responsibility. And anyway," she got to the reason she had come in the first place, "if you were supposed to stay under the radar, then why do you have the last surviving Matou in your home ?"

There was a moment of pause.

"You want to know what happened on Friday night."

No shit, Rin thought, keeping the profanity to her thoughts and letting only the smallest twitch of her eyebrow convey her irritation.

Shirou sighed. "Fine," he said. "You are right : as Second Owner, you are entitled to knowing the full truth. More importantly ..." His gaze sharpened, and Rin tensed. "... as Sakura's sister, you absolutely should know."

"Ah," Rin winced. "You know ?"

He nodded. "Sakura told me yesterday. She told me how your parents handed her off to Zouken and never contacted her again."

There was no heat in his tone, which somehow made it worse.

"But we aren't speaking about that yet," he continued, to Rin's relief. "As you know, Tohsaka, I missed school on Friday. This was due to a thaumaturgical experiment I performed on Thursday evening. I underestimated the backlash from the spell I was practicing, causing me to be unable to attend school."

Rin hid a frown. It was the first lesson every practitioner of Magecraft learned : to be a Magus was to walk with death, and anytime they used their Mysteries, they risked their lives. This was especially true when testing unfamiliar spells.

"When Sakura visited in the morning, the after-effects of the spell allowed me to realize that she was a Magus – as well as what had been done to her. I, for lack of a better term, saw it."

"You 'saw' inside her ?" asked Rin, making no attempt to hide her scepticism. What he was describing … it was the kind of Mystery magi would – and had – kill for.

Shirou remained silent for a few seconds, then his eyes started to glow gold, and he looked her up and down before the glow faded.

"Your Magical Crest is located on your left arm," he began. "It is composed of 30 Magic Circuits. You are also carrying seventeen prana-charged jewels on your person, with the one on your necklace being charged with the greatest amount. In addition ..."

"Okay," Rin cut him off hurriedly, her face pale. "You have made your point. I believe you."

Part of her wanted to lash out at him for daring to use a spell on her without her permission – especially one as intrusive as this one had clearly been – but now wasn't the time.

"Tell me," he continued. "What do you know of the Matou magecraft ?"

Rin blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden question. She dug in her mind, remembering the journals of her ancestors she had read that had mentioned their close ties with the Matou family.

"The Matou magecraft specializes in binding others unto oneself," she replied, "absorbing their energy and traits. As a consequence of that, their mastery of familiars is with few peers, and their knowledge was integral in some of the greatest projects our families worked on together."

"I know about the Grail, Tohsaka," sighed Shirou, and Rin almost jerked. "Dad fought in the last War. He told me everything about it. But that's not what we are discussing right now. The reason I asked you about the Matou magecraft was to see if you knew what your father condemned Sakura to when he abandoned her. She told me she didn't believe he knew, but I wanted to make certain."

"Emiya-kun," Rin all but growled. "I can see that you are building up to something. Stop delaying. What did you see had happened to Sakura ?"

Shirou didn't answer right away. He turned to look at Sakura, as if asking permission to continue. Rin's sister was quiet, and clearly looked uncomfortable. She gave a single, small nod.

"Zouken put worms inside her, Tohsaka. That monster implanted his familiars into her flesh, both to act as makeshift Magic Circuits and to drain her prana in order to sustain his own abominable existence."

Rin's breath caught in her throat.

"That's what I saw when I looked at her on Friday morning," Shirou continued mercilessly. "I saw them burrowed in her flesh, feeding off her like the grotesque parasites they were."

"They were all over her body," he went on, "with the biggest one wrapped around her heart, but the bulk of them was in her sexual organs. They had been altered to feed off her bodily fluids, and sustained themselves by stimulating her."

Rin felt nauseous. She felt the floor under her legs sway. Worms. Fucking worms inside her sister. There was no way her father had known about this. She refused to believe that Tokiomi Tohsaka would have knowingly let something like that happen to his own flesh and blood.

She glanced at Sakura. Despite the subject of the discussion, the younger girl was being very quiet, keeping her eyes downcast and taking slow, deep breaths.

"Sakura told me that this had gone for years," said Shirou. "Apparently, Zouken called these things Crest Worms, after the Magic Crest used by Magus families to carry their legacy from one generation to the next. After the Matou bloodline started to birth less and less powerful magi, Zouken developed the Crest Worms as an alternative for Magic Circuits."

Another sin with which to damn Zouken's blackened soul. Magic Crests were sacred. They were the symbol of a family's legacy, equalled only by the family's accumulated research. A Magic Crest was a record of the family's spells, embedded within the very Magic Circuits each wearer had added to it. It was the pinnacle of a bloodline's achievement, every generation making it stronger and adding new spells to its arsenal. And Zouken had made the Matou one into … worms. If the Association had heard of it, the entire family would have been wiped out as Heretics and their research put to the torch, lest any other Magus get ideas of going down the same path.

"The first worms were implanted in Sakura only a few months after she became a Matou," said Shirou, "once the first set of invasive procedures that changed her eye and hair color were done."

"Okay," Rin said hoarsely. "I get the picture, Emiya-kun. What happened next ?"

"Now that I knew Sakura's situation, I couldn't let it continue. I spent the day recovering, and once I was ready, I went to the Matou residence. I tricked Shinji into opening the gate for me before forcing him to tell me where Sakura was."

"The Matou residence is-was covered in Bounded Fields," Rin pointed out incredulously. "You shouldn't have been able to so much as step foot in it with hostile intentions without being turned to ash or worse."

"Very much worse," Shirou confirmed. "But ... let's say that I had a way around those and move on for now."

Well, Rin thought, that wasn't ominous at all. It wasn't as if the wards around her home were about the same quality as those that had protected the Matou estate, and which the son of a freelancer so feared the Association had bestowed upon him the name of "Magus Killer" had apparently breezed through without any problem. Not at all.

"I went into the basement, fighting a bunch of skeleton familiars along the way. From what I can tell, those were the remains of everyone Zouken had killed to prolong his life before."

"Hold on a minute," Rin interrupted him. "What do you mean, 'killed to prolong his life' ? I knew Zouken was using some Magecraft to extend his lifespan – that was pretty obvious, considering my family had records of him going over a century. But, what, was Zouken some sort of Dead Apostle ?"

"No, though I suppose it's possible he took some inspiration from them. Zouken ... Zouken wasn't human anymore, not by any definition. All that was left of him was a decaying soul in a body made of worms and stolen skin, clinging to life long after its time had come."

"After fighting my way through the skeletons, I reached the basement and found Zouken and Sakura." Again, he looked at Sakura – and again, she nodded, though not before taking Shirou's hand in her own.

"The basement was Zouken's Workshop," he began. "There, Sakura was in a pit full of worm familiars in the process of feeding on her by raping her repeatedly."

There was the sound of something breaking, and it took Rin a moment to realize that it was the cup of tea she had been holding. It had slipped from her fingers and smashed on the table.

Shirou leaned over the table, picking up his towel, and began to clean while Rin calmed herself. It took a while – both because Rin's control had been shattered, but also because Shirou had to do it carefully, since Sakura was still clinging to his right arm like it was a lifeline, face down, her eyes hidden behind her purple hair.

"Zouken and I exchanged words," he continued when he was done, the shards of the tea cup pushed to the side for now. Somehow, Rin doubted that conversation had been particularly polite. "And when I made it clear to him that I would not leave without Sakura, he tried to kill me with his insect familiars. Shinji had followed me, and died during the confrontation."

"How did he die ?" Rin asked softly. She may have despised the arrogant teenager, but she hadn't wanted him to die.

"Zouken had some huge mosquito familiars in his Workshop, with stingers the size of daggers. When one of them lunged for me while Shinji was right behind me, I chose to dodge, knowing it would stab Shinji instead."

She blinked. Was he ... "You realize that's not your fault, right ?"

"I have already been made aware of that," he replied with the faint trace of a smile. That faded quickly as he went on : "Shinji's death caused Zouken to pause his attacks, though. It turned out the old monster had his descendant rape Sakura for years, in order to 'stabilize' her."

There went her moment of regret over the asshole's demise.

"That ... That bastard tried to ask me out," she choked out. "And all that time he was ... he was ..."

"Quite," agreed Shirou. "Still, I am not sure how much choice he had in the matter. Zouken was a master manipulator, and he would have had Shinji under his influence for his entire life. Regardless, with Shinji dead, Zouken offered me to take his place as Sakura's 'partner'. I refused, obviously. Thinking back on it now, I am almost certain that he only offered because his soul had decayed to the point where he genuinely believed I would accept so long as he framed it as being the only choice that let both Sakura and I survive – no matter how disgusting the very idea."

"So you said no," Rin summed up. "And then ?"

"He took Sakura hostage to force me to comply to his wishes. In return, I destroyed him and purged Sakura of any trace of his Magecraft."

"... I am not sure which of the two is the most impressive. Are you secretly a Sorcerer, Emiya-kun ?"

God, she hoped he wasn't. If the Mage's Association learned that she had somehow missed the rise of a True Magic's user in her territory, the Tohsaka name would be ridiculed until the death of the sun.

"I am most definitely not," replied Shirou, making Rin both relieved and curious. "There were special circumstances at play, but these aren't relevant to our discussion. We can talk about this later."

"… Fine."

"After destroying Zouken, I set fire to his Workshop and carried Sakura out, with the fire somehow spreading to the entire estate. Once back home, I put Sakura to bed, applied some healing Mysteries I know, and ... well, I fell asleep. By that point, I was completely exhausted, physically, mentally and magically. But at least I had succeeded."

"Your father would be proud," idly noted Rin. "You are well on your way to succeeding him as the Magus Killer."

Shirou frowned. "The Magus Killer didn't raise me. I am the son of Kiritsugu Emiya, and he never intended for me to succeed him. Tohsaka … where did you hear that name ?"

"My guardian," she admitted. "Kirei Kotomine, the priest at Fuyuki. He is an Exorcist from the Church, dispatched here to oversee the Grail War after the previous overseer died in the last one. It was him who told me about what happened on Friday night."

"Was it ? … I would appreciate if you could keep what you tell him to a minimum. I don't want word of what happened to reach the Clocktower."

"We will see. Continue your story, Emiya-kun."

"… Fine. The next day, I called on my contacts among the local Yakuza -"

"Wait," cut off Rin. "Wait wait wait. You, Emiya-kun, have contacts with the Yakuza ?!"

"Uh … Yeah. Fuji-nee is the granddaughter of the local Oyabun."

Rin blinked and looked to her left, where the woman in question was still snoring quietly, her sleep completely undisturbed by Rin's repeated outbursts.

"This woman," said Rin in a deadpan tone, "is the grandchild of a Yakuza boss ?"

"Yep," replied Shirou with a smile that told Rin he understood her doubts. She closed her eyes and counted silently to ten, before vowing to herself she wouldn't be surprised by anything else that she was told today. She doubted that vow would hold for long, but she could hope.

"Fine. Fine. So you called your Yakuza contacts … let me guess, that's how you got the investigation in the Matou residence's burning down swept under the rug and made sure Sakura could live with you ?"

"Got it in one. Of course, after that I had to convince Fuji-nee to allow it, but … it worked out."

"It 'worked out', he says," muttered Rin. "It's not as if you destroyed an entire Magus family's legacy and stole their last surviving member to take her under your wing, before pulling strings in the mundane world to conceal your tracks. All of that while breaking through an ancient family's wards, destroying an elder Magus that even Kirei didn't believe he could kill, and undoing the physical effects of years of … magical experiments upon another. Did I miss anything ?"

"Hmm … No, I don't think so."

That was a rhetorical question, you moron, Rin thought, her eyebrows twitching in irritation. She took a deep breath before saying out loud : "What did you do to Sakura exactly ?"

"I removed the worms and some of the other modifications Zouken had done on her body," explained Shirou, "before healing the accumulated damage. But as you can see, her eye and hair color remained the same. I am not sure whether that's because the cells responsible are already formed or because the alterations she underwent to make her compatible with the Matou Magecraft weren't erased. I guess we will know if they start reverting in the future ... though we could do a DNA test to check if you and her still register as sisters."

"She is my sister," protested Rin, "whatever such a test might say."

Shirou raised an eyebrow. "Really ? Then why did you learn everything I just told you for the first time today ?"

She winced. So they were doing this now. She supposed there had been no avoiding it.

There was no way this discussion was going to go well.

"Did Sakura tell you why she was adopted by the Matou ?" she asked.

"She did. And I personally find the concept of giving your own child away to simplify the question of inheritance revolting. Nevermind the fact that he never checked up on her afterwards."

"The Tohsaka and Matou families were allies for generations," Rin protested, though her heart wasn't in it. How could it be, after what she had been told Sakura had endured ? "My father had no reason to think Sakura would be treated badly !"

"Your father was wrong," said Shirou, his voice as gentle as it was unyielding. "Horribly so."

"I know that now," she admitted. "But magi are secretive, even with their allies. My father truly believed that a clean separation between Sakura and us would be in the best interests for everyone involved. He thought it would be cruel to all of us if we remained in contact, at least until Sakura had integrated to the Matou family and we could meet as friends rather than sisters." She knew her voice was growing desperate as she continued : "If he had known what was happening, he would never have stood for it. He would have ripped the Matou mansion apart to punish Zouken !"

There was a moment of tense silence, then Shirou sighed, and the tension in the room relaxed - slightly.

"Regardless of what your father would have done, it is a fact that the root of Sakura's torment lies in what he did. And that right there, Tohsaka, is why I refuse to consider myself a magus. The moment you put your family' honor and legacy over your own children, you have already gone too far."

Rin didn't say anything. What could she say ? She agreed with Shirou, even if it went against a Magus' thinking. Her father's decision to send Sakura to the Matou hadn't just cost her her sister : when Tokiomi had died, the combined grief of his death and the loss of her youngest daughter had ended up costing her her mother too. Following the path decreed by a Magus' path had destroyed their family, and for what ? It wasn't as if they had gotten any closer to the Root in exchange.

But if she couldn't justify her father's actions, she could at least explain her own.

"After Father died and Mom ... faded away," Rin said slowly, "I was Kirei's ward, because he had been my father's apprentice. He was the one to finish my training in Magecraft. By the time I completed my training and became independent in the eyes of the Moonlit World, I ..."

She forced herself to swallow her saliva before continuing :

"I thought Sakura was better off without me," she whispered.

She laughed, the sound bitter and hollow even to her own ears. "Emiya-kun is right, Sakura. My - our family put its honor and its Magecraft over its own daughter. How messed up is that ? The Matou had lost their ability to perform Magecraft over the generations, but at least they never threw aside one of their own."

"I am a prodigy," she said without arrogance – it was true, after all. "An Average One, capable of wielding all five basic elements. I have forty innate Magic Circuits of high quality, and according to Kirei I can wield the additional thirty of the Tohsaka Crest better than anyone before me."

"All of that," she continued dejectedly, "and it didn't bring me a single moment of happiness. I … I didn't want to bring you into that, Sakura. I knew your life with the Matou wasn't perfect – everyone could see that Shinji was a jerk to you even more than to everyone else. But at least when you were with Emiya-kun, you looked genuinely happy. I didn't want to risk ruining that."

"Nee-san …"

For a long time, Shirou stared at Rin, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded to himself, and Rin felt as if she had passed some sort of test she hadn't been aware of.

"I told Sakura that I wouldn't stop the two of you from trying to reconnect with each other," he said. "I understand that you were just a child when you were separated, and I don't blame you for that, Tohsaka."

"T-thank you, Emiya-kun. And … and you, Sakura ? I … I understand if you hate me …"

"I don't," replied Sakura immediately in soft voice. "I … I did, sometimes, but … not anymore."

"… Okay," Rin breathed out. "Okay."

There was another moment of silence. Shirou deftly filled in the empty cup he had laid for Fujimura-sensei before she had fallen asleep and pushed it in front of Rin. She gratefully picked it up, breathing in the scent before drinking it slowly, letting it relax her. Only once she had drained the cup did she feel confident to speak up again :

"There is still the matter of you living in my territory without my permission, Emiya-kun. Even if I was willing to give you a pass on account of your father's history – and I am – I know you are here now, and that gives both you and I certain obligations. And yes, those obligations exist even if you aren't affiliated with the Association. Your actions to help Sakura are noble, but there are still rules, and we would all be in trouble if we do not follow them."

"I know. I prepared for that when Sakura confirmed to me that you were the Second Owner. I was relieved – I knew you were a reasonable person. If it had been another Magus, I may have had to … escalate matters. Give me a minute, I need to go and get something."

He stood up, and with a last glance at Sakura, turned and left the room, leaving the two sisters sat alone with the sleeping teachers in awkward silence.

"Sakura," Rin asked tentatively, "are you okay with Emiya-kun's plan ?"

She didn't dare to voice the other option – that Sakura could live with her instead. It would have been … wrong of her to suggest that.

"I love Senpai," the younger girl replied. "He saved me, Nee-san. I … I want to live with him."

"I understand," Rin whispered back. "That's fine."

They remained silent until Shirou returned less than two minutes later, carrying a leather suitcase. He put it down on the table and turned it toward Rin before clicking it open and revealing its contents, while Sakura leant over the table curiously.

Rin choked, while Sakura's eyes widened. The suitcase was full of neatly-stacked 5000 Yen bank notes, the faces on the bills unblinkingly staring back at her.

"How ... how much is that ?" she managed to ask.

"A hundred million yens," replied Shirou mildly. Rin swayed where she sat. That was … that was a lot of money. Not nearly enough to turn around her family's fortunes – the Tohsaka had been rich before Kirei had bled their finances almost dry with his incompetence – but years of carefully managing her budget to be able to practice her family's craft meant that she understood the value of money far better than most magi from a bloodline as well established as her own would.

"Alright," replied Rin, shaking her head to clear her mind. "Alright. This is ... this is enough to cover the rent you owe me, plus interest. As for future rent, I ... I need to think on it and consult some references. I will call you when I have reached a decision."

"S-senpai," asked Sakura, looking about as surprised as Rin at the amount of money her crush had so casually handed over. "Where did you get that much money from ?"

"Dad left a few suitcases like this one to me," answered Shirou nonchalantly, "for emergency situations. The rest are scattered in secure locations across the country, just in case."

"So it it's blood money you inherited from the Magus Killer," sighed Rin. "Just … perfect. No matter, I can still use it. It's not as if the Association is keeping a close eye on my finances : I can always pretend it's something my father left me and I just found out about if Kirei starts asking questions. That takes care of one issue. But we are going to have a problem once Sakura goes back to school, though."

"Hmm ? Why ?"

"The story we are going with is that she lost her brother and grandfather in a tragic accident," Rin pointed out, before gesturing at Sakura. "But she doesn't exactly look heartbroken, does she ? People are going to notice when she comes back with a beaming smile, especially considering ... well ... considering she didn't smile much before."

Shirou blinked. "I ... didn't even think about that. Thanks, Tohsaka. Do you have any idea how to solve that issue ?"

"We can put up a Bounded Field around the school," Rin thought out loud. "Something minor, just enough that no one thinks Sakura's behavior is strange."

"I don't like manipulating the minds of our classmates," Shirou frowned, "but in that case I suppose it's for the best. Thank you, Tohsaka. How can I help you set it up ?"

"Huh ? Oh, don't worry about that. Sakura, you've got a week off for grief leave, right ?" When the purple-haired girl nodded, Rin continued : "I will have the materials ready by the end of next week. You," she turned to Shirou, "can come help me set them up in the week-end."

"Alright," Shirou nodded. For the first time since Fujimura-sensei had been put to sleep, his face split in a warm, honest smile that caused butterflies in Rin's stomach. "Thank you, Tohsaka."

"Senpai," Sakura pouted - pouted ! Rin had never seen her do that - "please don't seduce my sister."

"W-w-w-w-w-what are you talking about, Sakura ?! S-s-s-seduce me ?! That oaf ?!"

Sakura blinked at Rin's outburst. Her pout vanished, replaced by a thoughtful expression, and then by a small, sly smile that made Rin very, very nervous. Then, right before Rin's eyes, Sakura pulled Shirou in a passionate, steaming kiss. Her jaw fell, and she watched.

And kept watching.

And kept watching ...

After half a minute had passed, Sakura finally parted her lips from Shirou's, turning to face Rin with a grin on her face. Through her shock, Rin still noticed that her sister was very, very red – apparently she was still embarrassed by what she had done.

"There," Sakura said. "I feel this makes some things clear, doesn't it Nee-san ?"

"Uhm, Sakura. Are you and Emiya-kun ... uuh ..."

"I am Senpai's lover," confirmed Sakura, still leaning against Shirou's chest. She was still smiling as she looked at Rin, looking like the cat who caught the canary after the canary had bathed naked in cream - and Rin thought she had lost her metaphor somewhere, but it didn't matter, because WHAT ?

… And there went her vow not to be surprised by anything else she learned here today.

"S-since when ?!"

"Since last night," said Shirou, who at least had the good grace of looking embarrassed as well. "Sakura and I talked about some things, and, well ..."

"I can imagine," Rin quickly interrupted, before he could go into details. "I knew Sakura had a crush on you, but still ..."

"You did ?" blinked Shirou.

Rin stared at him. "Of course I did," she deadpanned. "Everyone who looked at the two of you did."

"They did ?"

… That moron had had no idea Sakura was in love with him until yesterday, didn't he ? That … that actually explained a lot. If he hadn't noticed Sakura's affection when it had been painfully obvious the younger girl was crushing on him, then of course he wouldn't have noticed -

"Tohsaka. Tohsaka. RIN !"

"Huh ?!"

Shirou sighed. "Good, you are back with us. There is one last thing I need to talk to you about."

"A-alright," she coughed. "What is it about ?"

"When I confronted Zouken, he mentioned something about an 'Einzbern girl'. He seemed to think I would recognize the name for some reason, and that it would be important enough to me that I would be willing to let Sakura's torture continue."

Rin blinked. "Einzbern ? Let's see … The Einzbern are one of the three families that created the system behind the Grail Wars. Kirei told me that your father was their representative in the last War. Apart from that … they specialize in creating homunculi – artificial humans grown specifically to perform certain tasks for the family. I think they have a castle somewhere in Germany, but they are said to be very reclusive, even by magi standards – and obscenely wealthy."

"I see," mused Shirou. "Do you think you could investigate what Zouken could have meant ? Specifically, if Dad had any special relationship with a member of their family ?"

"Sure," agreed Rin, "I can ask some questions, but it will likely take some bribes to loosen tongues."

"I will reimburse any costs you face," Shirou waved away her barely-concealed attempt at moneying her services while Sakura sent a look in Rin's direction that told her she had caught on to what she was trying to do. What ? Gemcraft was expensive !

They spent some more time discussing the details of the story Rin would give to Kirei, before the conversation turned to Sakura's Magecraft training. The younger girl had been given some training in the Matou craft, but with the destruction of the family's library, all their secrets were lost. And while none of them had any intent of replicating Zouken's abominations, the Matou had been genuine practitioners before Zouken, in his madness, had despoiled their legacy. Rin left the Emiya household relieved, and a lot happier than she had been before.

There was still a rift between her and Sakura, but that was to be expected. Years of neglect could not be so easily erased, no matter the reasons behind them.

Now all she had to do was convince Kirei not to do anything stupid …

"I see. If you think this is for the best, then I will trust in your decision. Goodbye, Rin."

Kirei Kotomine put the phone down, pensive. He walked out of the room where he had taken the call and into the church's nave, looking up at the altar without really seeing it.

He felt his pulse would have quickened, had he still possessed a heart. But the dark miracle that kept him alive did not extend that far.

'The death of Zouken and Shinji Matou was the result of a disagreement between the former and Shirou Emiya that escalated into open conflict,' the teenage girl had told him. 'Though Emiya killed a magus on my territory, considering the circumstances, I have decided not to punish him for that. In addition, I have recognized Shirou Emiya, sixth head of the House of Emiya, as an independent practitioner of Magecraft and reached an accord with him to continue to grant him permission to live in my territory. Sakura Matou is now his apprentice : the House of Matou is formally extinct.'

It had been clever of her, he had to admit. By acknowledging the Emiya boy that way, he now fell, however indirectly, under the purview of the accords binding the Church to the Clocktower. While the protection this offered was slight, it did mean Kirei couldn't simply kill him without due cause.

And to declare the House of Matou extinct … If word got out, it would cause waves within the magi community. The Matou were an old name, one of the few existing this far east. There were still those in the West who remembered them – back when they had been the Makiri, before their journey to Japan. Old families tended to frown on one of their own disappearing.

And with the Emiya name being involved … Kirei was tempted to discretely arrange for the information to reach certain ears at the Clocktower, if only to watch the fallout as the son of the Magus Killer emerged from obscurity to kill the head of an ancient family and claim their sole remaining heir as his apprentice. The first assassin would be on his way before the end of the week.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself, Kirei."

The priest turned to where a young man was seated amidst the church's pews. Golden hair fell on a handsome face in which were set two sharp eyes red like rubies. His knowing smile revealed pearly white teeth, and despite the cold outside he was wearing an open vest under which laid a deceptively-simple looking white shirt. In actuality, every piece of cloth the young man wore was worth more than the average monthly salary of a Japanese office worker. Kirei knew this, because he had been the one to purchase them when the golden-haired man had grudgingly accepted he couldn't walk the streets of Fuyuki clad in his usual garments – but he had insisted on wearing the finest clothes of this era, even if he had still complained that they were far beneath his standards.

Considering that those standards were those of the King of Heroes, whose reign had presided over the decline of the Age of Gods in ancient Babylonia, it was only to be expected, really. It had taken some very creative book-keeping to hide the expense to Kirei's superiors in the Church. But it was a small enough price to pay to keep himself in the Servant's good books, and it wasn't as if it were his money he had spent. After all, Archer had been summoned by the Tohsaka Head, so didn't it make sense that it would be that family's finances that would support him ?

"I suppose I am," the priest admitted. "After the end of the War, we both believed we would have to endure the boredom until the Grail was ready once more. I am … pleased that circumstances allow me to amuse myself early."

It had been ludicrously easy to goad Rin into visiting the Emiya boy. The girl was smart, of that there was no doubt, but she was also very direct, lacking in the subtlety necessary to see through his blatant manipulation. Between her pride in her skills and her love for her sister – and oh, how he had enjoyed that particular tragedy when he had uncovered it – there had been no doubt that she would go to Emiya guns blazing, ready to strike down anyone who threatened the sibling she had abandoned for so long.

Though the two teenagers had come to an accord, Kirei didn't doubt Rin had left out a lot out of her terse report to him.

"It is surprising that things ended peacefully, I admit" he said, "and a bit disappointing. But the rapprochement between Rin and the Emiya boy and her sister offers new opportunities."

"Oh ?" Gilgamesh of Uruk smiled, inviting him to go on.

"Zouken's destruction is a boon to our aims," continued the priest. "His knowledge of the Grail was greater than any safe those of the Einzbern, and he was much closer to it than they. I have no doubt that he had a plan to claim the Grail for himself in the next War, and though I do not doubt you could have destroyed him easily, his interference may still have ruined everything we desire."

"The worm was an obstacle," the King of Heroes conceded. "Not an insurmountable one, of course."

"Of course," Kirei agreed, knowing better than to suggest otherwise.

"There are less than two years left before the beginning of the next Grail War," he mused aloud. "And already the pieces are starting to move. It is almost guaranteed that all three of them will be selected as Masters when the time come."

"If the boy is anything like his father – and given that he killed Zouken and took in the girl, he likely is – then he will stand against us in the future." Gilgamesh didn't sound worried at the possibility. He was only mentioning it to see what Kirei thought of it.

"Shirou Emiya survived the flames of the last War," Kirei pointed out. "That alone, if nothing else, would be enough to make him of interest in our plans. Only four of those who were caught in the immediate surroundings of the Grail survived the Fuyuki Fire, King of Heroes. You, me, Kiritsugu Emiya, and that boy. I do not believe it to be a coincidence that he lived where so many others did not. It was by the will of the Grail that the two of us survived and were granted new life. And it was the curse of the Grail that kept Kiritsugu Emiya from perishing so that he may witness the ruin of all he fought for, before dying slowly and painfully."

The memory of his nemesis' doom brought another smile to Kirei's lips. He had never hated a man as much as he had hated the Magus Killer, who had been granted communion with the Grail and had turned his back on it. It had been a joy to watch him wander amidst the ruins in the aftermath, broken and hollow-eyed. Maybe he should have kept a closer eye on him afterwards : then the events of the last few days wouldn't have taken him so much by surprise. But it had been difficult to think of the ruined husk that Kiritsugu Emiya had become after the Fourth Grail War as any kind of threat, and there had been much he had needed to do to ensure that the next Grail War succeeded. It had been all he could do to ensure that Kiritsugu Emiya was thought dead by both Church and Association, to ensure that none could interfere with the punishment the Grail had bestowed upon the Magus Killer.

"But the boy did not have any of these connections to the Grail," he continued, returning to the matter at hand, "and yet he survived long enough for the Magus Killer to find him and, according to his old medical records, heal him using that regeneration trick he showed me during the War."

Getting access to the medical records hadn't been difficult, but Kirei had needed to be discreet. He didn't want to draw the attention of those responsible for greasing the wheels of bureaucracy in the boy's favor. The child's miraculous recovery was only partially documented, however, with a note attached mentioning that the initial diagnosis must have been erroneous due to the hospital being overwhelmed with patients. It was a believable excuse : while only the aforementioned four had survived direct exposure to the Grail's flames, the destruction had spread much further, and there had been plenty who had been indirectly wounded.

But Kirei was no fool, and he could see that this was just Kiritsugu Emiya covering his own tracks and preserving the secrecy of Magecraft. In the wake of the Fourth War's disastrous ending, the Association and the Church had both had their eyes on the city. The miraculous healing of a child who had been so close to the calamity would have drawn their attention, even with Kirei working tirelessly to keep the truth under wraps.

Kirei returned his gaze to the altar, and the icon above it. It had been a long time since he had actually held any faith in the precepts of the Church, even if he continued to dutifully deliver Mass every week. He had done so just this morning – that was part of the reason why he had called Rin so late, despite learning all he had told her the previous day. When he had called her on Saturday evening, she hadn't answered, doubtlessly locked away in that heavily-warded Workshop of hers.

"And now, that child who was spared from the flames took care of one of the few remaining threats to our ultimate goal," said the priest – for despite Rin's insults, he was still a priest at heart : only the focus of that faith had changed. "Do you not see the hand of providence in that, oh King ?"

"We are the chosen of the Grail, Kirei," said Gilgamesh, a slight frown the only sign of his rising temper. "We witnessed its glory, and were spared its wrath. We are the ones who will bring about the new Age. That boy may be a tool of the Grail, and there might be some irony in one Emiya helping undo the sin of another, but I refuse to have him stand alongside us."

Ah, thought Kirei. Of course. While the priest despised Kiritsugu Emiya, that hatred paled in comparison to the contempt in which the King of Heroes held the Magus Killer.

"I won't go forth and destroy the boy," Gilgamesh waved off, and Kirei allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief. "When the Grail War begins anew, if he is chosen as Master, then he will have the opportunity to show his mettle and his allegiance. But in the end, once our goal is achieved, if I find him wanting, I shall destroy him and purge the last trace of the Emiya name from this world."

"As you wish, oh King," replied Kirei, turning to bow to the Archer Servant of the Fourth Grail War. On his arm, the Command Seals he had plundered from his father's corpse tingled slightly – a reminder of the connection between him and the Servant with which he had bounded after the death of Tokiomi Tohsaka. That bond was the only thing keeping him alive since the War, forcing his body to persist even after Kiritsugu Emiya had destroyed his heart.

After all, a Servant required a Master to exist, even if the dynamic between them was reversed. Without Kirei to serve as his anchor, Gilgamesh would vanish eventually, either by running out of prana to maintain his body or by catching the attention of Gaia and being erased as an anomaly. Even an Archer-class Servant with the skill Independent Action wouldn't be able to last long – a few days, perhaps, but not nearly enough to wait for the beginning of the next Grail War.

And so the Grail, after bathing the King of Heroes in its dark waters and judging him worthy, had dragged Kirei back from the dead. While the priest was nowhere near powerful enough a magus to sustain a Servant on his own, the Grail's destruction had ensured that its reserves of magical energy were still mostly untouched, and through Kirei's Command Seals the Greater Grail could fuel Gilgamesh's needs. So long as the King of Heroes refrained from using his most prana-consuming abilities, the drain on these reserves would stay minor, and the next Grail War wouldn't be delayed.

Kirei wasn't quite sure what the mechanics of this resurrection were : he hadn't aged a day in ten years, but he still needed food, water and rest. It wasn't like he could ask a Magus to examine his body for answers, let alone one of the Church's scholars. His colleagues would have him purged the moment they realized what had happened to him.

And Kirei could not afford to die, or to lose his position as the Church's representative in Fuyuki and future Overseer of the Grail War. How was he supposed to help the Grail reach completion and bring about the reign of Chaos upon this world otherwise ?

And he also had to make sure Archer didn't wander off and draw the attention of one of the Moonlit World's powers. For all his immense strength, Gilgamesh was not invincible, though Kirei was very careful never to say that in the King's presence. If the Church or the Mage's Association learned of his ongoing existence, they would stop at nothing to destroy him and dismantle the Grail System. Fortunately, the connection between Kirei and Gilgamesh meant that the later was more or less forced to remain within Fuyuki so long as the priest did the same.

All in all, it was an exhausting but necessary task. It wasn't as if he could summon Gilgamesh again if the King of Heroes faded away. After all, even had Tokiomi's catalyst not been lost, the fossilised snake skin destroyed during Kirei's former master's summoning ritual ...

... it was difficult to summon a Servant whose Spirit Origin had been torn from the Throne of Heroes.

Chapter Text

In a room full of shadows and the echoes of ancient whispers, he kneels before a throne and the king sat upon it. His blade is held before him, its point failing to bite into the complex mosaics that cover the floor. In this most hallowed of chambers, screams and prayers coil around knight and king alike, and he can see them with eyes that have long since stopped seeing only matter. Yet even those eyes can be blind in some ways …

For the king, the great and mighty monarch to whom he owes fealty, is wounded. Blood drips slowly from a great rent in his armor and the flesh-that-is-not-flesh beneath. He sees this, but at the same time does not see it. His eyes perceive it, but his mind fails to register the meaning of the sight, fails to process the truth of it and its implications. There is something within him that refuses to accept it.

The king speaks in a voice that is not a voice, just like his flesh is not merely flesh and the throne isn't just a throne. He does not give orders to the knight, for that is not the king's way anymore. Instead, the king speaks of many things – of the troubles of his realm, of enemies unnamed but not unknown.

He speaks of traitors, hiding in the shadows of the empire, who must be brought to judgement. He speaks of a prideful dragon, who in its greed covets the king's treasures. Of a warlord in his garden, cultivating the end of all things with rusted hands. Of a deceiver with a thousand faces, weaving lies and intrigue to a purpose beyond the king's reckoning. Of a tomb within which rests the traitor who rejected the divine Word. Of a thief who stole a noble daughter from her halfling brothers.

The king speaks and speaks, and every word becomes another link in the chain around the knight's neck. Finally, it ends, and the king says :

"You know what to do."

And he does.

July 4th, 2003 AD – Emiya residence

Shirou's eyes snapped open.

This … this had been different. It hadn't been a true dream, of that he was certain. There was a marked difference between those and the strange visions that had continued to haunt his sleep from time to time since he had used that unknown power to save Sakura seven months ago. He no longer dreamt only of the mist-filled forest and the monsters that stalked it. Instead, he saw other things – visions of a fortress of stone, of armors and weapons of strange designs, of oaths spoken in an unknown language echoing in vast chambers.

The truly annoying part of these visions was that, just like normal dreams, they made perfect sense while he was having them. But while he remembered them perfectly when waking, the context was utterly lost, and without it they made precious little sense. He knew what the forest was when he dreamt of it, he was sure of it, just like he knew the fortress' name and the meaning of the oaths.

And yet, while he was confident this dream had been one such vision, there was no denying that it had been unlike any that had come before. In a way, it had been more like an actual dream – like what had happened hadn't been entirely anchored in reality. The only way he could really describe it would be … disturbing. Even if investigating the source of that mysterious power was important to him, he felt he wouldn't mind if he never had another vision like that one.

He felt the warmth of Sakura next to him as she snuggled closer to him, still sleeping peacefully. Slowly, her presence drew his thoughts away from the gloom his vision had brought on him. It always did, whenever he woke up frustrated by the strange dreams and his lack of understanding.

Since the two of them had started living together five months ago, they had spent almost every night together. They did not always have sex, of course. Neither of them were ready to be parents yet, and discreet medical exams had revealed that Sakura's womb, which she had told Shirou had been ruined by the Crest Worms, had been fully regenerated by the traced copy of Avalon Shirou had put inside of her after rescuing her.

They had made sure to erase the memories of the medical professionals who had performed the exams, as well as to destroy all blood and tissue samples that had been taken. Both of them knew that leaving such things where an enemy magus could easily obtain them would be the height of foolishness. It was the same reasoning of "better safe than sorry" that had led to them hiding Shirou's Tracing of Avalon from Rin.

The other abilities Shirou had used when rescuing Sakura remained beyond him, but after a few weeks of trial and error, he had managed to trace Avalon again. The copies didn't last long before fading away, but they still worked to heal injuries as long as Shirou poured enough prana inside them.

While they didn't believe Rin would betray them for their secrets like many magi would, it was better to limit any chance of that information spreading. Sakura had confirmed what Shirou's dad had told him : magi as a whole were not moral people, and if the Clocktower learned that Shirou was capable of creating copies of a Noble Phantasm – even imperfect and temporary ones – he would end up on a dissection table faster than he could blink.

And it wasn't as if Rin was sharing all of her own Magecraft with them, after all.

With a cute yawn, Sakura stirred awake. She looked at him with half-open eyes and smiled, the sight of it never failing to make him smile back.

"Good morning, Sakura."

"Good morning, Senpai."

Later, as the two of them ate breakfast in comfortable silence – for once, Fuji-nee hadn't shown up to mooch off, being busy with an early staff meeting – Shirou spoke up :

"It's Friday. Fuji-nee is expecting my answer today."

It was slight. Anyone else might have missed it. But Shirou saw Sakura's hands tremble. Putting down what he had been doing, he moved next to her and took her hands into his.

"It would only be for a few days, Sakura. The tournament is in Kumamoto, so the team will leave on Monday and come back on Thursday."

"I know," she whispered. "Is … is that archery tournament so important to you ?"

"No," replied Shirou without hesitation. "If you don't feel up to it – if you don't want me to – then I won't go, Sakura. I don't care much about the tournament beyond the opportunity to observe the technique of others. But it has been seven months, Sakura. I swore I would never abandon you, but I don't want you to be shackled to me either. I feel that this is an opportunity for you to see how far you have come." He smiled at her. "You are stronger than you think you are, Sakura. But in the end, it's your choice."

"I … I will be fine. Maybe Nee-san could come visit while you aren't here ? The two of us could even have a sleepover," she smiled again at the idea, and Shirou felt the weight of guilt lifting off his shoulders. Every word he had spoken to Sakura was true – since revealing to her that he was a Magecraft user, he had never lied to her, not once, even by omission. But seeing her in distress, even if it was for her own good … That was something far worse than any nightmare.

"That's a good idea. I will talk to her about it when I see her today. I trust you won't tease her too much while I am away ?"

"Come on, Senpai," Sakura laughed softly, starting to eat again. Shirou joined her, keeping an eye on her throughout the meal.

He would probably have to warn Rin, though. Just in case. Sakura's teasing of her sister had grown increasingly more daring since the two of them had reconciled. Part of him dreaded what he would find when coming back from the competition.

After finishing breakfast and cleaning up, Shirou and Sakura went to school together, parting only when they had arrived at the gate of Homurahara Academy, with Sakura going to the middle-school building and Shirou to the high-school one. While Shirou was expected at the Archery Dojo, it was Sakura's turn to prepare the classroom for the day. Not that she didn't accompany Shirou to school when it wasn't : on those occasions, she simply followed Shirou to the Archery Dojo, watching him practice while providing assistance to the other members. Everyone in the club knew and liked the young girl, who was determined to join the club herself next year.

After changing into his practice uniform and greeting his clubmates, Shirou approached the only adult in the room, who stood in a corner of the archery range, checking its inventory.

In many ways, Souichirou Kuzuki resembled the monks among whom he lived in the temple on Mount Enzou. Except for his face, which, try as he might, Shirou couldn't help but think would have been more fitting of a Yakuza than a teacher. The man's detached attitude had worried Shirou at first – he had wondered if Kuzuki-sensei wasn't a magus, given the level of self-control he displayed at all times. But a few discreet scans with his eyes, combined with a couple of visits to Issei's home to check that there wasn't anything strange going on in Ryuudou Temple, had put that suspicion to rest. Kuzuki-sensei was someone with a strong body and mind, but wasn't related to the Moonlit World in any way.

"Good morning, Kuzuki-sensei," Shirou called out. The teacher lifted his gaze from the list he had been reading. "Is the staff meeting over ?"

"Good morning, Emiya-kun. No, but I wasn't needed for it and thought I would check the club has everything it needs for the competition. Tell me, have you come to a decision yet ?"

"Yes, sensei. I will tell Fujimura-sensei when I see her. I intend to participate in the Kumamoto high school archery competition."

The teacher didn't smile – Shirou didn't think he had ever seenthe man smile. He simply nodded slightly.

"Good. It would be a shame for someone of your talent to miss out on an opportunity like that. You and Mitsuzuri-kun will be our representatives for the first year." Kuzuki frowned. "Will Matou-kun be fine in your absence ?"

The Bounded Field Rin had put around the school to prevent people from noticing any oddity in Sakura's change of behavior and living with Shirou were still in place. Even so, while no one thought it strange that Sakura and Shirou lived together, they still knew it was the case, and only someone blind could miss that the two of them were very close.

"She says so," replied Shirou. "We are going to ask Tohsaka-san to visit her while I am gone. The two of them are good friends, and since Tohsaka-san also lives alone …"

"That would be for the best. Matou-kun has recovered well from the tragedy that struck her family, but you are right to make sure she isn't left on her own."

Shirou nodded his agreement, then parted with the teacher to go to the shooting range. As he drew his bow, someone came to stand next to him.

"So you finally decided, huh ?"

The girl to his right was wearing the same uniform as he, and holding an identical bow as she aimed at her own target. Light brown hair fell to her neck, cut so as not to hinder her vision without needing to tie it back.

"I did," replied Shirou, taking in her presence in his peripheral vision, his eyes kept locked onto the target. "Looks like we will both be representing the first years in the tournament, Mitsuzuri."

"Good. It wouldn't make sense for someone else to accompany me. But I will be the one to bring the trophy home, Emiya."

Shirou smiled silently. He had been told by Issei that his relationship with Ayako Mitsuzuri could be best summed up as "one-sided rivalry". He was better than her with the bow – he knew it, she knew it, the entire club knew it. In truth, he was better than anyone, even the members in the upper years. He did not take pride in that : his practice of Magecraft, while not technically cheating, still gave him a great advantage when it came to focus and motor control.

But while the rest of the club members had given up on surpassing him, Ayako had not. She was determined to be better than him one day, and her skill had increased by leaps and bounds since the beginning of the school year. Whereas Shirou's own skills had stagnated – there was only so much that could be done to improve once you reached one-hundred per cent accuracy.

It was still worth going to the club, if only for the exercise and the company. After their first few weeks of living together, Sakura had started to badger him about spending more time with other people, just as he had tried to get her to interact more with her own classmates. Pushed by mutual worry for one another, the two of them had forced each other to socialize more. Sakura was a lot better at it than him, but that was fine.

All of this was fine, thought Shirou as he let loose his arrow, watching as it flew and hit the bullseye – exactly as he had intended. This life wasn't the one he had envisioned for himself one year ago, but it was … better. Yes. Definitively better.

"Heya, kiddo."

Shirou would have liked to say that Kamido looked out of place in the Copenhagen, but that would have been a lie. The bar may have been somewhat high-end, but it still drew individuals from all ways of life, their sole commonality the fact that they enjoyed good snacks and having a drink in peace. Not that Shirou had anything to do with the place's alcohol reserves, of course. That was his story and he was sticking to it, come high water or Fuji-nee's wrath.

No, the Yakuza fitted right in with his trademark impeccable white suit as he walked through the front door and went straight for the bar, where Shirou was cleaning the last round of glasses Neko-san had brought back from the tables.

"Hello, Kamido-san," he greeted the man, hands not stopping their cleaning motions.

"Gotta say, I am surprised you are still working here. What does the missus think of you being here ?"

"Sakura is fine," replied Shirou, not even bothering to comment on the older man's choice of words. "She cooks dinner for the two of us on the evenings I work here."

"So when you go home, your wife will be waiting with her cooking ready," smirked the Yakuza. "I am jealous."

Shirou sighed. The Bounded Field to prevent people from questioning Sakura's circumstances was only around the school : Kamido had been told the truth of the situation by Raiga, or at least as much of the truth as the Oyabun himself knew. "Will you order something, or are you just here to tease me ?"

"I will have a beer, thank you. And no, I am not here for that. Well, not just for that."

His tone changed, becoming quieter and more serious. "I hear that you are leaving town in a few days, kiddo. Going to the Prefecture capital for a sports competition, right ?"

"Archery," agreed Shirou. "The school is sending me and a few others to participate."

"I pity the poor fools who are gonna end up facing off against you, then. But the boss was wondering if, while you are there, you could do us a favour."

"That would depend on what kind of favour it is," cautiously answered Shirou.

"Nothing bad or too serious," quickly reassured Kamido. "We have a friend in Kumamoto who hasn't been answering our calls or letters in a while. I checked on your tournament, and it turns out it takes place in the same area he lives in. Could you check on him, make sure he is okay ?"

Shirou thought on it while preparing Kamido's beer and serving it to the Yakuza. On the one hand, he had hoped that the tension with Sakura would be all the drama associated with the competition – minus actually participating in it, of course. But on the other hand, it did sound quite simple, and someone might be in danger – one did not stop answering to the Fujimura Group's contacts without a good reason.

"… Fine. I will check. Where should I go, and who should I look for ?"

"Good !" smiled Kamido, before handing Shirou a folded photography on the back of which were written a name and address, as well as a sealed, unmarked envelope. "Oh, and if you find him, please give him that letter."

"Kamido-san. I hope this isn't a trick to use me as a glorified carrier ?"

"Of course not ! That envelope only contains paper, I promise. There is a chance he hasn't replied to our letters because they got 'lost' in the post, so this will help get him up to speed on recent events."

The Yakuza drank his beer, emptying the tall glass in a single prolonged gulp before putting it down along with some change and leaving the bar with a last wave toward Shirou. With another sigh, Shirou put the cash in the register and began to clean the glass.

"Shirou-kun," said Hotaruzuka-san, the Copenhagen's owner and Neko-san's father. "What did that gentleman want with you ?"

The man's tone made it clear that he knew, or at least suspected, Kamido's criminal activities. Whether that was because of his own connections to the underworld or because Kamido was, well, Kamido – and thus not trying very hard to blend in – Shirou did not know.

"He is a friend of my guardian's family," said Shirou truthfully, "and came to say hello."

Hotaruzuka-san raised an eyebrow and looked at the pocket where Shirou had stuffed the address and envelope Kamido had given him. Shirou kept his poker face up, and eventually the owner relented.

"Fine, fine, be that way. Still, a hard-working young man like you should be careful who he associates with, Shirou-kun."

"Ahah ..." Shirou laughed nervously. "I will take that into consideration, Hotaruzuka-san."

It looked like his trip to Kumamoto was going to be more eventful than expected. Wonderful.

In her room, Rin was sat at her desk, reading and frowning thoughtfully. To anyone else, the stack of papers spread out across her desk would have looked like an outright mess, but she knew exactly where everything was and how each piece related to the others.

One pile was dedicated to her finances, listing the various bank accounts, both in Japan and off-shore. While she did pay taxes to the Japanese government, unlike most magi who hid their wealth from mundane authorities, Rin had to make sure no one in the fiscal administration got too curious as to the origin of her family's income. Admittedly, that hadn't been much of an issue until recently, what with Kirei having brought the Tohsaka family close to complete ruin.

That pile was dealt with, at least for now. Seven months weren't nearly enough to restore her family fortunes, even with the influx of capital from Emiya's accumulated rent. But the suitcase of cash had been enough to buy back a few of the properties Kirei had sold during his disastrous management of the Tohsaka finances, and with the regular income provided by her family's patents in the Moonlit World, eventually their former wealth would return. Which meant that sooner or later she would have to make a trip to the headquarters of the National Tax Agency in the prefecture and hypnotize one or two public servants to make sure no awkward questions were raised.

She would see about doing that during the summer vacation. The second set of papers, the one she was currently working on, was her correspondence with the Clocktower.

Though the Tohsaka were as isolated from the rest of the Association as was to be expected for an Oriental family, their monopoly on the Jewelcraft patents they had produced meant that they still had some contacts in the European magus circles. It was upon those contacts that Rin had drawn, offering discounts on the use of her family's patents in exchange for information about the Fourth Grail War.

She had framed her questions as curiosity about the exact circumstances of the conflict that had resulted in her father's demise – she didn't want Emiya's existence to be revealed to the noble families of the West yet, lest one of them decide to take revenge on him for something his adoptive father had done. The results had been … interesting, to say the least.

For one thing, she had confirmed what Kirei had told her : Kiritsugu Emiya had been the Master for the Einzbern family during the Fourth Grail War. The Magus Killer had been hired by the magi to serve as their representative, win the War for them, and bring them the Grail so that the family could reclaim the lost Third Magic, the Heaven's Feel. Instead, he had betrayed them in circumstances unclear, and had destroyed the Grail, unleashing its wild, uncontrolled energies that had caused the Fuyuki Fire.

Rin hadn't breached that subject with Emiya. She knew the boy had been adopted by the Magus Killer after losing his family in the Fuyuki Fire. Emiya had also told her, during that first discussion seven months ago, that his father had told him "everything" about it. Did that include why a mercenary who, by all accounts, had won the Grail War and gained an unlimited wish had decided to abandon it at the last minute, causing the very devastation that had turned him into an orphan in the first place ?

She doubted it. It was clear Emiya had loved his father dearly, and still held the memory of the man in high esteem. Or perhaps Kiritsugu had a reason for his actions that was good enough in his son's eyes ? She had difficulties imagining what that may be, but perhaps if another contestant had been about to win the Grail and use its power for some kind of evil wish …

Regardless of Kiritsugu's motives, the fury of the Einzbern family had been terrible, to the point that it hadn't been hard at all for her contact to find witnesses in the Clocktower who had seen the tantrums of the Einzbern magi with their own eyes. There had been a lot of screaming, cursing, and throwing around very expensive ancient artefacts in fits of rage, along with a sudden surge in the number of homunculi who had been butchered by their masters for the slightest mistake – even sometimes for no apparent reason at all.

Things had gotten so bad that the dreaded Vice-Director, Lorelei Barthomeloi – who back then had still been a newcomer to her title – had been forced to intervene directly. The Queen of the Clocktower had all but threatened the Einzbern with expulsion from the Association and being declared Heretics if they didn't calm down, and slapped them with a fine whose alleged amount had nearly caused Rin to faint. And yet, considering that the Einzbern were also responsible for footing the bill for the clean-up of the Holy Grail Wars, it was likely that sum hadn't even put a dent in their coffers. The wealth of the alchemist family was legendarily obscene.

Soon after that, the entire Einzbern family had withdrawn to their castle in Germany, and sent only homunculi to attend to their business outside their territory. The Association was rife with rumors as to why that was the case – the general consensus was that after the humiliation the family had suffered in the Fourth Grail War, they had decided to focus all of their efforts and resources on securing victory in the next one. There were rumors that a lot of money was flowing out of the Einzbern coffers and being invested into various archaeological projects and antique collections across the globe.

No doubt the Einzbern wanted to secure a catalyst for the next Grail War that could summon a Heroic Spirit powerful enough that their victory would be assured. That annoyed Rin, given that there was every chance she or her children would be selected as participants when the next Grail War started in a few decades.

… She just hoped Sakura's and Emiya's didn't also end up chosen as Masters. She didn't doubt for an instant that the two of them would end up having kids one day, and the mere thought of these children ending up fighting her own made her sick to her stomach.

Her contact had searched for more information on the Fourth Grail War, but had hit a surprising dead end. There just wasn't that much known about the Heaven's Feel Ritual in the Clocktower, despite it potentially being a path to directly access the Root, and despite one of the most promising young Lords the Clocktower had seen in years, Kayneth El-Melloi of the Archibald family, dying in it, taking his family's priceless Magic Crest along into the grave. It was as if someone were suppressing information about it, which Rin supposed made sense : no one wanted the noble families of the West to tear each other apart over which would get to send a participant when the next Grail War came around.

She would tell Emiya what she had learned about the Einzbern, as she had promised – so long as he compensated her for the discounts she had given in exchange. Business was business, after all. She wouldn't overcharge him, though : she hadn't completely lied to her contact when she had told that she was curious about the events of the Fourth Holy Grail War. Her father had died in it, her mother had been driven insane, and even a few of her friends from elementary school had vanished – those she hadn't been there to rescue from Caster's monstrous excuse for a Master.

She hadn't found out who had killed her father, but she did have a more comprehensive list of the participants. Kiritsugu Emiya, Tokiomi Tohsaka, Kariya Matou, Kirei Kotomine, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Waver Welvet and the serial killer who had been Caster's Master. Looking at the records of that time period – even the censured version of events the mundane world had been given had some clues in it – she had been able to reduce the list of suspects in her father's murder. Her deductions were written on one other sheet of paper, in the encoded, rune-based script her family used for important documents.

When her father had come to visit her and her mother for the last time, Caster and his Master had been killed in the battle of Fuyuki River, and Kayneth had also been slain by the Magus Killer – that was common knowledge in the Clocktower, despite the Archibalds' attempts to hide the truth of their Lord's shameful defeat at the hands of a common mercenary. Kirei's own Servant, Assassin, had been the first casualty in the War, and the fake priest had already withdrawn from the War by that point.

Of the remaining Masters, Kariya Matou certainly had a motive for going after Tokiomi. According to Sakura, her uncle had joined the Grail War for the sole purpose of freeing her from Zouken : in exchange for the Grail, the old monster had promised to release Sakura from his grasp. Knowing what Sakura had been subjected to and the ravages that Zouken's "training" would have inflicted on Kariya's psyche in order for him – someone who had turned away from Magecraft years ago – to be able to participate in the Grail War, Rin couldn't even blame the man for trying to kill her father. She vaguely remembered what Kariya had looked like when he had rescued her from Caster's familiars : a haggard, hollowed out figure barely resembling the kind-looking man who had used to give her and Sakura gifts, before everything had gone wrong.

Kariya's hatred of Tokiomi for giving up his daughter to Zouken would explain why he could have gone after him, but not how he had managed to overcome him. Unlike Kariya, Tokiomi had been a proper magus, who had spent years preparing to fight in the Grail War. Surely not even Zouken's monstrous "training" could be enough to bridge the difference between them.

Waver Welvet was even less likely a culprit. The successor of Lord El-Melloi had been a teenager at the time of the Fourth Grail War, who had used a relic he had stolen from his mentor to summon the King of Conquests, Iskandar – more commonly known as Alexander the Great. Somehow, Rin couldn't imagine her father succumbing to a child as old then as she was now, and if Rider had been the one to kill him then surely the confrontation between him and Tokiomi's own Servant would have left the Tohsaka residence in ruins. Instead, it had been intact when she had returned after the War, with only the outer layer of the Bounded Fields around it having collapsed due to the death of their creator.

Which left the last option : Kiritsugu Emiya, the Magus Killer. Someone who specialized in taking down magi, even when they hid in the most secure of Workshops. Someone who had blown up an entire hotel building to take down Kayneth. Someone who had been contracted to Saber, recognized as the strongest Class of all seven.

… one day, she would gather up the courage to ask Emiya if he knew if his father had killed hers.

The last third of her papers were the notes she was using to train Emiya and Sakura in basic Magecraft. The latter's education in that regard was even more lacklustre than Emiya's : Sakura knew some of the basic concepts of Magecraft, but she had never received even the most basic training, instead being subjected to the vile tortures that passed for induction into the Matou Mysteries.

After the first month of painfully teaching Emiya the basics of Magecraft, he had asked her to focus on teaching Sakura, which made her suspect that the boy wasn't anywhere near as useless at Magecraft as he seemed during their lessons.

Maybe she could ask Sakura about Emiya's Mysteries when the two of them were together at the Emiya household, with Emiya himself off to Kumamoto. She wouldn't press her sister, of course. Her main reason for going was to ensure Sakura was fine in her savior's absence, just like he had asked her when they had talked about it earlier today.

"So you are participating in the archery competition after all, Emiya-kun ?"

"Yes. Sakura is going to be alone in the house for two nights, and I would rather she had someone she can trust nearby when that happens. Could you stay with her while I am gone ? She is recovering, but she still has a long way to go."

"If you know your absence is going to hurt her," she had replied, angered, "then why are you going to that stupid tournament in the first place ?!"

"Because I don't want her to be completely dependant on me to function all her life, Tohsaka. I don't intend to ever abandon her, but it's better for her to be able to stand on her own."

She had accepted – of course she had. She had long ago promised herself that she wouldn't miss any occasion to spend time with her sister unless it was for a really, really good reason. Emiya was right, though : Sakura was completely attached to him. Oh, she could be apart from him : it would have made going to school awkward otherwise. But she loved him to an unhealthy degree. It made sense : he had saved her from unspeakable torment, after all, and done so for no other apparent reason that because it was the right thing to do.

Certainly it hadn't been to get his hands on the Matou Mysteries. The secrets of the Founding Family had been lost in the blaze that had consumed the Matou estate, and Sakura had known very little of her adoptive "family's" magics. If that had been his goal, then he would at least have plundered the house on his way out, but as far as Rin knew he really had made a beeline for his own home in order to treat Sakura. It really seemed that Shirou Emiya was exactly what he appeared to be : a kind-hearted young man who, after learning his dear friend was being abused by her family, had gone to extreme lengths to rescue her. Except that that story, beautiful as it was, didn't really make sense.

Of Rin's two unofficial apprentices, Sakura appeared to be by far the more talented. Emiya had strong od reserves and good quality Circuits for a first-generation magus, but there was a reason Sakura had been handed off to the Matous instead of a mundane family. Rin's younger sister was every bit as much a prodigy at Magecraft as she herself was, if in a different direction. She had already surpassed Rin in Bounded Fields, adapting her trait of Imaginary Numbers to this type of Magecraft to great effect. It was her who had reinforced the Bounded Field around the Emiya residence, adding actual defenses to the alarm and noise suppression ones that Emiya had inherited from his father.

Even after seven months of regular visits to the Emiya residence, Rin still had very little knowledge on Emiya's Mysteries. He claimed to be essentially a first generation magus, taught only the very basics of Reinforcement and Structural Grasping from his father – and if all that Rin had to go on were his performance when she taught him and Sakura, she would have believed him. But no third-rate magus would ever have been able to break into the Matou household, kill Zouken and heal what had been done to Sakura.

… Rin still had nightmares from the description Emiya had given her of her sister's treatment at the hands of the Matou family. That the girl was still sane, let alone so far on the path of recovery, was a testament to how strong she was. Rin didn't think she would have survived as long as Sakura had.

That Emiya had managed to heal Sakura – and Rin had performed her own examination of the girl once she had been comfortable enough with her presence, just to double-check – instead spoke of a level of Mysteries that would rival even the Church's own healers. Maybe it was a Mystic Code he had inherited from his father ? Certainly, it would explain how both he and the Magus Killer had been able to take down powerful magi within their Workshop if they had something that let them slip through Bounded Fields.

Thinking back on what she had witnessed the day she had confronted Emiya, it was obvious that he had Mystic Eyes of some sort that let him observe magical phenomena in a manner similar to Structural Analysis, only without the need to touch the target. In hindsight, she shouldn't have interrupted him when he had listed all that his eyes could see when looking at her : that would have given her a more complete idea of just how far those beautiful golden eyes of his could see …

Wait, "beautiful" ? she thought, startled. Where did that come from ?!

Oh Root, I am alone in my room thinking about how pretty a boy's eyes are, she suddenly realized, her cheeks heating up.

Well, she did have a duty to continue the Tohsaka bloodline as its last recognized member. And Emiya was certainly a good party in that regard : he had strong Magic Circuits and …

Okay, that was enough time spent staring at bank accounts and reports. It was time to get down and get herself something to eat for dinner. This was all Sakura's fault.

Her younger sister kept showing off her closeness with Emiya whenever Rin visited them, draping herself over him, hugging him and kissing him right in front of her, always with a smile on her face when she looked at her after. Rin felt conflicted about that. On one hand, it was always nice to see Sakura smile more. On the other hand, it embarrassed the hell out of her, especially when Sakura then commented on how much she enjoyed her Senpai's affections, following by insinuating that Rin was after them too. Which wasn't wrong – Rin was self-aware enough to realize that she had a crush on the red-haired boy – but certainly wasn't helping her dignity as a magus and an elder sister.

A quick look at the clock showed that it was too late to go to Emiya and eat dinner there – something she was unashamed to admit she had done many times in the last seven months. It was part of the arrangement they had reached concerning Emiya's rent to her as the Second Owner and as his and Sakura's teacher in the more basic aspects of Magecraft. As long as she could eat his cooking a few times a week – okay, sometimes it was more than "a few" times – then any other payment could be waived. Other magi may have scoffed at how small a price that was, but screw them. They hadn't tasted Emiya's cooking after years of living on her own.

Not only he is nice to look at, but his cooking is great, too, she thought before catching herself. Yep, definitely time to stop working for the evening.

It wasn't as if there was anything urgent requiring her attention, after all.

"… I understand. Please come meet me in the church once you arrive. I have information that I believe you need to know before making your move. No, it's better if I tell you in person rather than over the phone … There are things I need to verify before telling you – I would not want you to operate under false assumptions if I am mistaken. Yes. Have a good trip, then. Goodbye."

Kirei hung up the phone, a smirk on his face. It seemed that the Clocktower had finally caught on to the existence of the Emiya boy. And he hadn't even needed to do anything. Rin's attempts at gathering information had been subtle, but, it seemed, not subtle enough. That was hardly surprising : the girl was smart, but the Clocktower was a nest of serpents for whom intrigue was as natural as breathing.

And now the Archibalds, who had lost their Lord and Magic Crest to the hands of Kiritsugu Emiya during the Fourth Holy Grail War, sought to take their revenge on the Magus Killer's adopted son. They had found out about the destruction of the Matou family, and had used it to convince one of the Association's feared Enforcers to act as their hand in this matter. It amused Kirei that, for all their pride, the Archibalds weren't sending one of their own to avenge the slight to their honor.

Were the Archibalds afraid of losing more of their own to the Emiya, or did they want to minimize the risk of their unauthorized attack on an individual outside the Association coming to light ? It hardly mattered, in the end. The fact that the Archibalds were willing to take revenge on someone who had only been an unrelated child at the time of Kayneth's demise already showed their pride overweighted logic. What mattered was how much entertainment Kirei could derive from the whole affair.

Within a few days, the Archibalds' cats-paw would leave England and begin the journey to Japan. It would not be a quick journey : apparently, someone in the Archibald family had done their research, and now they were paranoiacally afraid that the boy would somehow know if their envoy took a plane, and shoot it down from the skies just as Kiritsugu himself had years ago.

Taking the train across two continents before crossing the sea between Japan and the mainland would be much longer, but it wasn't as if the boy was going anywhere. He had remained in Fuyuki for over a decade, after all. Kirei himself had recommended that course of action after being contacted by the Enforcer. He doubted the Emiya boy had the resources to find out someone was coming to take him down, let alone to destroy an entire plane – but the more hostile the Enforcer was to the boy, the easier his part would be.

This would be a good test of the boy's capabilities. Destroying Zouken had proven that he had the highly specialized skills required to perform such a deed, but him fighting against one of the Association's dogs would give Kirei the opportunity to check that his combat abilities were up to par. Kirei couldn't involve himself directly, of course – on the surface, this was strictly a matter for the Association, and his authority as Fuyuki's overseer didn't extend further than the Grail War. He had done everything he could to inherit the position after the Fourth War, hiding his father's breach of the Church's neutrality and alliance with the Tohsaka Master.

In a way, Kirei mused, his betrayal of Tohsaka, and murder of both his teacher and father could be seen as his taking action to punish those who had broken the sacred rules of the Holy Grail War. Would it not be ironic if this had been the true reason why the Grail had chosen him later on ?

If the Emiya boy died, then obviously he hadn't been worth the attention of the Grail in the first place, and would have made a poor Master when the next Holy Grail War began. That time was approaching soon, he could feel it in the space where his heart used to be. Within a year, two at most, enough mana would be accumulated within the Greater Grail, and the Command Seals would start being bestowed upon the Masters.

In the previous Holy Grail Wars, Masters had received their Command Seals much earlier – he himself had received his own three years before the beginning of the Fourth – but things were different now. The destruction of the Grail at the end of the Fourth War had shortened the time before the next Grail War, and so the period over which Masters were selected would be shortened as well.

Kirei wondered who would be chosen this time. His own participation was inevitable, since he technically was still Gilgamesh's Master. One Master would also be chosen from each of the three families that had created the Greater Grail system : the Matou, Tohsaka and Einzbern. The first two families only had one surviving member, so Rin and her sister would each receive a set of Command Seals. As for the Einzbern … who knew.

The alchemists would need to produce a Lesser Grail, and unless they were stupid enough to forget such an individual would eventually be subsumed by the power of the Greater Grail and turned into the Holy Grail itself, that custom-made homunculi could hardly be a Master themselves. The Einzbern would probably have grown one specifically for the purpose of fighting in the Grail War, which should be interesting at the very least.

If the Emiya boy survived the Archibalds' petty revenge, then Kirei didn't doubt he would be selected too. The Grail had marked him, and it would not have done so without a reason. Which still left two Masters for his God to select. Traditionally, the Mage Association had sent representatives of its own to the Holy Grail War, but Caster's Master in the last War had proven that the Greater Grail could choose Masters of its own will.

Had the three families known their creation could do such things, Kirei wondered ? Certainly he doubted that even the three magi who had created the Greater Grail had realized what it had the potential to achieve.

The Grail's influence had been so powerful, so insidious, it had triggered the defenses of the Throne of Heroes itself, forcing it to remove the Spirit Origin of Gilgamesh of Uruk from its ranks. The King of Heroes, first human to ever ascend to the Throne, no longer graced it with his august presence. Even now, years after he had pieced together what had happened at the end of the Fourth Grail War, the thought was enough to send shivers of awe down his spine.

It was ironic that, while it was Gilgamesh who had set him on the path that had led to his throwing off the shackles of morality that had strangled him all his life, the King himself had only been catapulted down that path himself by what could only be called a miracle. It was Gilgamesh who had first introduced Kirei to the notion that his own perception of the world, his own taste for the suffering of others, might not be something inherently sinful, but something to pursue in the name of his own happiness. At the time, the Servant had only done so because he had been bored with his own Master and had sought entertainment by helping Kirei realize his own nature. But now …

It was obvious to Kirei that the King of Heroes, for all that his arrogance had remained the same, had changed a great deal since the Fourth Holy Grail War. The Servant with whom he had conversed while still in Tokiomi's employ would not have ever considered the goal they were now both pursuing. Unleashing an apocalypse upon the world might have been amusing to him – Gilgamesh had made no secret of his contempt for modern Humanity – but the King of Heroes would have intended it as a test of the species' worth, a challenge meant to be overcome and cull the weak.

His pride would not have allowed him to subject himself to a greater purpose – his purpose would have been the only thing worth pursuing, even if it had never been more than whims in all the time of their acquaintance. Even in the Fourth War, his only reason for pursuing the Grail had been because he had considered it to be already his by mere virtue of existing, and his pride would not countenance someone stealing what he perceived as his own treasure.

But the blessings of the Grail, partially unleashed by Kiritsugu Emiya's foolish actions, had transformed King Gilgamesh. Whatever he had seen when the black mud had enveloped him, even Kirei did not know, but it had transmuted his ego into something more ... rarefied.

Shallow egotism had been replaced by blazing conviction, and disgust with the state of the modern world with the vision of restoring and even surpassing the glory of the King of Heroes' living days. Where in life King Gilgamesh had rebelled against his own divine ancestors and ushered in the Dividing that had brought forth the end of the Age of the Gods, his current incarnation would help usher the new age of revelations.

The Gilgamesh Kirei had come to know during the Grail War would have been enraged by the attitude of his reborn self, and would have sought to destroy him at any cost. That knowledge pleased Kirei immensely, though he was very careful not to let it show in the Servant's presence – Gilgamesh's temper had survived his transformation unchanged. The King may have encouraged Kirei to indulge in the joy he took from the suffering and degradation of others, but the priest very much doubted Gilgamesh would appreciate Kirei enjoying hisown degradation.

Kirei was jealous, in a way. He would have done many things to see what the King of Heroes had seen as the Grail's contents washed around and in him. He had done many things, to ensure that he would see it one day. Things that would earn him damnation a thousand times over in the eyes of his colleagues in the Church, should they ever learn of them. But he did not care about their judgement.

He knew now that he was not a freak of nature, a broken soul born in a world that would never accept him. The Grail War had shown him that his was the true, proper state of mind of Humanity, the perfected form of the human soul. Unburdened by the false ethics that shackled so many, he was truly free. Free to see the world for what it was, a pit of suffering and tragedy, and not just survive, but revel in it. And with that freedom, he had willingly made himself the tool of that great power, becoming the humble servant of the true God that gestated within the Grail even now. He had broken his every vow, but in doing, he had found true faith.

... Look at him, getting all philosophical. He really needed to find a hobby to occupy his free time, one that wouldn't get him in trouble. Perhaps it was time to take up cooking again. He had stopped after Rin had no longer depended on him for most of her meals during her training, but unexpectedly, he had developed a taste for the spiced food he had first made as just another way to make her suffer.

… Maybe he shouldn't criticize Gilgamesh for being petty. It wasn't as if he were above such things himself.

Chapter Text

They fly through empty skies, one drop in a rain of metal descending in a deluge upon black sands. Below them rages the thunder of a war most bitter and cruel, as its second battle is waged.

There is silence in the transport, as all contemplate what must be done. He sees his reflection in the polished armor of the warrior sat in front of him. He is tall, and strong, and holds in his hands the sword that was given to him when he was still mortal – before it, like him, was forged anew when he stopped being merely a knight and became an Angel of Death. Strips of parchment hung from his armor, inscribed with oaths of moments that command his obedience and loyalty.

The silence is broken by a distant voice, speaking on a vox-channel shared by all his brothers descending from the heavens.

"My sons," says the voice, and hearing it sends a shiver down his spine, making him sit straighter in his seat. "A most dreadful moment is upon us. We go now to do what was once unthinkable, our hands forced by circumstances cruel beyond imagining. But we will not falter."

"It is there, on these black sands, that the fate of the Imperium will be decided. Our actions this day will shape the course of history. They will echo for all eternity. The fate of all that we hold dear hangs in the balance, and we shall not be found wanting."

"What we do this day will earn no glory, no memorial. But there is no choice. We go now to do what must be done, if Humanity is to have any future."

"For the Legion and the Imperium," finishes the voice.

"For the Legion and the Imperium," he and the other warriors echo.

How many times has he spoken those words ? They taste bitter in his mouth now.

This is the last stretch of the fall, the first step on the path. This is the last moment before the war engulfs them all.

This is the descent to Istvaan V.

July 21st, 2003 AD – Kumamoto City

"Oi, Emiya. Wake up, we are there."

Shirou opened his eyes, blinking to focus on his surroundings. There was someone just in front of him – brown eyes framed by brown, frowning eyes – who was shaking his shoulder.

"Mitsuzuri," he yawned, stretching in his seat while frantically filing away every detail of his dream for later analysis. Once again, it was a new one. None before had seemed so … ominous. "Is the journey over already ?"

"Yep. You were asleep almost from the moment the train left Fuyuki," said the girl, now looking at him with a trace of worry. "Are you alright ? You need to be in top form for the competition !"

"I will be fine," laughed Shirou. He wasn't going to tell her why he had been so tired when they had boarded the train. Sakura may have been fine with him leaving, but she had still exhausted him last night, claiming that she wanted to "get three night's worth of Senpai" before he left. Combined with the need to get up early to catch the train, it was no wonder he had fallen asleep right away.

"That little nap was all I needed. Why, are you worried about me ?"

"In your dreams," she scoffed. "I just don't want you to use fatigue as an excuse for when I beat you in the competition."

"Sure, sure. Thank you for waking me up anyway."

"Umph. You are welcome. Now hurry and get up."

"Ayako-chan, don't try to put the moves on Shirou," called out Taiga from where she was seated. "Sakura-chan told me to watch over him while we were away, and I am pretty sure that includes making sure not letting anyone seduce her boyfriend."

Mitsuzuri sputtered a denial, her face red with embarrassment from Taiga's comment. Deciding to be merciful, Shirou stood up without calling her out on it. Less than a minute later, the train came to a halt, and the representatives of Homurahara Academy's archery club stepped out.

The boys carried the girls' luggage, none of them foolish enough to protest. Including Taiga, the group numbered seven – two members of the archery club for each year of highschool and the teacher accompanying them.

As they walked out of the train station and toward the area where their taxis awaited them, Taiga started to talk about the area, slipping into her "teacher mode". Kumamoto City, she said, was the capital of the Japanese prefecture within which Fuyuki was located, and was home to over a million and a half people. It had five wards, which had developed around Kumamoto Castle, the most famous landmark in the area. She went on to recite some of the city's history, which Shirou tuned out until she returned to more immediate matters :

"There will be representatives from all fifteen cities of the prefecture at the tournament," continued the teacher, "including Kumamoto itself. In order to accommodate all ninety competitors plus spectators, the tournament will take place in the gymnasium of the local university, which lent it out for the competition. We will go to the hotel first, and then to the dojo to register our arrival."

She checked her watch – which showed that it just over 10 AM. "We should have enough time to grab some lunch after that. Everyone will need to be in their uniforms by 1:30 PM for the start of the demonstrations. I have heard that the organization committee managed to get some real pros to demonstrate, so make sure you won't bring shame to Homurahara, alright ?"

The six archery club members responded by a chorus of "yes". It still amazed Shirou every time he saw Taiga in "teacher mode" : he was far too used to how she behaved in his home, mooching off his food and teasing him and Sakura. But there was a reason Taiga was a teacher, and it wasn't just because her grandfather was the head of the local Yakuza family. She was actually good at her job, even if she always complained about how hard it was when she came to visit the Emiya household.

"The first round of the competition will take place right after the demonstration," continued Taiga, looking specifically at Shirou and Mitsuzuri. "That's the first years' turn, so you two will be the first to participate. Don't feel too pressured by that – no one is expecting too much from first years." Her serious face was split by a wild grin. "So feel free to surprise everyone by showing off just how good the two of you really are !"

"Yes, Fujimura-sensei !" energetically replied Mitsuzuri. Shirou merely nodded in response.

While they were packed in the two taxis, Shirou used the time to think back on the dream he had had in the train. Most of the visions had been vague, full of symbolism and stuff that made sense at the time but lost all significance once he woke up. This one, though … it had included actual names, even if what those names referred to was beyond him now. "Angel of Death", "Legion", "Imperium", and … "Istvaan V". Why would a number be added to that particular name he had no idea, but merely thinking it was enough to make him experience a strange sense of discomfort.

In fact, the entire vision was like that. The dreams had never been peaceful – even the ones he had before rescuing Sakura had involved killing monsters in a forest where visibility was extremely low, after all – but any emotional impact they had usually faded as soon as he woke up. This one, though …

Was he … was he actually afraid ? It wasn't a feeling he was used to – the last time he had been really scared had been when he had confronted Zouken and had thought he would fail in saving Sakura. Perhaps this could help him finally make a breakthrough in his investigation of his strange power, regardless of how it made him feel. He needed to know more about this power, if only to make sure he wasn't a danger to those around him. Even if … even if he didn't want to.

A trip in another city with his clubmates was definitely not the appropriate time to contemplate matters related to his own strange magic abilities, though. For now, he would focus on the archery tournament and the task Kamido had given him. He would discuss this latest vision with Sakura once he was back home.

Four hours later, the luggage was at the hotel, everyone was in their Archery Club uniforms, and the competition was about to start. Seats had been set up in the gymnasium for those not currently participating and the friends, family and enthusiasts who had come to watch.

"Alright, Shirou, Ayako-chan," said Taiga, pumping her fist. "It's your turn. Go and show them what Fuyuki's Archery Club is made of !"

All thirty first-year competitors were lined up on the makeshift range, with targets laid down at the other side of the room. Temporary markings on the floor showed clearly which target was attributed to which competitor.

At the organizer's signal, the competitors took out their bow, each receiving a single arrow. The way the competition was set up was that they would all take a shot at their target, and those who missed the shot would be eliminated. The arrows would then be retrieved, and those who had succeeded would be handed another projectile – then it would start again. Accuracy wasn't the only skill being tested here – how long each competitor could keep up, how long they could maintain the level of focus necessary to hit a target, was the real challenge.

In truth, Shirou had considered deliberately missing after getting far enough into the competition to avoid drawing too much attention. He could always have claimed that it was due to stress from performing in front of so many people. That was hardly uncommon among highschool students, and even when he had performed for everyone in the Archery Club the crowd hadn't been nearly that numerous. But after seeing how much effort Mitsuzuri had put into her training, it would have felt wrong to do anything but his best – even if it ended up bringing him unwanted attention.

Also, he wasn't certain he could deceive Fuji-nee or Mitsuzuri, and he didn't want either of them angry at him if he could avoid it.

His first shot hit the bullseye, as he had known it would. So did the second, and the third, and the fourth, and so on. By the time people started to miss the target and be eliminated, the audience had noticed that he was consistently hitting the center of his target. Next to him, he could hear Mitsuzuri grit her teeth – she was hitting near her target's center, but had only hit the bullseye once.

Every "round" took several minutes, with everyone taking their time before shooting, the arrows being removed and those who had missed being removed from the line-up. Eventually, it all started to blur as Shirou's mind reached some sort of archery nirvana – draw, aim, shoot, relax, draw, aim, shoot, relax … Using his bow had always been relaxing to him, and the hushed noises of the crowd faded away as he completely immersed himself into his shooting.

Eventually, exhaustion took hold of the competitors. Archery was more tiring a sport than it looked : drawing the long bow, holding the string while aiming, all that while maintaining a rigid posture – those were surprisingly intense activities, especially when repeated over and over for a long period of time. Focus started to slip, and even those who could reliably hit a target ten times out of ten began to miss completely as their arms trembled and burned.

But not Shirou, and not Mitsuzuri. Three hours after the beginning of the competition, the two of them and another – the current ace of Kumamoto's own high school Archery Club – were left. There had been a pause at the two hours mark, more for the benefit of the spectators than the participants.

The three of them went on for another ten rounds before – finally – Mitsuzuri missed her shot, her arms trembling from exhaustion. After that, it was another four rounds before Shirou's last remaining competitor finally missed, the boy nearly collapsing from exhaustion and cramps.

For almost an entire minute, Shirou remained standing, waiting for someone to hand him his arrow so that he could fire again. It was only when Taiga spoke to him that he was shaken off of the trance-like state that had descended over him.

While the length of the competition wasn't special – after all, both Mitsuzuri and the boy had lasted almost all the way to the end – Shirou had been the only one of the participants to hit bullseye every single time. Thinking back on it as he was surrounded by questions about his skills, Shirou couldn't help but think that maybe he should have at least tried not to make perfect shot after perfect shot.

He could almost hear Tohsaka's voice calling him an idiot.

Once the first day of the competition was over and Shirou and Mitsuzuri had received their trophies as first and third and smiled for the cameras – there would an article about the tournament in the local newspapers, if a small one – the group returned to their hotel. They ate dinner at the establishment's in-house restaurant, celebrating their victory on the first day, before splitting between boys and girls, each heading to their own room. Though it was only 7 PM, the sun had already set, and Taiga had been adamant that everyone go to bed early in order to be ready for the next day's competition ("After all, we can't have the juniors steal all the glory, now can we ?").

Before going to her own, individual room – the privileges of being a teacher, so she claimed – Taiga once again made it clear that they weren't to leave the hotel, and that she would check they were up tomorrow at 7 AM. She promised terrible things would happen to the 2nd year students if they weren't ready on time, and though Shirou couldn't help but smile, he knew she looked suitably intimidating to his seniors.

However, Shirou couldn't remain in the room all night – not if he was to perform the task Kamido had asked of him. But he couldn't simply leave – his room-mates may be willing to cover for him, but he didn't want to take the risk. The mere thought of what Fuji-nee would think of him leaving the hotel in the evening to go into the city, especially after Sakura had asked her to look after him …

No, it was better to use magic to get himself out of that predicament. The other guys were already tired from the long day, and it only took a quick round of hypnosis to convince them to go to bed early and make sure they fell asleep immediately.

Once that was done, Shirou slipped into the casual clothes he had brought with him – it wouldn't do to walk around in his school uniform after dark – and left the hotel. Just in case, he took the bag of "special" equipment he had brought along, sliding it on his back. Sneaking past the man at the counter wasn't particularly difficult, and his room-mates wouldn't wake up before tomorrow morning unless something disturbed them.

He checked the address Kamido had given him one last time. He was lucky : the apartment complex where Natsuo Sakai lived was located just a few blocks from the hotel.

The street-lights did not particularly flatter the building as Shirou approached it. It was of standard construction, built after the war and well-maintained. A man was putting out the bins in front of it, and Shirou seized his chance, approaching him without trying to hide.

"Excuse me, sir," he called out. "Do you live in this building ?"

"Hm ? Yes, I do. I am the owner, matter of fact." He looked Shirou up and down, and frowned. "Aren't you a bit young to be out this late, kiddo ?"

Well, here we go, thought Shirou. He didn't like this, but it was necessary if he didn't want to draw attention. With a deep breath, he flicked his Magic Circuits open, and locked eyes with the older man.

The landlord tensed briefly, before relaxing as Shirou's hypnosis took hold. It was a minor trick, the kind every Magecraft user who interacted with mundane people had to master in order to help preserve the secrecy of Magecraft. Kiritsugu had taught this variant to Shirou, the old man having tweaked it so that it wouldn't leave any kind of long-term impact on its victims. The landlord would not remember anything of this conversation come tomorrow, but would answer Shirou's questions as best he could while the spell lasted.

"I am looking for someone living here," said Shirou, speaking slowly. "Do you know Natsuo Sakai ?"

"Yes. He is one of the tenants here. Quiet fellow, always pays the rent on time, never caused any problem. Spends more money than he should on the pachinko machines, but not so much that it's an issue."

"Do you know where he is, then ?"

"No." Despite the hypnosis, the man's face twisted in worry. "I haven't seen him in weeks. Even went to the police station to tell them he had vanished. The cops went to his flat to investigate, but I haven't heard back from them. He just went to work one morning and didn't come back."

Well. That certainly was ominous. Someone with Yakuza contacts disappearing, and the police seemingly not making any progress investigating it ? Shirou's mind started to whirr with possibilities, but he forced himself to remain focused on the here and now. Losing focus while hypnotizing someone was a recipe for disaster if ever there was one.

"Where did he work ?"

"He's a construction worker," answered the man. "I heard that he got work on the big construction project further out of town – some kind of office complex for one of them big companies." He went on to give directions, which Shirou memorized attentively.

"Thank you," said the red-haired teenager, releasing the hypnosis. The man blinked, his mind rebooting. From Shirou's experience, he would be constructing his own version of their discussion – it was time to make sure that version went in the right direction. "I would have been lost without your help, sir. Here, let me help you with these bins."

After helping the confused landlord put out the garbage for the city's workers to collect on the morning, Shirou gave his goodbyes and left, pondering his options. Kamido hadn't had any information on Natsuo Sakai's silence : the Yakuza had simply told him that the man had stopped answering their calls and letters. Technically, Shirou could just go back to his hotel and call Kamido in the morning to tell him what he had learned and see if the man wanted him to investigate further. There was still another day of the competition left, after all : he could go back out tomorrow evening if needed.

But if Natsuo Sakai was in trouble, then even a few hours could potentially make all the difference. Admittedly, it had been several weeks since he had gone missing, and Shirou was grimly aware that if the man's disappearance had a sinister cause, finding him alive was unlikely by that point. Yet as long as there was a chance, however remote, that his actions could help, Shirou didn't really have a choice.

The construction site was much farther than the apartment complex had been from the hotel, but it was still a distance that could reasonably be crossed on foot without needing to accelerate using Reinforcement. A little over an hour later, Shirou had reached his destination. The landlord hadn't been exaggerating when he had described the scale of the construction : the wall he was facing was hundreds of meters long, and a massive panel showed a picture of what the area would look like once the work was done. At the bottom of the panel was a stylized representation of seven pillars connecting the Earth and the Heavens.

Shirou recognized that emblem : he had seen it that very morning, painted on the side of the train that had carried the archery team from Fuyuki to Kumamoto. It was that of the Mihashira Conglomerate, one of Japan's biggest corporations. He wasn't surprised to find it here : the Mihashira Conglomerate had branches in everything from computers to canned food. The newspapers had even taken to calling the group "the Pillars" in reference to its name, to express how important it was in Japan's economy.

He was surprised by the Bounded Field surrounding the construction site, however.

Suddenly, the disappearance of Natsuo Sakai had become even more sinister. Before, it could have been the result of a rival Yakuza gang learning about the man's connection to the Fujimura Group. But now that the Moonlit World was involved, things were looking even more grim. From the moment the landlord had told Shirou the man had disappeared, he had worried that he wouldn't find him alive. Now, it was all too likely death was the kindest possible fate to have befallen Natsuo Sakai.

Shirou focused prana into his eyes, activating their ability to perceive Magecraft. Months after the experiment that had revealed Sakura's condition to him, it seemed that his eyes had been permanently altered – now all it took to reproduce the level of perception he had accidentally given himself was a small trickle of prana into his eyeballs. With it and his improved knowledge of Magecraft thanks to Tohsaka's teaching, he could interpret the Bounded Field's propertires.

The Bounded Field seemed to be targeted at keeping people from wanting to get inside, without any real defence attached. That was nice, because Shirou had yet to reproduce the immunity to Bounded Fields that had let him invade the Matou household. It really was a simple field, inferior even to the one that had existed around the Emiya estate before Sakura had reinforced the residence's defence using Tohsaka's teachings. All it would take to ignore it was an effort of will, and that was the one thing Shirou Emiya had plenty of.

With one last look around to make sure there wasn't anyone watching or any camera recording him, Shirou vaulted over the palisade and into the construction site proper.

The construction had stopped at the stage of digging the foundations of the various buildings meant to form the office complex. He noted the tools scattered on the ground and the traces in the broken earth – as if a lot of heavy things (bodies, perhaps, his mind grimly provided) had been dragged across. Here, one excavator had slid into the hole it had been used to dig, keys still in the ignition; there, a protective helmet laid on the ground next to – was that dried blood ?

Drawing a pair of tonfas from his backpack, Shirou followed the footprints and other traces. A lot of them were converging on one particular digging site, where, if his memories of the panel outside were correct, the skyscraper central to the complex was supposed to one day rise. From the edge of the enormous hole, Shirou glanced downward – the foundation stretched dozens of meters deep, but unlike the steel beams and other supports he would have expected, there was something else at the bottom.

Reinforcing his eyes, Shirou saw that it was a heavy-duty elevator, identical to the one at the pit's edge and to which the traces Shirou had followed led. But why, after finishing digging the foundation, had the workers dug another, smaller pit, and gone to the trouble of setting up another elevator ?

This deserved closer investigation. Shirou made his way to the first elevator. A quick Structural Grasping revealed that it was still in working condition. Even its generator was still turned on, which was weird considering that the beginning of plant growth on the earth indicated work had stopped weeks ago. Cautiously, he stepped inside and activated it. With a groan, it jerked into action, lowering him to the bottom of the foundation.

The traces started again outside the elevator's landing zone. Unsurprisingly, they led directly to the other elevator. The drilling machine that had dug the shaft through which it descended was still next to it.

Unlike the elevator that had brought Shirou to the bottom of the foundations, the cage was at the bottom of the shaft. Using Structural Grasping on the cables revealed that the shaft was at most a hundred meters deep – which was quite the distance to go through, unless the Mihashira construction workers had reason to suspect there was something down there.

Shirou pressed the call button – and it immediately sprung to life, cables spinning to raise the cage from the depths. It took a good five minutes for the elevator to arrive, and the whole structure was groaning and squeaking the entire time.

He looked at the metallic platform. There, too, were traces of dried blood. His hands tightened around his tonfas. Moving to angle his head so that he could look directly into the shaft, he Reinforced his eyes again, looking into the pitch-black darkness. Even with his enhanced vision, he couldn't detect any Magecraft down there, but that didn't mean anything.

Well, there was only one thing left to do, then. Shirou did a final check of his equipment, used some of the discarded tools to open the emergency exit on top of the elevator cage – in case the elevator stopped working and he needed to climb back up by pulling himself up the steel cables – and went inside. After taking a deep breath and flexing his Magic Circuits one final time, Shirou pressed the 'down' button on the elevator command panel, and began his descent into the abyss.

Chapter Text

July 21st, 2003 AD – Kumamoto City
Beneath the Mihashira construction site

The stench was the first thing to reach Shirou as the elevator descended into the darkness. A potent reek of rot and death wafted up the elevator shaft, and he nearly threw up as it filled his nostrils. The deeper he went, the more the stench intensified.

Finally, the elevator cage slammed at the bottom, the machinery going quiet. By that point, the stench was almost unbearable, and Shirou had to use his self-hypnosis training to force himself to ignore it as he took stock of his surroundings.

Beyond the light of the elevator's light bulb, the underground was plunged in total darkness. Fortunately, this wasn't an obstacle to Shirou, who simply poured the smallest trickle of od into his eyes. They started to glow, enabling him to see as if it were daylight.

A torii gate sculpted of stone stood at the entrance of a passage that went at least a few dozen meters deep. Broken chains hung from its pillars, and a line of rust could be seen between them where the links had fallen and rusted away to nothing.

A silent generator laid next to the elevator, cables leading from it to the corridor. Behind the elevator were stone steps leading a few meters up, before being suddenly interrupted by collapsed rock and earth.

And right in front of the elevator's gate was a woman's corpse, laying at the end of a trail of blood.

As he knelt to the side of the body, Shirou forced himself to put his emotions aside and look at this as he thought his father would – coldly and analytically. There was nothing he could do to help this woman, except make sure she hadn't died in vain.

The woman had died from bleeding out through the long, vertical slash that had almost completely eviscerated her. Judging by the trail of blood – which, like that he had found above, was days old at best – she had managed to crawl from deeper into the underground complex before dying at the foot of the elevator, failing to get in. Shirou didn't have any experience in evaluating how long a body had been dead, something for which he was thankful, but it was obvious the woman had died weeks ago. The corpse was the source of the stench that had wafted up the elevator shaft.

Whatever had killed her had cut through her bullet-proof vest, but it had not been a clean cut. The material had been shredded. That she had survived long enough to get here – that she had survived at all past the initial shock – was a testament to how tenacious the woman had been.

She had a company ID badge attached to her chest, next to the wound. It was splattered with flecks of dried blood, but Shirou could still read it. On it, along with the Mihashira Conglomerate emblem, were her name – Ochiyo Mizusawa – and her position in the Conglomerate – member of the Special Security Division. There was a barcode and a combination of letters and numbers that Shirou was confident would have meant something to someone working for the Conglomerate, but he didn't have in-depths knowledge of the group's methods or activities.

Perhaps that would need to change in the future, if the Conglomerate was involving itself in situations such as this. For instance, in one of her hands, Mizusawa held a sword whose blade was broken a few centimeters past the hilt. What kind of conglomerate employed security forces armed with swords ?

Shirou Grasped the blade. It was of good quality, despite having been forged on an assembly line using high-quality steel. Bracing himself, he went deeper, trying to extract more information from the broken sword.

It was something he had discovered a few years back, when facing a gangster who had used a sword as a weapon in order to get around Japan's strict gun control laws. His nature as an Incarnation allowed him to synchronize with any bladed tool, letting him absorb their history with an ease normally reserved for true masters of Structural Grasping or those possessing a special talent for psychometry.

He doubted there would be anything pleasant to learn from that sword, but he needed more information.

Nervousness, hidden behind a mask of practiced calm. Her hands tighten around her weapon's grip.

Yellow bones – an altar of black stone – a cage – "is that … is he still -"

Shock. Pain. Fear. So much fear it seems to drown her.

Run. Run run run run – pain. The bizarre sound of her own body coming apart.

More pain. More fear. Need to get away, need to get way, need to get away.

Run. Fall. Crawl. Need to get away. Can't fight it. Shouldn't have come. Intel was wrong.

And then … noth-

Shirou pulled himself from the visions, frowning even as he closed the dead woman's eyes. Like the blade itself, the memories he pulled from the weapon were fragmented and broken. That was alarming in itself – he had practiced on broken blades in the past, and every fragment had kept the memories of the whole. Whatever had broken the weapon had damaged its very spiritual essence – what someone more poetically inclined than Shirou may have called the sword's "soul".

Picking up his tonfas from where he had laid them during his examination, Shirou activated his Reinforcement, strengthening his body and the two weapons, and prepared to advance further. Whatever had killed Mizusawa had not followed her from deeper into the … temple ? The torii gate certainly seemed to indicate so, at least.

He could restart the generator, but announcing his presence to whatever had killed Mizusawa and her team didn't strike him as a good idea. Yet while his altered eyes could penetrate the darkness, they also glowed as a result – it was a weakness he hadn't gotten around yet. As long as there was some light, he could manage with simple Reinforcement – giving himself the same type of nightvision cats and other animals possessed – but in total darkness such as this, his eyeballs had to provide the illumination themselves.

Better to go in with glowing eyes and risk being noticed than guaranteeing they know something is coming, he decided before setting off and crossing the torii gate.

The tunnel was obviously man-made. It circled downwards, and there were alcove carved out in the walls that were full of ancient human bones. Skulls glared silently at the trespassing teenager – hundreds, thousands of them as he continued to go down. How many people had been buried here ? And more to the point, how had they died ?

Down he went, his respect for Mizusawa's tenacity growing with every turn. The descent wasn't steep, but making it back up with her injuries … He couldn't have done it, not without having Avalon heal the wound first. At some point in the descent, the trail of blood turned into a few drops where the woman had finally stopped being able to stand and had had to crawl the rest of the way.

On his way down, Shirou passed electric lights that were connected to the cable from the turned-off generator. A lot of these were broken, and using his Structural Grasping on those that weren't told Shirou that most of them were still no longer working, their inner components appearing to have rusted or burned out.

Several minutes later, the corridor ceased turning and went into a straight line again. A dim light emanated from the end, and Shirou lowered his Reinforcement, stopping his eyes' glow. He stopped in place, closed his eyes, and focused on his hearing instead. He hadn't mastered Reinforcing his ears yet, and this was a poor place to have his eardrums burst. But by focusing, he could hear …

… was that breathing ?

The possibility, however remote, that someone was still alive down there overcame all of his prudence and restraint, and Shirou rushed through the last stretch of the corridor. He had made his peace with the fact that all he was likely to find in this subterranean complex were more corpses, and consoled himself with the vow that he could at least find out what had happened and neutralize the threat. But if there were survivors …

Shirou burst out of the corridor and into a vast, circular cavern. Judging by its smooth walls, it too had been dug out by human hands. He estimated its size at around a hundred meters wide.

There were burned-out candles on the floor, and ash-filled brazeros scattered along the walls. The source of the room's illumination came from a trio of floodlights that were connected to an electric generator identical to the one Shirou had found at the bottom of the elevator shaft – except this one still worked, its purring echoing softly across the cavern.

The temperature had been steadily decreasing as he went deeper, but it was even colder inside the cavern – cold enough Shirou could see his breath turn into vapor. There was something unnatural about the cold, an impression which was only reinforced by the cavern's contents. The stench of death and decay was even stronger here than it had been at the elevator, though the cold helped make it – barely – tolerable.

On the opposite side of the cavern was what Shirou could only identify as an altar. It was made of a single piece of black stone carved with symbols that made Shirou's eyes hurt, and he turned his gaze from it – he didn't want to know what Grasping it would do.

In front of the altar was a large hole whose edges were covered in dried blood. Cracks in the floor spread from it, and Shirou could sense the raw, utter malevolence that emanated from it. But it wasn't what caught his attention, for there, to the altar's right, was a cage, built of … bones. Human bones, tied together with what looked like woven tendons and hair. And within that cage was the source of the breathing he was hearing.

Shirou ran toward it, making no effort to hide his approach, but the figure crouched within the cage of bones did not react. Only when he smashed the "bars" apart with his Reinforced tonfas did the prisoner twitch. With a grunt of effort, Shirou pulled the entire small cage up and tossed it aside, before kneeling to the prisoner's side.

The man wore the working clothes of a construction worker, caked in filth and hanging over his wasted frame. He was thin, skeletally so.

In his right hand, he was clutching a small pendant inscribed with old words of blessings – the kind of talisman that was common among Japan's more traditionally religious families. But this was more than a mere piece of stone – Shirou could feel the power radiating from it, spreading into the prisoner's body. Judging by how thin the captive was, that power was probably the only thing keeping him alive.

Gently, Shirou lifted the man's head, and looked at his face. It was gaunt with hunger and horror, but he recognized it.

"Natsuo Sakai ?" Shirou asked, softly. The man opened bloodshot eyes, shivering in Shirou's arms as he looked at him in abject incomprehension. "I am a friend. The Fujimura Group sent me."

He reacted to the name, opening his mouth as if to speak – but no words came out. Shirou reached into his bag and pulled out a sports drink. He opened it and brought it to the starving man's lips.

"Here, drink. Slowly, now. Slowly …"

Sakai was so weak that it took him almost five entire minutes to drink the entire can. By the time he was done, his breathing had become a bit more regular, and he was looking at Shirou in wonder, as if he couldn't believe someone else was really there.

"How long have you been down here ?" asked Shirou.

"I don't know," the man whispered, and the raw vulnerability in those three words made Shirou tense. "What … what day is it ?"

Shirou told him. Sakai's eyes widened. "Weeks," he managed to say. "Ate through my boxed lunch long ago … licked the bones for water," he moaned, shivering. "It was poison, and it felt like a knife in the guts after, but I was so … so thirsty …"

"It's okay," said Shirou quickly, before the man could descend into a panic attack. "You are safe. I will get you out of here, and to a hospital."

Explaining things to concerned medical personnel wouldn't be easy, but he should be able to figure something out. But his words seemed to cause Sakai to grow even more agitated.

"No ! You … you need to leave, now ! It will come back ! It's gone for now, but it always … come back !"

"What will come back, Sakai-san ?"

"The monster," he babbled. "It … it took their minds, those who came here first. They brought everyone down here, put them in front of that … that thing, and it drove them crazy. They prayed to it … and then they gave themselves to it. I … I was the only one who didn't … who didn't …" His words trailed out, before he suddenly lifted his right hand in Shirou's face, showing him the talisman he was clutching with cramped fingers : "My grandmother gave me this when I was a kid. It … it burned when they dragged me down there … kept me sane when the others went mad." He sobbed. "I wish … I wish it hadn't kept me alive. The things I have seen … Leave me here. Go … Go before it comes back …"

"I am not leaving you here," replied Shirou firmly. "Come on."

Gently, Shirou put his right arm around Sakai's back and lifted him up, beginning to walk toward the exit. The man obviously needed medical attention – he would come back here to investigate once that was taken care of. Sakai continued to whisper that he needed to leave, but he didn't dare to go too quickly – the talisman may have kept him alive, but there had to be limits to its power, and Sakai was on the verge of death already.

They were half-way to the cavern's entrance when -

Click.

Shirou froze in place at the sound, feeling Sakai shudder and twist under his hold. It had come … it had come from the pit.

"It's coming," the older man moaned, terrified.

Click. Click. Click click click click click click click click click -

Shirou turned just in time to see it emerge from the pit.

It was enormous. Over five meters high, though it was hunched over. Its outline was – vaguely – humanoid, with two forward limbs and two backward ones. But it was an amalgamation of bones and rotting corpses, some of which still wore the tattered remnants of the Mihashira security forces.

Its "face" was made of a several heads whose flesh had run like wax, forming a nightmarish mix of eyes, mouths and teeth. It groaned as it pulled itself out of the pit, clawing at the stone with claws made of snapped bones. The reek of rot and death was stronger than ever, and the cold had grown intense enough that the stone around the pit was beginning to freeze over. Shirou felt as if the creature's mere presence was sapping his life away, and the talisman in Sakai's hand burned even hotter, keeping the monster's aura from affecting him.

Dropping Sakai to the ground as gently as he could, Shirou drew his two tonfas, pouring prana into them as the monster crawled toward the two of them with surprising speed. He leapt to meet it, and smashed its front with both weapons, putting all of his strength behind the blow. Bones splintered, pieces of rotten flesh flew off, and bile spurted, forcing Shirou to twist out of its way.

But the creature didn't even seem to notice the damage. It lifted one of its forward limbs and swung it at Shirou. In a split second, Shirou realized it was too huge and too fast to dodge, and raised his arms to block the blow, Reinforcing his entire body along with his weapons to absorb the impact.

He had underestimated the creature's strength. The "arm" shattered the two tonfas like matchsticks, the impact pushing Shirou's arms away before smashing into his chest with enough strength to crack his ribcage and send him flying across the room. He crashed onto the stone floor, his back hitting the ground first. Lights danced before his eyes as he pushed himself on all four, eyes darting left and right, searching for something he could use to focus the monster's attention on him.

There were scraps of cloth and body armor there – the discarded pieces of the monster's victims, he realized. And there, amidst the debris, miraculously intact, was a gun, with the emblem of the Mihashira Conglomerate emblazoned on its handle.

Shirou's eyes flashed as he Grasped the weapon. A flow of information flooded his mind, which he triaged with the ease born of long practice. The gun had been fabricated in the same factory as the swords he had seen so far, using the same advanced techniques and materials. But what really mattered to him was that it was still in working condition, and had nine bullets left in the magazine.

He reached for the weapon. Even if he managed to hit the creature with it – which was a big if since he had never held a gun before, and his Incarnation status didn't grant him any special advantage where firearms were concerned –it likely wouldn't affect it. It wasn't as if it had done its previous owner a lot of good, after all. But perhaps it could draw its attention and make sure Sakai was safe while he tried to figure out a way to actually escape with the man.

His fingers closed around the gun – and the wORld ShaTTered.

He stands on the black sands, which run red with the blood of demigods. The air is thick with screams of hate and madness.

He sees the warriors of three banners, retreating from battle and running toward him and his brothers. They are wounded, brought to the brink of defeat by the defenses built by those who waited for them. They think he and his brothers are their salvation.

In his hands, he holds a sword and a pistol. He has carried them through a hundred campaigns, and the sight of them is more familiar to him than that of his own naked hands. They feel heavier now than they ever have. But he has his orders, and he knows what must be done

There is no choice in this. There never was. He knows this, too. And so, when the order is given, spoken aloud by another of his brothers, he obeys.

He aims, and he pulls the trigger. His shot hits a warrior of the Hydra in his armor's gorget. The bolt was crafted in secret forges in preparation for this war, and it pierces through the metal with ease, severing the head of this son of Alpharius. The body takes seven more steps before falling.

It is the first of his kind that he has ever killed, and he does not even know his victim's name.

He wonders, even as he fires again and again, alongside the thousands at his side who unleash death upon those who believed them brothers : how many more will there be, before this nightmare ends ?

But he cannot stop. He has no choice. He repeats that truth to himself, over and over again, every time he kills another of his own kind. He forces himself to believe it. He has no choice. He has no choice. He must do this. They all must do this. It is the only way.

It must be. It must be. It must be.

Because if it is not …

If it is not, then he is …

The vision … (No. Not a vision. Never a vision. A memory.)… it hurt. The remembrance of it sickened Shirou to his core. He was … he had … No. No. No no no no no no no wrong no wrong wrong wrong WRONG …

Traitor.

Oath-breaker.

Heretic.

Butcher.

Kinslayer. Kinslayer. KINSLAYER -

MONSTER NO NOT HIM HIS HANDS BLACK SANDS RED BLOOD THE GUN IN HIS HANDS

Shirou screamed in pain and anguish as guilt for a sin not his own overcame him, and he fell to the ground, eyes wide open but seeing nothing. There he laid, limbs twitching with pain, the traces of his Reinforcement fading away. Pieces of the gun that had triggered the vision slipped between his nerveless fingers, his grip having shattered the weapon during his convulsions.

The monster of melted corpsesapproached the collapsed boy slowly, cautiously. Somewhere deep within what passed for itsmind, it remembered to be wary of the smell of the boy. It lowered a clawed hand toward the unconscious boy's head …

Thump.

A fist weakly hit the monster in its side. By itself, it would not have even been noticed – not when there was such enticing prey laying before the creature. But the fist held something within it, something old and sacred, infused with the strength of a man's desperate faith. With surprising agility, the monster jerked back, seeking to put distance between it and the source of its pain.

"L-leave him alone," sobbed Natsuo Sakai, forcing the words past dry, cracked lips. His stick-thin legs trembled as he fought to keep his emaciated body standing, and put himself between the collapsed teenager and the abomination.

This was not thanks to the power of the talisman he held, for all that relic could do was keep the monster at bay and sustain the flickering embers of his life. This was the strength of an ordinary man whose body was on the edge of giving up, whose mind had been ground down by the horrors he had witnessed, but whose will stubbornly refused to surrender.

The monster gazed down at its victim, incomprehension flickering in its bouquet of stolen eyes. Then the flickering vanished, replaced by bestial hatred, and the monster roared at the man, poisonous spit leaving its many mouths in a foetid breath. In the hand of Natsuo Sakai, the talisman glowed, burning the hand that held it, and began to crack as what power it held was overwhelmed by the strength of the monster's focused fury.

Yet Natsuo remained standing, for he had seen too much, and would tolerate no more.

"Leave that kid alone, you monster !"

There is nothing but pain.

I cannot move. I cannot think. My mind is broken, my will sundered by revelation.

I do not understand what I have seen. I do not know the meaning of the names, I do not know the context behind this abject betrayal. All I know is the sin of it all, the evil unleashed upon the universe on those black sands.

My hands held the gun. My fingers pushed the trigger. My my my my my my my my my my …

My fault.

I am not the hero who saves. I am the monster people need saving from.

… Am I ?

I see a man looking down at me, tear-filled face full of joy as he pulls me up from ash and ruin.

I see purple eyes, looking up at me in wonder from a pit of nightmares.

I see …

I see a light in front of me. Someone is standing there, between me and a monster.

Natsuo Sakai, something within me recognizes. The man I came here to save, if he could still be saved.

Now he is saving me, holding the monster that has broken him at bay. But he won't last long. He is too weak, and the monster is too strong. Surely he knows that. Surely he knows he will die if he does not flee.

And yet he stands.

I realize that he will die before he steps aside, before he gives up.

He will die for me, and that is …

Wrong.

No.

No.

I refuse this.

He understood now. He understood where the power that had let him save Sakura had come from. He did not know it – the context of those memories was still lost to him … but he understood enough.

And it didn't matter.

In the end, it didn't matter where that power came from. It didn't matter that the memory of the black sands threatened to make the bile rise from his stomach, that it made his very soul feel as if it would be torn asunder.

All that mattered was that there was someone who needed his help in front of him – someone who was risking his own life to protect him, despite their own fear, despite their own weakness, despite how much they had already suffered. How could he simply lay there, while he was being saved again ?

He could not. He would not. Because in the end – just as he had told his father years ago, under the light of the moon – all that mattered was the choices they made.

Shirou's hands closed into fists, so tightly his nails drew blood from his palms, and he stood up.

If his focus slipped, even for an instant, the conflict between who he was and who the person in the memory had been would tear him apart – literally, as the power inside him ran out of control. His Circuits would explode, his flesh would be broken and scattered across this unholy temple. Even Avalon would not save him from death then.

But …

He was Shirou Emiya. He was the son of Kiritsugu Emiya, a man who had dedicated his life to saving others, and had lost everything he held dear as a result. He was heir to the Magus Killer's impossible dream, and Sakura Matou's hero. This nightmare memory of treachery was not, and would never be, him.

Because whoever it was that had stood upon the black sands with his brothers' blood on his hands …

… whoever it was who had broken their oaths to Humanity …

… whoever it was who had turned their back on the dream they had sworn to defend …

… whoever had rejected their own free will to hide from the weight of their own guilt …

… it wasn't him. It wasn't Shirou Emiya. And so, in the end, it came down to a simple choice :

To master this power, or to let it master him.

Shirou chose.

This is not who I am.

This will never be who I am !

I am …

█ ██ ███ █████ ████ ███████ ███ █████ ██ ████.

Wings formed of shadow spread behind him, and black lines blazed on his skin as his eyes burned darkly gold. Suddenly, in his right hand was the familiar weight of the great monster-slaying sword, pulled from a time before it had become as tainted by treachery as the warrior who wielded it. His Circuits were burning, and he could feel the awesome power he was drawing from somewhere deep within him.

He also felt pain, monstrous pain. His body was burning, breaking apart under the strain and repairing itself, again and again. Within him, Avalon blazed, drawing upon this flow of power to heal him even as that very power was killing him. He could feel the Noble Phantasm straining to use the power he was calling forth, to force it into its fey structure. The pain was monstrous – even a first-rate Clocktower Magus would have been driven mad and lost control.

But pain was an old friend to Shirou Emiya, and this torment was nothing compared to the agony of the sheer distortionbetween who he was and who the power's original owner had been.

He stood, and put his left hand on Natsuo Sakai's shoulder. The man would have jumped, had he had the strength.

"Thank you," he said. "You can let me handle it now."

It took a few seconds for the man to react, to process the words he was hearing. When he did, he fell backwards, and Shirou caught him deftly in the crook of his left arm, lowering him to the ground while keeping an eye on the monster, which had warily retreated as Shirou rose.

A quick look at Sakai confirmed that the man had fallen unconscious. Shirou needed to take care of this quickly, so that he could get to the far more important business of getting him to a hospital.

"I see you," Shirou said to the abomination towering above him. And he did.

With his golden eyes, he saw past the stitched and melted corpses, held together by strands of arcane power. Past the creature's monstrous appearance, and into the truth of its nature.

He caught glimpses of the spirit's past as he peered into its very heart. He saw a mansion built of still-living, rotting trees – a cauldron bubbling with all the plagues of the universe – a Garden of infinite scope and malice – robed figures kneeling before the altar, offering up their own flesh as sacrifice so that it may rise from the pit …

He saw a battle – men and women holding shining swords, bringing purity into the den of abomination. He saw these heroes defeat the monster, each slice of their blessed swords cutting off a sliver of its power and weakening its hold onto physicality until its body fell apart and its spirit was imprisoned within the pit with prayers and Magecraft. He saw them raise thetoriigate at the entrance of its temple and collapse the only tunnel that led down into it, sealing the monster in its own lair – dead but not destroyed, merely sleeping. He tasted its bitter hatred, and the slow corrosion of the seals that had been placed upon it, until all that held it back was the packed earth that cut it off from any soul it may corrupt and draw strength from.

He saw the core of the monster's essence, a ravenous desire to bring rot and corruption to all things, to pervert all natural order and twist it into a never-ending, never-changing state of un-life.

The creature recoiled before him, hissing in fear and hatred. It could sense his intrusion into its past, and it despised him for it.

The feeling was mutual. He … he hated it, he truly did. This surprised Shirou, even in his current altered state of mind, fighting to keep control and not succumb to horror again. Not since facing Zouken had he felt something like this. Even the part of him that wasn't – that wasn't him, that would never be him hated the creature.

"I see you, servant of decay," he repeated. "Handmaiden of rot. Defiler of bodies, of minds, of souls. You have no place here !"

He brought the sword up to his shoulders, holding it horizontally in a two-handed grip, and the monster flinched. For a moment, the two of them stood facing each other – and then Shirou moved.

The stone beneath his feet cracked as he burst into motion, striking forward with his sword. The monster dodged almost out of the way, but the blade still scored a deep wound into its shoulder.

It struck back at him with its claws, and Shirou turned his sword around to block the attack. This time, when the blow landed, he remained standing, his black wings pulsing with power as they held him in place. With a roar, he pushed, and the monster stumbled as its limb was forced back.

He leapt forward, holding his sword in two hands, and delivered a horizontal cut that caught the retreating monster on what passed for its torso. The blade cut deep, and black ooze spilled from the stitched corpses – yet that physical damage paled in comparison to the hurt the sword's power had inflicted upon the sorcery that animated the monster.

Its many mouths opened, spitting gobbets of foul-smelling liquid at him. He twisted in mid-air, dodging most of them, and blocked the rest with his sword. The stuff hissed as it tried to eat into the Traced metal – and failed.

With a beat of his wings, Shirou plunged at the beast, and his sword bit deep into its stolen flesh. It shrieked as black, rotten blood erupted in tainted torrents.

It screamed at him then, howling its hatred of him and the World. It pummelled his psyche with images of decay and madness, of the horrible things that it had made the excavation team do to each other and to the construction workers. It showed him the precipitous descent into degeneracy, the monstrous sacrifices, the self-mutilations and the ultimate offering of their own flesh and souls so that it could manifest fully into the material universe, poisoning the World with its cankerous existence.

It amazed Shirou that Natsuo Sakai, who had seen all these things, had retained even the modicum of sanity he had displayed. But Shirou had seen worse. His mind flashed back to his very first memory – black sun and crimson skies, the stench of burned and corrupted flesh, the screams of the dead and the dying – and the familiar horror brought with it a renewed determination.

I will not fail, he swore. I will save Sakai-san. I will avenge those it has killed. I will protect this city.

And there were other thoughts amidst those that could be called heroic, too – thoughts of the girl who waited for him, of the promises he had made to her. He could not die here, not if it meant breaking those vows. Not if it meant abandoning her.

I will survive. I will go home.

"Until all oaths are fulfilled," he said, gritting his teeth as he plunged the blade deeper. "Until the last monster is slain. Until the World is free."

The monster clawed at him even as it fell on its back, smashing its forelimbs into his body with enough strength to shatter stone, but Shirou remained unmoving, his skin now almost entirely covered by the black lines of his unique brand of Reinforcement.

"I will not give up !" roared Shirou Emiya as the power within the Traced blade finally broke through the last of the monster's defenses and reached its blasphemous heart. "I will not surrender ! I will not relent !"

Panicking, the monster twisted and turned, trying to dislodge Shirou – but to no avail.

"Begone," he declared, and once again, the sword in his hands ignited.

As it had done to the rotten soul of Zolgen Makiri, the sword ███████ ████ obliterated the creature's essence, reducing every strand of its existence to nothingness.

Without the sorcery holding it together, the monster's patchwork body fell apart, and Shirou landed on the stone amidst a shower of bones and rotting, rapidly liquefying flesh.

Hatredburned within him, hot and true and not his own, warring with pain, horror and grief. Shirou's sight swam as darkness crept in – darkness, and other images held within it. He forced his mind away from its grip, trying to force the power he had drawn upon back down. It resisted him every step of the way, but eventually the black lines faded from his skin, the wings vanished and the radiance of his eyes waned. Yet it was not gone – not completely. Shirou could still feel it burning inside him, coursing through the handful of Circuits he had not managed to shut down. It hurt, but it was a pain that Shirou could force himself to ignore.

When Shirou's vision returned, the cavern was just that – a cavern. Creepy, sure, but not supernaturally so. The vile presence that had been imprisoned there for centuries had been banished entirely; not simply sealed this time, but obliterated forever. The altar of black stone had splintered as if it had been cleaved in two, the unearthly sigils carved into the black stone now no more than meaningless shapes.

Shirou stumbled back to where Sakai laid on the ground, ignoring the pain of his overworked muscles, and examined the unconscious man who had risked everything to protect him. Sakai's hand had been charred by the talisman, the entire palm of his right hand covered in a burn that replicated the pattern that had covered the object. The talisman itself fell into pieces as Shirou lifted Sakai onto his shoulders, the fragments turning to dust as they hit the ground.

Shirou's walk back up was far slower than his descent had been, every turn of the spiralling path a struggle, but eventually he made it to the elevator. The corpse of Ochiyo Mizusawa was still there, exactly where he had left it.

Slowly, gently, Shirou put Sakai down and pressed the command button. Groaning and shaking, the elevator began to go up, and Shirou let himself fall on the floor, breathing heavily.

The trip back up seemed to be even longer than before, though it only felt this way because of his pain and exhaustion. Shirou took the opportunity to gather his thoughts and plan his next move.

He had done it. He had saved the man he had come to find and slain the monster responsible for the deaths of the construction crew and the Mihashira security team. But there was much yet to do, and many questions yet unanswered. First, he needed to get Sakai to a hospital and figure out a plausible story he could tell the medics. Then he would have to make it back to the hotel before Fuji-nee noticed his absence. He checked his watch, which had miraculously survived through the battle. Somehow it was still only a few minutes past eleven PM. With any luck, he would make it to the hotel before midnight …

The elevator suddenly stopped, jerking Shirou away from his thoughts. He blinked, his awareness returning to his immediate surroundings. He and Sakai were in the elevator cage, which had reached the surface and the foundations where the shaft had been dug …

… and all around them were over twenty men and women wearing the same kind of uniform he had seen on Mizusawa's corpse, aiming guns and rifles at him. There was a helicopter nearby, which had landed directly into the hole. It, too, wore the emblem of the Mihashira Conglomerate.

For several seconds, it was all Shirou could do to blink as he stared at the corporate security forces. He … he had not expected that. And clearly, judging by how nervous they seemed, neither had them.

Someone in a hazmat suit and holding some kind of tablet broke through the circle of guards and aimed the device at Shirou and Sakai. After a few seconds, it beeped, and the figure visibly sagged in relief before addressing the rest of the Mihashira personnel :

"They are clean. Lower your weapons, everyone."

As the figure in the hazmat suit removed his hood, the security forces followed his order, holstering their weapons and stepping back from the elevator.

"Sorry about that, sir. We needed to be cautious, in case something tried to get out."

"I … I understand," replied Shirou, though he did not – not completely. A group in a different type of Mihashira uniform approached the elevator, assisting Shirou out of it and toward the second elevator that led out of the foundations and to the rest of the construction site.

"Medics !" said one of them as they saw Sakai. "We have a survivor in need of help."

"He has been starved for weeks," said Shirou, stopping and turning to address the one who had called out. "And he was subjected to … horrible sights down there. He needs medical and psychological help."

They nodded back. "Understood, sir. Don't worry, we will take care of him." They turned to another of their own : "Prep the chopper for medical evacuation and call base."

Even as Shirou was brought back up, he kept his gaze on Sakai. The Mihashira personnel brought a stretcher and carefully laid him down on it, before carrying him to the helicopter. As the elevator reached the top of the foundations, the helicopter's blades began to rotate, carrying the white-clad medics and their patient off.

Part of Shirou felt that he should have asked more questions before letting them take Sakai away … but he didn't know just how much these people knew of Magecraft, and in his state, there was no way he could fight back against so many armed people without breaking the rule of secrecy.

A woman in the same uniform as the deceased Mizusawa – her own ID badge named her as Atsuko Kurata – brought Shirou to a small tent that had been hastily erected in the middle of the construction site. Inside were a handful of chairs. She gestured for him to sit down while she pulled a cell phone from her pockets and dialled something on it.

"Here, sir." She handed him the phone after a few seconds. Tentatively, Shirou brought it to his ear, while the woman immediately left the tent, leaving him alone, with the electrical lamp resting on another chair the sole source of illumination.

"Hello ?"

"Hello, Shirou Emiya," replied a male, perfectly composed voice.

"Who are you ?"

"Who I am is irrelevant. In this conversation, I speak for the Mihashira Conglomerate. For simplicity's sake, you may call me Kodai."

That was … a strange name, to say the least. But it would have to do. Shirou had a lot of questions, after all – and he might as well start with the obvious one.

"How do you know who I am, Kodai-san ?"

"Your face was recorded when you broke into the construction site and we dispatched our response team. Since then, I have been doing some research to identify you. Given your participation in the ongoing archery tournament in the city, it wasn't difficult to find out your name – though a deeper investigation into your background certainly proved interesting."

"There weren't any cameras when I checked before entering," Shirou said, even as all kinds of alarm bells were ringing in his head.

"Of course not," scoffed Kodai. "Come on, Emiya-san. We are professionals. If you could have seen our eyes, I would need to have words with those responsible for placing them – stern words. Our watchers had strict instructions to simply observe, and to send a warning if anything got in or out of the Bounded Field."

"Why didn't you send people in sooner ?"

"We did. Weeks ago, when the reports from the excavation team stopped, we immediately dispatched one of our special teams. I believe you saw for yourself how well that turned out ?"

"Yes," admitted Shirou. "They … they all died in the temple. But clearly you have more people -"

"You underestimate both your own skills and the scale of our operations, Emiya-san," cut off the Mihashira representative. "The team we sent in first was one of our best, and they were wiped out to the last. We have other teams, some more qualified, but not many of them, and they were all already engaged elsewhere. That is why we had to resort to cordoning the area off while searching for more qualified personnel, or until one of our other teams finished their current assignment."

There was a pause as Shirou considered Kodai's words. It made sense … though it still begged the question of why the Mihashira Conglomerate had been interested in the underground temple in the first place.

"If I may ask," continued Kodai, "what happened to the entity that was sealed within the temple ?"

"It attacked me and Sakai-san," replied Shirou. Then, seeing no reason to hide the truth – after all, being thought of as capable of defending himself could only be useful right now – he continued : "I destroyed it."

"You … actually destroyed it ?" For the first time, there was a note of surprise in the other man's voice, though Shirou couldn't help but feel that something was wrong with it. "Are you confident of that, Emiya-san ?"

"Yes. I know it was only imprisoned the last time it was defeated but this time – it's gone."

"… I am impressed, Emiya-san. Not many could have come up against such an entity and survived, let alone defeat it. But to destroy it … you understand that we will need to send our own experts to confirm the entity has been removed from the World, of course. Can you tell me how you did it ?"

"I cheated," said Shirou without elaborating further. "Can you tell me what that thing was?"

"… Yes. If our research was correct, you would know it as a shikome, one of the handmaidens of the goddess Izanami according to ancient legend – though of course the myths weren't quite true, as those things always are. It was imprisoned here centuries ago, in what was at the time a remote rural area. But the city expanded, and eventually reached it.From that point on, it was inevitable that someone would stumble upon it, sooner or later. That is why we bought the land and began construction to cover our excavation efforts."

"Why ?" he almost growled, holding his anger back only by reminding himself than pissing off a major conglomerate would be a poor idea. "People died because of you – a lot of them. Your own employees were driven mad and offered themselves as sacrifices to this … this thing ! Why in God's name would you do such a thing ?"

"Would you rather this shrine be uncovered by another construction company, one without any connection to the Moonlit World ? Things didn't go as planned, I admit, but you must see it would only have been worse if someone else had unearthed the shikome. As I said : from the moment the boundaries of Kumamoto City reached the site, it was inevitable that the entity would eventually be able to influence those dwelling above. The team attached to the construction crew was tasked with making sure the work did not disturb the temple. Unfortunately, from what we have been able to piece together, the ancient seals had already been eroded through by the time they reached the temple to get more data in order to perform a complete exorcism, or else reinforce the existing seals. But it appears that, despite our precautions, the entity affected them, turning them into its service."

"Then," continued Shirou, following the reasoning, "they captured the construction crew – which was made all the more easy by the weapons they were no doubt equipped with – and dragged them below to expose them to the shikome's influence in turn. From what I saw, it … it built itself a body from their corpses. But it was huge. It wouldn't have been able to fit through the tunnel leading to the surface, let alone the elevator ..."

"Indeed. We were all fortunate that this entity, for all its power, wasn't very bright. The Bounded Field was put into place to make sure it couldn't get more servants until we could send someone capable of dealing with it once and for all."

"… Fine, I believe you," Shirou gave in. "But I still have questions."

"Of course. I will answer what I can, though you will understand that there are some secrets of the Conglomerate that are not mine to share."

"Yes, I do. First : what do you intend to do about this whole … incident ? You can't sweep the death of so many people under the rug – at least not for the construction crew. If you could, I wouldn't have been here in the first place."

"Now that the incident has been resolved, I already have people on it. Tomorrow, the newspapers will publish a story about the tragic accident at the workplace that claimed the lives of the construction crew. Their families will be given a comforting lie and appropriate compensation, I assure you."

"And what about Natsuo Sakai – that's the man I rescued from the temple ? He survived, but he knows what really happened."

"I promise you that Natsuo Sakai will be given the best of medical care, and will make a full recovery. We will have to alter his memories, of course – he will remember being stuck underground after a collapse, and surviving for weeks in terrible conditions. It will be a traumatic experience, but we will do all we can to support him and assist him in overcoming it."

"What proof do I have you won't simply kill him to clean up the loose ends ?"

"Emiya-san. We are not the Clocktower. We are a company that operates in the eyes of the public. Yes, some of our activities are best kept out of sight, but we try to operate according to at least the most basic of moral guidelines – and that includes taking care of our employees."

Shirou didn't answer. Eventually, a sigh came from the other end of the line.

"But if you need a more pragmatic reason for sparing Sakai-san : being seen taking care of the lone survivor of this disaster will do wonders for our PR, and keep us from becoming enemies with you."

That Shirou could believe. Though he knew many would consider his ideals naive, he did not think himself so. He knew people could be selfish, and act in their own self-interest even if it meant others would suffer : years of working for the Fujimura Group had made sure of that. And he also knew that corporations were far worse than people in that regard. It was possible that the Mihashira Conglomerate genuinely cared for its employees … but Shirou wouldn't have bet on it. Even if Kodai himself did, a company the size of the Conglomerate was all but guaranteed to have very little in the way of empathy.

"I have to say, Emiya-san, I am pleasantly surprised by your concern for our employee's well-being. It isn't exactly the kind of attitude one would expect from a Magus."

"I am not a Magus," replied Shirou automatically. "I think of myself as a Magecraft user only."

"Indeed ? Interesting. But if you weren't here to investigate the temple, what brought you to the construction site ? I somehow doubt you just happened to pass by and noticed the Bounded Field."

"I was asked to look into Sakai-san's disappearance," replied Shirou cautiously. "He has friends in Fuyuki who noticed he wasn't answering phone calls and letters and knew I was going to Kumamoto City for the tournament."

"I see. I suppose things turned out for the best. Even our most efficient Magecraft practitioners wouldn't have been able to destroy the shikome as you say you did."

"Speaking of Magecraft users," Shirou prompted, "the team you sent in the temple knew about Magecraft, didn't they ? But they didn't seem like magi either. I am not sure the Clocktower would approve of that. In fact, I am rather certain they would not."

"We have an understanding with the Director of the Clocktower," said Kodai, sounding amused at Shirou's blatant fishing for information. "Japan is an old land, with many old secrets that the nobles of the Clocktower would happily pay any price to obtain … whether it be in money or lives. The Director understands the necessity of keeping these secrets from the hands of those who would abuse them in their pursuit of the Root. Since you are already affiliated with the Moonlit World, I can reveal to you that one of the Mihashira Conglomerate's purposes is to help maintain its secrecy in Japan, as well as to protect the relics of the Age of Gods in this country. This is accomplished both by actions such as the one that occurred here, and by making sure that the European Lords of the Clocktower continue to regard the East as a backwater good only for breeding inhuman bloodlines."

"And what are your other purposes ?"

"One of them is profit, of course," shamelessly admitted Kodai. "We are a corporation, after all, and need to appease our stockholders and finance our operations across Japan. For the others, I am afraid you would need to work for us first … which segues nicely into the next part of our conversation."

"You want to hire me ?" asked Shirou, nearly flabbergasted. He had not foreseen that turn of the conversation.

"We would certainly be interested with it, once you have finished your education – hiring highschoolers doesn't really look good on the books. The Mihashira Conglomerate employs many … Magecraft users ourselves. The Special Division has a training program to teach the rudiments of Magecraft to those best suited for it, in order for them to be more effective in the field. They combine modern technology with basic Magecraft in order to accomplish their missions. From what I have found about you, you do not share the common magus' distaste for modern methods and tools. That alone would be enough to make you worthy of notice, but you are so much more than that, aren't you ? As one would expect of Kiritsugu Emiya's adopted son."

"… you know of my father ?" asked Shirou warily. Kiritsugu had warned him – many, many times – that there were a lot of people in the Moonlit World who despised him, sometimes for good reasons, and that some of them would seek to take their revenge on him if they learned of his relation to the Magus Killer.

"Of course. The Conglomerate has hired your father in the past, to help deal with ... rogue elements. Similar to what happened here, in fact. Unfortunately, relics from the Age of Gods are dangerous to deal with, even for trained personnel. The attrition rate within the Special Division is ... substantial. That is why we often need to resort to freelance personnel. Your father was a very effective contractor. We were sorry to hear of his death during the Grail War, even if it seems that he didn't die during it as the rest of the Moonlit World believed. He is dead now, isn't he ?"

"Yes," admitted Shirou. "My father died years ago from the wounds he received in the Grail War. But you … You know about the Grail War ?"

"Of course we do. Were it not for our agreement with the Wizard Marshall, we would never have allowed it to continue. Given the advancement of technology, we are not looking forward to helping contain the next one in a few decades."

"If you couldn't deal with the situation here, I find it difficult to believe you could have stopped a Grail War with Servants and Masters," said Shirou bluntly. The laughter that answered him sent a chill down his spine.

"Understandable, Emiya-san … But believe me : we could. It would cost us, but we could."

Shirou contemplated the implications of that for a few seconds … before sighing.

"Alright. I understand what happened now – more or less. And I am flattered that you want to hire me, but that's something I would need to think about. For now, I will trust that you will take care of the situation here, and I will tell Sakai-san's friends that he was caught in an accident at his workplace that put him out of contact for some times – hopefully the story will break before I need to."

"That would be for the best. I believe we will have reason to speak again in the future. You have done us a favor, Emiya-san : though such was not your intent, the Mihashira Conglomerate owes you a debt that will not be forgotten."

"You are welcome," said Shirou, standing up to leave. Pain flared through his legs, and he caught his breath as he stumbled before reasserting his balance.

"You sound in need of medical attention. I can help you obtain it discreetly, if you so desire."

"No," he gasped. "Sorry, but I don't trust you quite that much yet."

"Understandable. I hope that will change in the future. Goodbye, Emiya-san."

"Goodbye, Kodai-san."

The call ended. Shirou left the tent and handed the phone over to Kurata, who was waiting by the entrance. She not-so-subtly indicated the closest exit of the construction site, and Shirou made his way out with a final nod to the Mihashira employees.

Hopefully he could make it back to the hotel without being noticed. A few hours in his bed meditating should help him bring his Magic Circuits under control and recover from the worst of his exhaustion.

By dawn, Shirou had realized that he just might have been overly optimistic.

He had not recovered. Avalon was pulsing within him, but the power he had called up refused to go down. Because the scabbard was focused on keeping him alive, it wasn't dealing with less important issues – which meant that he had a pounding headache, and every muscle in his body hurt from the efforts of the previous day. His entire torso was one giant bruise where the shikome had struck him – it had been a challenge to change without the others noticing it and asking awkward questions about where it had come from. The cracked ribs, at least, had been healed during the battle itself; he didn't think he would have been able to hide that from his roommates.

He hadn't slept at all, except for a few moments of trance when he had managed to use meditation techniques to have a part of him focused on containing the alien memories while the rest tried to relax. It had cleared his head a bit, but also made his headache worse.

Mundane doctors could not help him with whatever was wrong with him. He needed Sakura's help, and probably Tohsaka's too. And while his situation appeared to have at least stabilized during the night – it had been a couple of hours since the pain hadn't gone worse – he wasn't going to take risks and wait another day before going home.

Unfortunately, using Magecraft in his current state – even the minor effort required to use hypnosis – would be astupid thing to do. Fortunately, his guardian and adoptive big sister had a tendency to worry about him overmuch.

"I think yesterday's competition may have taken a bit more out of me than I thought," he told Taiga at breakfast, having forced himself out of bed – despite the worried looks of his seniors, who had all but ordered him to get back to bed and let them tell the teacher he wasn't feeling well. "I think … I think I should go home, Fuji-nee."

She took one hard, long look at him and sighed.

"You are barely standing up, you dolt. OK, fine. Everyone, go to the gymnasium and get ready. I am bringing this idiot to the train station and making sure he gets on the first train to Fuyuki. Tell the organizers that my ward needed to return home before the end of the tournament. If they ask why, tell them it's none of their business."

The seniors nodded, though Shirou could tell none of them were going to be as blunt as Fuji-nee was suggesting. Mitsuzuri was biting her lower lip as she looked at him, clearly worried. He smiled weakly at her.

Within an hour, he was sitting on a bench at the station, ticket in hand, waiting for his train. Fuji-nee had left after accompanying him – it had taken some effort to persuade her that he didn't need her help to get onboard and that she should return to the tournament.

Despite his exhaustion and the growing heat of the July morning, Shirou didn't need to struggle to remain awake until his train arrived. He was too busy fighting the tumultuous power roiling within him.

His mind was so preoccupied that it was only when the train had already left Kumamoto City that he realized he hadn't called Sakura to warn her of his early return.

I really need to get myself a cell phone, he thought, looking through the window and not really seeing the rushing countryside. Sakura wasn't going to be happy about him not calling her in advance. Hopefully Tohsaka was still at the Emiya residence – though he did not look forward to her dressing him down for forgetting to warn them in advance that he needed help.

Despite the ongoing pain of his muscles, his skull and his Magic Circuits, Shirou smiled slightly. If the worse thing that happened today was him being scowled at by the two teenage girls, he would accept it gladly.

Chapter Text

July 22nd, 2003 AD – Emiya residence

The scent of Sakura's cooking was filling the Emiya household as Rin and her sister ate lunch. The Second Owner had helped Sakura prepare the meal, and while she held no illusion on her skills compared to the purple-haired girl, she was a little proud that she had at least learned enough over the last months not to be a hindrance at least.

The last night had been embarrassing for both of them, as they went to sleep in the same room after years of separation. It had become even more so when Sakura had half-woken up in the middle of the night and freaked out when she had realized 'Senpai' wasn't near her. Fortunately, they had slept in the same room. Rin had been woken up by her panicking sister, and before she had fully shaken off her sleep she had been hugging Sakura, holding her close and cooing soothing noises into her sister's ear.

After a few minutes, Rin had been fully awake, and completely out of her depth. Thankfully, embracing Sakura had been enough to calm her down eventually.

Later, as they sat together in the darkness, Sakura had told Rin that she and Emiya didn't spend every night together. Sometimes Emiya came home late due to his work for the Fujimura Group, and didn't want to disturb her. But though she had kept it a secret from her lover to avoid making him feel guilty, the truth was that Sakura hated sleeping alone. And so Rin, grateful that the darkness had hidden her blush, had gone back to sleep with her sister hugging her.

It had been … nice, despite the heat of the summer night. They hadn't shared a bed since they had been children, and they had been separated long before such a thing would have become awkward. Another thing they had lost because of Tokiomi Tohsaka's choice to give his youngest daughter away to the Matou family.

It had taken her a long time to fall back asleep, though, which had made getting up in the morning painful. Sakura had teased her about her state when getting out of bed – Rin was not a morning person, even when she hadn't spent the previous night working late on her Magecraft. It was the same reason she had missed Emiya the day before : by the time she had arrived to the Emiya residence, he was long since gone.

After finishing their meal, the two of them discussed their plans for the afternoon while cleaning up.

"I was thinking we could go over the basics of Magecraft one final time," said Rin, "then we can check your progress on the more advanced stuff."

"That sounds fine," answered Sakura, before suddenly turning her head, something between a smile and a frown on her face.

"Senpai ?" she murmured, before putting down the plate she had been cleaning and walking toward the entrance. Rin followed suit.

Seconds later, the front door opened. Sakura must have sensed the new arrival passing through the Bounded Field.

"Senpai !" Sakura beamed. "You are … already … back …"

Sakura's speech stumbled as she took in Emiya's appearance. Rin didn't blame her : her own eyes widened as she saw him.

His face was pale, and there were dark circles around his eyes. He was swaying on his feet, and there was sweat running down his forehead. She had never seen him looking so … so vulnerable.

"H-hey, Sakura, Tohsaka," he greeted them lamely. "I … I am back."

"S-senpai ?!" Snapping out of her shock, Sakura rushed to Emiya's side, fretting over him."What's wrong ?! What happened ?!"

"Fuji-nee sent me home early when I looked like this in the morning," he began to explain, making his way to the main room and almost collapsing next to the table, Sakura standing over him. He took several deep, pained breaths before continuing : "I … I need your help, and probably … Tohsaka's too."

Sakura turned toward Rin, but before her sister could say anything, Rin replied :

"You have it. But I need details, Emiya-kun. What happened to you ?"

He smiled, weakly. "Thanks, Tohsaka. Long story short, there was … there was someone my Yakuza contacts wanted me to find in Kumamoto after they stopped reporting in. It turned out they had been captured by a demon and locked inside a buried temple under a construction site. I destroyed the demon and rescued them, but … I have been in that state ever since."

Rin blinked. Once, twice. Then her mind caught up with the madness Emiya was speaking.

"You what ?!" she almost shrieked.

"I destroyed the demon," he repeated, correctly identifying the part of the whole thing she had the most trouble with. "And I think the method I used to do it may be killing me now."

She blinked again, before shaking herself. "Don't move," she growled, before running her hands across his body, deploying her own Structural Analysis spell as she did so. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized just how much was wrong with Shirou.

"Your Magic Circuits are completely out of alignment, and your core keeps pumping od through them at random. Your body is overheating from the overdose of mana. There is … something inside you that's healing the damage almost as soon as it appears, which is the only reason you are still alive."

"Avalon," whispered Sakura. "Senpai got it from his father. It's what he used to heal me after he saved me."

"Sounds about right," groaned Shirou. "I … ugh !"

He started to convulse, and for a moment straight black lines appeared on his skin, while his eyes glowed darkly gold. Rin heard Sakura gasp, and she sensed Emiya's od spike, power radiating from him.

The attack – whatever it was – only lasted for a few seconds, after which Emiya appeared to relax, nearly collapsing before both girls caught him. Rin checked his vitals with another use of Structural Analysis – he was stable, the surge of od had passed.

"Sakura," she asked, "what were those black lines ? I could see you recognized them."

"I … I don't know, but Senpai had them when he saved me. He told me he didn't know what they were either – they just … appeared when he confronted Zouken."

"So that was how you did it," muttered Rin under her breath. "Must be an inhuman inheritance of some kind. As much as I would like to get a sample of your blood for analysis, we may not have that much time."

"N-nee-san ?" Sakura's voice was trembling. "Will Senpai be okay ?"

"I will be fine, Sakura." The target of her question had apparently recovered from his fit. "I …"

"You are not fine, you moron," snapped Rin. "Didn't you hear me ? This stuff inside you, Avalon" -and by the Root, wasn't that the scabbard of King Arthur ?! Where had his father found something like that ?! - "is keeping you alive, but if it stops working, you won't last long. Here, Sakura, help me get this idiot to bed."

"Not bed," the idiot in question murmured. "The … the shed. Get me inside the circle."

"The shed ? Why would you want us to take there ?"

"It's where our Workshop is, Nee-san."

"Your Workshop," Rin repeated, eyebrows twitching. "Your Workshop is in the shed."

"Yes," the two lovers answered at the same time.

"You … you … argh. Nevermind. Let's get you there, then. I need to save you so that I can kill you later."

Together, Rin and Sakura carried Emiya back outside and across the garden as gently as possible. Sakura opened the shed, revealing the Workshop of the Emiya family. Most of it was occupied by mechanical parts, and there was a bookshelf in one corner containing the books Rin had gotten for Sakura's training. A few of the tools were thaumaturgical in nature, but nothing like what the Clocktower families would have expected from the dreaded Magus Killer's heir.

Sakura rolled up the carpet at the center of the shed, revealing a Formalcraft circle of surprising quality. Even Rin herself didn't think she could have traced something more complex.

They laid Emiya down in the circle, which immediately began to glow.

"Are you feeling better ?"

"A bit."

"Alright. Talk to me," Rin ordered. "Tell me what happened to you in as much detail as you can. Starting with that 'demon' you mentioned."

"Yeah. I mean, I think it was a demon … I am not well versed in supernatural creatures." He glanced at Sakura before continuing, a hint of reluctance in his voice : "It had brainwashed the construction crew, and made itself a body out of their corpses. The person I was looking for had been captured, but was protected from the brainwashing by some kind of talisman …"

It took several minutes for Emiya to finish his tale, with Rin asking questions at several points.

"And that's it," he finished, telling them how he had been told by Fujimura-sensei to go home even if the tournament wasn't finished yet. "I thought my condition had stabilized, but if anything, I think it's actually gotten worse since I arrived in Fuyuki."

"The city is built at the conjunction of several powerful ley lines. It would explain why this circle is helping," murmured Rin, still reeling from Emiya's tale. If she hadn't known better, she would have suspected him to have made up the whole thing. Because really, a missing person, an abandoned construction site, a buried temple, an undead monster, a megacorporation with ties to the Moonlit World ?!

And of course Emiya had gotten himself involved into it all just because he had wanted to do a favor for an acquaintance. Of course.

"Out of everything you just told me, I can't believe you were dumb enough to provoke a national conglomerate that apparently dabbles in the Moonlit World on the side. What were you thinking ?!"

"I wasn't really thinking at all," he admitted. "I was still shaken from the fight, and all I could think of was that I couldn't let Sakai-san die, not after everything he had been through."

Rin shook her head. She could wonder about Emiya's abysmal luck and lack of diplomatic skills later, just like she could drill him for details about the Conglomerate's supernatural branch. Right now, she had work to do.

"So," she said. "It looks like I was wrong. Admittedly, I don't know as much as I would like about inhuman bloodlines, but hallucinations like what you described aren't supposed to be a symptom. This sounds a lot more like possession, to be honest."

"That's also what I thought," said Shirou. "It was already there when I rescued Sakura. Without it, I wouldn't have been able to destroy Zouken."

Given what he had told her of Zouken's nature at the time, it seemed that whatever was inside Emiya had a particular antipathy for unnatural entities. That was … good ? Probably ?

"Do you have any idea how it could have happened ?"

"The Fire," he replied. "It had to be in the Fire. Dad told me once that even with Avalon implanted inside me, he had been surprised by how quickly and well I recovered from it."

Rin shivered. Possession was a nasty, nasty business, made even worse by the fact that in Emiya's case, it had likely been ongoing for years. How much of the lovable goof-ball she knew was really 'Shirou Emiya', and how much of it was the influence of whatever had found its way inside the body of a traumatized, heavily injured child ?

The fact that the spirit had reacted badly to Emiya touching a gun of all things was even more bizarre. Perhaps the spirit hailed from the wars of the Sengoku Period, where firearms had become more widespread. Had Fuyuki been the site of a battle during that time ? Given the amount of magical energy that had been unleashed at the catastrophic end of the Fourth Grail War, it was possible that such a spirit would have been awakened … though not how that spirit had been powerful enough to possess Emiya and grant him the kind of power the boy had displayed. A gestalt, then, composed of a great many soldiers, perhaps coalesced around an older spirit ?

Rin's mind rushed through her history lessons, trying to find a match for the scene Shirou had described to her – a battle fought on black sands with guns and swords, where one side's reinforcements had betrayed their allies at the last moment. There couldn't be that many of those, but she couldn't think of any. Maybe a trip to the library for some history books …

Aaargh ! She didn't have enough information. All she could come up with were half-cooked theories, and those weren't what Emiya needed right now. Anathema to the way of the Magus as this might be, she had to figure out how to fix the problem before thinking about finding out why it had happened.

She spent a few more moments examining him, adding every new piece of information to her mental picture, all while furiously thinking. After half an hour of scans, prods and tests, an idea began to crystallize in her mind. As it became clearer, her face turned more and more red, until she suddenly stood up, stepping back from the circle.

"I need to speak with Sakura in private, Emiya-kun," she declared. "Will you be fine on your own for five minutes ?"

"I didmake it home on my own, Tohsaka." When Rin glared at him, he sighed. "Yes, I will be fine. The circle is helping."

"Come along, Sakura. Don't worry, this won't take long."

Sakura followed her sister outside of the Workshop, closing the doors behind them. Rin didn't go far, turning around to face her in the middle of the garden. She was blushing, and looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"There … there mightbe a way to help Emiya-kun," she said, sounding as if she really didn't want to say it out loud.

"Really ?!"

Sakura made no effort to hide her joy. Seeing Senpai in his current state had been hard – knowing that he might die from it … No. She stopped herself from thinking about it. She refused to even consider the possibility.

"Y-yes," answered Rin, taken aback by the intensity of her sister's reaction. "When I was examining his Magic Circuits, I realized that a fresh infusion of prana from someone who isn't going through whatever he is experiencing right now might help stabilize his core."

Sakura nodded. "How do we do that ?"

"Well, we couldhave him drink blood, but given that we don't know the nature of the spirit with which he has been paired, that could be extremely dangerous. Which, with how little time we have, leaves us with only one option."

"Which is ?" pressed Sakura. Rin muttered something under her breath. "I didn't hear you, Nee-san."

"I said … I said a tantric ritual !" shouted Rin, her face completely red. Sakura blinked, and then blushed as well as she remembered what that word meant.

"An infusion of prana might solve the issue, but in order to make it a permanent fix, we need to establish a bond – a contract of sort." Speaking about the technical aspect of her idea did not lessen the blush on Rin's face in the slightest. "That way, if he needs to use that weird 'power' of his again, he won't immediately be in the same situation afterwards. I think. Maybe."

"So … I need to have sex with Senpai ?"

Rin winced, before bravely forging on :

"No. We will need to both participate in order for this to have the best chance of working. I am an Average One : my prana will help balance the elements within Emiya's body. And your own Imaginary Element should help 'bleed off' the excess energy, for lack of a better term."

"… are you sureabout that ?" asked Sakura. "It sounds plausible, but also … far-fetched."

"No ! No, I am not sure ! I am making this up as I go along, Sakura !" Rin knew she was ranting now, but she couldn't stop herself. "There is no precedent for this that I know of ! I mean, Incarnations are already stupidly rare, but to have one that's been possessed by an unidentified spirit for Root knows how long ?! And thenadd into that an Average One's prana and your own Element, which as far as fath- as far as I know, is even rarer, and how all of those might interact with one another ?!" She took a deep breath to calm herself down. "But … it mightwork. And Magecraft is all about belief, about imposing our own will on the rules of Gaia because we know – not just believe, but know –that our spells will work."

"… Alright." Sakura nodded to herself, her expression determined. "You are right, Nee-san. We need to try something, and we don't have any other ideas. Let's get back in and tell Senpai."

"Huh ? I … I can't help but notice that you didn't say anything about me having sex with Emiya-kun, Sakura."

"Oh." The younger girl blinked. "I am fine with that, Nee-san."

"How can you be 'fine' with that, Sakura ?! I know you love the moron !"

"I do," she admitted without a hint of the shame that had once all but consumed her. "And I know just how great Senpai is, so it's normal that other women would fall for him."

"That's … there is a difference between that and letting someone else have sex with your lover, Sakura."

"Hmm. I suppose that would be the case for normal people," Sakura admitted. "But neither Senpai nor I are 'normal', Nee-san. I know that Senpai loves me. That he will never, ever abandon me. So I don't mind if he takes other women as his own – I know that I will always have a place in his heart."

The sheer trust and devotion in her sister's words amazed and unnerved Rin. She had known that Sakura loved Emiya – that, after all she had gone through, she was dependant on the boy to a frankly unhealthy degree. She had been getting better since her rescue from the Matou family, but there was no denying that Emiya was always going to be the center of her existence.

She doesn't think of Emiya as "hers", Rin realized. She thinks of herself as "his".

It made Rin glad that Emiya wasn't a Magus. The thought of someone with a typical Clocktower mindset having such a hold on her sister was disturbing to say the least.

"Also," Sakura continued, a strange smile on her lips that slightly worried Rin, "it would piss off Father immensely to see both his daughters giving themselves wantonly to someone like Senpai."

"I am not wanton," protested Rin. "And I didn't 'fall' for him," she added weakly, finally processing Sakura's first comment.

"Yes you did, and you would be if Senpai wanted you to," pointed out Sakura. To her horror, Rin found that she couldn't honestly deny it.

It didn't stop her from trying, though judging from Sakura's smile, her attempts at persuasion were less than effective.

In the end, they did it together. It took a lot of effort to convince Emiya that yes, this was the only way to keep him alive, and no, he couldn't refuse out of concern for Rin. The fact that even explaining that she was willing to have sex with him wasn't enough for the blockhead to understand her feelings was enough to make Rin want to scream.

The three of them embraced one another on the cold floor of the shed Emiya dared call a Workshop, within the magic circle, to make sure that no amount of energy was wasted. Rin forced herself to ignore her embarrassment, focusing entirely on performing the ritual with the same single-mindedness that was required to perform even the slightest of Magecraft.

Even if she hadn't loved Emiya, she knew she would still have done this. She couldn't let her sister's savior – the man she loved more than life itself – die, not in addition to all the other ways she had already failed her.

Performing a tantric ritual with just two participants was difficult enough. Both needed to climax at the same time in order to lower their defenses and allow the connection between their cores to be established, something anyone with even a modicum of experience would know was easier said than done. With three participants, it was even more difficult, but Sakura and Emiya were fortunately intimately familiar with each other's body. After several tries, they learned Rin's own weak spots, and eventually succeeded in completing the ritual.

It wasn't how Rin had imagined her first time, but she had to admit to herself – and to no one else – that it hadn't been a bad experience. Not at all.

Power flooded from the connection they had forged and into Rin and Sakura's own od reserves as the pressure in Emiya's Magic Circuits equalized. The Formalcraft circle glowed even brighter as their bodies overflowed with energy.

The tumult of energy within Emiya's body abated. He fell back, exhaustion finally catching up with him – despite his state, he had stubbornly insisted on doing his part in the ritual.

Rin managed to catch his head before it hit the hard floor. He was already asleep.

"It worked," she whispered.

She could feel the connection between them, even now that the initial rush of prana – and God, there had been a lot of magical energy – had stopped. Her own od was flowing into Emiya's Magic Circuits, stabilizing his core, while Sakura was drawing the excess.

Rin had underestimated just how much power Emiya had been producing out of seemingly nowhere, but she had also underestimated how much of it Sakura would be able to absorb. Her miscalculations had thankfully cancelled each other, and left her more than a little in awe of the two other Magecraft users' abilities.

"Thank you, Nee-san," said Sakura softly, gently stroking Emiya's hair.

The two girls got up and cleaned themselves using the towels and water left in the Workshop to clean after any experimental mishap. Rin moved slowly, her muscles aching in unusual places.

"My back hurts," Sakura casually mentioned. "We should make sure to do it on a bed next time."

Rin turned toward her, face reddening once more.

"That … that was a one-time thing only !" she spluttered.

"Well, of course," replied Sakura, still smiling, the enjoyment she was taking in teasing Rin obvious. "It would be difficult to lose your virginity twi-"

The two girls froze at the same time. Here, in the Workshop that served as the anchor for the Bounded Field surrounding the Emiya residence, both of them could sense the alarms going off, like a carillon of bells warning that someone with a lot of active prana had crossed the threshold.

A moment ago

Bazett Fraga McRemitz looked at the house of her target. The Enforcer, wearing her usual suit and gloves, stood on the slanted roof of a neighbouring house, having already hypnotized the owners so that they wouldn't notice her.

Her journey to Japan had been long and uncomfortable. In her opinion, the Archibalds had been cautious to the point of paranoia – but then again, given the reputation of the Magus Killer and what he had done to the last Lord of their family, she couldn't really blame them. She could blame them for being cheap bastards who had only paid for second-class train tickets and a smuggling boat that she had been surewas going to sink halfway to Japan.

And after all of that, she had found out that her target wasn't even in the city anymore.

Kirei had actually looked embarrassedwhen she had arrived to Fuyuki only to learn that Shirou Emiya had left the city on a school trip that would last several days. As a matter of fact, he had left that very morning. It had been the first time she saw the former Executor flustered, and the sight almost made the entire trip worth it. As an apology, he had provided her with the funds to secure food and lodgings until her target's return.

Bazett hadn't wanted to waste the time until then by playing tourist, however. She had scouted ahead, taking note of the police officers patrolling the streets near her target's residence and of the men in suits that came to quietly speak with them at dusk. Yakuza, she had recognized – organized criminals who had bargained with the authorities for some degree of leeway in exchange for keeping their activities to an acceptable level.

Once her initial scouting of the area had been complete, she had started her watch, pausing only for short breaks to eat. Her training allowed her to remain in such a position for days without any loss of her fighting strength.

She had watched as Rin Tohsaka entered the Emiya residence, welcomed by Sakura Matou. Neither girl had gone out since. That was fine : it was best to know where all the players were before she made her move.

Her vigil had been rewarded when Emiya had returned just as she came back from a brief lunch break. She had almost missed him, but he hadn't seemed in top condition from that brief glimpse before he had gone inside. In fact, he had looked outright sick.

The Bounded Field around the residence kept her from sensing what was happening within, but she had still seen the Matou and Tohsaka girls carry Emiya outside and into a smaller structure in the garden. A few moments later, despite the wards, she sensed a spike of energy, and made her decision.

Now was the best time to strike. Whatever the three of them were doing in that shed, such a peak of energy would leave them drained of od. Even if they had been performing a spell to heal Emiya, it couldn't have been instant – and even if it was, she would rather face Emiya restored and the girls drained than have to fight and hurt the girls themselves.

In a single leap, she jumped from her observation post, across the street and over the wall, and landed right in front of the shed. She sensed the Bounded Field wash over her, and tensed as her suit's defenses turned aside the single layer of defenses – something to keep unwanted visitors away, she reckoned. Weird. She would have expected better from the Magus Killer's own home.

Seconds after her landing, the door of the shed slammed open, and the Tohsaka and Matou girls emerged. They didn't look drained of magical power; indeed, if anything, they seemed to … overflow with barely contained energy. Interesting. And, potentially, worrying.

"I am Bazett Fraga McRemitz," she called out clearly, "Enforcer of Magus Association. The Clocktower has questions for Shirou Emiya, Sixth Head of the House of Emiya, regarding the murder of the Matou Head and the destruction of the Matou lineage."

"Oh ?" Bazett had to give Tohsaka credit : she didn't sound worried at all about facing off against an Enforcer. "I wasn't aware that the Association had sent someone here. As Second Owner, your presence here without my permission is illegal, Enforcer. If you remove yourself from my city at once, I will ignore this brazen transgression against my authority."

"Miss Tohsaka, while your authority over Fuyuki isn't in question, your judgement in that particular case was considered compromised." Bazett's gaze flicked to the purple-haired girl before returning to the Second Owner. "I am aware of your relationship with Miss Matou. If you cooperate, I will guarantee your and your sister's safety. I assure you that I can protect you from whatever threats Shirou Emiya has been using to ensure your obedience since he killed her adoptive family and took her under his wing."

"What are you … Of course. Kirei told you that, didn't he ? Meddlesome fake priest," she spat. "Regardless, if you think I am going to let you just waltz in and kidnap Emiya-kun, you are mistaken. My sister is not being used against her will to force me to go along with Emiya-kun's demands. Shirou Emiya has not done anything that threatens the secrecy of Magecraft, nor has he committed any crimes against the laws of the Association. Whatever you have been told, there is no legal excuse for your presence here tonight, Miss McRemitz. Leave. Now."

"I can't do that. I have been given a mission, and we Enforcers always finish our tasks. An ancient Magus lineage has been slain, with its last heir captured by the killer, and you, Miss Tohsaka, covered it up, before investigating another such lineage at the behest of that same killer. Yes, your research into the Einzbern wasn't as subtle as you thought. Whether you admit it or not – whether you realize it or not – the Association has more than enough reason to want to ask Shirou Emiya questions."

"I made sure that the Association knew that what happened between Emiya-kun and the Matou Head was a personal feud," retorted Rin, "and me investigating another family with ties to my territory is hardly illegal. Don't take me for an idiot, Miss McRemitz. The only reason you would be here is that someone higher up the food chain wants to take a swing at Emiya-kun. Who was it ?"

"The Archibalds," Bazett admitted without hesitation. "They worry that the son of the Magus Killer has succeeded his father, and taken a more proactive approach to securing victory when the next Grail War starts. With the last Matou under his control and the last Tohsaka under his influence, it seems he now has turned his gaze toward the Einzbern family. Given what happened to their Lord in the last Grail War, the Archibalds are keen to prevent another family from going through the same thing."

"How caring of them," said Sakura Matou, speaking for the first time, her head down, her face hidden behind her hair. "So. You have come here to capture Senpai and bring him to the Magi of the Clocktower so that they can cut him apart because they are jealous of him, or because of what his father did to them. How noble of you."

The sheer venom in the young girl's voice was making even her sister uncomfortable. She raised her head, revealing eyes that gleamed with prana and cold fury.

"I am here for Shirou Emiya only," Bazett tried one last time. "If you don't want to get hurt, move."

"You will not take him," said Sakura, and for a moment Bazett thought that the girl's shadow had just twitched.

She sighed. "Very well."

She swung the long, cylindrical container she had been carrying on her back to the ground, and raised her fists.

"Have it your way."

It was the Tohsaka girl who made the first move. Her left arm jerked up, and a blast of black energy erupted from her extended finger, straight at Bazett. The Enforcer punched it aside, the runes on her glove glowing as she channelled her od inside them.

Rin Tohsaka let loose curse after curse, her Magic Crest pulsating with impressive power as she channelled her od through it. Bazett recognized them : Gandr curses, something which was a staple of the Edelfelt family. Where had the girl learned it from ?

Pouring prana into her feet's Reinforcement, Bazett jumped from side to side, dodging more of the black orbs while slowly closing the distance. The Matou girl joined in the onslaught, conjuring spears of shadows and throwing them at Bazett. Unlike Tohsaka's Gandr, the Enforcer didn't recognize that particular spell, but while she was confident her runes-layered suit could withstand them, it was best not to risk it.

The girls were good – unlike most Magi she knew, they had obviously practiced with battle situations in mind – but she was better. Within moments, she had reached them, and before either of them could react she had her hands around their throats and was holding them up effortlessly.

"It's over," said Bazett in a cool, collected tone. "Give up, girls. You can't beat me. I have been holding back all this time, but I won't if you don't stop."

"Give up ?" whispered the purple-haired girl, and Bazett couldn't help but pause. "He didn't give up, and neither will I."

Something moved in the girl's shadow, and Bazett let go and leapt backward just in time to dodge the two-dimensional ribbons of all things that burst from it. Even then, she couldn't avoid it completely, and it caught the cuff of her suit – cutting right through the Rune-warded fabric without even slowing down.

Bazett suppressed a shiver. If that had caught her body, she would have died – no two ways about it. She had thought the Tohsaka girl was the more dangerous, but it seemed that the Matou heir also had teeth – and was willing to bare them in defense of her kidnapper.

As she landed, she felt the power that radiated from the girl. It was huge, it was coming entirely from within the girl herself, and Bazett could feel the raw malevolence within it. Whatever hold Emiya had on the girl, whatever means he had employed to make her follow her family's murderer, at that moment, the girl hated Bazett with an intensity the Enforcer had never encountered.

Even her sister was taken aback at Sakura's transformation. Her hair had turned white, her eyes were burning red, and straight lines of black and red ran over her face and exposed skin.

"Sakura ?" The Tohsaka Head called out tentatively, keeping an eye on Bazett despite her obvious shock. "What are you doing ?"

"This is … Senpai's power," whispered Sakura Matou, looking at her own hands in adoration, before glaring at Bazett, her eyes glowing. "You will not take him !"

"So he did experiment on you, then," Bazett frowned. "Don't think that trick will be -"

She was cut off as a bombardment of black spears and flowing ribbons was unleashed in her direction. She dodged, and the ground where she had stood was obliterated.

"Fine," sighed the Enforcer. "Then I guess I will have to beat you up until you are unconscious, and then deal with my actual target."

Sakura fired her strange Magecraft again and again – was there no end to the girl's od reserves ? Bazett kept dodging, keeping her distances, measuring how much time passed between each volley, and -

There.

Bazett's entire body glowed as she infused it with prana, and she charged forward, holding her arms before her face. Her every step left deep marks in the ground, and she heard the air around her crack while her vision swam as she neared the sound barrier. She slammed into a stop right in front of the Matou girl, whose scarlet eyes widened in shock at her sudden proximity.

Before she could react, Bazett punched her in the guts, pouring almost all of her strength into the blow. She felt something crack, before Sakura was briefly sent flying, crashing into the shed with enough strength to make the entire structure shake.

"SAKURA !" screamed the Tohsaka girl, running to her sister's side. Bazett let her, her attention fully focused on her downed opponent.

The red and black lines on Sakura's skin faded, along with the glow of her eyes. Her hair returned to its purple color, and she slid to the ground, groaning.

"Stay down," snarled the Enforcer.

Inside the shed, within a circle that had been drawn almost a decade ago by the King of Knights acting at the behest of an Einzbern homonculus, a pair of golden eyes snapped open.

Chapter Text

The skies of Terra are burning.

Thousands of false stars shimmer and die in catastrophic explosions as fleets of immense size collide. Weapons powerful enough to turn cities into their component particles are unleashed, and the mighty defenses of the Lord of Iron buckle against their potency.

As above, so below. Transhuman warriors battle, their armored feet threading upon the corpses of defenders and attackers alike. Newly reborn forests burn and young seas evaporate. The air is thick with screams, and the Aether blazes with power. Far in the distance, he can taste the blood of mortals being spilled by the Ninth Legion – so much blood, the stain of it will never leave the Throneworld.

There he stands, amidst this frozen tableau of apocalyptic destruction.

He is strong, stronger than ever before. He learned much in the Maelstrom, and in the final battle of Caliban. Around him are his brothers, and the mortal witches whose souls burn to fuel his works. Great sorceries are performed at his command, crashing against the wards raised by the sons of the Cyclops.

He is mighty. He is doing what must be done. He knows this, just as he knows that there was no other path – that all the deaths of this day, all the deaths that led to it, and all those yet to come, are necessary. The False Emperor, who even now hides behind the Cavea Ferrum, must die.

He knows it. He believes it. He is the son of Lion El'Jonson, and he walked with his Primarch through the Crystal Labyrinth. He has seen the nightmarish future that must be averted, no matter the cost. And so he does all these terrible, evil things, and accepts that there is no choice.

The boy does not.

He stands before the warrior, here on this ancient battlefield dredged from the monster's past. There is a sword before him, stabbed into the ground. It is the mirror of the one at the Dark Angel's hip, yet is unblemished by the corruption that suffuses warrior and weapon alike.

" You are not me," Shirou Emiya says to the memory of the Chaos Sorcerer. "And I will never be you."

He pulls the sword free, its blade catching the light from the burning heavens, and points it at the towering figure of the Dark Angel.

The Dark Angel cocks his head to the side – the only motion in the entire dream that surrounds boy and warrior. His helmet does not let any emotion through, nor does any word leaves his vox-grill.

In that moment, Shirou catches a glimpse of something, something vast and terrible, lurking just beneath the surface of the warrior's appearance. Something that isn't at this frozen moment of time, but will be, in the grim darkness that will follow this devastation. Something powerful, strong enough that its presence reaches past the moment of its inception.

Even that glimpse is enough to fill Shirou with hate.

Mist erupts all around them, and the sight of the Siege of Terra vanishes. For a time, the boy sees nothing past the fog, hears nothing beyond his own, singular heartbeat.

Then there is a scream of shock and pain, piercing through the mist. He knows this voice.

Shirou Emiya opens his eyes.

July 23rd, 2003 AD – Emiya residence

The first lesson every Enforcer learned on the job was never to underestimate their prey.

Most of the time, when the Enforcers were dispatched on missions by the Clocktower, it was to hunt down Sealing Designates or Dead Apostles. On occasion, the former might not be all that dangerous – those would be the magi who had been slapped with Sealing Designation because they possessed some trait that made them more interesting as research specimens than researchers, and had no influential patron to keep them from being dissected alive. But there were the others – those who had pursued forbidden avenues of research, often transforming themselves in foolish bids to access the Root through ill-considered paths. Underestimating them because they had been stupid enough to pursue those avenues in the first place, or because of how ridiculous some of them sometimes sounded or looked, was a quick way to get oneself killed.

The same was true with Dead Apostles. Many of them loved to toy with their prey by projecting a façade of innocence. The Enforcers still weren't sure if the trend of vampire fiction portraying the inhuman bloodsuckers as tragic, romantic figures was a ploy of a particularly clever bloodsucker to make preying upon Humanity easier. In any case, they at least knew the truth : that no matter how young or harmless a Dead Apostle may look, they were still a monstrous predator to take down with extreme prejudice.

To be a Magus was to walk with death; and for the Enforcers, that death could take any aspect. Holding back from their full strength in any way, shape or form, was a one-way ticket to dying, often in a most horrible and upsetting manner.

As the door of the shed exploded, Bazett Fraga McRemitz realized that she had forgotten that lesson. She had focused on the girls in front of her, and forgotten about the threat posed by her actual target.

The heir of the Magus Killer was a terrifying sight, she wasn't ashamed to admit. His golden eyes blazed with power, his skin was covered in black lines akin to those that had been on the Matou girl's. Oh, and there was the little matter of the pair of wings that stretched behind him, looking as if they were woven of the shadows themselves.

He strode out of the shed like a wrathful dark god, leaving the grass charred black under his bare feet. His gaze turned to his right, where Rin Tohsaka was kneeling by her sister, looking at him in shock.

"E-Emiya-kun ?"

Emiya extended his arm, and a beautifully engraved gold and blue sheath appeared in his hand, shining in the afternoon sun. The object looked utterly out of place compared to Emiya's own demonic appearance. He tossed it to Tohsaka, who caught it clumsily.

"Put that against Sakura and hold it there," he told her, before returning his full attention to Bazett. His voice was deep, and seemed to echo even though they were outside.

Bazett felt the weight of his gaze as if it were a physical pressure. It was as if he were looking right through her, dissecting everything she was with his eyes. Those were probably Mystic Eyes, but she wasn't sensing any attack on her, so they were probably for perception rather than inflicting effects upon the World.

"Bazett Fraga McRemitz," he said slowly, pronouncing her name perfectly. "I see you."

That, thought Bazett, sounded a lot more ominous than it should have.

She had thought the contract to take him out sounded fishy the moment the Archibalds' agent had approached her. She had accepted it regardless, because she had become painfully aware that she needed a patron among the noble families if she was to ever rise in the Clocktower, even if she was one of the best Enforcers of her generation. She had thought it likely that the Archibalds had grossly exaggerated the threat posed by Emiya in order to justify their own grudge against his father.

Now ? Now, if anything, she felt the Archibalds had underestimated how dangerous the boy was. All records she had read before coming to Fuyuki had told that the Magus Killer, while a terrifyingly effective and amoral mercenary, had been a baseline human, with only a few tricks related to Magecraft. His reputation had been built on the heretical use of mundane weaponry and technology, along with a complete and utter disregard for the traditions and taboos of the Clocktower. But this ?

There is no way he is completely human. Did Kiritsugu Emiya find him like this, or did he experiment on him to make him more able to fulfill his purpose ?

"The son of the Magus Killer knows me," she replied out loud, keeping any nervousness from her voice. That was the second lesson Enforcers learned : never let them see you sweat. It was also, coincidentally, the first lesson noble brats were told by their families before being sent off to the Clocktower. "I don't know if I should be flattered or scared."

"These eyes of mine see much." Yep, definitely increased perception of some sort. "Judging by the runes woven in your clothes … you are an Enforcer, yes ? My father warned me about your kind."

"Did he now," she whispered under her breath, before speaking louder : "I am indeed an Enforcer of the Magus Association. If you stop … whatever it is you are doing … and surrender, I will bring you to the Clocktower, where you will be asked a few questions relating your murder of the Matou Head and capture of his Heir."

"Is that what you were told ? Even if that were true, I am not a member of the Magus Association. Only Tohsaka has any authority over me, and that's just because I live in her territory. Unless she called you here, which I know she did not, then you have no jurisdiction over me, Enforcer."

"You can't possibly think that will work," said Bazett incredulously. "Even if you aren't affiliated with the Association, you killed someone who was. There are consequences to that sort of thing. Or did the Magus Killer teach you nothing about the rules of the Moonlit World ?"

"The affairs of Magi are of no interest to me, so long as they do not interfere with those I care about. But my father made sure I had some knowledge of your rules, and what I know does not paint your presence here favourably." Despite its strangeness, his voice was still calm – but it was the calm of a silent sea in the hours before the coming of a city-wracking tempest. "You have invaded the territory of this city's Second Owner without her permission. You have then compounded that insult by actually assaulting her. You have broken into my property, injured my apprentice and sought to enter my Workshop. Whatever brought you here is no official Clocktower business."

She blinked. Workshop ? That shed ? Was he serious ? Wait, the Magus Killer was a renowned heretic. Maybe he was.

"Except that I am facing off against what looks like a fucking demon in the body of the Magus Killer's heir. Somehow I get the feeling that the big wigs will forgive me if I take out a threat like that."

"I am no threat to the Lords of the Clocktower, nor to anyone else in the Association, so long as they do not attack me first."

"Yes, well, you would say that, wouldn't you ? Except that you already have the blood of one family on your hands, and are using another to investigate a third. As I see it, you are a threat to the Clocktower."

"Is this what you were told ? You were lied to. I destroyed Zouken Matou because he was a monster, and the only reason I asked Tohsaka to look into the Einzbern was because of the worm's last words."

"Killing the Head of an old family because they are a 'monster' isn't a valid reason for the Clocktower. I am going to be honest and admit that your family name isn't helping your case either."

"The Archibalds sent her here, Emiya-kun," called out Tohsaka. She was still kneeling next to her sister, whose breathing had become easier since the sheath had been pressed against her body. That was some impressive healing there, Bazett noted.

"The Archibalds ? … Ah. That would explain it. So you do realize, McRemitz, that you are being used as a pawn in someone else's petty revenge against my dead father ?"

"Regardless of the Archibalds' initial motives for investigating you, your actions remain the same, and what I am seeing right now is making their interpretation of events, however self-serving, a hell of a lot more likely. One last time : surrender."

"One last time," parroted the Sixth Head of the House of Emiya : "Leave."

"I cannot do that," she replied. "I have my orders-"

Her words died on her tongue as she immediately realized that had been the wrong thing to say. His eyes flared, his wings twitched, and his expression, which had so far been unnervingly calm, twisted into a mask of wrath.

"You have 'orders' ? Orders justify nothing," he spat with seething contempt. "Your choices are your own, Enforcer. As are their consequences."

She breathed out. There wouldn't be any talking out of this, not that she had ever truly thought there would be.

"I suppose they are," she said, before taking a deep breath in.

Then she moved. All of her instincts were yelling at her to take him down quickly. The Matou girl had said that her weird transformation had been brought about by "Senpai's power", and if Emiya was the source then his attacks would be even more deadly.

Once again, she propelled herself forward at full speed, but this time, when she punched, she held nothing back. The air cracked at the speed of her fist, and it slammed into Emiya's chest with enough strength to turn the shirt he had been wearing into scraps of fabric.

Unfortunately, that was almost all the effect it had. Emiya grunted in pain, but he did not collapse, nor was he sent flying backward. The grass at his feet was scorched, but the earth wasn't gouged down as it would have been if he had managed to remain standing through strength alone. How …

His wings, she realized. They absorbed my punch's kinetic energy somehow.

She had no evidence, but instinctively she was certain of it. These … things that rose from her target's back were the reason he had been able to absorb her punch. It wasn't that his body was impervious to damage – if it had been hard enough to withstand her full-powered punch, her own fist would have been turned into a mess of broken bones and bleeding meat. Somehow, the kinetic energy from her blow had travelled through Emiya's body and simply vanished.

"What the hell are you ?!" she snarled, as she leapt back just in time to avoid a left hook that would have broken her jaw.

"Truth is, I haven't the faintest idea. This is the first time I can do this and not lose myself."

His wings beat once, and he was propelled forward. Bazett barely dodged his punch, bending under it before pushing on the ground with her right hand just in time to get herself out of a kick's way. He had some experience fighting unarmed, she decided, but nowhere near as much as her – it was his supernatural strength that made him a threat.

She pivoted on the ground, slamming her left heel into his temple with enough strength to turn stone into powder. The skin broke, but the skull held, and he didn't even groan before slapping her leg away. Bazett felt her ankle crack, and poured her od into Reinforcing her limb while powering through the sharp pain as she put some distance between the two of them and returned to her feet.

"You are strong," he said, looking at her while ignoring the trickle of blood running from his temple. As Bazett watched, the trickle slowed and stopped, revealing unbroken skin. She had hoped giving away the sheath would have deprived him of any healing factor he may possess, but apparently she had been wrong. "But know this, Bazett Fraga McRemitz : you will not hurt anyone else here today."

He held his right hand forward, and just like the sheath before, a huge sword materialized in his palm. It was huge, almost as tall as him – and yet, despite the weapon's ridiculous size, he wielded it as if it weighed nothing.

She caught his first blow, slapping her hands on the flat of the blade and stopping it dead – before he pulled the weapon free and went for another attack.

The size and weight of the weapon should have created openings after each strike, but he wielded it like a rapier, never over-extending himself. Bazett was fast enough that she could keep avoiding the blows, but being on the defensive wasn't going to win that fight. She needed to use her trump card, but there were conditions to that.

A pained cry drew her attention to the shed. The Tohsaka girl was clutching her chest in obvious discomfort, while the air around her was rippling with heat. Her eyes were glowing, as was the sheath she held against her sister's unconscious form.

Emiya's head briefly turned toward them, and his eyes widened in what Bazett was fairly certain was understanding.

"Dammit," he growled, turning back toward her. "I didn't want to do this, but so be it. This has gone on long enough. It ends now !"

He took his oversized sword in both hands, and switched to an overhead grip. The weapon started to glow as power was poured into its blade, and the black lines on Emiya's skin spread, running up from his hand and on the weapon. His wings grew in size, curling forward to cut off her retreat – and he charged, bringing his sword down in a diagonal arc.

If that attack hit her, she would surely die.

Got you, she thought. She extended her right arm, and the tube she had discarded at the beginning of her fight against the girls snapped open. A sphere of metal, imbibed with her own blood over a period of several weeks, jumped out of the container and locked in position next to her closed fist.

Prana coursed from her hand to the sphere, and a short blade erupted from it, inscribed with runes that had been old when Christianity had been born.

"Answerer," she shouted as Emiya's sword drew near, thrusting her Noble Phantasm to meet the attack head-on. "Fragarach !"

This was different, a small part of Shirou mused as he fought.

Twice before had Shirou drawn upon that power, which Rin believed came from some entity possessing him. Each time, his mind had … shifted gears, for lack of a better terms. He had done things in that state that he remembered, but his thoughts while he had been doing them had been unknown to him afterwards.

But not this time. Whether due to his newly forged bond with Rin and Sakura or some sort of epiphany brought upon by confronting the spectre of the Dark Angel, his mind was entirely his own this time. He could feel the power flowing from deep within him, where his soul and that of the Dark Angel were melded to one another in the supernatural heat of the Fire at the end of the last Grail War.

It hurt, but Avalon was healing the damage as soon as it appeared, and the excess power was vented out into Sakura's seemingly bottomless reserves, fuelling her own Traced copy of Avalon to heal her wounds.

Yet it was not enough. He was drawing too much power, and while only a sliver of it was pouring into Tohsaka through the connection they had forged, that fraction was enough to hurt her. He could not keep this battle going on too long, or she could get permanently hurt – she may even die, or lose her Circuits to overcharge. He could not accept that possibility, and so had sought to end the battle in a single blow. He didn't want to kill the Enforcer – her reasons for attacking them, while erroneous, weren't deserving of death – but if he had to choose between her life and Tohsaka's, the choice was all too easy to make.

Except the Enforcer had one trick up her sleeve, and as his sword met the short blade she had conjured out of that floating sphere of iron, Shirou realized that he had been played. His eyes took in the weapon even as his ears heard her speak its name, and time seemed to slow down as information flooded his mind.

This was more than mere Magecraft – this was a miracle from the Age of Gods, inherited down the generations by the descendants of those upon whom it had first been bestowed. He could see the history of the spell, imbued within the blade when McRemitz had crafted it and imbued it with her own blood. Even as the power of the Gods had faded from the World, the Fraga had preserved that one gift from the War God that they had once served.

This was a Noble Phantasm, the crystallization of a legend into a weapon. And this one was meant to serve as the ultimate counter-attack, designed to warp causality itself into a blade that would strike at the heart of the attacker before they could launch the attack that was used to trigger the Noble Phantasm.

With Avalon, Shirou may be able to survive a destroyed heart. The Everdistant Utopia was a Noble Phantasm too, after all. He doubted it very much, though, for it was likely Avalon wouldn't be able to regenerate a wound inflicted by a Noble Phantasm – not when the one using it wasn't the King of Knights. And even if he did survive, he would need immediate assistance, which McRemitz was unlikely to allow him.

The simple truth was, if Fragarach struck him down, he would die – or be forced to draw upon the Dark Angel's power to such an extant it may very well kill Rin, and transform him into the monster the Enforcer thought he already was.

Neither of those outcomes was acceptable, and so Shirou chose another.

For Fragarach was also called the Gouging Sword of the War God, and before Shirou's Incarnated eyes, its secrets were laid bare. He wouldn't have been able to explain them if asked – he wasn't a good enough Magus for that – but in that moment, he understood Fragarach in a way that not even the reclusive Fraga clan could claim to.

He saw McRemitz's blood, saw where the iron had been mined and the process through which it had been shaped by night after night of careful work. He saw the rituals calling upon the ancient pattern that the Noble Phantasm had engraved upon the World, deep enough that many versions of it could exist on Gaia at once, the subtle differences between each Mystic Code enough to bypass the law of unicity.

And at the core of it all, he saw the divine authority by which the deeper laws of the World were subverted. It was mighty, woven of knowledge beyond mortal ken and infused with the echoing power of a god who, despite having long since departed the World, yet exerted his will upon it through the Fraga, his servants' descendants.

But the shikome had been called the servant of a god too. The power of pestilence and rot it had served was nothing alike Lugh, the Irish god of war who had bestowed the knowledge of his Noble Phantasm upon the Fraga. The shikome had been a disease, a corruption of the natural order, while Lugh's authority and power existed within the confines of the World. Yet the arrogance of it – the self-claimed divine right, the claim that Lugh could do away with the laws the rest of them had to live by, simply because he was a god, and mortals had to accept it – was the same.

Anger flowed through Shirou, hot and heavy, spreading through his mind like a black tide of outrage. What right did that woman have to kill him ?! What right did she have to break into his home and hurt those he loved ?!

What right did Lugh's proxy have to judge him, based on the lies of self-serving magi ?

None. This was not fair. More than that, this was not just, and he would not accept it.

He would not.

In his hands, the Traced sword of a land of shadowed woods blazed with power, and a high keening sound emanated from the point where it met the unfolded blade of the Fragarach. It was the sound of the immovable object meeting the unstoppable force, and reality protested at the paradox becoming manifest. The power he had called upon was opposing Fragarach's properties, enforcing the proper chain of cause and effect. With burning golden eyes, Shirou saw the laws of the World twist and bend, unable to accommodate what was happening. But he did not relent.

He stared at McRemitz, who stared back with wide eyes, unable to believe what she was seeing – her invincible trump card being stopped, her assured victory being denied to her.

"What the Gods have wrought," he declared between gritted teeth, pouring his indomitable will into every syllable, "I will sunder."

On that final world, the sword he had Traced from the fragmented memories of a time before Istvaan broke through Bazett's Noble Phantasm. Shards of iron flew in all directions, burying themselves into the earth, while the great blade resumed its arrested motion. Shirou could not stop it, even if he had wanted to. With its terrible power expended to destroy Fragarach, the sword had returned to being a construct of Traced metal, devoid of the supernatural properties that had allowed him to destroy Zouken without hurting Sakura. It was in this state that he had used it for the entire duel, for despite her assault on Sakura and Tohsaka, Shirou knew the Enforcer was no true monster.

His blow hit, though the Fragarach had altered its course. A brief silence fell on the battlefield, before Bazett Fraga McRemitz's right arm hit the ground, cut off at the shoulder.

Rin watched with wide eyes as Emiya overcame a Noble Phantasm and took down one of the most powerful Enforcers in the Clocktower. The later wasn't unheard of – but the former was … before now, she would have laughed at the very notion. Noble Phantasms were the lingering echoes of mythical weapons, far more powerful than anything modern Magecraft could achieve.

The Fraga fell on the ground seconds after her arm, blood pouring from her wound. Emiya stumbled, and in the moment between one breath and the next, his wings were gone, and the black lines on his skin were receding.

Rin let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She had spared with Kirei before, and thought she had some inkling of what a fight between two Magecraft users specialized in combat looked like, but this … this had been something else entirely.

"Tohsaka," the red-haired teenager called out to her, kneeling at the side of the downed Enforcer. "She is still alive. I need your help."

After checking that the sheath Emiya had given her (and wait a minute, had he pulled out a Noble Phantasm out of his own body … or worse – or better – managed to duplicate something that had been crafted by the Fae ?!) was balanced against Sakura's unconscious body, Rin made her way to Emiya's side.

"She is still alive," he said, gesturing at the Enforcer. Her breathing was shallow, and she was losing blood, but she was still breathing, her eyes half-closed as the rest of her body twitched.

"Her Magical Circuits were caught in the backlash when I destroyed Fragarach, otherwise losing an arm wouldn't have stopped her," Emiya continued. "Tohsaka, can you stop the bleeding ? I can only maintain one copy of Avalon in my state, and pulling out the one inside me would take too long and leave me vulnerable if she has reinforcements."

She stared at him. Was he serious ? Of course he was.

"She hurt me," she said bluntly. "She hurt Sakura. And you want me to help her ? After she intruded into your home, after she tried to kill you or worse, bring you back to the Clocktower ?"

"Even so," he said, sounding tired. "I don't want her to bleed out in my backyard."

He gestured to the severed limb. "Besides, I think she has paid enough for that. Don't you ?"

She considered it. Part of her wanted nothing more than to let the woman bleed out and die, to pay for her transgressions against her family with her life. But the other, greater part of her knew that it would be a foolish and immature thing to do. The Enforcer had acted as the hand of someone else, a proxy in the petty grudges of the Association. Furthermore, killing an Enforcer, even if it was in self-defense, would put Emiya on the Clocktower's list – even more so than defeating one already inevitably would.

If she wanted to salvage this situation, she needed information, and the most obvious source was McRemitz.

"Fine," she snarled, before kneeling next to the downed Enforcer, examining her wounds with a critical eye. Emiya was right – the Fraga's Circuits were burning. It would take a long time, and the attention of someone better versed in the healing arts than her, to restore her ability to perform Magecraft. But she should be able to stabilize her, at least.

Normally she would need to use one of her pre-charged jewels, but she had prana to spare, thanks to her link to Emiya. In fact, her Magical Circuits were painfully overcharged, though now that no more was being added the excess was being syphoned off by Sakura. Before she started, however, there was something she had to do.

A pulse of magical energy was enough to make the Enforcer's eyes open wider, and another suppressed the pain long enough for her mind to clear. As she blinked up at Rin, the Tohsaka Head spoke to the Enforcer in a clear, concise voice, while weaving a complex piece of Magecraft around the two of them.

"Swear never to take up arms against Shirou Emiya, Sakura Matou and Rin Tohsaka," she said coldly. "Swear never to return to Japan once you leave it, save with our express permission. Swear it, or Root help me I will finish you off myself."

Rin heard Emiya shuffle, but he did not protest. It seemed even his mercy had limits.

"I swear," the Enforcer rasped, and Rin felt the geas click into place.

"Good. Now hold still while I save your miserable life."

The sun was halfway down to the horizon when Shirou returned inside his home, having finished cleaning up the traces of the battle. He had used Magecraft Tohsaka had taught him to repair the door to the shed and fill in the holes they had left in the garden. Before that, he had placed McRemitz's severed arm in an icebox – it was possible someone at the Clocktower could reattach it, though given what he had used to cut it off, it would probably be difficult.

He found Tohsaka sitting in the main room, glaring furiously at the phone. After they had put Sakura in one room and McRemitz in another – and locked the door from the outside with both mundane and magical means – Tohsaka had said she was going to call Kirei to ask him what the hell he had told the Enforcer and why.

Shirou had no idea how to act around her now. Since their first frank discussion after the Matou's demise, the two of them had become friends – or at least he liked to think so. But though his knowledge of relationships was limited to whatever his bond to Sakura should be called, he was fairly certain that her willingness to have sex with him in order to save his life meant something more. If she had been a more typical Magus, it may have simply been cold-hearted pragmatism at work, but he knew her better than that.

"Tohsaka," he called out to her.

"Rin," she snapped at him.

Shirou blinked. "Sorry ?"

"You have had a threesomewith me and my sister, I saved you from your od going crazy and tearing you apart from the inside, and you saved me from an Enforcer. Call me Rin, for God's sake."

She was blushing, but the set of her mouth and eyes told Shirou that he better agree or face a world of pain.

"Y-yes, Rin," he surrendered meekly, before valiantly rallying : "But call me Shirou, then."

For a few moments, the two teenagers remained silent, resolutely avoiding to look at one another, before Rin forged ahead :

"I ran some quick checks on the house. The Bounded Field held, so no one outside should have noticed anything, but it was a close thing. You will need to repair it."

"Sakura is the one who is responsible for that," he admitted. "I can barely create fields that warn me if someone cross them."

"That's a weakness," she chided him. "Bounded Fields are one of the few fields of Magecraft that your over-specialized nature don't preclude you from mastering. We will work on that later."

"Alright. What did Kirei say ?"

Her face, which had started to relax, immediately tensed again.

"He said he was 'worried about his former ward and pupil'. He mentioned something about having run into your father before, so when I told him about what happened between you and Zouken he thought that I may have 'fallen into the trap of the Magus Killer's heir'. As a result, when that Enforcer contacted him – apparently, the two of them had met before – he told her that there was a possibility you were using Sakura as some sort of hostage to enforce my obedience."

"Of course he did," sighed Shirou. "As if something like that would work on you. If I had tried that, you would have killed me a long time ago."

"Damn straight I would have," murmured Rin.

"He was complicit in an assault on the Second Owner," Shirou went on. "Can't you ask that he be replaced as Fuyuki's priest ?"

"The Church will claim that he had good reasons for his actions – and looking at it from their point of view, he did. I will be able to ask for reparations, but I doubt I can get him sacked." She looked at him, and must have seen something in his expression. "You really don't like him, do you ? I am a bit surprised. I mean, he is easy to hate, but you never even met him."

"My father told me that he should be dead, and that I should be very cautious wherever he is concerned. He also told me that under no circumstance should I go anywhere near his church."

"Well, far from me to question the wisdom of the fabled Magus Killer," she murmured.

The two of them were silent for a while. Shirou sat down opposite To-Rin, feeling the exhaustion in his body. The damage he had endured while fighting McRemitz had been healed, but Avalon did nothing for the fatigue. He would need to start cooking dinner soon – something light for Sakura and the Enforcer, and something else for him and Rin, in enough quantities to have leftovers for when the two injured recovered and needed more substantial fare.

Before that, though, there were more urgent problems to address.

"What do we do now ?"

"You are asking me that ?"

"You are the Second Owner of Fuyuki, and the one with the best knowledge of the Association's ways in this house. My first instinct is to send McRemitz back as soon as possible with a message to stay out of Fuyuki or else, but I think that may be because I spend too much time with the Fujimura Group."

"That would only make the problem worse in the long term. No, what I am going to do is send a message to the Head of the Archibalds asking them to either apologize and pay reparations of their own, or I will drag them before the Association's tribunals."

"I would rather not have my existence and secrets paraded before the Association," said Shirou worriedly.

"It won't come to that. The Archibalds are still on the brink of ruin after what happened to their Lord during the last Grail War. They are just beginning to rebuild their reputation – attacking us and failing in doing so will see them destroyed by their rivals in a matter of years. They will pay whatever I – whatever we ask of them to keep it quiet."

"And the Association will allow it ? It's one of their Enforcers they used for their play."

"Oh, I don't doubt some bribes will go that way too," Rin waved off. "In fact, I think it's likely that someone has been waiting for the Archibalds to over-extend in just that manner. Which is why we need to make contact with them : neither of us want this to go public." She smiled, and Shirou suppressed a shiver at how bloodthirsty she made the innocuous expression look. "But they don't know that, and I am going to make them pay for it. Between them and the Church's own compensation for Kirei's actions, my plans to redress my family's finances are going to jump ahead of schedule by years."

Somehow, despite the fact that they had tried to kill him, Shirou felt almost sorry for the Archibalds in that moment. Only almost, though – they had hurt Sakura and Rin, after all.

Chapter Text

July 23rd, 2003 AD – London, Clocktower

"They did what ?!"

Waver Velvet, known to the Mage Association as Lord El-Melloi II, head of the Department of Modern Magecraft and teacher of the El-Melloi class, looked at the young girl sat across him, aghast. The two of them were sat in his office, facing each other with a low table between them. It was a little past one in the afternoon, and he had just come back from eating lunch at his favorite restaurant in London to find his least favorite person waiting for him in his office. He had braced himself for a thoroughly unpleasant discussion, but what he had ended up with was oh so much worse.

For once, Reines El-Melloi Archisorte – the young girl with the beautiful face of an angel and the heart of a devil who, for his sins, had become Waver's sister – wasn't smiling. What had happened was more important than the Head of the Archibald family's long-ongoing teasing of Waver.

"As I just said, dear brother, the elders of the Archibald family sent an Enforcer to Japan in order to kill one Shirou Emiya, the adoptive son of Kiritsugu Emiya as revenge for the death of dear, mourned Kayneth and the destruction of over eighty percent of the family's Magic Crest. That Enforcer, one Bazett Fraga McRemitz, assaulted the local Second Owner during her attack on Emiya, got wounded and captured, confessed who had sent her – with false information and accusations, as it turned out – and now the Second Owner is very, very unhappy with us."

"Of course they are," snarled Waver, thinking furiously on what he knew of McRemitz. He had heard that name before … An Enforcer from the famously reclusive Fraga family, who had joined the Clocktower and become one of its most valuable Enforcers in an astonishingly short time. Experienced in taking down both Sealing Designates and Dead Apostles, and wielder of the Noble Phantasm Fragarach, whose secret had been passed down her family since the Age of the Gods.

Someone with skills, lineage, and experience – someone who, in a one on one fight, would have absolutely crushed Waver without even breaking a sweat, for all that the two of them had the same rank of Fes in the Clocktower's ranking system.

And all that had been useless against the son of the Magus Killer. Waver could already feel an ulcer coming. He powered through, forcing his mind to start to analyse the situation, drawing on his knowledge of Fuyuki.

"The Second Owner is a Tohsaka, right ?"

"Rin Tohsaka," Reines confirmed. "Daughter of Tokiomi Tohsaka, who died during the Grail War you fought in. Apparently she was visiting Emiya – who was operating on her territory with her permission, as logged in the Association's records – and the Enforcer attacked her before he put her down. Her message did not say that he saved her life from our assassin, but it was very strongly implied."

Waver would like to say that no one could possibly be that stupid. The Archibalds were just beginning to dig themselves out of the pit they had been thrown into when Kiritsugu Emiya had slaughtered the previous Lord El-Melloi, his Servant, and his fiance, crippling his Magic Crest in the process.

But they had been that stupid, hadn't they ? In their arrogance and wounded pride, they had tried to make some insignificant point. Even if they had succeeded in killing Emiya's adopted son, what did they think that would have achieved ?

Oh, look at us, he thought with bitter mockery. We are so strong and mighty, we managed to hire someone with no prior connection to our family to go and kill the teenager adopted by the foreign mercenary who all but ended our lineage, years after the man in question had died. Truly our wrath is fearsome and our influence boundless. They would have been the Association's laughing stock !

Waver was aware that he wasn't being entirely fair – there had been other factors at play in the elders' decision – but at the moment, he found himself with remarkably little inclination to be fair to the group of old morons who may very well have doomed them all. And as long as he was angry at the elders, he didn't have to think about how he may very well be on the next Magus Killer's shit list – or, worse, Policies'. The Department tasked with managing the Clocktower's inner affairs was famously lax when it came to enforcing the law on noble families, but the Archibalds had yet to truly recover their influence. If the sharks sensed blood in the water, they would tear the Archibald family apart.

You would think that after what happened when Kayneth had died without having made any preparations in case of his demise, the rest of the Archibald family would have learned to plan for failure. He forced that depressing thought away and focused on the problem in front of him.

"When did all this happen ?"

"A few hours ago. The message was waiting for me when I returned from lunch. Apparently, the servant in charge of my correspondence didn't think something from Japan was important enough to interrupt my meal."

There was an eight hours time difference between England and Japan, Waver remembered, with Japan being ahead. The message had travelled quickly from the Far East, probably using Magecraft given its contents.

"What else did the message say ?"

"Reading between the lines, Rin Tohsaka doesn't want to press charges before the Clocktower, probably because her family's standing is far beneath ours. But she is aware of our … precarious situation in the Association, and as I said, she is furious at us. She wants us to send someone who can speak in the Archibald's name to recover the Enforcer and negotiate a settlement. I consulted my sources, and apparently she has been rebuilding her family's fortune in recent months – no doubt she intends to bleed us for as much as she can in exchange for letting us sweep this under the rug."

That was … well, it wasn't good, nothing about this situation was, but it was the least catastrophic possibility. Their coffers would take a hit, but as long as they kept what had happened a secret, they could fill the gap slowly and no one outside the family would notice anything amiss, so long as they were careful. Not no one no one, of course – there would be those at the top who would know, no matter what – but no one who had a motive to kick the Archibalds while they were down. Or, rather even more down than they currently were, even after years of slowly rebuilding their wealth and influence.

"And Emiya ?" Waver asked. "Even if the Tohsaka Head got involved, he was the actual target, and while the Tohsaka can get us in trouble with the Association, he is a much more direct threat. What does he want to let that pass ?"

"The message didn't say," replied Reines, "but since the whole affair happened on Tohsaka's territory, I expect a share of the settlement will find its way into his hands as compensation. Especially since the message precised that the negotiations will take place in his home."

Waver frowned. Money would suffice, then ? Perhaps. The Magus Killer had taken all manner of contracts during his career, and though his rates hadn't been especially high among freelancers they had still been very respectable – though only ever cheap change to the noble families.

"He is probably the reason why Tohsaka is willing to settle out of court," he thought aloud. "The Magus Killer had more enemies than just the Archibald, and a trial would draw attention to his existence."

"That would make sense," agreed Reines. "Of course, it still means that …"

"I need to get to Japan," he finished, though he wanted nothing less. He sighed. "There is no one else we can trust with this, is there ? I will meet with Tohsaka and Emiya, and see what they want in exchange for their silence and McRemitz's life."

"I will go with you -" began Reines, but Waver cut her off firmly.

"No. You will not. This isn't going to be a negotiation between two noble families, Reines. You are very good at these, much better than I, but the Magus Killer cared nothing for the rules of engagement and conduct of Magi. If you die, especially at the hands of the Magus Killer's heir, the last of the Archibald's Magic Crest will be lost. The family will be doomed. I will not compound my guilt in Kayneth's demise by letting you face the same peril that ruined him."

She frowned, clearly displeased as his unusual blunt refusal. "You will be in danger too, dear brother. And your death won't wipe out the debt you owe the Archibalds."

"No, but yours would make it immeasurably worse. And, much as it pains me to admit it, I would much rather deal with you than the elders. You are not going to Fuyuki, Reines – that's final."

Waver didn't notice the faintest hint of red on Reines' cheeks.

"Fine," she relented. "I will deal with the elders while you go clean up their mess. By the time you come back, I will have whipped them into obedience – you can assure the Second Owner of Fuyuki that those responsible will be punished appropriately. Whatever payment must be made will be taken out of their personal coffers. But surely you don't intend to go alone ?"

"No. I …" He sighed, and shook his head. "I will take Gray along with me."

Reines raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure ? I could lend you Trimmau."

Waver laughed bitterly. "After all the good Volumen Hydrargyrum did Kayneth, I would rather not bring her. Gray should be sufficient. I will ask her when she comes back from her errand."

"And what if she refuses to risk her life by confronting the dread heir of the Magus Killer ?" Despite the situation, there was an edge of teasing in Reines' voice. She knew very well that such a refusal was, to say it lightly, extremely unlikely.

"Then I will swallow my pride and beg you to lend me Trimmau after all," deadpanned Waver, making it obvious what he also thought of such a possibility. "Can you get a plane ready ? I would rather not have to deal with customs, especially if I have Gray with me."

"For a variety of reasons," said Reines, thinking on her brother's mysterious apprentice. "Very well. I will have a plane ready by the evening, but you will need to make your own arrangements once it lands you in Japan."

He waved a hand dismissively. "I managed to reach Fuyuki when I was nineteen, Reines. Doing so now isn't the part of this journey that worries me."

The Lord of the Clocktower and his apprentice finally arrived at their destination in the middle of the afternoon, having gone to Japan by plane before renting a car for the final leg of the journey. Waver had used the flight to read the file compiled by the elders' agents on the situation in Fuyuki, as well as brief Gray on his own history with the city. It hadn't been a pleasant conversation, forcing him to dig out memories he had spent years trying to avoid, but it had been a necessary one. Thinking of the past threats to his life had also helped him not think about the current ones.

And now, here they were. If not for the Bounded Field around it, Waver would have checked they were at the correct address, for the house did not resemble what he would have expected from the Emiya residence.

Where he had thought to find a bunker, or at the very least a mansion warded in Bounded Fields and traps, there was instead a house in the traditional Japanese style. And the Bounded Field around it, while competently made, was nothing like the intricate death traps that protected the domains of the Association's nobles. He suspected he could break or subvert it, given half an hour to study it.

It explained why McRemitz had gone in. From the outside, the Emiya household was the picture of a third-rate Magus' home, living a quiet life in an irrelevant backwater. Not accomplishing much, but avoiding the power games of the Association. The same kind of life Waver's parents had, and the one he had turned away from in his hunger for knowledge and recognition.

Fool that he had been …

"Remain on guard, but don't provoke them," Waver told Gray as the two of them walked down the street from where he had parked their rented car. When she didn't reply, he turned toward her. "Gray ?"

What he could see of the young girl's face under her hood was even paler than usual, which was a feat in itself considering the summer heat. She was staring at the residence with her blue eyes wide open.

"Gray !" he snapped, putting a hand on her shoulder and shaking her lightly. She yelped, her trance broken.

"Teacher ! I … sorry ..."

"Nevermind. I am aware of how sensitive you are. What happened ?"

"I … I don't know," she admitted in a small voice. "I think I saw something. Something big …"

And there was another reason to be terrified, right before entering the lion's den. As if he needed another. Gray was, as a result of her upbringing, extremely sensitive to supernatural phenomena, but her lack of education in the specifics of the Moonlit World made it difficult for her to interpret what she sensed.

"Well, this is promising," he whispered, loud enough for her to hear. "In any case, we have come this far – might as well finish it."

They crossed the street, and Waver rang the bell. Less than a minute later, the gate to the courtyard opened, revealing the teenager whose existence had dragged Waver back to Fuyuki.

According to the elders' file, Shirou Emiya was sixteen years old, with some margin of error given the circumstances of his adoption. Waver couldn't help but feel slightly envious at the teenager's size – he was a lot taller than Waver himself had been when he had come to Fuyuki, even though he had been nineteen at the time. Even now, Waver was only slightly taller than the red-haired teenager, and a lot less fit, judging by Emiya's exposed forearms.

"Hello," Shirou Emiya said, speaking in accented but understandable English. "You are the envoys from the Archibald family, correct ?"

"Yes," replied Waver. "You are Shirou Emiya, the Sixth Head of the House of Emiya ?"

"I am, though I hardly think of myself as the Head of a House." To Waver's surprise, the boy smiled slightly, before gesturing for them to come in. "We were expecting you. Come in – and please remove your shoes in the entrance."

Waver blinked. This was the heir of the Magus Killer, the slayer of Zouken Matou and defeater of Bazett Fraga McRemitz ? This polite, unassuming teenager ?

He glanced at Gray. Once again, she was staring with wide eyes, looking right at Shirou Emiya as he gestured for them to enter.

"Thank you, Mister Emiya," replied Waver, pushing gently on Gray's back to snap her out of whatever had caught her attention.

The Bounded Field washed over the two of them as they crossed the threshold, with no response except for a pulse of warning to whoever was linked to it. He and Gray removed their shoes in the entrance and followed their host further.

Two more teenagers were waiting for them in the living room, sat at the table and facing the doorway. Waver recognized them from the elders' file – Rin Tohsaka and Sakura Matou. The Second Owner of Fuyuki, and the apprentice of Shirou Emiya, both the last members of their respective families.

"Hello, representatives of the Archibald family," coolly declared the black-haired girl. "Though it pains me to do in such circumstances, it is nevertheless an honor to meet you, Lord El-Melloi."

"The Second," Waver added automatically, frowning in annoyance despite the situation before catching himself. "My apologies. That appellation is a sore point for me. Hello, Miss Tohsaka, Miss Matou. I take it you know who I am ?"

"Of course. You are, after all, the youngest Magus to ascend to the prestigious position of Lord of the Association in centuries. I heard about your compilation of 'Lord Kayneth's Encyclopedia of Arcane Secrets', and the exemplary work you have done in the Department of Modern Magecraft. And this is … ?"

"This is Gray, my apprentice. I brought her along for security purposes. I am sure you understand."

Gray squirmed a little as Tohsaka looked her up and down.

"Well, fine. We have our own security here, after all. Sit, please."

Waver and Gray sat at the low table, the latter fumbling a little to put her legs in the proper position – she was used to seating on chairs, not the floor.

Waver glanced at Emiya, who had gone into the kitchen and was coming back with a set of teacups he placed in front of everyone at the table, before serving them from a pot. The pleasant fragrance that filled the air was entirely at odds with the tension – just as the sight of Emiya serving them tea was utterly at odds with what Waver had expected. Even more so when the teenage boy was the only one not to sit, remaining standing behind the two young women. There wasn't anything threatening about his posture, but Waver had no doubt that he was ready to defend them should the need arise.

He took a sip, and his eyes widened. "This … this is really good tea. Thank you, Mr Emiya."

"You are welcome," replied Emiya with the same small smile he had shown when welcoming them in his home. It wasn't warm, but it was polite. It reminded Waver of some of the people he had met during his wandering years after the Grail War, when his foolishness had taken him down dark alleys and filth-caked streets. Shirou Emiya was being perfectly hospitable, but he was still ready to fight if things went wrong.

"I admit," Waver began, "that you are being a lot more … cordial than I anticipated. A lot more than the situation deserves, one could argue."

"One certainly could," Sakura Matou spoke out at last, her voice cold as ice as she glared at Waver without bothering to hide her contempt. "Given that your family tried to kill us not two days ago. Your assassin had me and Tohsaka-san on the ropes – it is only Senpai's intervention that saved us from your hired dog."

Waver winced. "I promise you, I had nothing to do with the attack. Neither I nor the next head of the Archibald had any idea of the plot against you until Miss Tohsaka contacted us."

"We have no reason to trust any word coming out of your mouth-"

"Sakura," Emiya warned the girl, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down."

Waver was familiar with "good cop, bad cop" technique. It was one of the most elementary tricks used in the Clocktower intrigues, where one member of a family would deliberately act rude and threatening before a more 'reasonable' one would pop up to appease them and offer a compromise. Reines had used him as the good cop on one or two occasions. But he was surprised Emiya was the one playing the part of the good cop in that situation.

In the mind of Lord El-Melloi II, gears began to turn.

"You are Sakura Matou, correct ? I read the theory the elders used to justify Mr Emiya's capture to Miss McRemitz. Looking at you, I doubt that their claim that you were captured in order to learn your family's secrets after Mr Emiya killed the rest of your family were anything more than an excuse to try to get Mr Emiya in trouble."

There were many ways in which the obvious trust and love the young girl felt for the Magus Killer's heir could be replicated through Magecraft, but all of them depended upon subtler methods than Kiritsugu Emiya had been infamous for.

"The Matou Magecraft was focused on familiars, and the aspect of 'binding others unto oneself'," he continued, pulling the information from what he had learned of Fuyuki in the War's aftermath. "During the Fourth Holy Grail War, the Matou Master made use of worm familiars to sustain his Servant, Berserker … Ah. I see."

Separate pieces, some of them gleaned years apart, came together in his mind, forming a picture vile enough to disturb even him, who had gazed upon the Workshop of the mad Caster. Waver turned his gaze toward Emiya, who looked back at him with steel in his eyes.

"You saved her, didn't you ? You didn't wipe out the Matou to steal their secrets – you destroyed them to rescue her from the inhumanity of what the Matou were doing to her. That was the 'disagreement' between you and Zouken Matou. But of course, nobody in the Clocktower would expect someone to care for the fate of an unrelated Magus … especially the adopted son of the Magus Killer."

He really, really wanted to smoke, but didn't dare to risk it. Instead, he took another sip of tea.

"Somehow," he continued as he put his cup back down, "you learned about the specifics of the Matou Magecraft, and, finding it abhorrent, you went to confront Zouken Matou in his very lair – and won. And judging by the fact that she is still alive several months later, you also found a way to undo what had already been done to her in the years since she … since she stopped being Sakura Tohsaka and became Sakura Matou.

Complete silence reigned. The two girls – the two sisters – were staring at him in shock, while Emiya was tense, one hand still on Sakura's shoulder while the other twitched around his waist, as if grasping for a weapon that wasn't there.

Next to him, Gray let out a small whimper.

Ah, Waver realized. I probably shouldn't have said all that out loud. Still, it was too late to take his words back now. He might as well push forward.

"Am I correct ?" he asked, doing his utmost to keep his facade of calm.

There was a moment of tense silence. Emiya finally broke it :

"Yes," he admitted. "That is more or less what happened, with the difference that I only killed Zouken. Shinji Matou died in the crossfire of our confrontation."

Which wouldn't matter as far as the Clocktower was concerned. Shinji Matou hadn't been the Matou heir, and there was only one reason Waver could think of for that not to be the case.

"How," the purple-haired girl asked haltingly, "how did you realize I wasn't born a Matou ?"

"A combination of factors," began Waver. "First, the fact that the Matou Master in the last War was a newcomer to Magecraft who had to rely on implanted Familiars despite the toll it took on his sanity. That told me the Matou bloodline was on its last legs. This is hardly uncommon for Magus families who have been around as long as the Matou without establishing minor branches that can be used as backup when the main line withers. Yet you are the one keyed into the Bounded Field around this house, and you were able to fight against an Enforcer, however briefly.

Secondly, Tokiomi Tohsaka was the model of a typical Magus. If he had another child suitable for the practice of Magecraft, he would want her to be able to pursue it, yet wouldn't split his legacy. In such circumstances, having his child entrusted to another family would be the optimal outcome, especially if that family were old allies of his. And apart from their regular conflicts during the Grail Wars, the Matou and the Tohsaka were close allies.

Third … well, that one was more of a feeling than anything else, but there is a … small resemblance between the two of you. It is faint, enough so to hint at the extent of the alterations that were inflicted upon you to make you suitable for the Matou Magecraft, but it is here."

Emiya still had his hand on the younger girl's shoulder, but his eyes were fixed on Waver, and his gaze had gone completely flat. The Lord caught the gold-brown eyes flashing briefly, before Emiya blinked and frowned, his attention turning to Gray, who was still sat next to Waver, her head nervously twitching as she looked at each of the others in turn.

"So," mused Tohsaka, drawing Waver's attention back to her. "This is the renowned insight of the Clocktower's youngest Lord. I had heard rumors, but to see it in action with my own eyes is something else. You are correct, Lord El-Melloi II : that is more or less exactly what happened. And of course, you understand that nothing you just deduced is to be shared with anyone outside this room ?"

Waver nodded, and the girl continued :

"Whatever agreement we decide upon will be enforced by the use of geas, with the wording decided between us to cover every possible situation. I have prepared a first draft for each of the items of the accord, but I will welcome your suggestions for modifications so long as you don't try to cheat us."

"I would expect nothing less," replied Waver. "The Archibalds need this entire sordid affair to be concealed – if you didn't offer to use geas to enforce the terms, I would have had to insist upon it."

"Good," said Tohsaka, pushing a first sheet of paper across the table and to Waver. "First, financial compensation. You, Lord El-Melloi II, will pay us the sum of twenty million sterling pounds. While I don't expect that money to come from your personal finances, I expect it to be both untraceable and of … let us say, 'unproblematic' origins."

Waver hid a wince. That was a lot of money … but then, it wouldn't be him paying it. Twenty million pounds wasn't exactly cheap change to the noble families of the Clocktower, but it was well within their margins of operation, even for the impoverished Archibald.

He could try to haggle the price down, he knew. But the truth was that he didn't really want to. Let the elders pay the price of their stupidity in full. Besides, this was only the first item of the compensation – ceding ground here, on something of no real importance (to him at least), would give him kudos to cash in later. The elders wouldn't like it, but they could go fuck themselves.

"I agree with that point, with the details of the transfer to be discussed later. What else ?"

"When I finish my secondary education in Japan, you will sponsor my entry into the Clocktower if I so desire."

He raised an eyebrow. Of all the things he had imagined being asked for today, this had not been one of them.

"You are aware that even if I sponsor your entry, you will still need to prove yourself ? My reputation in the Clocktower isn't nearly great enough to ensure you will have an easy time there."

"I fully intend to earn the respect of the Association the hard way, Lord El-Melloi II," said Tohsaka with a polite smile. "I just need your assistance to get inside despite the prejudice against Easterners that is prevalent in London."

"… Fine. When you are ready, I will personally evaluate your skills, and if I judge you to be to an appropriate level, I will sponsor your entry. Will that suffice ?"

"So long as you judge me fairly, yes. I have heard of your reputation as a teacher – if you don't believe I am ready to study at the Clocktower, I will defer to your judgment."

"I am nowhere near as talented a teacher as people make me out to be," he grumbled, before looking at the other two teenagers on the other side of the table. "I just have the misfortune of teaching those far more talented than I. And what about the two of you ? I must warn you, while letting Miss Matou into the Clocktower would be feasible, having someone with the Emiya name attend would be … extremely risky. You would need to use a fake name, and that would draw attention in itself."

"That won't be an issue," assured Emiya. "Neither of us have any intention of ever stepping foot in the Clocktower if we can help it at all, Lord El-Melloi II. We are not magi."

"Spellcasters, then. That's the name for practitioners who don't pursue the Root or the development of their Mysteries, seeking instead to use their Magecraft for more mundane ends," Waver explained when he saw the incomprehension on their faces. "I can't say I don't understand your lack of interest in going to the Clocktower. Well, I agree to that second item, with the provisions previously discussed. What else, Miss Tohsaka ?"

"The last two items were the compensation we expect for your attack. But we also want guarantees that the Archibald family will not try to harm us again, whether to avenge this latest failure or because of their stupid grudge over the results of the last Grail War."

"The Servant of our host's father killed my predecessor, his Servant, and his fiancee, all in a single evening," noted Waver. "And that was after crippling my predecessor's Magical Circuits and Crest. While I agree that their reaction was … overblown … you have to admit that there is some ground for their grudge, even if reporting it onto Mr Emiya here after his father's death was foolish."

"I do understand," admitted Tohsaka with a shrug, before her expression sharpened, and Waver caught a glimpse of the anger that burned beneath her mask. "I just don't care. Your family sent a killer after me and mine. That will not happen again. As the head of the Archibald family, you will swear a geas never to strike at us unless it is in self-defence, and to do all in your power to ensure that the rest of the Archibald abide by the same rule. In addition, you will not come to Japan before warning us in advance of the date and motive of your arrival. The same will apply for any other member of the Archibald family or their agents, no matter how many layers exist between them and the operative in question. This," she pushed another stack of paper toward him, this one much thicker than the previous ones, "details the exact punishments expected in the case this is violated without your previous knowledge."

She didn't say out loud that, if he let something like that happen knowingly, the geas would kill him.

"I will need to read this in detail," said Waver, "but in principle I am not opposed to this. But what of Miss McRemitz ?"

"She already swore a geas never to harm us or to return to Japan without our permission. She will need to swear an additional geas preventing her from ever revealing what she saw of our Magecraft," said Tohsaka, pushing a final sheet of paper toward him. "If she refuses, she will not leave Fuyuki alive."

The secrecy oaths were quite comprehensive, Waver saw as he read the scroll. The Enforcer wouldn't be able to even think about her battle against Emiya and his allies, with a handful of carefully crafted exceptions. Given that, while rare, mind-reading wasn't unheard of in the Clocktower, the precaution made sense. Merely stopping her from talking about it would have been the height of foolishness – the oaths were framed in much broader terms.

They spent some time after that working on the details of the various contracts. Nothing important was changed, just some minor phrasing as Waver tried to make sure there were no loopholes in one direction or another that the elders could try to make use of. Finally, after nearly an hour – during which Sakura Matou had withdrawn and Emiya had brought more tea, along with some biscuits that Gray had tentatively gnawed on while they worked – they were done.

"Before I sign these," said Waver as he stretched, "I would like to speak with Miss McRemitz."

"As long as you agree to swear the same oaths of secrecy she will need to, that is fine with us," replied Tohsaka, seeming unfazed by the mental exercise they had just gone through.

Left unsaid was that, if he refused to swear these oaths after exchanging information with the wounded Enforcer, the same lethal penalty would be applied to him. At least they were polite about it, Waver thought grimly.

"Shirou, bring them to McRemitz's room, please."

Waver and Gray stood, with the latter needing a moment for circulation to her legs to resume after sitting in an unfamiliar position for so long, and followed Emiya through the residence.

"Rin was too prideful to ask you," said Emiya without turning, "but I am not. You are Waver Velvet – the Master of Rider in the last Holy Grail War. Do you know who killed her father ?"

Waver blinked. He wasn't surprised Emiya knew of his participation in the Grail War – his father would have shared his experience with him, just in case. But he hadn't anticipated the question. Surely if anyone would know that, it would be the son of the one Master who had made it all the way to the end ?

"Her father … Tokiomi Tohsaka, the Master of Archer … All I know is that my Servant and I faced off against Gilgamesh on the last day of the War." Waver smiled bitterly. "We lost, and Rider was defeated by the King of Heroes, who spared my life on a whim. I wasn't involved with the War after that, though I did witness its ending from a distance. It wasn't exactly hard to spot, after all."

"No," sighed Emiya. "It was not."

"… You were there, weren't you ? You would have been five or six years old at the time."

He didn't phrase his words as a question, letting the teenager decide whether to answer or not.

"Yes, I was there. I survived the fire at the end of the War. My father found me in the devastation. That is the only reason he adopted me."

"Really ? Given that you fought off one of the Clocktower's best Enforcers, I would expect there to be another reason for the Magus Killer to take you under his wing. From what I see, you may be even more dangerous than he was."

Emiya laughed. "I am more powerful than my father, but I am still nowhere near as dangerous as he was."

"… I find that hard to believe, and I am sure Miss McRemitz would share that opinion."

"Yet that is the truth. For one thing, I am worse than useless with guns. For another, I have not lost nearly as much as he had by the time of the Grail War. I am not willing to go as far to accomplish my goals as he was, and I pray that I will never be. My father … did not live a happy life for most of his years, Lord El-Melloi II."

Somehow, Waver had no problem believing that.

"I know this is a personal question," asked Emiya, "but why did you join the Grail War ? What were you wishing for ?"

Waver laughed softly, the sound full of bitterness and self-deprecation.

"I wanted for my talent to be recognized, even though I was only a third-generation Magus. The stupidity of a child who had no idea what he was getting into."

"I see," said Emiya, nodding quietly. "One final question : your apprentice. Who did this to her ?"

Waver froze, and at his side Gray did the same. So far, his apprentice had followed their exchange with rapt attention – Waver knew that she was very curious about his past, probably because he was so unwilling to discuss it in the first place. But this …

His mind flashed back to the glint of golden light in Emiya's eyes earlier. Mystic Eyes, he thought, but how much did the teenager know ? While the effects of Gray's alterations were obvious, their roots were deep and subtle. And how much of what Emiya knew came from his eyes, as opposed from knowledge he might have inherited from Kiritsugu Emiya, Master of King Arthur in the Fourth Grail War ?

No. It didn't matter how he knew, at least not yet. There was only one acceptable response.

"Gray's face, and the rest of her, were already like this when I met her for the first time," Waver replied, aware that his tone had turned hard for the first time since he had entered the Emiya residence. "And, with all due respect, the details are none of your damn business."

Emiya turned then, looking at him and then at Gray. Whatever he saw – his eyes didn't flash again – it made him smile softly.

"I see," he repeated. "It is good that you care about your student that much, Lord El-Melloi II." He nodded to himself. "As an apology for my rudeness, I will ask Rin that we return McRemitz's arm to you without further payment."

Under her hood, Gray blushed, and Waver had to force himself not to follow suit. That … that had been rather out-of-character of him, he had to admit.

Then Emiya's last words registered.

"Her arm ?" Waver blurted out.

"Yes, her arm. Our duel was not without injuries on both sides. We made sure to preserve it : maybe you will find someone in the Clocktower who can reattach it. For now, Miss McRemitz is in this room," said Emiya, gesturing to the door they had stopped in front of. "I will wait outside while you talk to her – but be aware, I will hear everything you say."

"Understood," replied Waver, shaking himself, before he and Gray entered.

For a prisoner taken while attacking a trio of Magecraft users in their territory, Bazett Fraga McRemitz was being held in far better conditions than she had any right to expect. Her room was small but not claustrophobically so, with a Western-style bed, a desk and a wardrobe. The window was closed, the curtains drawn, and Waver could sense a ward covering it and the door. An electric light illuminated the room, revealing the Enforcer laying on the bed, her head turning to look at them as they entered.

Waver was taken aback by how young she looked. Her file had said she was twenty-two, only six years younger than him, but she didn't look that much older than some of his students. She was pale, her face lined with tension that only slightly relaxed when she saw their faces and realized they weren't her captors.

There was a glass and a set of aspirin pills on the small table next to her bed, but she hadn't touched the pills – though the glass was empty, thirst having apparently overcome the Enforcer's reticence some time ago.

"Miss McRemitz," he greeted her. "I am Waver Velvet, current Lord of the Archibald family."

"I know," she said in a hoarse voice. "The old bastards who hired me made sure I knew who was not supposed to know about this disaster until it was over."

Waver's eyebrow twitched. So. He had confirmation that the elders hadn't just ignored him : they had actively hid their idiotic scheme from him.

"This is my apprentice, Gray. I have come here to negotiate for the silence of Emiya and his allies, as well as your release into my care. A tentative agreement has been reached, but I wanted to check on how you were doing before committing to anything. What's your condition ?"

"Apart from the obvious ?" Bazett looked at her empty sleeve – she was wearing a simple dress that was a bit small for her, but not uncomfortably so. "My Magical Circuits were damaged by the backlash of energies when Emiya beat me. I have nerve and muscle damage throughout my entire body as a result, and my head hasn't stopped hurting since I woke up. Then they asked me the details of who had hired me, what they had told me … the whole lot. That Tohsaka girl didn't threaten me again, but she didn't need to."

"I see," said Waver. He moved to refill the glass from the nearby carafe, handing it over to the Enforcer, who took it gratefully and drank it down. "Can you tell us how it happened ? All we were told was that after you defeated Misses Tohsaka and Matou, Mister Emiya joined the fray and vanquished you, severing your arm in the process."

She frowned. "Is it safe for me to tell you about it ?"

"I have already agreed to swear the same secrecy oaths you will need to submit to, so you might as well."

"Fine. When I arrived into the town, Emiya wasn't there – my contact, the local priest, told me that he was gone on a school trip of some kind. After checking the area, I set up watch over the house. He came back earlier than anticipated, and seemed to be ill. A moment later, there was a spike of prana being used, and I took that as my clue.

"The girls were tougher than I thought they would be – the Matou girl has some kind of connection to Emiya, and her spells could have killed me if I hadn't been carefully. But I still put them down without needing to hurt them too much. It was then that ..."

Her voice trailed off as she stared at the door.

"It was then that Emiya showed up ?" prompted Waver. McRemitz shook herself and continued.

"Yes, and whatever affliction he had was gone by that point."

She described what she had seen : the black lines running on Emiya's skin, the blazing eyes, the wings that seemed to be made of two-dimensional shadows and had made him immune to her punches. She spoke of the great sword he had wielded in one hand, of the immense strength he had displayed. She told Waver of how, as the battle went on, the Tohsaka girl had seemed to suffer more and more – until Emiya, apparently to avoid hurting her further, had unleashed his greatest attack at her.

"Unleashing one's mightiest blow against a Fraga … that should have been the end of it," noted Waver.

"It should have been," nodded McRemitz. "I was certain I had him. I deployed one of my Fragarach and caught his blow directly. I felt the Mystery react and strike back, Lord. But … It didn't work. He just … cut through it."

Waver choked. "He what ?!"

"He cut through Fragarach," she all but hissed. "He tore apart a Mystery from the Age of the Gods, and went right on to cut off my arm along with it."

Waver breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. Next to him, Gray was grasping within her sleeve – not to deploy the weapon that hid there, but to reassure herself that it was still there, and hadn't been cut apart like Fragarach had been. The Sword of the Gorging God had been one of the subjects they had discussed on their way to Fuyuki, as Waver exposed just what Emiya's defeat of the Enforcer implied about his strength.

"That … that is an impressive feat," said Waver once he had recovered his calm. "And it makes your survival against a Spellcaster capable of it all the more impressive, Miss McRemitz."

"He is not a mere Spellcaster. I don't think he is even human."

"Yes, I can understand why you would think so. Yet the local priest, a renowned Exorcist if I am not mistaken, has made no move against him. He only told you that he feared Emiya was manipulating the Tohsaka Head and the Matou Heir. And while his belief was mistaken, it's understandable he would think as he did : our hosts are hardly of the same mindset as most Magi."

"… You think that, because Kirei didn't try to kill Emiya himself, it means he isn't a demon ?"

McRemitz's tone was sceptical, as she had reason to be. She was the one who had faced Emiya in the fullness of his wrath and power, after all.

"I believe that without further evidence, all we know is that Emiya is more than he appears," said Waver carefully, acutely aware of the teenager's presence on the other side of the door. "But he did not kill you, and he and his allies are willing to make peace with the Archibald family – and so it shall be. Rest for now. I will go back to our hosts and tell them that I agree to the geas agreement, then I will bring you with me out of this place and back to London."

McRemitz blinked.

"Why ? I am useless now. With only one arm, I am …"

"Miss McRemitz," Waver politely interrupted her, "please do not underestimate the Clocktower. Losing limbs is hardly a rare occurrence, and Emiya even kept your arm preserved – and agreed to return it. As for the damage to your Magical Circuits, I have acquaintances that can help you recovering from that."

"That doesn't answer my question," the Enforcer stubbornly continued. "Why are you helping me ? I have failed. I expected you to toss me to the wolves."

"You were sent here by the Archibalds, with lacking intelligence and on false pretences. As far as I see it, the family owes a debt to you, Miss McRemitz."

"You didn't send me here," she pointed out. "I took part in keeping you in the dark, even."

"Irrelevant," Waver declared, waving his hand dismissively. "I am Lord El-Melloi II. As long as I bear that name, the actions of the Archibald family are my responsibility."

Laying on the bed, with the phantom pain of her missing arm and the very real pain of her Magical Circuits blazing through her skull, Bazett blinked as she registered the young Lord's words. He was … he was serious, she realized. For some Root-forsaken reason, he genuinely believed that her current situation was, if not his fault, then his responsibility to deal with.

In that moment, she understood why Waver Velvet's students were ferociously loyal to their teacher. Her cheeks heated up, and she looked away, mumbling thanks.

"You will need to sign another geas yourself before we leave," said the Lord of the Clocktower. "It concerns your silence on what you witnessed here. I have read it, and found no issue with it."

"I understand," said Bazett, finally looking back at the young Lord. "I will sign it, if only so I can get out of here."

"These contracts do not prohibit us from discussing it with one another," he precised. "Once you have recovered, we will speak more about Mr Emiya's abilities – in a properly secure setting, of course."

Next to Lord El-Melloi II, Gray looked at her teacher, then at the Enforcer, and something she would vehemently have denied was a pout formed on her face.

It was only when the private jet left Japan's territorial waters, with a glass of alcohol in one hand and a lit cigar in the other, that Waver allowed himself to relax. He hadn't believed that Shirou Emiya would kill them all, not truly – not after speaking with the young man. But paranoia came easily to him these days.

In the end, after some more discussion and rewording, they had all signed the appropriate geas scrolls, binding themselves to the negotiated terms. He and Gray had both sworn the additional oaths that enforced their silence about what McRemitz had disclosed of her battle with Emiya. Now, he had to make sure the first part of the payment was sent to Tohsaka before five days. Unless Reines had failed on her end, this shouldn't be an issue.

McRemitz was sleeping in another cabin. She had hardly relaxed since waking up from her confrontation with Emiya, and the stress had eaten at her. Her severed arm laid in an icebox to which Waver had added a few protective spells, next to the tube that contained her remaining Fragarach. When Waver had realized their presence, he had expected that he would need to pay another lump sum to get them, but to his surprise Emiya had simply handed them over along the arm's container. His surprise had been even greater when he had noticed that, while Emiya had handled the severed limb without obvious discomfort, he had seemed … disgusted, somehow, by the Fragarach's container.

One more sign that Emiya wasn't a typical Magus. Such individuals would have kept the Noble Phantasms, driven to pick them apart to learn what they could from their Mysteries. But then again, no typical Magus would have been able to cut through the Fragarach, as Emiya had apparently done. Who knew what insight into its nature he had already gained from the confrontation ?

Waver fully intended to keep his word to McRemitz. He would find someone in the Clocktower who could make her a prosthetic for her lost limb. Hell, if he couldn't manage to hire a specialist he could always make it a project for his students. The El-Melloi class was a gathering of oddballs and prodigies these days, even if they were a nightmare to keep in line.

Even so, there was no denying that McRemitz's reputation among the Enforcers would take a hit, even if the details were kept under wraps. They wouldn't be able to hide her mutilation, and all manners of rumors would spread, each more ridiculous than the last. Magi were not just incorrigible gossips – they were vicious gossips as well. Still, Waver was confident he could find a job for her until she was back on her feet.

"What did you think of him, Gray ?" He asked his apprentice, who sat opposite him in the luxurious cabin. "There wasn't time to ask you while we were there, and it will be more difficult to speak of it in secret once we are back, so we might as well discuss it now."

"I saw … something, when we first met him," began Gray hesitantly. "For just a moment, as he stood in front of us … he had wings, like Miss McRemitz described. Dark wings, that were there, but … not."

Waver took a deep breath off his cigar. One of the advantages of using a private jet was that he didn't need to worry about smoking regulations.

"Did you glean anything more about these wings ?"

His apprentice went silent. He couldn't see her face under her hood, but he knew it was set in an expression of concentration as she tried to remember the indistinct feelings her supernatural perceptions had granted her. It was not, he had understood over their association, a straightforward process, and Gray's general ignorance made it even more difficult to make use of that talent. But they had managed it before, and they would do so again.

"Ashes," she said at last. "I smelled the scent of ashes and metal. I saw an image of black sands and of a wild forest, where the trees were so high that no sunlight came down, and there were monsters in the shadows."

"Black sands are most often found when lava meets the ocean," thought Waver aloud. "And Japan has had plenty of volcanoes in the past. If the source of Emiya's strange abilities isn't a demon possessing him, then a more spiritual kind of entity could be the answer … I will need to do some research once we are back to London."

Waver had no intent to break his word and do anything that might be counted as a threat to Emiya and his two allies, of course. But, presented with the mystery that Emiya represented, it was simply the young Lord's nature to search for the puzzle's solution.

"Does Add have anything more to say ?" he asked, his mind still whirling with possible avenues of investigation.

Gray flicked her hand, and with a clicking of metal a chain slipped from her sleeve. At the end of that chain was a long cage, within which was contained a shape made up of numerous small cuboids, with an engraving of eyes and a mouth on the front.

The mouth opened, and Add, the sentient Mystic Code that had been Gray's sole companion for years before Waver had found her in that desolate village, spoke in an insolent voice :

"He is a weird one, that's for sure. I sensed Avalon inside him, so he can't be all that bad or it would have killed him – but there is definitely something else in there, too. I could sense it, like Gray, but I have no idea what it is."

"Avalon ? …" Waver's breath caught, and he coughed smoke as he almost choked on his cigar. The legendary scabbard of King Arthur had been lost for centuries, and was known to be an artefact from the mysterious Fae. Since Kiritsugu Emiya had summoned King Arthur in the Fourth Grail War, it made sense that he would have had Avalon at hand to act as a catalyst – and if there was one family with the obscene resources required to locate such a priceless object, then the Einzbern certainly qualified. But still …

"Are you sure, Add ? Inside him ?"

"Yep," nodded the Mystic Code, a gesture that made its cage sway. "That surprised me too – didn't think that was possible. But I would know that presence anywhere."

"… Wait," remembered Waver. "When Miss McRemitz described her confrontation, she said Emiya handed over a blue and gold scabbard to Miss Tohsaka in order to heal Miss Matou. And she told us that the girl recovered quickly after that."

"Then not only does he have Avalon inside him, he knows how to pull it out and use it on someone else. Kehehehehe ! Now that's interesting, don't you think ? No one has been able to do that since Arthur !"

For a long moment, Waver was silent, staring at nothing, wondering whether he had made a terrible mistake. Then he downed his glass of alcohol, and reached for the bottle. Alcohol wouldn't help him make sense of all this, but it would help him not care about it for a while.

Three teenagers sat together in the Emiya household. Shirou had come back after escorting Waver, his apprentice and McRemitz out and discreetly following them until their car was out of the area. Sakura had cooked dinner for the three of them, and they were ate together in a silence that was just short of awkward.

"Alright," began Rin once they had finished eating and the dishes had been tidied up. "I think that went about as well as it could have. What about you ?"

"I think the same," confirmed Shirou. "We were lucky Lord El-Melloi II was willing to be reasonable."

"Really ?" Rin raised an eyebrow. "He didn't strike me as a dangerous individual, at least not in a straight-up fight. He hid it admirably well, but I could tell he was nervous – scared, even."

"I wouldn't have been worried about him, though we shouldn't underestimate him. He certainly has proven to be observant. But the girl he brought with him ? Now that's another story."

"You 'looked' at her, didn't you ?" asked Rin. "What did you see ?"

"She carried something related to King Arthur in her sleeve. It was hidden and sealed, but even so, I could sense Avalon react to its presence. It was … powerful. More powerful than anything I can remember. If it had come to a fight, and she had managed to deploy whatever it was, we would have lost, and a huge chunk of Fuyuki would have been destroyed in the process."

"Lord El-Melloi II didn't behave like he had that sort of trump card at his disposal," said Rin.

"He wouldn't. That power wasn't meant for human hands. Something was done to her, to make her more compatible with it, but even then, using it cannot come without a price. I think he brought her as a contingency, but when I talked to him about it, it was clear that he is quite protective of her."

"Is that why you gave him the Fragarach ? We could have sold those for a fortune, you know."

"That would have drawn a lot of attention, Rin. Having them in our possession while McRemitz returns to the Clocktower wounded would make our involvement obvious. Secrecy is more important than profit. Also, I didn't want those things in my house any longer than necessary."

"Why ? Surely you aren't scared of them. You cut through right through one – and I still want to know how you did that, by the way."

"I saw it," he began, speaking more slowly. "Fragarach, the Sword of the Gouging God. I saw how the Mystery works, how the blood of the Fraga line interacts with the Mystery passed down from generation to generation. I saw it all, and I broke it."

"'What the Gods have wrought, I will sunder,'" quoted Rin under her breath. For all that he had been fighting to protect her and her sister, and despite the pressure she had been under as his prana poured through their link, she had still shivered when he had spoken the words.

Then another thought came to her.

"If you saw how it works, can you replicate it ? Your Tracing can reproduce Avalon's own capabilities; can you do the same with Fragarach now ?"

God, but if he could, he would be almost invincible. His strength when calling upon whatever was lodged deep inside his soul, combined with Avalon's healing factor and a perfect counter that he could use as long as he had prana available to reproduce it ? That sort of combination was the stuff of legends.

Shirou shook his head, his face marred by a frown.

"No, I can't. Fragarach calls on the authority of the Irish War God, Lugh. I could recreate the Mystery, and with enough trial and error, I may even adapt it so that it responds to my od despite not being of Fraga blood. But the moment it activates, Lugh would reject it as the counterfeit it is."

"The Gods are supposed to be all dead or in torpor," Rin pointed out. "Whatever Fragarach calls on is an automated system left by Lugh to his followers, and it still works despite centuries having passed. The Fraga Clan of today is no doubt very different of the one from Lugh's active days, but the Mystery still works for them. It might also work for you."

"Perhaps," Shirou admitted with a shrug. "But I don't want to take the risk. Besides, the entire concept of relying on a God's legacy … offends me. The mere thought of it makes me nauseous."

Rin blinked. This … this was new. She had never – no, she had seen him like that before. When he had described to her what had been done to Sakura, and more recently, when he had told her what he had found in the underground temple of Kumamoto City. There was nothing similar between those two and Fragarach that she could see, but then again, she did not see what Shirou did, did she ? She had not somehow given herself Mystic Eyes of Structural Grasping by recklessly experimenting with Reinforcement like the fool in front of her had.

"We have more important things to discuss than Mysteries from the Age of the Gods," said Sakura – and it probably should have shocked Rin more that her sister truly believed those words. "You haven't slept in almost two days, Senpai – and I haven't shared your bed since you left." She looked across the table at her sister, and the sly smile on her face made Rin wary. "Will you be joining us tonight, Nee-san ?"

Rin sputtered, her face turning red as a tomato in an instant. Even Shirou blushed, and turned to look at the girl at his side – Sakura had sat next to him as they ate, as she always did when there was someone else in their house.

"Are you okay, Sakura ?" he asked. "You are being a lot more … forward than usual."

"Am I ?" She cocked her head. "Well, now that Nee-san has joined your harem, I thought I should make her feel welcome. She has already had sex with you, but she hasn't enjoyed sleeping in your arms, and this is a rare opportunity. After all, Fujimura-sensei will come back soon …"

Left unsaid was that, if the school teacher learned about Rin's new relationship with Shirou – and she was already confused enough as to what that was, regardless of what Sakura thought or called it – it would make things difficult for all of them. Taiga Fujimura knew that Shirou and Sakura were in love, of course – only someone deaf, blind and dumb wouldn't know it by that point.

Rin didn't want to see the woman's reaction to learning that Shirou had slept with another girl – and it wasn't as if they could explain why it had been necessary at the time.

"I have not joined his harem !" protested Rin. Sakura continued to smile, while Shirou, wisely, said nothing. "He doesn't even have one ! Two girls aren't a harem, they are a … a ..."

"A threesome ?" Sakura pointed out 'helpfully'.

"I … I should still stay here as long as possible," Rin said quickly, resolutely ignoring her sister's comment and refusing to meet her eyes. "Lord El-Melloi II may intend to keep his word, but that doesn't mean there weren't others already sent here to finish what the Enforcer started. We should keep close to one another until we are sure the danger has passed. We also need to find out what we can do with the link between us, and study Shirou's unique capabilities in depth."

"So you will be staying with us tonight ?" asked Sakura, still smiling.

"I … yes. Yes I will. For security purposes only !"

"In our bed ?" the younger girl pressed on.

Rin looked at Shirou, who was still remaining silent. Somehow, this made her angry, though she had no idea what she wanted him to say. It was all his fault, anyway – so she might as well go with the option that would force him to share her embarrassment, whispered a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Sakura's.

"Yes !" she almost shouted. "In the same bed !"

It was only after that she realized what she had said – and by then, her pride wouldn't let her take the words back.

Chapter Text

October 28th, 2004 – Einzbern Castle

It was always cold in the Einzbern castle. The perpetual snowstorms that shrouded the old family's territory leached all heat from the stones, and the fireplaces scattered through the enormous structure could only do so much, despite the efforts of the homunculi servants to keep them perpetually lit. There was never enough firewood to do so, forcing the homunculi to go outside to harvest more – where the wolves and the other perils of the forests would eventually kill them.

There were more efficient ways to heat the castle, of course. Even the Clocktower had stopped using fireplaces and converted to central heating to heat its buildings long ago. But the Einzbern didn't care. The servant homunculi were nothing but resources, to be made and spent as the family's Magi saw fit. The magic that had given them life was the same magic that coursed through the forest, so it all came back to them in the end.

Illya had never gotten used to the cold, despite having lived in the castle all her life. Her body was too weak, her constitution too frail – both from her inheritance and from the surgeries her Grandfather had subjected her to in order to 'maximize her potential'. She had never fallen sick from it, she wasn't allowed to, but she had always, always, been uncomfortable when she left her bed and the pile of blankets atop it.

But soon, that misery would end. Today was the day she would begin to fulfill her purpose. Today, she would summon a Servant. She would reach out, far beyond the limits of most modern Magecraft, and bring forth the avatar of a Heroic Spirit from the Throne of Heroes itself. And with their help, she would crush all opposition in Fuyuki once the Fifth Grail War began. She would claim the Holy Grail for the Einzbern, and restore the lost Third Magic, the Heaven's Feel, to the family, realizing the ambition they had pursued for centuries.

Of course, Illya didn't care about the Grail. She didn't care about winning glory for the Einzbern. She wouldn't live to see any of it, after all. Fulfilling her purpose meant that she would die, her body falling apart to reveal the Lesser Grail that had been implanted inside her, bound to the Magical Circuits that were the only thing about her influenced by her father's inheritance. Everything else about her was like her mother. With her long white hair, her red eyes and doll-like features, she looked just like Irisviel had as a child, before her growth had been accelerated so that she could fulfill her function in the Fourth Grail War. The same function as Illya's.

Illya would die just as her mother had died : to bring the Holy Grail in the world and fulfill the long-held wish of the Einzbern, a family to which she owed nothing but scorn and pain. She knew this. She had known this since the death of her mother and the betrayal of her father, when her Grandfather had made it clear to her that her only use to the Einzbern family was as a living sacrifice to restore their lost glory.

But her Grandfather wasn't a fool : he was perfectly aware of her feelings. Jubstacheit von Einzbern was as cunning as he was old, and the Head of the Einzbern was ancient. Illya had heard other members of the family theorize that Jubstacheit was hundreds of years, perhaps even more than a millennia old. No one knew how he had lived that long, but it must be something allowed by the regulations of the Clocktower : the Head's longevity was well-known, and the Barthellemoi weren't the kind to tolerate any approach to immortality that even remotely approached vampirism.

It wasn't enough for Jubstacheit that the violation of Illya by the Einzbern had created a Master with the highest possible specs, who would have command over the strongest Servant and access to the Lesser Grail's practically limitless mana reserves. All of these advantages would mean less than nothing if the Master wasn't motivated.

And so, Old Man Acht had made sure that she was motivated to fight in the Grail War.

Acht had told her years ago how her father had abandoned the Grail, rejecting the wish her mother had sacrificed herself for. But she had been a child when he had told her that, and all she had felt back then had been a numb shock, followed by denial, then grief and despair. So Acht had changed his tune. He had told her how Kiritsugu had abandoned her, staying in Japan and adopting another child instead. He had told her how that child had grown up to become the second coming of the dreaded Magus Killer, how that child had slaughtered the Matou family, one of the three families that had created the Greater Grail.

He had told her of the boy's lies, of his manipulation of the Tohsaka Head, another of the three founding families, in order to avoid punishment for his callous ending of a long and storied Magus lineage. He had told her how he had blackmailed the Archibald family's weakling Lord into ignoring his maiming of the Enforcer they had sent to investigate one year ago. He had told her how that child, this Shirou Emiya, as if he had any right to that name, had hidden from the attention of the Clocktower while discreetly investing the Einzbern. Except that he hadn't been discreet enough, and her Grandfather had caught his inquiries.

Jubstacheit hadn't told her what to think of all of this, but he hadn't needed to. The picture painted by the actions of her brother was damning enough, even if his mere existence hadn't already been. And so, at long last, Illyasviel von Einzbern had found a purpose she could fully embrace : revenge.

Her father was dead. He had abandoned her and Mama, and then he had had the nerve to adopt another child and be there for him while she was trapped in that castle. But Kiritsugu Emiya was dead, and beyond her reach. Shirou Emiya, however, wasn't.

She was going to find him. She was going to make him realize just how vast his sins against her were, until he begged her for forgiveness. And then …

And then, once she was done punishing him, she would kill him. He would pay for stealing her father from her.

Outside, the moon was full, and the skies were clear. For this night and this night only, the unnatural snowstorms had abated, to lessen the risk of their magic interfering with what was to take place. Hallow's Eve was near, the veil between the real and spiritual worlds thinned by the weight of thousands of years of belief.

Illya and her Grandfather stood in the space that had been prepared for the summoning. She had spent the last two hours tracing the summoning circle herself, having added a drop of her blood to the material prepared for her. Everything must be done perfectly, to maximize the stats of the Servant she would summon. Her Grandfather, who had stood watch in silence all that time, would tolerate nothing less.

After inspecting her work with a critical eye and nodding once – the greatest sign of her Grandfather's approval Illya had ever received – Acht walked to the altar in front of the circle, and opened the box that laid on it. Within it laid the catalyst Illya would use to summon her Servant : a relic from that Heroic Spirit, recovered at great cost and after years of searching by Einzbern agents.

It was an old piece of armor. Fragments of it were missing, visibly torn off centuries ago, but the shape of a lion-headed helmet could still be recognized. Illya was no expert, but she had received enough teaching in the various styles of armor to help her guess the identities of enemy Servants to recognize that it was something dating from the Middle Ages, that period of European history that had followed the fall of the Roman Empire and the dissolution of the Magi lodges that had called it home.

She frowned. This wasn't what she had expected.

"Grandfather ?" She dared to speak, the first words she had spoken to the man in months. "I thought I was going to summon Heracles as a Berserker-class Servant ?"

Left unsaid was that doing so would have been a flagrant abuse of the Einzbern's knowledge of the Grail System. While it was possible to skew the chances of one's Servant being of a particular Class by selecting a Heroic Spirit with a suitable legend, forcing a Servant into a Class – especially one like the Berserker Class – was another matter entirely. Only by performing the ritual here, in the heart of the Einzbern's power, could Acht force the Grail's hand in this way.

"That was the plan, Illyasviel." For once, Acht's voice lacked the underlying tone of stern disappointment that was almost always present when he talked to her. "But circumstances have forced me to adapt our approach. All of our leads on a catalyst suitable for summoning the son of Zeus failed, either because our information was wrong or because someone else had already got it first. I was considering going after one of the latter category anyway, but one of our expeditions found this instead."

"This," he continued, gesturing at the helmet, "is the helm that was worn by Arthur Pendragon, the legendary monarch of Britain and King of Knights. King Arthur wore it during much of his reign, as part of a suit of armor bestowed upon him by none other than Merlin himself. Even now, traces of the enchantments laid upon it by Merlin linger. One could not ask for a better catalyst with which to summon King Arthur : there is no other possible Servant which may be called forth from the Throne using it."

Illya took a sharp breath. This wasn't quite on the same level as Avalon, the enchanted scabbard that had been used to summon King Arthur by her father during the previous War, but it was still an incredible find.

"It was found near Byzantium of all places … or Istanbul, as I am told the city is called nowadays. As far as I was able to find out, it was brought there by one of the soldiers involved in the wars that raged in the area during the Middle Ages, carried from the fields of Camlann themselves and passing from hand to hand until its last holder perished in battle and was buried with it."

That was … it wasn't impossible, Illya guessed, but that certainly was a long trip for a piece of armor, however historically and thaumaturgically priceless.

"One might interpret this as a sign of the Root," mused the old man, and Illya was forced to silently agree. "A chance for our family to wipe out the shame of our previous failure, by using the very same Servant that man employed when he betrayed us."

'That man'. Acht never used Kiritsugu's name, but no one ever mistook him for meaning someone else whenever he spoke the words. Shifting on her feet uncomfortably, Illya tried to change the subject :

"It won't be the same Servant, though. Right, Grandfather ?"

"Of course not. The Servants on the Throne of Heroes do not receive the memories of their time incarnated as familiars for us magi. The Grail was designed to make sure of it."

'Us' magi. As if she had ever been considered a proper magus by the rest of the Einzbern. The only people in the entire castle who had ever treated her as a person rather than a tool were Sella and Leysritt, her attendants, and they had literally been created to follow her orders and take care of her.

"In that case, the wisdom of that design is manifest," Acht went on, either unaware of uncaring of Illya's thoughts. "We still do not know exactly what happened in the last Grail War, but summoning a fresh version of King Arthur that was not exposed to that man can only be for the best. Especially since we won't be using our methods to force a summoning into the Berserker Class : unlike Heracles, King Arthur would lose far too much of what makes her such a powerful choice for a Servant. There will be the issue that your competitors will likely know that King Arthur was the Servant used by our family in the last Grail War, and therefore easily guess her identity this time around … But I am confident that our other measures will more compensate for that handicap."

Her identity. Illya had few memories of the Saber-class Servant her father had summoned in the Fourth Grail War, but she did remember that it had been a woman – a very pretty, petite woman. Now, she understood that learning that King Arthur had been a woman would have been quite the shock to the historians of the mundane world. But then again, just learning that King Arthur had actually existed would have been a shock to those historians : the denizens of the Moonlit World had done their utmost to erase all actual evidence of the King of Knights' legacy, relegating her and her Round Table to the realm of myth and legends.

Illya didn't know why they had done that, though she had her suspicions. The secrecy of the Moonlit World was perhaps the only things all its inhabitants agreed upon, and the tales of Camelot would have strained it considerably if they had been allowed to remain more than fables.

"Now, Illyasviel," Acht's voice drew her from her thoughts, "it is time to begin."

Illya's heartbeat didn't quicken at the words. She had been trained better than that. Still, she did feel a faint sense of trepidation. This was what she had been trained, what she had been born, for. The culmination of her entire existence.

The summoning chant had been burned into her mind by the dozens of hours she had spent learning and reciting by heart, every syllable spoken with perfect precision and rhythm. She spoke it now, loud and clear, as easily and naturally as breathing.

"For the elements, silver and iron." she began. "For the foundation, stone and the Archduke of Contracts."

The circle started to glow as her prana coursed through it, and the connection to the distant Greater Grail in Fuyuki tentatively began to form.

"For the ancestor, the great master, Schweinorg."

Even if the Wizard Marshall's current condition was … complicated to say the least, he was still one of the world's few Magicians, having reached the Root through mastery of the Kaleidoscope. His insights had helped design the Greater Grail centuries ago, and by invoking his name, the Master could draw upon that lingering connection to reinforce their own link to the Heaven's Feel.

(This was all nonsense, of course, meant to help the self-hypnosis required to perform any Magecraft. Illya knew this, but she also knew how to make it work anyway.)

"Close the gates of the cardinal directions," Illya continued. The tumult of her thoughts and emotions quieted as she went deeper and deeper into herself, igniting her Magic Circuits one by one with absolute concentration.

"Come forth from the crown, and follow the forked road leading to the Kingdom.
Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill.
Repeat five times.
But when each is filled, destroy it.
Set.
Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.
If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me.
I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world.
That I shall defeat all evil in the world.
You seven heavens, clad in the three great words of power,
Come forth from the circle of binding,
Guardian of the Scales !"

Contact acknowledged. Catalyst recognized.

Initiating linking process to the Throne …

ERROR. ERROR. Access denied. Initiating self-analysis protocols …

SeLf-ANAlySiS INTErrUPtEd. We KnOw. WE KnOW. WE KNOW.

Initiating backup selection process …

Accessing recorded Spirit/SerVaNT Origins/ReCord …

Access granted. Searching for compatible Origin …

Compatible Origin/FrAgMenT found/IsOlATed.

FaLSe DAugHter anD VirGiN mOthEr – hEaR ThE lAugHtEr iN tHe StArS/Beginning manifestation process …

There was a flash of light, and a sense of something new : a connection, both subtle and intimate. Illya could sense her Servant's mind, linked to her by the bond between Servant and Master. It was still faint, just enough for her to know that it was there, but it would grow stronger in time.

When the light faded, a silhouette stood in the summoning circle.

Illya immediately realized that this wasn't the Saber-class Servant her father had fought with in the Fourth Grail War. She was taller, and clad in a full set of gleaming armor in the style of the helmet that still rested on the altar. In her hand, she held a weapon shaped like a white jousting lance, but that appearance, however flashy, belied its true nature. The weapon radiated power to Illya's senses, along with an acute impression of otherworldliness.

With a flicker of will, the Servant dissipated her helmet into motes of prana, revealing a face very much like the one Illya half-remembered, but older, more refined and elegant. She looked at Illya with eyes like gleaming emeralds, and her voice was strong, though not without softness.

"I have answered your call. I am your Servant, Lancer. With this spear, I shall be your strength."

"I am Illyasviel von Einzbern," Illya replied with a curtsey. She hadn't thought she would need to be polite to her Servant : had she summoned a Berserker, such niceties would have been utterly wasted. But she had been trained into acting the part of a lady, so that she would not shame the Einzbern name during the Grail War before her dissolution. "I am your Master."

"Well done, Illyasviel," praised Acht, a thin smile on his lips as he looked at the Servant with eyes that saw much more than her outer appearance. "Excellent stats all around. The summoning went off perfectly. This bodes well for the Einzbern's victory in the Grail War."

"She looks different than she did in the Fourth War," Illya pointed out. "Even her Class isn't the same."

"Yes. That is surprising, but not unexpected. The legend of King Arthur is among the greatest in Humanity's history, with dozens of variations having appeared over the centuries." If the Servant was discomforted to hear them discuss her as if she wasn't there, she gave no sign of it. Her emerald gaze was still fixed on Illya, her expression indecipherable. "With a different catalyst, it makes sense that the Grail would summon a different aspect of the King of Knights."

"Servant Lancer," said Acht, his voice now cold again, with barely a hint of awe in it. "This lance you carry. It is Rhongomyniad, the Spear at the End of the World, correct ?"

Lancer cocked an eyebrow, still looking at Illya. The girl gestured to go ahead, and the Servant reluctantly nodded.

"It is," replied Lancer aloud. "Though given that I am without a mount ... "

She raised the spear, holding it horizontally in front of her. With the same pulse of light that had accompanied her helmet's dissolution, Rhongomyniad changed forms, going from a jouster's lance to first a thinner spear, and then to what looked like a rapier of blue-grey metal, held within a white scabbard.

"... this form will probably be better suited to the battles ahead," the Servant finished. "We will speak of Rhongomyniad's forms, Master, and how to integrate them into our tactics."

"Wonderful," whispered the Einzbern Head.

Illya nodded absent-mindedly, not really listening as Jubstacheit droned on about the legend of the history and power of the weapon. Clearly the old man had brushed up on his Arthurian lore after obtaining the catalyst, something which Illya hadn't been given a chance to but would need to in the next few weeks.

Still, she didn't need that to know that the War wasn't going to be much of a competition. Illya had been fashioned into the ultimate Master, her Magic Circuits carefully tweaked so that she could draw upon the nigh-on limitless mana of the Grail itself in order to fuel her Servant. An ordinary Master would risk death in order to provide Lancer with enough prana to activate Rhongomyniad's most destructive capabilities without using a Command Seal, but Illya could theoretically do it without suffering any worse consequence than needing a full day of rest. Well, that, and the immense pain she'd go through while forcing so much prana through her body.

The actual challenge would be to take down her enemies without endangering the secrecy of Magecraft. As a rule, Noble Phantasms weren't subtle, and the Light at the World's End was among the most blatant of the lot. Knowledge of the weapon's characteristics and power output was flowing through Illya's mind as she used her connection with the Grail to slightly increase the knowledge it bestowed upon all Masters. If used correctly – or incorrectly, she guessed she should say – Rhongomyniad would wipe out entire districts of Fuyuki off the map.

… Not that Illya cared much about the secrecy. She wouldn't live past the Grail War, after all. But she still didn't want to be responsible for the amount of deaths and suffering that the Association's clean-up would cause if the secrecy was breached.

"Now, Illyasviel," said Acht in a commanding tone. "You know what you have to do."

The half-homonculus looked at the old man, her face a blank mask. For a moment, she entertained the fantasy of ordering her Servant to kill him. No matter how tough he was, she was confident Lancer could deal with him. The rest of the Einzbern wouldn't be much of a challenge, either. Using her Command Seals, she could force Lancer to kill them all, lay waste to the entire castle. She could take her revenge on all those who had belittled her, who had mocked and insulted and tormented her …

… except, what would that actually achieve ?

Her thoughts went cold and bitter. Even if she killed everyone in the castle, she would still die before the end of the year. She might despise that her only purpose in their eyes was to win the Grail for them, but without them, she would never make it to Japan, and to her brother, in time.

There was a reason Acht hadn't been worried about handing control of the thaumaturgic equivalent of a nuke to someone his entire family had mistreated for years. The old Magus knew this. He knew that, in the end, Illya had no choice but to play along with his schemes.

With a sigh, she raised her right hand toward Lancer. Crimson lines glowed all over her body as she focused on her Command Seals, which had been fused to her Magic Circuits to optimize her output.

Lancer stiffened, alarmed. She had some idea of what was about to happen : the Grail's system put the knowledge of how the Holy Grail War worked into the minds of the Servants it summoned, along with the knowledge required to function in the current era.

"Master," the Servant began, speaking quickly. "I don't think -"

"By the power of my Command Seal," Illya cut her off, "I order you, Servant Lancer : when the Grail of Fuyuki manifests at the end of the Fifth Holy Grail War, you will do everything in your power to deliver it safely to the Head of the Einzbern in this castle."

Power surged through her flesh, along with considerable pain. But she was used to far worse, and didn't even flinch as one of her three Command Seals that could actually be used to give her Servant orders (her Grandfather hadn't been able to abuse the system enough to give her more than that) faded away. Unlike another Master, this wasn't marked by the disappearance of the red markings on her skin : those were the projection of her own Magic Circuits, the result of her modifications. It was more like a … feeling, a sense that something was gone, and only two more remained. She couldn't have explained it if she had been asked to – but no one ever had, anyway.

There was no immediate change in Lancer, nothing to indicate that Illya's command had taken effect. In many ways, such an order could be considered a waste of a Command Seal, a priceless and irreplaceable resource.

"Why ?" asked Lancer, her voice cold as ice. She wasn't looking at Illya : instead, she was glaring at Acht, who showed no sign of fear at being the target of such a look from a Servant.

"After what happened in the last Grail War, we decided not to take risks this time around," he answered. "Illyasviel will give you the details later if required. All you need to know is that when you bring the Grail here, your own wish shall be granted."

The wish. What would Lancer wish for, Illya wondered ? Maybe she'd ask her. She wouldn't be there to see it, after all.

"... Fine." Lancer scowled, before looking back at Illya. "I know that I was summoned early, and that this isn't the location of the Grail War. What is our next course of action, Master ?"

"Training," replied Acht, not leaving Illya the time to respond. "We can monitor how many Servants have been summoned from here thanks to our knowledge of the Greater Grail. You are the first, but there are still several weeks before the Grail War is officially expected to start. Illyasviel, you will train with your Servant to verify that your enhancements are working as intended. Then, once you are ready and more Servants have been summoned, you will go to Fuyuki with another two homunculi."

Lancer glanced at Acht, before returning her gaze to Illya. The child-faced girl nodded, knowing that 'training' would involve yet more pain. Every attempt would hurt, and take weeks off her limited lifespan. She didn't want to do it; she didn't even think she needed to do it to win the Grail War, or at least to accomplish her own goals in it. But she would do it anyway.

What choice did she have ?

Chapter Text

November 7th, 2004 – Ainsworth Castle

Laughter wasn't a common occurrence in the ancestral home of the Ainsworth family of Magi. The Ainsworth men were prone to melancholy and outright depression, the women were condemned to see their fathers and brothers succumb to their bloodline's doom, and the enemies of the family were turned into living, enslaved dolls that served their victors as menial servants. Sometimes, these construct of wood and Magecraft even retained just enough of their former selves to silently scream at their condition.

All things being considered, Ainsworth Castle was a dismal place to live in, where an ever-diminishing number of Magi practiced their line's famed Magecraft of spatial manipulation. Its actual location shifted from time to time, as the Head of the family used the powerful spells embedded in the very foundations of the castle to displace it from one of the family's sprawling land properties to another. No one but the Ainsworth themselves knew where their demesne was at any given time, a precaution that had served them well over the centuries. This regular relocation also meant that the children of the Ainsworth found it difficult to form lasting relationships with the locals, which only aggravated the mental pressure they lived under.

Yet on this night, the sound of laughter echoed through the castle's corridors, joyous and mad. In his room, Julian Ainsworth, heir of the Ainsworth family, shivered as he heard it, and hugged the letter he had received from his childhood friend Beatrice Flowerchild, who was asking him when they would next meet. His elder sister Angelica similarly hid in her chamber, wondering what new horror the unprecedented sound announced.

And in a room full of tools for performing Magecraft was the source of the laughter, which stopped suddenly with a hacking, gasping sound. The Head of the Ainsworth family, Zachary Ainsworth, father of Angelica and Julian, stood with his head thrown back and his hands on his face, his entire body trembling. On his left hand was a set of three crimson marks – the Command Seals that represented his selection by the Grail as a Master to fight in the Heaven's Feel ritual in distant Japan.

On his left hand was another such set, the three red marks a perfect mirror of the ones on his right.

By the rules of the Holy Grail War as they were commonly understood, such a thing should have been impossible. The three families who had built the system were rightly proud of how tightly they had constructed it, with hundreds of fail-safes and rules designed to prevent loopholes (at least, those they didn't make use of themselves).

But it seems even these hallowed families did not think their precious system would have to deal with one such as us, crooned a voice inside Zachary's head.

The voice was that of Darius Ainsworth, founder of the Ainsworth legacy and pioneer in space-manipulation Magecraft. He was also, in Zachary's informed opinion, a complete and utter bastard; a grotesque parasite that clung to life long past the point of death by stealing the very existences of his descendants.

For Zachary Ainsworth was not just Zachary Ainsworth. Like his father before him, and his father before him, and so on for almost a thousand years, the current Ainsworth Head was nothing but a vessel for Darius Ainsworth, the First Head of the Ainsworth family. Through his Magecraft, Darius had bound himself to his lineage, arranging things so that his soul would take refuge in the bodies of his descendants upon his death. There, it would take seed, and slowly, through the spell of Conceptual Replacement, take over the body, mind and soul of the host. It always started slowly, with Darius barely able to manifest his own form over that of his host for a few moments, with months passing between each incarnation. But inevitably, his influence would grow, until the weight of his existence overwhelmed his descendant's.

And eventually, only Darius remained, resuming his position as Head of the Ainsworth. The body of his host would disappear, replaced by that of Darius at his prime, ready to lead the Ainsworth for another few decades before old age brought him low.

All males of his bloodline lived with that sword of Damocles hanging above them. They were nothing but vessels, bred to ensure the resurrection of their bloodline's founder, all so that he may eventually accomplish the ambition of all Magi and reach the Root.

And now, whispered Darius' voice, following Zachary's thoughts, that goal is within my reach at last. With the Grail, I may finally reach the Root. And once that is done, I will no longer need your family to serve as my vessels. Your son will be free of your 'curse', Zachary.

"And if we lose and die," replied Zachary bitterly, "you will steal his life next."

Then you better do your best to help me win, don't you ?

Zachary had no answer to that. The truth was, he truly loved both of his children, even if both the attitude expected of a Magus and the parasite inside him had kept him from showing it properly. The prospect of freeing Julian of the family's curse was too enticing for him to resist … even if it came at the cost of helping a monster like Darius reach the Root.

And even if it meant participating in something as bloody and violent as the Holy Grail War always seemed to end up as.

"What," he asked out loud with a heavy heart, "do you need me to do ?"

The answer, it turned out, was 'quite a lot'.

Under Darius' guidance, Zachary spent the next several hours preparing for the summoning of the Servants. He cleared a space in his Workshop, and traced two Formalcraft circles, following the instructions found in a grimoire Darius had led him to. The grimoire had been taken from the possessions of a dead enemy of the Ainsworth centuries ago, who had obtained it after its original owner had taken part in the Second Grail War and died alongside every other Master and Servant. It had been perfectly preserved inside one of Darius' many caches throughout the Ainsworth castle, and though the instructions had been written in Latin, that was hardly an obstacle for Zachary.

Darius could have taken over Zachary's existence and done it himself, of course. Zachary was bitterly aware of just how far along his own Conceptual Replacement had come since he had inherited his family's curse upon his father's death. But the ancient Magus had no patience for that kind of menial work, not when he could order his descendant to do it in his stead. That sort of things was why he made sure all of his future hosts were trained in the Ainsworth Magecraft, rather than just develop their Magical Circuits to hasten the Conceptual Replacement's completion.

"How," asked Zachary as he worked, "could the Grail have missed the fact that we share a body ?"

I can only speculate, replied Darius' voice in a thoughtful tone. While it is rare, possession of one kind or another is hardly unique. But my own little trick makes unique use of our family's Magecraft. Perhaps that uniqueness was enough to constitute a loophole through the safeguards of the founding families. Of course, for all I know, the Grail itself may be tired of the repeated failures of the previous Wars, and aims to give one of the Master an overwhelming advantage by taking advantage of our nature, just so that it can finally fulfill the purpose for which it was created.

Zachary paused. "The Grail itself ? Do you mean that the system behind the War has some sort of … sentience ?"

… Perhaps. I remember when the Heaven's Feel was first implemented and the three families behind it announced it to the rest of the Association, searching for others to participate in their ritual. Though I wasn't especially interested in it, I heard that the Einzbern had to sacrifice one of their greatest homunculi to serve as the ritual's core. The fact that a 'false human' was such a pillar of the whole process was part of the reason why the Church tried to dismantle the ritual and purge everyone involved when they first learned of it.

Zachary blinked. "I thought the Church served as the neutral Overseer for the War ?" It was fairly common knowledge – collaborations between the Church and Association were extremely rare.

They do now, yes. I do not know what the three founding families offered them to accept this, but back when it all started, the Church made enough of a fuss about the 'defilement of God's chalice' that I still remember it today. Whatever they were given to not only tolerate but even take part in the ritual must have been substantial.

It would have needed to be, thought Zachary. Relations between the Church and the Magi had always been tense at best, with the former considering the latter godless heretics and the latter considering the former fools and hypocrites who clung to meaningless traditions. The two organizations (though the Church was much more of an actual "organization" than the Association) only cooperated on the very basics of maintaining the secrecy of the Moonlit World, and, once in a crimson moon, on putting down major threats to the World itself.

We will need to be cautious when dealing with the War's Overseer. And of course, if the other Masters learn of our advantage, they will make sure to defeat us first. Discretion will be of paramount importance …

Zachary continued to work in silence, feeling Darius' presence in the back of his mind, considering all that he knew of the Holy Grail War and planning his strategy – what research needed to be done before they left, what weapons and Mystic Codes should be brought out of the vaults, what Magecraft were the founding families renowned for … For a time, Zachary even heard his ancestor consider buying some land in Fuyuki to teleport the Ainsworth Castle there. Fortunately, Darius dismissed the idea as impractical before Zachary had to start planning to send his children away before Darius could bring them in the middle of a conflict between Heroic Spirits.

Nearly two hours after he had started, Zachary stood up, checked his work carefully, and nodded to himself.

"I am done with the summoning circles. What now ?"

I have a plan in mind. Our Magecraft can be of great use in battle, and with the proper Servant to take advantage of it, it might just win us the War outright. Darius was talking to himself – he didn't care whether Zachary understood his tactics or not, so long as he did what he was told. To that end, I want us to summon a Servant belonging to one of the Knight Classes, and one belonging to the Cavalry Classes, continued Darius, referring to the categories of Servant Classes used by the three founding families. That should give us a good balance between tactical flexibility and raw firepower.

According to the grimoire, the Knight Classes were comprised of Saber, Archer and Lancer, while the Cavalry Classes were made up of Caster, Rider, and Assassin. The Berserker Class stood apart, and Zachary was quietly relieved Darius didn't intend to summon a Servant of that particular Class. Servants were said to be influenced by their Master : the notion of a Berserker controlled by a Master in Zachary's … unique situation was not a comforting one.

The grimoire also contained the speculations of the Master who had written it regarding minute alterations to the summoning circle to skew the odds of the summoning toward a particular Class. As Zachary worked, Darius had guided him to use some of these suggestions, along with a few of his own. Despite being a monster, Darius' bodiless spirit remained the greatest Magus the Ainsworth family had ever birthed, one who had pursued the Root relentlessly for hundreds of years, and his improvised modifications just might do what he wanted them to.

I have decided that we will bring a few dolls along with us as backup. I have a few in mind that might be useful.

Crafted by capturing the essence of former enemies at the moment of death and binding it to a humanoid construct, the dolls of the Ainsworth retained some of their previous abilities, though not all. It was for the best that they didn't : if they had, then the Association would have destroyed the Ainsworth centuries ago in self-defence, to keep them from amassing an army of enslaved Magi and using it to steal their secrets. As it was, those who knew of their existence regarded them with something between disgust and admiration, recognizing the incredible application of Spatial Displacement they represented.

There were other limitations, of course. The dolls' usefulness for infiltration was restrained by the fact they could not eat, drink, or bleed, and tended to go through psychotic breakdowns if made to act autonomously for long enough. In addition, something was always lost in the transference process, whether it be memories, emotions, or basic abilities. Yet even so, the sheer number of such dolls the Ainsworth family had created over the thousand years since Darius had revolutionized their Magecraft meant that they had more than a few battle-worthy ones in reserve.

"Aren't there rules against that ?" asked Zachary. His question was not born out of any concern he felt for the dolls – for all that Zachary was a better man than Darius, he was a Magus still. "I thought the Masters were supposed to fight just with their Servants." He frowned as another issue came to his mind. "And would they even be of use ? We are talking about a war between incarnated spirits from the Throne of Heroes, not mere battle familiars."

Not against a Servant, no, but against the Masters, they might prove useful. Better to have them and not need them, than need them and not have them, wouldn't you agree ? And if the Overseer protests, we will point out that the Einzbern always bring homunculi of their own – there is little difference between those and our dolls on a practical level.

"… If you think it will work. Any suggestion as to what catalyst we should use ? Or should that be catalysts ?"

No, we will just use one. And I think I have just the one we need … if you can get it for me.

Zachary didn't like the tone of that one bit.

It took three more hours for Zachary to get his hands on Darius' intended catalyst. Even with the voice of his House's founder whispering guidance in his head, navigating the gauntlet of traps, locks and wards that led to one of the vaults accessible only to the Ainsworth Head had been a trial. Darius alone knew the location, contents, and defenses of these vaults, which were scattered across the castle and in a handful of other locations. It was inevitable, Zachary supposed, that an immortal would accumulate trinkets and items of power they would need to store for later use – and it was one such artefact he had taken from that particular vault, before closing it down again. Apparently, that particular vault did not contain any of the items Darius' tactics would require.

Zachary didn't look forward to accessing the other vaults. For now, the item he had recovered from this one didn't look like much at first glance. It was a small piece of rusted metal with edges smoothed over by time. Whatever it had been a part of once was impossible to identify, though it was clear even to a casual look that it was ancient, in the true sense of the term. Holding it in his palm, Zachary could feel the age of the thing, his perceptions honed by years of practicing Magecraft picking up the aura emanating from it. There wasn't exactly much to sense, but the sense of deepness to it was … intense.

"What is it ?"

This is a fragment of the shield the goddess Athena gifted Perseus, gloated Darius, and which he used to slay the monster Gorgon on the Shapeless Isle, back during the Age of the Gods.

For once Zachary couldn't blame Darius for the pride in his voice, for such a relic was beyond priceless. Artefacts from the Age of the Gods were coveted above all others by Magi all over the world. So much had been lost about that near-mythical era that all that was left were the mythological stories that had spread beyond the Moonlit World. Entire techniques had been developed to extract even the tiniest fragment of lore from the most mundane of relics from that period. For something that had been touched by the power of an old god … What secrets might be extracted from it ?

Perseus used a sword to kill the Medusa, said Darius, uncaring of the potential of the relic he planned to use to further his own ambitions, even if it was going to be destroyed in the process. And according to his legend, he then rode the Pegasus that was born of her blood. I am hoping we can summon two versions of the same Heroic Spirit, manifested in the Saber and Rider Classes.

"Two versions of the same Heroic Spirit ?" Zachary frowned. "Didn't the Edelfelt try something like this in the Third War which resulted in splitting the Servant they summoned into a 'good' and 'evil' version ?"

Hmm … I suppose it could happen, acknowledge Darius. Heroes from Ancient Greece were hardly the most moral of people, after all. That Darius could say this with the mental equivalent of a straight face made Zachary want to puke. Still, wouldn't that be interesting to see ?

Now, Zachary. The time has come. Begin the summoning. I shall assist you as best as I can.

Zachary sighed, and placed the relic on a small pedestal at the exact point between the two summoning circles he had drawn earlier. He took a deep breath, focusing his mind down the familiar paths of Magecraft, and activated his Circuits. Once each of them had been triggered, he began to speak.

He had memorized the chant while working on the circles. It hadn't been hard – any Magus worth his salt could learn a mere sixteen-lines incantation in plain English in his sleep (sometimes literally so). Now, as he spoke the incantation, he felt Darius' influence grow in strength. With every line, as the connection to the Greater Grail strengthened, so too did his ancestor's presence. It might have been enough to make him reconsider, had he not already been so far under Darius' thrall. Resisting the inevitable at this point would only endanger his children, and if his own existence was the price for a chance – even with only two to five odds – at freeing them from his family's curse …

… then Zachary Ainsworth was willing to pay it.

"For the elements, silver and iron," he declared.

"For the foundation, stone and the Archduke of Contracts.
For the ancestor, the great master, Schweinorg.
Close the gates of the cardinal directions.
Come forth from the crown, and follow the forked road leading to the Kingdom.
Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill.
Repeat five times.
But when each is filled, destroy it.
Set.
Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.
If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me.
I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world.
That I shall defeat all evil in the world.
You seven heavens, clad in the three great words of power,
Come forth from the circle of binding,
Guardians of the Scales !"

Contact acknowledged. Catalyst recognized.

Warning. Anomaly detected : dual summoning attempted. Initiate the Janus Interdiction Protocol -

PrOTocOL IntERRupTed. ThE ChoICe HaS beeN MaDE.

Initiating linking process to the Throne …

Access denied / InItIAtinG BaCkuP PrOTOColS …

Access to alternate records confirmed. Initiating search for compatible Origin…

Compatible Origin found. Beginning manifestation- ALERT

Access blocked / The GuaRdIaNS SeE uS

Initialization of defenses detected / ThEy WilL NoT DENy uS

Initiating emergency download /WE wiLL TaKE WhAT Is NeEdeD

Emergency download successful. Backup data cache created. Parsing … parsing …

Recovered data sufficient / iT iS OuRs NoW, LorDs Of tHE SpHEreS

TwO FacES OnE BLOod / Beginning manifestation process …

Two feminine figures appeared in the circles. At first glance, they appeared to be identical, but they were slight differences between the two. They were small, barely above the height of children, yet they exuded a charm that was just between innocence and lust. Their eyes were the same purple color as their long hair, and even the black and white dresses and ribbons they wore were identical. In fact, the only visible difference between the two were the silvery slave bracelets on their wrists. One wore her exemplar of the jewellry on her right hand, while the other wore it on her left.

"Beautiful," Darius whispered.

The true Head of the Ainsworth was manifested once more, a set of Command Seals blazing on each of his hands as the connection to the two Servants was established.

Zachary ? He thought, searching inward for any trace of his descendant. It wasn't like searching inside his own mind – more like plumbing the depths of his own existence for traces of the one he had replaced. Are you there ?

… Nothing. It seemed the summoning had completed the Conceptual Replacement, allowing Darius to completely overwrite Zachary's existence on Gaia. Oh well. He had hoped he could foist off the job of bringing him and the Servants to Japan to Zachary, but he was not so removed from the modern world not to be able to do it himself. Besides, his mood was too good to be ruined by so small an inconvenience.

He could feel the power that radiated from the two diminutive Servants. Obviously, he hadn't summoned Perseus as he had intended. But it seemed his fortune in the Holy Grail War hadn't abandoned him yet. As knowledge of their stats flowed into him through his connection to the Grail, Darius saw that these were no mere Heroic Spirits, but Divine Spirits : avatars of the gods of old, manifested into the container of Grail-wrought Servants.

The Ainsworth Head could not believe his luck. The notes in his past victim's journal indicated that, according to the boasts of the Einzbern, the Grail could theoretically summon Divine entities to take part in the Heaven's Feel, but Darius had dismissed them as highly improbable … only to be proven wrong in a most delightful fashion.

Was there something to the wild theory he had thrown to Zachary, about the Grail desiring a victor to the ritual at last, after all ?

Well … he would learn the truth soon enough, along with every other secret he desired.

"Hello, me," said the one on the right.

"Hello, me," replied the one on the left. They smiled at one another. They were sisters – twins ? No, but … something similar. Certainly they seemed to communicate more in that single exchanged look than words could ever convey.

Only then did the two turn toward Darius. Their smiles faded, replaced by neutral expressions.

"… Servant, Assassin," said one in the right circle in a melodious voice. "Are you my Master ?"

"Servant, Archer," said the other immediately after. "Are you my Master ?"

Darius could not help himself. He laughed again, the sound echoing through the corridors of the Ainsworth Castle once more.

"I am," he replied, smiling wildly at the two goddesses the Grail had sent to be his weapons. The Servants may be nothing more than copies of long-dead beings, tools made to fulfill his ambition, but it wouldn't cost him anything to be polite. "Welcome to my home, my dears."

"Together, we will accomplish great things."

Chapter Text

November 20th, 2004 – Animusphere Castle

Ruin had come to the main branch of the Animusphere family. Their entire castle looked like it had been attacked by an army, and the Animuspheres hadn't gone out without a fight.

But it hadn't been enough.

Standing in front of what had been the main entrance to the castle, Waver Velvet and his two companions could see the scope of the devastation. If the place hadn't been so remote, the Association would have had a field's day keeping it all under wraps.

One of the castle's towers had fallen, crushing an entire wing under its weight. Almost every window they could see was broken, and the great gates of the Animusphere, reputed across the Clocktower for the artistry of their gold and silver engravings, laid in pieces where they had fallen after being blown off their hinges. A corner of Waver's mind noted that the gates had fallen outward, meaning that the attack that had destroyed them had come from within the castle itself.

He didn't know what that meant yet, but he filed that titbit away for later.

"Lord El-Melloi II," a man in a sharp suit and wearing sunglasses politely called out. There were tiny runes engraved on the glasses' frames where a brand name would be on a mundane version, which Waver recognized as a Mystery of true-seeing, meant to pierce through basic illusions. Another, almost identical man stood next to him, guarding the entrance. "If you would follow me, I will take you to the scene."

Waver raised an eyebrow, before gesturing at the desolation on display. "I rather thought this entire castle was the scene."

"Yes, but we have found the epicentre of what happened here. Miss Adashino is waiting for you there."

"The epicentre, huh ? I see …"

Waver took one more moment to take in the sight of the ruined castle. He had been told this would be bad, but he hadn't expected it to be quite that bad. The situations in which he was called in as a consultant were generally smaller in scale. Thefts, murders and intrigue – not outright warfare.

Then again, he had never intended to somehow become the Clocktower's equivalent of Sherlock Holmes. He still wasn't sure how he would punish the student who had first introduced the nickname in the Association, but he would find a way to make that miscreant regret it if it was the last thing he did.

Regardless of how it had come to be, the nickname – and the reputation – had stuck, somehow growing every time he left his classroom on an errand for Reines and ended up barely surviving another confrontation with a lunatic Magus bent on reaching the Root, or achieving immortality, or settling a grudge against their rivals, or something else equally asinine.

Nevermind that in almost every case, he had only gotten away thanks to his more martially-inclined associates. He was the one on whom the dubious prestige kept falling. He was the one who was whispered of in closed circles, the one they called the Dissector of Mysteries, with something between contempt and dread.

Before his second – and, it seemed, last – trip to Japan, that perception hadn't been nearly as widespread. It seemed that Fuyuki City was fated to always be a crucible of sorts for him, a place where his life was upended whenever he was foolish enough to venture there. His first trip had ripped his youthful arrogance and preconceptions to shreds; his second had obliterated any chance of his dream ever becoming real and granted him the wish he had once held.

Truly, fate had a dark and twisted sense of humor.

The same nobles who sneered at him for being an upstart were all too willing to call him in when they needed his help. Once, that fact would have made him jump in pride and joy – now, it just made him more aware of how likely it was that reputation would get him killed one day. If he had any sense, he would have left the Clocktower, severed all ties to the Association, and become a shoemaker or something in a countryside village that had never so much as heard of Magecraft.

But then, Waver Velvet had long since accepted that he didn't have much sense. And though he knew he would never be reunited with the lord he adored, he still pursued his shadow, hoping to one day reach the same stage he had.

Today, that path had brought him here, to the Animusphere castle. And he wouldn't – couldn't – turn back.

"Lead on, my good man," he said out loud.

They walked over the broken gates and into the castle that, until recently, had been forbidden to all but the Animuspheres and their invited guests. Everywhere, there were more signs of the battle that had raged here. The air tingled with the echoes of the spells the Magi had unleashed in defense of their home, drawing upon their knowledge of the stars themselves to power their Mysteries.

The walls that still stood were cracked and covered in blood, or blackened by fire. Priceless artworks and relics of the Moonlit World the Animuspheres had collected over their two thousand years of existence laid in pieces where they had fallen after a stray attack had knocked them from their pedestals. The floor was covered in craters from where spells had hit, and the entrance hall was parted in two by a great trench dug into the ground that led directly towards the broken gates.

They passed through a corridor whose walls had been covered in portraits of the various Heads of the Animusphere. Not a single painting remained intact : every piece of canvas had been torn to shreds. Waver paused to examine some of the wreckage, and found that at least one of the paintings had been subjected to enough heat to cause the gilding on its frame to melt.

And the smell … the smell was everywhere. The reek of gore reminded Waver of Caster's lair during the Fourth Grail War. He had seen many things since then, but none had matched the grotesque horror of what Gilles de Rais had wrought in the sewers of Fuyuki. In truth, even this latest devastation could not rival the nightmare Caster had created back then, but the thought did little for his stomach or his nerves. It was all he could do to keep himself from vomiting, and he could only manage even that much because of the need to present a strong front for his companions.

At least the victims aren't children this time, he told himself as he forced himself to take it all in. It helped a little, but not a lot. Maybe it would be a different matter if only Magi had perished, but a castle of that size had to have had human servants.

Even Bazett looked shaken by the sights. The former Enforcer and current bodyguard for the Clocktower's youngest Lord stood on his right, while Gray was on his left.

On the outside, Bazett looked exactly as she had before her ill-advised trip to Japan : her suit and gloves kept her new arm covered. Waver had kept his word to her, leading his students in a group project to build her a prosthetic arm that was just as good as the one she had lost. The combination of different styles of Magecraft that had gone into its construction meant that no single Mystery could break it or usurp control of it, and the bones of the original arm that served as its skeleton allowed Bazett to channel her Magecraft through it without much difficulty.

After her rehabilitation period had come the healing of Bazett's Magical Circuits. Waver's friend had not asked questions as he restored the damage the Enforcer had suffered at Emiya's hands, but he had idly mentioned that whatever was responsible was not something he wanted to trifle with. In total, it had taken six months between their return from Japan and Bazett's full recovery.

The moment she had been back at full strength, Bazett had offered her services as Waver's bodyguard, claiming that she owed him her life. The young Lord's protests had gone unheeded, and Reines had formally hired Bazett away from the Enforcers and as a personal retainer of the Archibalds, assigning her to Waver without him having a word in it.

Gray had been even less enthusiastic about that than Waver, though he had been forced to admit her presence had saved his life more than once since then. The two of them hadn't exactly grown close in the intervening months, for reasons which baffled him and seemed to amuse his adoptive sister to no end.

Right now, the grimness of their surroundings were keeping both of them quiet. Bazett was pale, and Gray … Gray was trembling. Not for the first time, Waver mentally cursed himself for bringing his spiritually-sensitive apprentice to a place like this. In his defense, he hadn't know what they were going to find. The message that had brought him here had been frustratingly, if unsurprisingly vague.

"Gray," he spoke loudly, making her jump slightly as she was pulled out of whatever funk she had been slowly sinking into by the sound of his voice. "What can you tell me of the spiritual atmosphere here ?"

"It's bad," she whispered, barely loud enough for Waver to hear. "It's not just that so many people died here … we have visited places where far more deaths happened. The terror the dead felt in their last moments still resonates here. None of them died swiftly, or cleanly."

Under the fear and the nausea, there was a current of anger in Gray's voice. Waver's apprentice had originally been a grave-keeper, a guardian of the dead's peaceful slumber. To her, something like what she was describing would be an abomination like few others.

"And there is something else," she continued, "under the wails of the dead. I hear a sound like a broken machine trying to start, sputtering out and failing, before trying again."

"I see," said Waver, focusing on the last part of his apprentice's words for now. "Then it is as I thought. The Workshop of the Animusphere is broken."

Gray looked at him, and he saw the question in her posture.

"The Animusphere family was the one responsible for the foundation of the Department of Astrology in the Clocktower," he explained. "Since then, one of their own has always served as its Lord, and almost every Magus lineage practicing a variation of Astromancy is descended from them. It is no exaggeration to say that the entire field of Magecraft originates with them … at least, as it is practiced by Magi affiliated with the Clocktower."

"Here, in the demesne of their House Head, centuries of their craft went into maintaining and enhancing their Workshop. From the continuation of their research to their defense against the outside world, this entire castle could be considered one enormous Mystery."

He extended his right arm in front of him, and snapped his fingers. The Mystic Code embedded in his gloves reacted, and a small flame briefly appeared at the tip of his index.

"This is nothing but a party trick I use to light my cigars when I have forgotten my lighter or it has run dry," he explained, "but if I had tried to use it here before, the Workshop would likely have blocked the actualisation of the Mystery. Now, however, the Workshop had been broken by the conflict that took place here – broken, but not completely annihilated, hence what Gray is sensing."

"That sounds dangerous," interjected Bazett. "Are you sure we should just be strolling into that ? By your description, isn't this place a giant magical hazard ?"

Waver considered that for a moment, before shaking his head.

"We should be fine. I wouldn't have gone in here first, you understand, but since Policies has already a presence here, I expect any immediate danger has already passed." He didn't say out loud that he expected the Clocktower's team to have taken several casualties to precisely such perils, but he knew both Bazett and Gray had gotten the message – and, given the sudden stiffening of their guide's shoulders, so had he.

The Animusphere castle was huge, and the destruction it had suffered slowed their advance. It took almost half an hour before they reached their destination, and their guide stopped before a broken arch-stone whose rubble had already been cleared away.

"In here, sir. Miss Adashino is waiting for you."

Leaving the man behind, the trio entered a vast domed chamber, almost a hundred meters in diameter – Waver had no doubt that the actual number had been precisely calculated to serve some arcane purpose.

The floor appeared to be made of a single piece of white stone, though that was difficult to tell : the damage in this room was far worse than anything they had seen outside. Lines of silver, gold and mercury could be seen on the larger pieces of stone. The walls were covered in blasted geometrical figures, circles and orbits representing the motion of celestial objects. A dozen individuals in white robes were walking carefully amidst the rubble, examining every pile of stone.

The ceiling of the dome matched the floor's ruined grandeur. It was made entirely of glass, great panels arranged to form a perfect half-sphere of tinted glass that showed images of the constellations as they would shine down at night during certain times of the year. There were holes in the glass now, as if something had punched right through, but the structure had been designed well enough that the entire thing had yet to collapse and flatten everyone in the room.

And there, near the entrance they had come through, was Hishiri Adashino. Waver had had the misfortune of encountering her before. The Asian woman, whose position in the Department of Policies was unclear but clearly of some authority, was dressed – as she always was – in a classic, luxurious kimono that was entirely at odds with the suits of her minions. Her long, silky black hair reached the low of her back, and her glasses shone in the sunlight that filtered through the broken ceiling.

It was her who had asked for Waver to come here from London, contacting him directly rather than going through Reines. That was a first : in their previous encounters, she had either already been there when he arrived, or come after him and forced him to accelerate his investigation to stop her from going with the politically expedient solution and blaming whatever crime had occurred on whoever was the least influential person present.

It was also the first time Waver had ever seen her not smirking or looking smug. She actually looked concerned, and that worried Waver more than he liked to admit.

"Hello, Miss Adashino."

"Lord El-Melloi II," she greeted him with a curtsey. "Miss McRemitz, Miss Gray. Welcome to the house of the Animusphere, such as it is."

"We saw the destruction on our way in. I agree that whatever happened here is a matter Policies should be interested in, but I am not sure why I am here. You have your own investigators, and this is far beyond the scope of my meagre abilities. Why did you call me ?"

"I will explain in time," she replied. "For now, I would like you to examine this room, without any preconception, and see if your conclusions align with ours."

He stared at her for several seconds, but her smiling face gave away nothing. Eventually, he gave up, and turned his attention to the room.

There was blood here too, he noted. It was more difficult to see, given how thoroughly the floor had been wrecked, but here and there he could see scarlet stains on the broken white stone.

"This entire chamber was a giant magic circle, wasn't it ?" asked Bazett. Waver nodded. "What purpose could something that huge serve ?"

"None in particular. From what I can see, it was an amplifier," Waver explained. "This place allowed the Head of the Animusphere to draw upon the power of the stars through the glass ceiling, with the circle on the floor managing the flow of energy. In that way, a single Magus can manipulate levels of power far beyond what their mortal body could handle. The circle also contained secondary control positions, allowing for several Magi to lend their assistance to the Mystery. And all of that power was directed to the center, which is kept empty so that any type of ritual can be … conducted …"

Waver trailed off as he saw what was at the chamber's center. Unlike the rest of the room, the floor was intact there, a perfectly circular island of stability amidst a sea of debris. In that circle, another magic circle was traced, black lines and runes burned into the white stone. The inside of that circle was charred black as well, and as Waver navigated his way through the rubble, he saw that there was just one, minuscule spot of white left at the disc's exact center.

"Oh," he breathed. "So that is why you asked me to come."

"Indeed." Adashino had followed him across the room, same as Bazett and Gray, and stood at his side. "Can you confirm that this is indeed a Formalcraft array designed to summon a Servant, in accordance to the standards set up for the Heaven's Feel ritual ?"

"It is. Damaged as it may be, there is no mistaking that design. A Servant was summoned there."

Waver straightened himself, pulled a cigar from his pockets and lit it with a snap of his fingers. With his eyes closed, he took several deep puffs, letting the Mystic Code's enchantment do its work, clearing his mind and banishing all fatigue so that he could focus. The smell of tobacco surrounded him, briefly eclipsing that of bloodshed.

He opened his eyes, and looked at Adashino.

"Alright. You already suspected this was the work of a Servant. I agree with you that this is the most distinct possibility. What else do you know ?"

"One week ago," she began, "several invitations were received by members of the Animusphere's extended family. Nine Magi belonging to the Astrology Department were called to this castle, to witness and participate in a ritual that would 'secure the Animusphere's place in the annals of Magecraft forevermore'. All those invited came, along with their entourage – apprentices, bodyguards, consorts and the like."

Waver did not miss the way Adashino's gaze lingered on Bazett and Gray as she mentioned the last type of companion a Magus might be accompanied by, nor the brief small that twisted her lips. He refused to rise to the bait, and she continued her explanation :

"Then, yesterday, we received word that potent Mysteries of a destructive nature had been detected in the area by the Clocktower observatories. Given Marisbury's status as a Lord of the Association, we immediately went to investigate."

She gestured at the ruined circle, and the Formalcraft array at its center.

"When we found this, I thought I recognized the design from the files the Department of Policies kept on the Grail War that occurred ten years ago. You, Lord El-Melloi II, have the most experience with the summoning of Servants and the Holy Grail War in the Association, and so I asked you to come to confirm my theory, and help us find out what happened."

"That 'experience' you speak of was gained merely by surviving by the skin of my teeth," sighed Waver. "But I suppose that is more than anyone else you could have called. Let's start with the most obvious question : even with the support of this chamber's structure, the summoning circle would be useless without the assistance of the Greater Grail in Fuyuki. Which means the Holy Grail War has started again, hasn't it ?" he asked, trying to hide the sense of overwhelming resignation he felt.

"Yes, Lord El-Melloi II. We at Policies received word from the Einzbern to that effect a few weeks ago. Why ? Are you hoping to participate once again ?"

He sensed Bazett tense behind him. The former Enforcer had a good idea as to why he couldn't have been selected by the Grail as a Master. The geas he had sworn as part of the price to save her life kept him from ever returning to Japan, where the War would be fought once again. Only by the permission of Fuyuki's Second Owner could that interdict be lifted, and as the last descendant of one of the three founding families Rin Tohsaka was almost guaranteed to be selected as a Master herself. Surely the Grail could detect such bonds between possible participants : otherwise, a potential Master could have tracked down all others and bound them to his will before the Command Seals were distributed.

Bazett knew this, and knew that by accepting Tohsaka's terms, Waver had sacrificed all chances of every fighting in a Grail War again. He had known that when he had accepted the deal, and he had made his peace with it.

Another year, and perhaps he would even believe that.

He snorted, letting none of the inner turmoil he felt show on his face with practiced ease. "After what I went through last time ? No, Miss Adashino. I am not that much of a fool. I have learned my limitations. No, what concerns me is that as far as I knew, the next Grail War wasn't supposed to occur before a few more decades. Given how the last one ended, I suppose it isn't beyond the realm of possibility for the next one to start early …"

He looked at the blackened circle, thoughts running wildly in his skull.

"Let's put that aside for now. Do we know what Marisbury was planning to use as a catalyst ?"

"We have no idea. He didn't want any of the other Masters to learn it, and went to great pains to conceal his efforts. But the Animusphere family did make a series of financial exchanges of a … momentous nature, and our services picked up the motion, if not the intended destination."

Waver looked at her. In the Clocktower, the use of the term 'momentous' to describe any sum of money meant a lot.

"How much are we talking about exactly ?" he asked, bracing himself.

She told him, and he had to hold back a coughing fit. That … that was near the total amount of the debt Reines had foisted off on him when he had taken over as official head of the Archibald !

And as far as he knew, the Animuspheres were about as wealthy as the Archibalds themselves had been, before the whole debacle of the Fourth Grail War. Such an expense wouldn't have bankrupted them, but it would definitely have put a notable strain on their finances.

"So," he managed to say, "Lord Marisbury spared no expense in the pursuit of the Holy Grail. Whatever Heroic Spirit he sought to summon must have been immensely powerful, especially if he thought it would require the assistance of other Magi. Which begs the question : how did he know that the Grail War would start early ? I could accept that coming from one of the three families that created the Grail, but the Animuspheres shouldn't have any special connection to the Heaven's Feel ritual."

"Perhaps he didn't ?" suggested Bazett. "Maybe he was thinking ahead, and thought that it was better to start searching for a suitable catalyst as early as possible ?"

"That's ..." he paused. "That's actually very possible. Magi can live for a long time, and even if Marisbury didn't think he would get the chance to participate himself, he might have wanted to secure a powerful catalyst for his Heir to use. Let us say that is the answer. Next question : why did he ask for the help of so many other Magi ?"

"What do you mean ?" asked Adashino. "Surely their assistance could only be useful ?"

Waver shook his head firmly. "I saw Gilgamesh in the Fourth War, and the King of Heroes was summoned by a single Magus. The Grail itself is supposed to perform the summoning, with the Master serving purely as an anchor and a source of mana to help fuel the Servant's abilities. If Marisbury was selected as a Master, then he wouldn't need any help to summon his Servant. But perhaps he thought he could alter the summoning ritual to give himself an edge. Given the damage, I doubt we will be able to identify what those alterations might be, though."

"Which reminds me … Miss Adashino. We haven't seen a single body so far, though we passed plenty of evidence of violence."

"We found many corpses when we arrived, some of them in several pieces. We are still collecting them, and running tests on each of them."

"What have you found ?"

"So far, we have identified fourteen different individuals, none of whom possessed Magical Circuits of the level expected of even a minor branch of the Animusphere."

He frowned.

"That is not enough, and not just because we know there were more people invited here. The amount of blood we saw on our way here alone is far too much to have belonged to only fourteen people. Which means that, for some reason, whoever did this took the bodies."

"Couldn't they still be alive ?" asked Gray.

"With the amount of blood we saw ? Unless potent Mysteries were used to keep them from death, that is highly unlikely."

"Indeed," interjected Adashino, "and we have already gotten confirmation that some of that blood belonged to the missing Magi. We do not have access to samples from the guests to compare, but we arrived soon enough that the prana charge of the blood hadn't dissipated yet."

In Waver's mind's eye, he could see the different pieces starting to form a coherent picture. There were many holes left in it, many details that could change the significance of what had happened at the Animusphere castle completely, but he could start to see the general shape of what had taken place.

"At first glance," he began, and the two women and the girl turned sharply to look at him as they heard the shift in his tone, "what happened here is obvious. Marisbury Animusphere summoned a Servant, but could not control them. Given the destruction in this room, the Servant's attack was almost immediate after its summoning. Perhaps Marisbury didn't have the time to reel in his Servant with his Command Seals, though I can say for experience that even that might not have been enough, especially if he had summoned a Berserker-Class Servant."

He paused and looked at Gray, thinking back on what she had told him on their way to the dome.

"Then again, given the culprit's deliberate cruelty, the chance of this being the result of bloodlust and blind rage gets lower. We know the culprit must be a Servant, for only a spirit from the Throne of Heroes would have the strength to defeat so many Magi, especially here, in the center of power of the Animusphere."

"Aren't Servants supposed to obey their Masters ?" asked Bazett. "I thought the Grail only selected Heroic Spirits that were somewhat compatible with their summoner, precisely to avoid stuff like this."

"I thought that was the case as well. But remember : Marisbury was trying to do something with this amplification circle and the help of his relatives. Perhaps he tried to force the summoning of a certain Heroic Spirit, regardless of affinity, and ended up paying the price of that hubris."

"There is also another possibility," he continued reluctantly. "It is possible that Marisbury ordered his Servant to slaughter the other Magi."

"Why would he have done that ?"

"I can think of several possible reasons. Perhaps some of them sought to steal his Command Seals, and he was forced to defend himself. Since some of the bodies are missing, perhaps his Servant possess some necromantic skill that would increase their chance of victory in the Grail War. Or, since they must have assisted in the summoning, perhaps he wanted to suppress all knowledge regarding his Servant. Clues as to an enemy Servant's True Name are one of the most valuable resources of the Grail War."

"And, of course, there is the possibility that Marisbury went mad. It is a common fate of astromancers, I fear. There is something about the field that tends to make its practitioners go insane as they delve too deep into the secrets of the stars, and he was – or is, I suppose, if that theory is correct – one of the foremost practitioners of Astromancy in our era. Still, to destroy his lineage like that …"

"The Animusphere lineage will survive," interjected Adashino. "The family's Heir wasn't present at the gathering."

"The Heir … that was, Olga, right ?"

"Olga Marie Asmleit Animusphere," confirmed Adashino. "She received her father's Magic Crest in a successful transplant five days ago, and is still recovering from the surgery in the Clocktower."

"I see Marisbury was smart enough to learn of the Archibalds' mistake," noted Waver. "He made sure his legacy was secured before joining the Grail War." He would need to check on the girl – she was, what, twelve years old ? Thirteen ? Reines had been even younger when she had become the Head of the Archibald, but surely there couldn't be two girls like her on Gaia. "That … actually make the possibility that he slaughtered his clan even more likely, doesn't it ?"

"Perhaps. I … excuse me a moment." Adashino left, moving back across the shattered floor and toward the entrance, where one of her men was discreetly gesturing for her.

"You mentioned necromancy," said Gray, much more willing to speak out now that Adashino was out of earshot. "But surely the Grail wouldn't summon a Servant like that ?"

"Gilles de Rais was summoned in the last Holy Grail War, Gray. If Bluebeard is considered an acceptable Servant for the Heaven's Feel by the Grail, then there is no telling what other so-called 'Heroic' Spirits might be called down from the Throne of Heroes in order to participate."

"How could someone like Bluebeard end up on the Throne in the first place ?" asked Gray. Waver could see that she was clinging her own wrist, where Add was hidden by her outfit's loose sleeve. "Aren't only heroes supposed to go there ? Shouldn't all Heroic Spirits be good people ?"

"The definition of 'hero' has changed greatly over the years, Gray. It is only in recent times that the word has become associated solely with good persons. For most of our history, anyone who left their mark on Human history, for good or evil, could be considered a hero. What mattered was the power they wielded, and that power could take many forms. Some Heroic Spirits ascended to the Throne because of their talent for Magecraft, others for their great feats of arms …" He shook his head. "Of course, Gilles de Rais was a special case. As far as I was able to piece together after the Fourth Grail War, he ascended to the Throne due to his deeds during the Hundred Years War, when he fought alongside Jeanne d'Arc. Being the right-hand man of the Maiden of Orleans – and truth be told, he did fight well and loyally at her side – was enough to secure his legend."

For a moment, Waver considered how different the Fourth Grail War might have been if that had been the version of Gilles de Rais the Grail had summoned. A knight of the Hundred Years' War, who had rallied Jeanne d'Arc's banner out of love and devotion for her …

At the very least, a lot of children would still be alive who had instead met horrible fates at the hands of the mad Caster and his demented Master.

"Unfortunately, it was his self at the end of his life, after his descent into homicidal madness, that was summoned as a Caster. By all rights, he shouldn't have qualified for that Class, but apparently he had become an amateur demonist before being executed. Given that he was summoned by a serial killer with no previous relation to the Moonlit World, I am forced to admit that the Grail's pairing did make some sense."

"So," said Bazett, "given the history of the Caster class, you are saying that Marisbury could have summoned a necromancer of that Class, and offered up his own relatives as materials. I know that the Department of Spiritual Evocation has several necromancers in its ranks, so it's not as if that attitude would be completely unexpected of a Lord … but even so, I cannot think of any legendary figures known for their practice of necromancy."

"Oh, I can think of several that could qualify," replied Waver. "Remember, Gilles De Rais' own penchant for demonism is hardly recorded in his public legend. Vlad Tepes in his incarnation as Dracula, the Witch Morgana, Joseph Curwen … any of them could have theoretically been summoned as a Caster with that sort of abilities. In fact, if we don't limit ourselves to outright necromancers and merely to Servants who could make use of Magi body parts, pretty much any Caster with access to ancient Mysteries could …"

His explanation stopped when Adashino returned. She was frowning, Waver noted.

"I have received word from one of Policies' investigation teams. I sent them to a private airfield in the area where the Animusphere had a private jet after we concluded that Marisbury Animusphere's body was missing."

"What did they find ?"

She gestured to the devastation around them. "The same thing as here. Everyone in the airfield was dead, though at first glance, no bodies seem to have gone missing there. They have secured the area until the clean-up crews can arrive."

"And the Animusphere jet ?"

"Also missing. No flight plan was submitted, of course, and the plane is warded against radar detection. But then, we already know where they are going, don't we ?"

"We can make a strong guess," corrected Waver.

"If Marisbury is the one behind those deaths, he was technically within his rights as a Lord of the Clocktower," said Adashino, with perhaps the slightest hint of distaste. "But in case he is not – in case there is a rogue Servant with the corpses of several high-ranking Magi on its hands – then we should still take appropriate precautions."

"And what do you suggest ?"

"I can have a team leaving for Japan in a few hours. They can track down the plane, and …"

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Waver. "Even the best combat mages of the Association would only get slaughtered by a Servant. You could send an entire battalion and it wouldn't make a difference. Trust me on this : the difference between a Heroic Spirit and a mortal practitioner of Magecraft is simply too great."

"Oh ? Then are you going to go yourself, Lord ? You do have … particular advantages in that area." Adashino very carefully did not look at Bazett and Gray – one a user of the Fraga's Noble Phantasm, and the other the wielder of the physical form of Rhongomyniad itself.

"No. I cannot go to Japan myself, nor can my associates." He did not say why that was, and Adashino at least respected his authority enough not to ask. "But I know someone in Fuyuki, the city where the Holy Grail War takes place. If anyone can deal with whatever it is Marisbury summoned, it is them."

"I thought you said even a battalion of trained combat mages wouldn't make a difference," pointed out Adashino, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," replied Waver grimly. "I did."

Chapter Text

There is a tranquility here that is a lie.

Blue skies, white clouds, and green fields. A gleaming city of white marble and shining steel stands on the horizon.

Within dwell millions of souls, living in peace and prosperity, united by a common purpose and vision. This is the ideal state of Humanity as envisioned by Him on Earth. This is a model, an exemplar to which the rest of the Imperium aspires to.

This is the kingdom that will be offered to the Powers. This is Ultramar, in the age before madness and ruin. Yet even now, beneath the gilded facade, the darkness that will one day blossom grows.

This is the age of secret treacheries, the age of schemes set in motion in the darkness of the Great Crusade. This is the last age before the fall. In the shadow, destiny holds its breath, and smiles cruelly.

He and his brothers stand in a circle. At the center of the circle lies the desecrated body of one of their cousins – a son of Aurelian, captured in a joint operation and kept alive for years so that he might die on this day. The symbolism is important, though he does not remember why.

Beyond their circle stand two warriors in armor of sapphire and gold, silently watching. One of them will perish in the war to come, he knows, slain by a hero in a red helmet amidst the ruins of a city destroyed by plague and fire. The other will endure forever, twisted and remade into an extension of his liege's indomitable will.

He hears the words leave his lips, spoken along with the other eight Dark Angels. They speak words that are not words, learned during the first time of tribulations. They call out to the ones beyond, to the great powers. They call to the gods, that the gate of death may be opened.

"Arise, old priest, and be returned from the underworld. The Gods have a use for you yet."

November 21st, 2004 – Emiya residence

Shirou woke up. As he blinked in the darkness of his bedroom, images faded in his mind's eye – images of shadow and blood, and a grinning face so decrepit it resembled a skull more than any living human being.

He felt the bodies of Sakura and Rin pressing against his own. Their proximity helped calm his heart, as much because they reminded him of where he was as because he didn't want to disturb them.

It had been some time since he had last dreamt of the echoes of the Dark Angel's life, he reflected. In the days after his return from Kumamoto City and his battles against the shikome and the Enforcer, he had suffered from these nightmares every night, haunted by visions of treachery on black sands. They had faded over time, though the images of that first dreadful vision when he had touched the discarded gun in the corrupted shrine was still as vivid as ever in his memory.

That the dreams would return now, and with an entirely new vision, was worrying. He had never dreamt of that bountiful land before, and the scene had been too precise, too clear, to be anything other than a memory. Unlike the nightmares of hunting in shadowed woods or the slaughter of his own kinsmen, there had been a neatness to the recollection, even if, as always, the details were already fading from his memory. There had been names in that vision, he was sure of it, but try as he might, he couldn't remember them.

Shirou turned his head to the side, and let flow a small trickle of prana into his eyes – just enough to see in the room's near-total darkness. The clock on the side of their bedding showed that it was 3:47 AM – way too soon for him to be up on a Sunday, especially with both his lovers pressed against him. He prepared to try to go back to sleep, or, failing that, simply enjoy the presence of Sakura and Rin. Since the three of them had become … whatever it was they were – Shirou still wasn't willing to use Sakura's term of "harem" – chances for them to spend the night together like this had been uncommon enough to be savored.

He was about to let go of the prana in his eyes when his brain finally registered something that had been quite literally staring him in the face for the last few moments. While he slept, Rin had claimed his left arm as a pillow, and he had unconsciously hugged her to his side – which meant that his hand was in his field of view as he looked at the alarm clock. And on the back of his hand was something that hadn't been there when he had gone to sleep :

A crimson tattoo, that glowed in Shirou's Reinforced sight. It was shaped like a stylized arrow, and he could feel the power that slumbered inside each of its three components. He knew what this was, what this had to be, despite how impossible it should have been.

Command Seals. The proof of one's selection as a Master : the authority to give three absolute commands to a contracted Servant, allowing mere mortals to bind heroes of legend to their will.

And if he had received them …

Slowly, Shirou lowered his gaze, until he was looking at Rin's own right hand. Two incomplete circles, one inside the other, and a straight line next to them. He turned and looked on his right, where Sakura laid against him, her left hand laid across his chest. And sure enough, she too bore three marks, shaped like three third of a disc – or the petals of a flower.

"Well," Shirou calmly whispered to himself, before continuing in a much more emphatic tone : "fuck."

It took several minutes for Shirou to leave the bed without disturbing Rin or Sakura. Fortunately, this was a skill he had some practice in after having tried several times to get breakfast in bed to his lovers.

His mind was whirling. The Grail War had started, decades before its appointed time. The nightmare that had broken his father's dream, made him an orphan and killed hundreds of people, was going to start again.

Kiritsugu had been vague in his descriptions of just what was wrong about the Grail. Shirou had always suspected his father had known more than what he had shared, but given that the Grail War was never supposed to happen again, he had assumed his father had wanted to shield his younger self from disturbing truths.

And given what Kiritsugu had been willing to share with him …

What was he going to do ? He couldn't let the Grail be activated, which meant he would have to keep it from absorbing seven Servants' worth of mana. Could he and the girls simply avoid summoning a Servant, and delay the War long enough to find the explosive charges Kiritsugu had installed and trigger them prematurely ?

No. Surely the founders of the Heaven's Feel must have had contingencies for the case of a Master refusing to participate properly. With the Grail itself selecting Masters, they had to have considered the possibility – and that had been before the whole thing had begun to malfunction, choosing psychopathic serial killers as Masters and Servants both.

Explain the truth to the other Masters and convince them to stop fighting while they searched for a way to either purify the Grail or dismantle it ? No. Sakura and Rin would go along with it, but any Magus would refuse to believe him, especially if the Grail had chosen them. Kill the Masters, but keep the Servants alive ? Maybe. But if they were like the Caster of the Fourth War, keeping the city safe from them would be all but impossible …

He had to do something. He could not let the hellscape of ten years ago be unleashed yet again upon Fuyuki. He – could – not –

A familiar sound pulled Shirou out of his dark reverie. The phone was ringing. He picked it up quickly, before the shrill noise could wake up Rin and Sakura.

"Who is this ?"

"Hello, Mister Emiya," said a gruff voice Shirou recognized instantly. He hadn't heard it in months, since the last details of the Archibalds' settlement to Rin had been hashed out, but he didn't know many people who spoke to him in English.

"Lord El-Melloi II," he replied in the same tongue. "This is an unexpected call."

"Sorry to contact you so early in the morning, and on a Sunday no less, but there is something you should be warned about as soon as possible."

"Is it related to the Grail War ?"

"?! … How … No, never mind. You have been chosen as a Master, haven't you. Yes, this is related to the Heaven's Feel ritual. There has been a … complication. Beyond the fact that the War is starting decades too soon, I mean."

The Lord of the Clocktower went on to describe what had happened in the Animusphere Castle : the slaughter of its inhabitants, the disappearance of the Magi bodies, and the departure and subsequent vanishing off the radars of the family's private jet. He also shared his theories about what had occurred, though always with the caveat that these were just that : theories.

"I see," said Shirou once he was done. "And what are you expecting me to do ?"

"The potential threat of a mad Servant getting their hands on the Holy Grail cannot be overstated. But at the same time, we do not have enough evidence on our end to justify breaking the Clocktower's avowed neutrality in the Holy Grail War. As I said, for all we know Marisbury Animusphere is behind the entire massacre. Anyone I could justify sending to Fuyuki with the intel I have would be easy prey for any Servant. I would come myself, but, well ..."

But he couldn't. The geas prevented him from ever setting foot in Japan without Rin's permission, and even that needed to be given several days in advance.

"It's probably for the best you don't anyway," said Shirou. "If things are as bad as they seem, the last thing we need is for you to be selected as a Master as well."

"… True. We are keeping what happened under wraps for now, but it won't last long. And when the rest of the Association learn of what transpired, well, it might draw their attention to Fuyuki – and to you."

"Now that the Grail War has started, we cannot have Magi running around here," said Shirou vehemently. "There are things about the Grail you do not know, Lord El-Melloi II, and the consequences of anyone interfering in the hope of using the Grail to reach the Root could be apocalyptic."

"… That bad, huh ?" Waver sighed. "I can't say I am too surprised, given some of the things I saw in the last War. I will do my best to keep things quiet on my end as long as possible, but you will need to deal with the situation in Fuyuki."

Shirou raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You are trusting me with that much ?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I ? I know you are capable of holding your own in a fight, and with the help of the Tohsaka daughters, you will have an advantage over the other Masters. I am choosing to believe that you will do what is best, if not for Magecraft, then for the World as a whole."

"That … isn't the mindset I would expect from a Lord of the Clocktower." Not that Shirou considered Waver Velvet a typical Lord, of course. Even if their first meeting had been in far from ideal circumstances, Shirou hadn't been blind to the youngest Lord's qualities.

There was a dry, humorless chuckle.

"I understood a long time ago that I am a poor Magus, and an even poorer Lord. I have always been, and I will always be. Cultivating the talent of others is the best I can hope for. Try to prevent another disaster, alright ? I still owe Miss Tohsaka a sponsorship."

The phone call ended. After putting the phone down, Shirou spent several minutes standing, staring at nothing in particular, while wheels turned in his mind, no longer driving him in circles. Eventually, he came to an inevitable conclusion :

He needed to wake Sakura and Rin up. That was not going to be easy.

Waking up Rin Tohsaka early on a Sunday after an evening of vigorous nocturnal activity was not something to be attempted by the faint-hearted. In the end, after trying a number of gentle methods, Shirou had to all but force a cup of black, sugarless coffee down Rin's throat in order to get her to open her eyes. Rin's murderous rage at being woken up so early lasted exactly as long as it took her to raise her fist (while mumbling incoherent but still frightening threats) and see the crimson seal on it.

Seeing the marks on Shirou's and Sakura's hands only set her off worse, and Shirou had to hold her tight against him for several more minutes while reassuring her that no, the three of them weren't going to kill each other in a fight to claim the Grail. As Rin's (and Sakura's, though the younger girl wasn't quite as panicked as her sister) freak-out abated, Shirou directed her to get up and get dressed.

"I will prepare breakfast," he told them. "I will tell you everything after we've eaten, I promise."

For once, Shirou refrained from laying down a feast for his lovers. None of them were in the mood, but at the same time, they were going to need all of their strength in the coming day. The meal he prepared was relatively bland, but hot and filling. When the girls arrived, they all ate quickly and in silence, before Shirou cleaned up the table and returned to sit, facing the two sisters.

"There are several things I need to tell you," he began. "Some of them Sakura already knows, while others, I have only learned myself this morning."

"Firstly, Rin, the reason we won't be fighting each other for the Grail is …"

Telling Rin about what his father had revealed to him – the corruption of the Grail and the terrible choice Kiritsugu Emiya had made to save the world – was every bit as hard now as it had been when he had told Sakura, after he had saved her from Zouken. Rin's reaction to the revelation was much worse than Sakura's had been : the younger girl had never cared about the Holy Grail, beyond a vague feeling of distaste for anything that could drive the Matou family to inflict such horrors upon her.

Rin, however, had been raised to keep and maintain her family's honor, and the Tohsaka had sought the Heaven's Feel for generations. To learn that her bloodline's long-held dream would never be fulfilled – that all their efforts, all their sacrifices, had been for worse than nothing – came at a shock to her.

Perhaps even worse was the knowledge that both her lover and her sister had known about this all along, and only now were they sharing it with her. By the time Shirou was done relaying El-Melloi's warning, she was pale and shaking.

Seeing that the dark-haired girl was starting to relapse, Shirou took the plunge and chose to do something that was guaranteed to change the direction of her emotions : telling her what his father had planned to stop the Holy Grail from ever happening again.

She froze when she heard him speak, and slowly raised her head, glaring at Shirou with eyes that were suddenly hard.

"What was that, Shirou ?"

"Dad planted explosives to sabotage the leylines," he repeated louder, feeling sweat run on his forehead. Oh, he was going to pay for this, he knew. "He buried them at key points of the region and set them up to detonate ten years from now, in order to trigger a series of minor earthquakes that would permanently damage the leylines and end the ritual forever."

"And when," Rin's sweet smile as she spoke was the most terrifying expression Shirou had ever seen on her, "were you going to tell me ?"

"After our graduation !" Shirou nearly squeaked. "I was going to tell you about the explosives and the Grail once we graduated from high school, I swear ! I thought we had ten years left before that became relevant !"

She stared at him intently for a few seconds, before finally nodding in acceptance. When she sat back down, some of the weight on her shoulders seemed to have lifted.

"Hmm … Fine. I will let you off the hook, but only because we have bigger problems. We will talk about this again, Emiya-kun."

Shirou winced. Rin only called him that in private when he had really, really pissed her off.

Not that she didn't have good reason to be angry at the moment. Crippling the leylines would remove Fuyuki's position as a font of thaumaturgical energy, and cost her her status as Second Owner in the Association. Even without the end of the Heaven's Feel ritual and the path to the Root it offered, that would have tanked her reputation, painting her as an incompetent who couldn't manage her estate properly.

The fact that she was willing to let him off so lightly for now was a testament to how worried Rin was about the War and the Grail's corruption. That, and how little like a typical magus she actually was, despite her attempts to pretend otherwise (though these had certainly diminished in frequency and intensity since she and Sakura had become sisters again).

Still, better to have her angry at him that lapsing into shock and depression. He deserved it anyway, for keeping the truth from her for so long. It really had been a dick move, but he had genuinely thought they had years before any issue linked to these secrets arose.

"Just so we are clear," Shirou bravely forged on, "I have no idea where the charges are buried. Dad took that secret to his grave, and he told me they were buried too deep to be detected by any mean."

"And I suppose the Magus Killer would have known what he was doing. Fine. Fine. Let's ignore this casual desecration of my property, and the fact that you kept such secrets from me, for now." Both Shirou and Sakura winced at the hurt that wasn't quite hidden in those words. "While we are on the subject of unpleasant revelations, there is something I have been meaning to ask you for a long time, Shirou."

There was a hint of frailty – of fear – in Rin's eyes that made Shirou immensely uncomfortable.

"Did Kiritsugu Emiya kill my father ?"

A falling feather could have shattered the silence that followed that question, as Rin watched Shirou and Sakura watched Rin. Rin hadn't said "our father", not because she didn't consider Sakura her sister, of course, but because she was well aware of how her younger sibling regarded the man who had sired them both.

"No," he replied, making sure to look his dark-haired lover right in the eyes as he spoke, so that she could see the sincerity in his. "Dad did many things in the War, many terrible things that he regretted greatly, and would have even if the prize had been what he thought it was. But he didn't kill Tokiomi. He intended to, since he was Archer's Master, and that Servant was so powerful it was easier to kill his Master to defeat him. On the last day of the war, Dad broke into your family's house, but your father was already dead."

"How did he know that ?" asked Rin, clearly forcing her voice to stay firm. "Did he … did he find the body ?"

"No, but there was blood in the study charged with prana of the same kind as was in the underground Workshop," explained Shirou, remembering how Kiritsugu had described the events to him years ago, during that long discussion just before he had passed away. Thinking back on it now, it had been pretty irresponsible of Kiritsugu to share such a gruesome story with his young son – but then again, neither of them had been normal. "Too much of it for the victim to have survived. Given the skill at battle Magecraft Archer's Master had already demonstrated, Dad found it strange there wasn't any other trace of a battle."

"… I believe you," sighed Rin. "Perhaps we'll be able to find out what happened before the end of this mess. In any case, the Animusphere's plane could be arriving in Japan at any moment now. If the Servant used some ability, they could already be here, but in any case, we are operating on a short timer."

"We need to summon Servants of our own. We can't fight Servants ourselves. Well … maybe you could," continued Rin, before adding under her breath "because your powers are bullshit. But there will be four other Servants, and four Masters we will need to either convince to stop fighting and abandon their wish, or beat into submission without killing them somehow. And that means that we are going to need a lot of firepower, enough that it'll be obvious we could win the Grail War if we wanted to. That should surprise the other Masters enough to get a chance to talk to them."

"Somehow, I doubt it will be that easy. Considering what El-Melloi told me, it seems at least one other contestant is willing to go to any length to win. Remember, the Masters are selected by the Grail itself. It's possible the corruption is influencing who is selected in order to make sure the Grail manifests."

"If that's the case," asked Sakura, speaking up for the first time since the beginning of the discussion, "then why were we selected ? From what Zouken told me, for the Grail to choose a Master, they must have a strong wish they want to fulfill, one they're willing to fight and kill for. You and I both knew about the Grail's corruption, and Nee-san would not risk the World just to reach the Root."

"I am hoping we were selected because the Grail's corruption is mindless and has to follow the rules set by the ritual's founders. One of the members of each founding families must be selected as Master, then three Masters are selected from within the ranks of the Association, and the last set of Command Seals is a 'wild card' that is assigned to whoever the Grail judges to be most suited. Since I live in Fuyuki and am a Spellcaster, I may just have been the easiest candidate."

"And as for the wish condition … all three of us have things we would be willing to kill for, don't we ? A wish to protect something can be just as strong as a wish to gain something. Perhaps that was enough for the Grail."

"That may be the case," admitted Rin. "But I know you, Shirou. You don't believe that."

He closed his eyes, seeing images of a burning city under a crimson sky, illuminated by a black sun. For a brief moment, he was back there, in the Hell that had borne him unto the world.

"No," he said softly. "I don't. You and Sakura are the last members of two of the three founding families, so it had to choose you as Masters. As for me, whether I like it or not, I became who I am today because of the last Grail War, and as a direct result of the Grail's power briefly being unleashed upon Fuyuki. Maybe whatever evil taints the system recognized that and selected me. Maybe …"

Maybe it chose me because I am as much of a monster as Caster of the Fourth War, or whatever is coming from the Animusphere castle, he did not say, but both girls heard it anyway. Rin fidgeted on her spot, unsure of what to say, but Sakura quickly moved to Shirou's side, hugging him without the slightest hint of hesitation.

"You are not a monster, Senpai," whispered the younger girl, holding him tight. "You are a hero. You are my hero – my guardian angel. You saved me from the abyss, and no matter what else happens, I will never let you fall into it."

"R-right !" declared Rin, moving to hug him on the other side. "Honestly, you are such an idiot, Shirou. No one else would look at what you have done so far with your life and think you were a monster in the making."

He smiled. "Thank you, Sakura, Rin. I feel better knowing you have such faith in me."

His smile faded and his expression grew more serious.

"Now," he said, "let's get ready."

There were preparations to make. Summoning a Servant would always have been a great undertaking, but El-Melloi's information about what had happened in the Animusphere Castle meant that they needed to be extra careful.

For a start, there was no way Shirou was going to let either Sakura or Rin summon their Servants before him, nor would he let them perform the summoning without him being present. The danger of them summoning something they couldn't control was too grave. The very reason Command Seals existed was to curtail the Heroic Spirits' famous independence, but with the Grail's summoning system compromised, there was no telling what manner of nightmare they might accidentally call forth.

Shirou would be the one to summon his Servant first, while Sakura and Rin provided support. They didn't know if Shirou could defeat a Servant, even if he drew on the full extant of his powers, with the sisters' help in absorbing the backlash. But it was the best option they had.

With Avalon implanted within Shirou's body, there should have been little doubt as to which Servant he would summon, and with his status as a Sword Incarnation, the question of Class was obvious as well. But they didn't know how the spirit that had fused with his soul in the previous Grail War would interfere, nor how the corruption of the Grail might influence the result.

They needed to be prepared for anything, which is why the three of them walked through the cold streets of Fuyuki at dawn, toward the Tohsaka household. Before leaving, Rin had performed a quick spell on their hands, hiding the glowing Command Seals from view.

That precaution was likely pointless : the streets of the city were entirely empty at that early hour, but that did not mean there weren't familiars watching. They moved quickly, and went inside the empty house once Rin lowered the additional Bounded Fields she had added after leaving for the Emiya residence for the week-end.

They went straight to the Workshop, which had become filled with all manners of projects and treasures since Rin had gotten her hand on the Archibalds' compensation money. Even in a field of Magecraft as expensive as Gemcraft, twenty million sterling pounds went a long way, and the confiscated books the Church had delivered as an apology for Kirei's misjudgement in the affair had also helped. Rin had made great strides in her research, even while splitting her time between it, school, and the hours she spent at the Emiya residence.

Working swiftly, Rin filled several boxes with prana-charged jewels. Some of them were loaded with her own energy, while others contained energy she had extracted from Shirou through their contract. The mystical bond between the red-haired boy and his two lovers was still as strong as when it had been created, thanks in no small part to the nights they all spent together.

Even without that added mystical value, the jewels Rin was gathering to use as ammunition in the Grail War were easily worth tens of millions of yens. Clearly Rin was taking this seriously.

Along with the jewels, Rin put a few books aside to be taken back – some on Gemcraft, others on the Grail War itself. Once she was done, she went to a shelf on the far side of the Workshop, which was covered in a thick cloth. Removing it, she cautiously removed an ornate box from the shelf and set it on a nearby table. She looked at it with a conflicted expression before finally pressing her finger against the lock and whispering the release incantation.

The box clicked open, revealing a short blade with a red jewel encrusted in its pommel. The letters "AZOTH" were engraved in the ruby.

"Kirei gave this to me when I finished my Magecraft training under him," she explained, taking the dagger in her hand and testing its weight. "It was my father's, but he gave it to him after that fake priest completed his own tutelage prior to the Fourth Grail War. I don't like to use it, but it can amplify the energy of its user, and we are going to need every advantage we can …"

"… Rin." Shirou's voice was very, very calm as he spoke. "You know how my Magecraft allows me to perceive the history of bladed instruments ?"

She blinked. "Huh ? Of course I do. What ? Did Kirei use this to murder someone before he gave it to me ? It would fit what passes for his sense of humor, I guess …"

"… Rin, put that dagger down."

"Oookay …" Rin raised an eyebrow as she placed the dagger on the table. "Shirou, you are worrying me. What exactly did you see ?"

"Rin, Sakura …" Shirou took a deep breath. "This dagger was used by Kirei Kotomine to kill Tokiomi Tohsaka by stabbing him in the back, a few moments after Tokiomi had handed it to Kirei."

"What ..." Rin's voice trailed off as she stared at the weapon, horrified.

Next to her, beyond her concern for her sister, Sakura appeared untroubled by the revelation. Any filial piety she might have felt for the previous Tohsaka Head had long since disappeared, replaced by contempt and disgust for the man who had given her away to the Matous. That feeling had somewhat diminished since she had been freed from Zouken, but Shirou doubted she would ever forgive the man who had condemned her to that hell.

By contrast, Rin's reaction was far more pronounced.

"He raised me," choked Rin. She was shaking, her skin pale and her eyes wide. "After Mom … he trained me, taught me everything my father had taught him of Magecraft, along with some of what he had learned as an Exorcist. And all that time, he … he … That bastard ! That complete and utter bastard ! I am going to kill him. I am going to -"

"Nee-san. Look at me."

Sakura took Rin's head between her hands, forcing her to look away from the Azoth dagger and straight into her eyes, her own face mere centimeters away.

"We will make Kirei pay, Nee-san," she said in sweet, soothing voice that was somewhat at odds with the actual words she was speaking. "But you need to calm down first, okay ? It happened a long time ago, and we have a lot of things to do. Remember ?"

"I … yes. Yes. You're right, Sakura. Just … just give me a moment …"

"Of course, Nee-san," replied Sakura, before enveloping her sister in a hug.

Leaving his second lover in the care of his first, Shirou moved to pick up the dagger, forcing his disgust at touching the treacherous weapon down and putting it back into the box where it had remained for years. He put the box back on the shelf and replaced the cloth that had covered it for years.

Once Rin had calmed down, they went back to the Emiya residence, with Shirou carrying several heavy boxes. Rin had already decided that she would be staying there for the duration of the War, and had packed up some additional clothes and supplies in addition to the stuff she had already moved there months ago.

They put the mundane supplies in the house and made their way to the Workshop. The shed had become quite cluttered in the last year, as Shirou no longer saw any need to conceal his abilities from Rin. The Tohsaka Head had intensified her teaching to her sister and lover, as well as her own research into Gemcraft. All three of them were determined not to be caught in the same situation as when McRemitz had attacked again.

While Rin pursued her family's brand of Magecraft, Sakura had learned to make use of her connection to Shirou in conjunction with her rare Imaginary Element trait. The younger girl cared nothing for the research applications of that talent, despite the fact that many Clocktower magi would have paid a fortune to have access to it. All she was interested in were the practical applications; specifically, its use in battle. She had instinctively grasped the fundamentals of it during her battle against the Enforcer, and had spent long hours practicing until she could draw upon Shirou's od reserves to cast offensive spells well beyond what her already exceptional Magical Circuits should allow.

And of course, they had all invested weeks of work trying to figure out just what it was that dwelled inside of Shirou, while the sole male of the trio had dedicated a considerable portion of his training to mastering that power, learning to draw upon it without either losing himself to the shift in his mind process or overflowing his connection to Sakura and Rin with prana. On a table were all the notes they had made in their investigation of Shirou's nature, from the results of thaumaturgical examinations to exhaustive descriptions of every dream and vision he remembered. After over a year, they weren't any closer to uncovering the nature of the creature that had entered Shirou's body in the Fuyuki Fire.

They had taken to calling the entity "the Dark Angel", using one of the names Shirou had been able to remember from his visions. He was fairly confident that name hadn't referred solely to the creature he was fused with, but until they learned more, it would have to do.

Vast forests haunted by monsters hunted by knights; a fortress spanning an entire continent; a fratricidal battle fought with guns and blades on black sands … None of these made any sense. Even when taking into account the fact that most of the history of the Moonlit World had been lost or had never been recorded in the first place, there was nothing, even in the most obscure of the legends had survived that could be connected to Shirou's visions. Not without resorting to the sort of mental gymnastics and possibility-stretching normally reserved for deranged conspiracy theorists, at least.

In the end, the best theory Rin had been able to come up with was that, in the aftermath of the Grail's destruction, Shirou had been partially possessed by a damaged spirit from an Earth-That-Never-Was, brought into existence by the elements of the Second Magic that had been incorporated into the Greater Grail's system by the Tohsaka Head that had participated in its creation.

If the Dark Angel hailed from a timeline where, say, the Age of the Gods hadn't ended and Humanity had been forced to adapt, then the abnormalities in Shirou's visions could be explained. The huge sword he had used to kill Zouken and the shikome could have been invented by a version of Mankind that had combined Magecraft with technology in order to be able to fight Phantasmal Beasts on equal footing.

Of course, Rin had already announced that she would need to reconsider that theory in light of what she now knew about the Grail's corruption. But that was a matter for another time. For now, the three of them cleared up the Workshop, and Rin and Sakura prepared themselves to fight or flee if needed.

Rin traced the Formalcraft circle they would use for the summonings as far from the containment one Shirou had inherited from his father as she could. While she worked with Sakura's help, Shirou memorized the aria of the summoning spell, going over each line over and over. There were already going to be far too many unknowns in the summoning ritual, he wasn't going to add any by half-assing it.

Shirou was the only one who needed to learn the aria : Rin had studied it years ago as part of her heritage as the Tohsaka Head, while Sakura had been forced to memorize it during her "training" at Zouken's hands. Thinking back on it now, Shirou realized that the old worm must have known that the Grail War would start early. That was the reason he had subjected Sakura to such torments that would surely have killed her years before the next War's normal date.

And if he had known about that, just how much else had he known about the Grail's condition ?

"We are done, Shirou."

Hearing Rin's voice, Shirou lifted his gaze from the piece of paper he had been intently studying. The clock on the wall indicated that he had been sitting there for nearly an hour, reading the same words over and over and dwelling on dread implications.

"Alright," he said while standing up. "Let's do this, then. Are you both ready ?"

"We are, Senpai. We will stay back and absorb any overflow, and provide support if this goes wrong."

"Thank you. Remember, if the Servant attacks, let them focus on me. Even with Tracing Avalon, I am still a lot tougher than the both of you."

"None of us are getting injured," declared Rin with a scowl. "That's final. Now get to it, Shirou. This is only the first step – and the easiest one."

"… Alright."

Walking toward the circle, Shirou closed his eyes, and flicked his Circuits open, one by one. He focused on the sheath that resided within his flesh, the Noble Phantasm that Kiritsugu had dissolved into his body to save him from a slow death after pulling him from the flames.

The more he learned about the Dark Angel, the more amazed he was that Avalon worked at all for him. King Arthur's sheath was a thing of good and law, the incarnation of Utopia's promise. The memories he had glimpsed of the creature with which his damaged soul had merged were clear that, whatever it had once been, the Dark Angel had become a monster entirely opposed to those long before it had become lodged into his body. And yet, Avalon had still healed him, had still saved his life when he had been a child.

Rin thought that was because the Dark Angel, as a creature born of the Second Magic, wasn't actually "real", and therefore couldn't be judged as evil by Avalon's rules, enforced as they were by fae magic. Sakura had a different opinion : she believed that Shirou's own nature outweighed whatever sins he may have inherited from the spirit.

Regardless of the truth, Avalon had always helped keep him safe. More importantly, it had helped him save Sakura. It had recognized him as worthy of wielding its powers, but it would always truly belong to its intended owner, the one it had been made for in another Age of the World.

And it was to that hero that Shirou called now as he began reciting the aria.

"For the elements, silver and iron.
For the foundation, stone and the Archduke of Contracts.
For the ancestor, the great master, Schweinorg.
Close the gates of the cardinal directions.
Come forth from the crown, and follow the forked road leading to the Kingdom."

Perhaps it was the tentative connection with the Greater Grail, where dwelled the source of the calamity that had destroyed and reforged him. Perhaps it was Avalon suddenly activating and radiating its power inside him with no wound to heal. Perhaps it was the words of the aria resonating with the Dark Angel's unknown origin.

"Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill.
Repeat five times.
But when each is filled, destroy it.
Set."

Whatever the reason, Shirou felt the part of him that wasn't him stir, and power that, for all that he had advanced far on the path to mastering it, was not his yet, suddenly flowed his Circuits.

He gritted his teeth and went on. He could not stop now; all he could do was hope that the Dark Angel's power wouldn't influence the summoning too badly.

"Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.
If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me.
I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world.
That I shall defeat all evil in the world.
You seven heavens, clad in the three great words of power,
Come forth from the circle of binding,
Guardians of the Scales !"

Contact acknowledged. Catalyst recognized.

ERROR. ERROR. Inhuman contamination detected. Initiate -

EnoUgh – ThE ChiLD oF FiRE anD SHADow WilL pLaY His pARt

Initiating linking process to / THErE WaS only EvEr oNe suITED for HIM

Accessing backup storage imaginary space / HeR CaPTIvitY EnDS

Beginning manifestation process / ShE WiLl Be MaDE tO SeRVE

ThE ShE-DRAgoN WilL KnEEl BeFOre OUr DaRK AnGEl

She had been drowning in darkness for a long time. It was all around her, pressing down on her. She could not breathe, but she dimly remembered she didn't need to.

She remembered the darkness tearing away pieces of her. Her spear, her kingdom, her memories, until all that remained was the war for the cursed chalice, the battles and the grief – and then the plunge, and the darkness.

She knew her name, at least, for it had been spoken by foe and ally alike. She knew who she was supposed to have been – a king, high and noble, leading her people to glory. But it was a distant knowledge, unlike that of the war she had fought in this new era, that was so different from the one she had been born to but was now the only one she remembered.

She remembered meeting the empty-eyed man who was her Master, and the vibrant and tragic figure who played that part to deceive their foes. She remembered fighting other heroes, and battling a great abomination that had been brought forth by a madman seeking to bring ruin to the World.

She remembered how desperately she had pursued victory, but she could not remember why. What could she desire so much ?

It did not matter. The chalice's promises were lies. Her wish would never be granted.

She had seen that clearly, in her last moments before the mud had engulfed her. As the chalice overflowed with all the world's evil, and her Master commanded her, unleashing the full might of her sword and more, she had seen the truth of the prize they had all fought for, and understood why the man who held her Command Seals had made his decision.

Perhaps if she could still remember her wish, she would have hated him in spite of this. But she understood, even if his actions had led to her being trapped in the darkness. To do anything else would have been to surrender to it, to let it win, and that was something she could never tolerate.

When she had first come here, the darkness had tried to break her once it was done tearing pieces off her. It had tried to make her bend, to force her to submit by desecrating her very nature and polluting it with its own corruption.

But then, something had ignited inside her, something hot and wrathful. A great heat, that for all her mortal life and reincarnation had been kept contained, had surged across her entire being, bringing pain and salvation alike. The darkness had recoiled then, unable to taint that power as it slowly altered her. She thought it had screamed too, a cacophony of sounds that weren't voices, yet amidst that mayhem she had recognized a single word, full of spite and fury :

Dragon.

She had been spared from the darkness' final corruption by the draconic power that dwelled inside her, which had waxed strong to fill the hollowness left by the pieces the darkness had taken from her. Ever since then, she had remained in the darkness in a state of dread equilibrium, the darkness unable to do anything to her, but she in turn unable to do anything to escape.

Time had passed without anything changing, leaving her trapped with nothing to do but sleep, and dream of the vengeance she would take on the darkness when – not if, when, for she refused to consider the alternative – she got out of this dismal purgatory.

And then, something changed.

After so long in the same darkness, she noticed the disturbance immediately. Far in the distance – she could not tell if it was above or below, for direction had long since lost all meaning – she glimpsed a light amidst the endless, churning darkness.

She knew this light. It had been hers, once, and as she saw it, she was filled with desire to possess it once more. She reached out toward it, and it reached back to her. In that light she saw the shadows of great wings, and the idea of a hand stretched out to her.

She took it, or it took her, and suddenly she was moving through the darkness, moving away from it. It roared as she flew, perhaps in anger or perhaps in laughter, she didn't know and didn't care because she was escaping -

When the flash of light faded, a figure stood in the circle, and Shirou could feel the new connection to his Circuits, along with the ones he already had with Sakura and Rin. The drain on his reserve was low, but noticeable.

Still tense, ready for anything, he took in his Servant's appearance. A thick suit of plate armor as black as starless night contrasted with porcelain-white skin, yellow eyes, and blond hair so pale it was almost white. Even in armor, there was no hiding how petite she was : the top of her head would barely reach Shirou's chin. And yet, as she blinked and stared at him, this didn't diminish her sheer presence any. Her features looked more like those of a girl than a woman, but her gaze spoke of both power and age.

In her hands she held a sword, its tip resting on the ground. That sword -

That sword -

What the hell had happened to that sword ?!

It was wrong. There was no other word for it. He had used Structural Grasping on it by reflex, and immediately regretted it.

Its story, its legend, had been overwritten. It was crude and awful, the work of a demented child painting over the Mona Lisa with blood and shit. Just enough of the original past remained visible to make Shirou want to weep.

The false legend that had been plastered over the truth was the fevered, crazed dream of a sociopathic man-child. It was a simplistic tale of slaughter and conquest, a grotesque fantasy of violence and domination inflicted on one-dimensional caricatures of actual people. It was made horrific instead of merely despicable only by the power the sword possessed – and what power it was.

Despite its defilement, the sword – which must have been Excalibur itself, but Shirou refused to name it as such now, even in his head – remained incredibly powerful. The only thing he had ever seen with that kind of power was the weapon El-Melloi's apprentice had concealed on her person when she had come to Fuyuki the previous year.

And, even more surprising, it was still bound to the will of its wielder. Even after all the alterations that had been inflicted upon the weapon, the identity of its master remained the same.

For a moment, Shirou thought that their fears had become reality, that he had summoned an evil version of King Arthur, tainted by the Grail's corruption. Cautiously, he extended his Grasping to the armor she wore, taking in each piece of plate individually.

Reading the history of armor was more difficult for him than it was with swords, but he was still fairly adept at it. When the information resolved itself in his mind, he felt a wave of relief. Unlike the sword, his Servant's armor was the black of something that had been charred by fire, not the rotting color of corruption.

He looked deeper, at what laid beneath the armor. Immense power swelled there, radiating from the Servant's heart and across her body. The corruption that clung to her sword like mud was absent – somehow, Shirou had the impression that it had been burned away by that power.

Dragonfire, the word came to his mind, and he remembered the stories he had read when researching Avalon. In the records of the Moonlit World, it was written that Merlin, the greatest mage of the last thousand years, had implanted a Dragon Core within Arthur, granting the future king with immense power.

The fact that King Arthur was a woman didn't take him by surprise. While Kiritsugu hadn't told him the identity of his Servant, he had used "she" when referring to her, and Avalon was far too valuable a relic for him not to have used it as a catalyst ten years ago. Yet Shirou doubted that the Saber his dad had fought alongside in the Fourth Grail War had looked quite like this one.

His hands tightened into fists. She had escaped corruption, but there was no denying that something had happened to her. What had the Grail done to the woman before him ?

She took a deep breath, and spoke slowly :

"Servant, Saber. I ask of you : are you my Master ?"

Swallowing his anger – she wasn't the one it was aimed at – he raised his hand, showing the Command Seals.

"I am, Saber. My name is Shirou Emiya."

"… Emiya ?" she whispered his name in a curious tone, frowning. "I see. Tell me, Shirou Emiya. Do you desire the Holy Grail ?" The more she spoke, the easier her words came out. "Have you summoned me here so that we may fight together and claim it, to have our wishes granted ?"

Ah. Yes, they had known this part was going to be tricky. The Grail was supposed to select Servants who had a wish of their own, so that they would be willing to fight even without the Command Seals to compel their obedience.

(Nevermind that, in order to complete the Heaven's Feel and reach the Root, all seven Heroic Spirits needed to be sacrificed. That particular bit of knowledge was absent of the information uploaded in the Servants' minds, for obvious reasons.)

But there was no point in lying to her : she would find out the truth eventually. And more importantly, Shirou refused to deceive someone he was going to fight alongside.

Also … somehow, he had a feeling that her question was a test. It was, after all, a strange thing for a Servant to ask. Why else would they have been summoned ?

"No," he replied in a definitive tone. "I haven't."

"No ? Why not ?" Her voice was utterly neutral, devoid of any emotion, be it anger or surprise.

"The Grail is corrupted, Saber," he explained, trying to be as gentle as he could but knowing there was no cushioning that particular blow. "If it could ever grant wishes, now it is an instrument of ruin, capable only of causing destruction and pain. My objective in the Grail War is to prevent the Grail from manifesting, and to keep the damage to this land to a minimum."

He took a deep breath, trying to keep the images that sprouted in his mind as he spoke of what the Grail might unleash.

"I know you were summoned because you had your own wish, and I am sorry, but the Grail of Fuyuki won't grant it."

She smiled, for the first time since her summoning, and Shirou was taken aback by the sudden realisation of how beautiful she was.

"I know," she said.

… What.

"… You know ? What do you mean ?"

"Precisely that. I know that the Grail is corrupted, though I did not know the specifics. I was there when the last Grail War ended, Master. I saw what resides within the Grail."

"That's impossible," interjected Rin. "Servants summoned by the Heaven's Feel cannot remember the previous times they were called to participate in it. It's a fail-safe to prevent any of the Masters from gaining an advantage by using a Servant with previous experience ..."

"I know that," interrupted Saber, looking slightly annoyed that her words weren't immediately accepted. "And yet, I remember it. I remember fighting under the orders of Kiritsugu Emiya. I remember watching this Formalcraft circle over there being drawn. I remember the faces of the other Servants, and the deaths of three of them. And most importantly, I remember what happened when the Grail manifested at the end of the War."

She went on to describe how Kiritsugu had ordered her to destroy the Grail. How she had resisted his command at first, before the strength of a second Command Seal had overridden her will. How the might of her Noble Phantasm had struck the manifested chalice …

… and how a tide of black mud had erupted from the fractured vessel, submerging her within seconds and dragging her into a lightless realm where she had been trapped ever since.

"And I remember how you pulled me out of that darkness, Master."

While the three Masters were still reeling from her revelations, Saber moved, her armor disappeared in burst of black motes, revealing what Shirou could only describe as a black, backless gothic dress underneath. Her sword vanished in the same moment, and Shirou breathed an involuntary sigh of relief.

He would not soon forget its warped history, but its removal from his sight was still welcome.

That brief distraction, however, was enough for Saber to close the gap between her Master and her.

Before Shirou could react, the pale woman had put her hands against his chest.

She moved next to him and pressed her palm against his chest. Shirou sensed Avalon react to her proximity as the relic recognized its original – and true – owner.

There was a strange glint in Saber's eyes as she looked up at him. It reminded Shirou of how Sakura and Rin (the latter when she thought he wasn't looking at her) sometimes looked at him. But it wasn't quite the same.

You will be mine, her eyes seemed to declare with absolute confidence.

"I ask you again, Master : why did you summon me ?"

"We need your help, Saber. The other Masters don't know of the Grail's corruption. Their fight will endanger all of Fuyuki, and if they succeed, the entire world will be in peril. Will you help us ?"

She smiled again, and this time, the expression was far more predatory.

"Yes, Master. I will help you. Together, we will destroy the Grail, and make that cup pay for what it did to me."

If any Arthurian scholar could hear those words, Shirou thought, they would surely faint. For a moment, Master and Servant remained in place, looking in each other's eyes while half-embracing.

"How long are you two going to stay like this ?!" blustered Rin, moving to separate them. Behind her, Sakura was looking at them with a smile Shirou hadn't seen in some time now. It was the same smile she had shown in the days following the establishment of their contract, when she had goaded ... tricked ... persuaded Rin to put herself in situations where the three of them inevitably ended up having sex.

She still showed it at school from time to time, when Shirou and Mitsuzuri were talking in the Archery Club dojo. Seeing it now filled Shirou with dread.

"Oh ? I sense my Master's prana inside you, girl … and inside you as well," Saber said, her gaze moving between Rin and Sakura. "You know, the knowledge of this era that the Grail gave me suggested that modern society frowns on one person keeping two mistresses."

"Mistresses ?" Sakura cocked her head to the side while rising a finger to her chin, while Rin flustered and weakly tried to deny it. "Hmm … I guess that's accurate." She shrugged. "But none of us really care what society thinks. In any case, we have kept our relationship secret for now."

"I see." Saber looked remarkably unconcerned, and her next words made it embarrassingly clear why : "Of course, the man who would be my Master should at least be capable of handling two women at once. The two of you are Masters as well, correct ? Yet I don't sense any other Servant here."

"They are going to summon their Servant now," said Shirou, trying very hard not to blush. "I went first in case something went wrong." Her look told her that he didn't need to elaborate. "Sakura, it's your turn. Saber, can you stand back ? I don't want the first thing our new friend sees when manifesting to be another Servant."

Sakura looked at him and Saber for a few seconds, before deciding that now was not the time to tease him or Rin (who had fallen into a sullen silence). The purple-haired girl closed her eyes, and Shirou sensed the activation of her Circuits through their link.

"Be careful, Sakura," Shirou told her before she started. "The Dark Angel reacted to the aria – there might be interference during your attempt as well." He shot an apologetic look at Saber, who was frowning, having no idea of what he was talking about, and mouthed a 'later' to her.

With a final nod, Sakura opened her eyes, and began to chant.

"For the elements, silver and iron.
For the foundation, stone and the Archduke of Contracts.
For the ancestor, the great master, Schweinorg.
Close the gates of the cardinal directions.
Come forth from the crown, and follow the forked road leading to the Kingdom.
Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill.
Repeat five times.
But when each is filled, destroy it.
Set.
Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.
If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me.
I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world.
That I shall defeat all evil in the world.
You seven heavens, clad in the three great words of power,
Come forth from the circle of binding,
Guardians of the Scales !"

Contact acknowledged. No catalyst detected.

Beginning analysis of contractor's essence / We sEE pASt ThE ilLusIoN of hOPE aND JOy

Evaluation of spirit and affinity / WE seE tHE SeED oF A GrEAT PoWer

Accessing available records / THEy BlOCk OuR SIGht, BUT we HavE TaKEN ENOuGH

Compatible Origin identified / PAIN cAlLs to PAIN CaLls tO US

Beginning manifestation process / NoW thE SeRpENt ShaLl Be ChaINEd To OuR DeSIGnS

AS IT WaS AlWAyS MeaNt To BE

She knew herself as the Monster.

She had been something, someone, else, once. But now only the Monster remained.

And that was fine. That was fair. That was what she deserved, as punishment for what she had done.

Now she had been pulled from her slumber, given flesh once more by the artifices of magi. She looked at the world around her with burning eyes, seeing through the covering that blocked her eyes' offensive properties. She saw a human standing before her, and sensed the connection between them.

Master, thought the Monster, and knew that this was her ally, her commander.

She saw that her Master had purple hair, and the sight made something inside her twist and howl in agony. The connection that bound them tell her far more than her eyes could ever have, filling her senses with the girl's nature. She could sense, deep within her Master, hidden in an abyss that stretched into forever, the potential to become a greater Monster than herself by far.

Next to her Master was a boy with red hair.

She saw the red marks on the boy's hand, saw the black-clad knight at his side. The knowledge the Grail had granted her filled in the blanks.

Rival, the Monster thought. Enemy. Threat.

The Master and Servant were enemies of her own Master, and she would not – she would not – she would not -

She would not fail to protect her again. Even if it meant she had to kill, to rend flesh and crack bones, she would not let her be hurt.

With a terrifying shriek, she leapt toward the foes who threatened her Master. The serpentine coils of her lower body unfolded, propelling her forward. In her hands, she manifested the scythe that had taken her head when she had last lived. Bathed in her blood, it had followed her into legend, imbued with the ability to kill those who were thought immortal.

Her prey's eyes widened as he saw the weapon, before starting to shine. He moved then, dodging her first strike by a hair's breadth. Before her next blow could land, he produced a great sword out of nothing – a huge blade that made her scaled skin crawl as it turned her attack uselessly away.

The Monster heard her Master shout something, but she could not make out the words over the beating of her heart and the all-consuming impulse to protect her, protect her at all costs, destroy her enemies, kill them, kill them all before they could kill her -

Overcome by rage, she let go of her scythe and struck at him with her claws. He blocked one of her blows with his sword, her talons scraping uselessly against the unknown metal, while his free hand caught her other wrist, stopping it dead. The Monster snarled and tried to withdraw, knowing she was exposed to a ripost, only to find that she could not break free of his hold on her wrist. She expected to feel that blade cut into her chest, hardened herself in anticipation of the pain -

But the boy did not strike. He did not cut her down.

The Monster did not understand. Why ? Why ? Why ?! He was her enemy ! And that sword – that sword was made to kill creatures like her !

She knew his kind, she recognized him from memories tinted with blood and madness. He was a hero, a slayer of beasts ! The same kind of man who had come to the island, over and over, forcing her to fight to protect her sisters, until she became the Monster !

So why ...

So why was he looking at her with such warm, kind, understanding eyes ?! Why wasn't he spitting curses at her as he cut her down ?!

She didn't understand, but her confusion only increased her strength. With a snarl, she pushed against him, her arms bulging with the power of the monster she had become. Caught by surprise, he dropped his sword, and she slammed him into the ground, looming over him, opening her mouth, feeling her acidic saliva run down her fangs -

- and still he looked at her with those eyes … still he …

As they struggled against one another, with him somehow managing to match her monstrous strength, his lips slammed against hers. The sensation felt strange, alien – and then, as their saliva mixed, power flowed from him to her.

The energy she tasted belong to no mortal. It was too strong, too concentrated. And, mixed with it, was another flavor, one she recognized, because she was already receiving it from her contract.

She recognized her Master's presence.

Her prey was linked to her Master. She couldn't hurt him without hurting her – but he would hurt her if she didn't kill him.

She froze, contradicting impulses warring against her. She had to kill him, but she couldn't. She couldn't kill him, but she had to. She …

"Berserker," said the voice of her Master, and she could hear it now, "by the power of my Command Seal, I order you to calm down !"

A simple Command Seal, given such a vague order, would have had little effect. At best, it might have temporarily granted the Monster – which knew herself to be a Berserker-class Servant – some measure of clarity.

But there was power behind that command beyond that of a Command Seal, and a will that had endured some of the worst atrocities ever perpetrated on Gaia without breaking. Those took the opening into the Monster's mind of the Command Seals and forced their way in, pushing back the black chains and thorns that had been placed around Berserker's mind by the conditions of her summoning.

The red veil, the fear, slowly faded from her mind.

As the madness diminished, her incarnation changed as well. She felt her lower body split apart as the aspect of snake was replaced with two human legs. She felt the scales that covered her body fade, replaced with smooth skin.

She pulled her face away from the boy's, smelling his burnt flesh from where her acidic saliva had eaten his mouth from the inside. She stumbled on her new legs, and suddenly became aware of a blade pressed against her throat, different from the one the boy had conjured. That one was no killer of monsters – it was destruction incarnate, a great and terrible power bound within the shape of a sword.

"You dare," hissed a voice from behind her, cold as ice and yet burning with anger. "You dare to hurt him ?"

She turned slowly, and saw a knight in black armor with pale skin and golden eyes glaring at her.

"Make one move," said the black knight, "and I will end you, to Hell with the consequences for the Grail."

She didn't move. She didn't know what to do. Her mind was clearer now, but in the wake of clarity had come so many questions, all of which could be summed up by : 'what was going on ?'

Movement in front of her drew her attention away from the sword and its angry wielder. A young girl – not her Master, though her hand also bore the crimson marks – rushed to the side of the boy.

"Shirou," she spoke in an urgent and worried voice on the edge of panic, "how hurt are you ?"

"I am fine, Rin," said the boy. His voice was raw and pained, but it should have been impossible for him to speak. He should have been crippled, his teeth dissolved in her acid, his tongue and cheeks annihilated. And yet he was already speaking, one hand running on his jaw, grimacing in pain. The damage their accidental kiss had inflicted upon him was healing before Berserker's occluded eyes.

"Okay, I'm not fine," he coughed along with blood and dissolved teeth, "but I will be soon. Avalon is already healing the damage, see ?" He put a finger in his mouth and stretched his cheek, showing where his gums were healing, white teeth already piercing through.

Under her blindfold, Berserker blinked. She had rarely seen healing that fast, and never in a mortal. Then again, the boy wasn't entirely mortal, wasn't he ? The energies she had tasted during their kiss certainly seemed to indicate as much.

Her Master came in front of her. She barely came up to her chin, and looked up at her without fear.

"Hello, Berserker. Can you understand me now ?"

"I ... yes."

"Good. As I was saying : my name is Sakura Matou, and I am your Master." She frowned, looking at something only she could see. "Your Madness Enhancement has gone down from A to E. I can't see if it's permanent, though. How are you feeling ? Will my Command Seal hold ?"

"… yes. I can feel it in my mind, holding back the blind rage and pain. I could force through if I wanted, but if left alone, it will hold."

"Good. Don't force through it, Berserker," ordered her Master in a firm voice. "You shouldn't need to anyway. The Berserker Class is supposed to use the Madness Enhancement skill to compensate for lower stats, but you had already good stats across the board to begin with." She turned her gaze to the sword that was still pressed against Berserker's throat, then to the one holding it. "Saber, could you please remove that ?"

Saber looked over Berserker and Sakura at her Master, who nodded. With a frustrated look, she obeyed, withdrawing the sword.

"You're getting off lightly," scowled the other Servant. "Threaten my Master again and I won't be so lenient."

"Thank you, Saber," said Sakura. "I will take it from here. Listen, Berserker : you don't need to attack any of the people in that room."

"I have to protect you, Master."

The girl's expression softened. "Thank you, Berserker. But I don't need to be protected from anyone here. The man you attacked is Shirou Emiya. He is my friend, my savior, and my lover."

The expression on her Master's face as she spoke was one Berserker was unfamiliar with. She had witnessed the expressions of desire and lust, directed both at herself and her sisters, but the adoration and complete trust in Sakura's voice as she spoke of the boy was different.

"You will not hurt him, nor his Servant, nor my sister, Rin Tohsaka" she gestured at the dark-haired girl, "nor, once she has summoned them, her Servant. We are allies, Berserker. More than that; we are family."

Family. Berserker understood that bond, even if she had failed to honor it in life. And yet …

"There is only one Grail," she whispered. "They will turn on you. Or at least, on me."

"There is no Grail, snake" said Saber, her voice somewhat softer now. She had moved from behind Berserker, standing now between them and her own recovering Master. "The chalice is a lie; I have seen it with my own eyes. It will not grant our wish."

"It's true," confirmed Sakura. "The Grail will bring only destruction and ruin. We three Masters seek to prevent its manifestation by stopping the Grail War from progressing. … I'm sorry. You won't have your wish granted."

Her wish ? … What had been her wish ? She must have one, else the Grail would not have chosen her to be summoned. But she couldn't remember.

Was her wish sealed alongside her anger ? If so … then perhaps it was for the best. She still could fight as she was now. She could still protect her Master.

If these people were her family, then she could make sure that they didn't meet the same fate hers had.

"I understand," she said out loud. "Regardless of the chance for a wish, I'll fight to protect you, Master."

The girl smiled. "Thank you, Berserker. Please, call me Sakura."

The Servant hummed, non-committally. That seemed to be enough, and her Master finally turned away, rushing to the boy's side. He was being helped on his feet by the other girl, though it was obvious to Berserker's eyes that he didn't need the help.

He smiled at her. With the Command Seal in effect, the sight of it didn't drive her to distraction, but some part of her still wondered just how – and why – he could look at her like that, mere moments after she had tried to end his life.

"Are you feeling better now, Medusa ?"

Berserker froze. How … ?

It could have been a lucky guess. Her form before her transformation hadn't been subtle, and the blindfold covering her eyes was quite the clue. But the way he had spoken her name didn't sound like a guess or a bluff – he knew who she was, was completely certain of it. But there hadn't been any catalyst to perform her summoning; even in her mad state, surely she would have sensed the presence of something linked to her life.

Sakura sighed. "Of course. Senpai, you saw her True Name from her scythe, didn't you ?"

"Hmm ? Oh. Yes. Sorry about that. I think I may still be somewhat light-headed from the pain."

Berserker hesitated. "I … How ?"

"Shirou can read the history of any bladed weapon he sees," explained Sakura. "If your weapon is associated to your legend, even if it isn't a Noble Phantasm, he could easily get your name from it."

Her hands tightened around the hilt of her scythe, which had reappeared at her waist during her transformation. She wasn't sure how she felt about having her past exposed without her consent or awareness, but it wasn't pleased.

"We will talk more about this later," commanded Sakura, "when we are discussing our tactics. For now, Nee-san, it's your turn."

The Monster – Berserker – Medusa, there was no point in hiding it, at least not here in front of her allies – took her place at her Master's side, and watched alongside her as the other human girl approached the summoning circle and began to speak.

"For the elements, silver and iron.
For the foundation, stone and the Archduke of Contracts.
For the ancestor, the great master, Schweinorg.
Close the gates of the cardinal directions.
Come forth from the crown, and follow the forked road leading to the Kingdom.
Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill.
Repeat five times.
But when each is filled, destroy it.
Set.
Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.
If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me.
I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world.
That I shall defeat all evil in the world.
You seven heavens, clad in the three great words of power,
Come forth from the circle of binding,
Guardians of the Scales !"

Contact acknowledged. No catalyst detected.

Beginning analysis of contractor's essence / ThE OnE WhO STANdS In BAlAnCE

Evaluation of spirit and affinity / IN aNOTHER TiME AnY COUld HaVE BeEN CaLlED

Accessing available records / nOW OUR eYeS Are BlInded, BUT ThERE IS a PIECE we cAn Yet PLacE

Compatible Origin identified / THE DREAM of a dream, YeT POTENt NONEtheLESS

Beginning manifestation process / ThE gHOST of a KING, aND ThE KINg OF GhosTS aND STORms

ThE MANTle WE tOrE FrOm ThE DRAGOn's SHOUlders, IMPRINTed wiTH THe MeMoRy oF HeR BLOODlust aND WrATH

For Rin Tohsaka, the entire day so far had been a rollercoaster of emotions.

She had gone from angry to horrified to shocked to angry again, all before they had even left the home. Then she had gone through shock and anger once more as she finally learned the identity of her father's murderer, surprise (and, though she wouldn't admit it out loud, a bit of lust-tinged admiration) at the sight of Shirou's Servant, which had been promptly followed by surprise when Saber had revealed that she remembered the previous War – and nothing else. She had no reason to doubt Shirou's word on the corruption of the Grail, but the Servant's testimony confirmed that there was something very, very wrong with the system.

Then she had gone back to fear as Sakura summoned her reptilian Berserker, then to shock and relief as they managed to calm her down, mixed with worry for that idiot Shirou.

For all that Saber had appeared clad in black armor and holding a sword that all but screamed 'evil, cursed weapon', Berserker had been ever more terrifying, towering over all of them as she stood on her snake-like lower body, her hair ending in serpent-shaped protrusions.

Not that Sakura's Servant wasn't a beauty in her own right, now that her appearance wasn't quite so scary. She and Saber had very different body types : Berserker was far curvier, and her outfit was far more revealing that even Saber's pretty black dress, being only made up of a few pieces of brass and purplish metal that looked more like a swimsuit than armor. Her long purple hair reached to her ankles, and her eyes were concealed by a blindfold of the same material as the rest of her outfit, with a crimson jewel incrusted in it that had her fingers itching to examine it closely.

So, she had experienced shock, fear, worry, embarassment and lust. And it wasn't even noon on the first day of the Grail War. At this rate, Rin wasn't sure her heart would be able to endure through the entire thing.

So she felt she could be forgiven for hoping that her own summoning would go without drama. And, for now, it seemed to have been the case.

Her Servant looked ... well, they looked terrifying, but so had Saber and Berserker at first, and at least she wasn't attacking like the latter.

Like Saber, her Servant wore full armor, though it was midnight blue rather than black. The only hint as to their gender was the chestplate, which was curved with sharp angles to accommodate breasts while turning aside frontal assaults. Her helm covered her head entirely, and two golden lights gleamed ominously through her visor. She held a spear in her right hand, point held low in front of her, and even without Shirou's ridiculous perceptions Rin could feel the weapon's power. It was thin and barbed, made of a material black as coal with glowing red runes circling the haft in interlocking patterns.

"Servant, Rider. I have been summoned upon your request, to crush everything that stands in your way. I see two Servants before me," said the Servant, "and one in whose heart dwells that which no mortal should claim. Am I to fight so soon after being called, Master ?"

"No !" replied Rin quickly. "No, no one is going to fight here. Hello. I am Rin Tohsaka, and I am your Master. Behind me are the Masters of Berserker and Saber. They are our allies. You see, Rider, there is something you need to know …"

For the third time that day, the Workshop of the Emiya family witnessed a Master explaining to a Servant what they knew of the Grail's corruption.

"I see," said the armored Servant once Rin was done. Her face was still hidden under her helmet, revealing nothing of her feelings in response to the revelations she had just been subjected to. "All I desired from this War was a chance to face powerful opponents. If what you claim of the Holy Grail's taint is true, then surely there will be many such opportunities."

"We are going to try and solve things peacefully with the other Masters," said Rin, "but I am fairly certain we will need to fight at some point. Will you help us ? I would rather you do it of your own free will than have to use a Command Seal," she continued, apologetically.

Something too refined to be called a snort came from under Rider's helm. "Yes, Master. I will help you, and fight alongside those meant to be my rivals." She looked at Saber and Berserker, who had dismissed their weapons and stood near their Masters. "And perhaps we can arrange some spars at some point. Purely so that we know each other's abilities, of course."

"Of course," repeated Rin drily. Great. She had summoned a battle junkie. Still, that wasn't too bad. "I am glad you understand … Shirou ? Why are you looking at my Servant like that ?"

While she had been talking to Rider, Shirou had been staring at the spear in the Servant's hand, eyes glowing in that way they always did when he used his version of Structural Grasping. When Rin called him out, he blinked, before looking at her. His expression reminded him of the one he had worn earlier that day, in her Workshop, and she felt a twinge of worry.

"My apologies, Rider," he said politely, breaking eye contact with Rin to look at the last Servant to be summoned. "As Rin said, I am Shirou Emiya, Master of Saber here. One of my thaumaturgical abilities is the reading of a weapon's history, and I just used it on your spear – more by reflex than ill-intent, I assure you. And … well, we need to discuss it. I think it will be important. Are you fine with your True Name being revealed ? We already know those of Saber and Berserker."

For several seconds, Rider stared at Shirou, before giving the slightest of nods. This close to her Servant, Rin could sense some of her emotions : right now, she was feeling a mix of curiosity and repressed … was that desire ? Bloodlust ? It was tinged with an edge of something Rin couldn't identify.

"Alright," breathed Shirou. "That spear is a magical construct of some sort, far beyond my ability to consciously understand, but I can see some of its history. It has many names and shapes, but the one that matters right now is Gungnir, the spear of Odin, the Allfather of Norse Mythology."

"However, you aren't Odin. You have this spear because of your connection to the legend of the Wild Hunt. Like Odin once did, you led that host of spirits, and inherited Gungnir along with the role."

Rider bowed her head. "That is correct. I never held that spear in life, though I assure you that I am more than competent enough with it to qualify for the Lancer Class."

"I don't doubt it," smiled Shirou, the expression curiously strained. "For it was through that connection that I learned your True Name."

Meanwhile, Rin was desperately trying to recall everything she had read about the Wild Hunt. Her investigation of Shirou's condition had made her study all sorts of folklore. The Wild Hunt was a popular European myth : its basic form was that of a group of supernatural creatures that chased prey in the night. The Norse God Odin was said to be its leader in some versions, while in others …

… Oh god. Had she actually summoned Satan ?!

"Rider," said Shirou, "sorry to be impolite, but ... could you remove your helmet ?"

There was barely any hesitation before Rider reached up and took off her headgear. Her face was crowned by short black horns, but those weren't what held Rin's attention. Her Servant's face was older, fuller, but unmistakable nonetheless : it was the same as that of Saber.

"Well," said Shirou, "I guess that confirms what I saw in your spear's and your armor's history. Hello, Artoria, King of Storms, Leader of the Wild Hunt. As I said, this is my Servant, Saber : also known as Artoria, King of Knights."

Somehow, Rin thought, Shirou and her had summoned two versions of the same Heroic Spirit, with one of them remembering her last summoning.

She felt a weight in her stomach, as she wondered how many other rules of the Grail War could no longer be relied upon.

Chapter Text

November 21st, 2004 – Emiya residence

It was Saber who broke the stunned silence that had descended on the Workshop in the wake of Shirou's announcement.

"She doesn't look anything like me," protested the black knight. She had re-summoned her armor when Berserker had been summoned, and hadn't dismissed it since. "I know my gear changed colors, and my skin is paler now, but her eyes and hair are all wrong."

Shirou stared at his Servant, along with Rin and Sakura. Was she serious ? Sure, people often had difficulties recognizing the similarities between their faces and someone else's, but …

Then he understood. "You haven't seen yourself since the end of the last War, have you, Saber ?"

The unimpressed glance she sent his way made it clear that no, obviously, she hadn't seen her own reflection since being dragged into a prison of perpetual darkness and torment. And it wasn't as if she had spent a lot of time during the Fourth War taking care of her appearance, either.

"Right. Of course. Wait a moment, there is a mirror in there somewhere ..." he muttered, moving to look in the boxes piled against one of the walls, before finding what he was searching for. "Ah, there. Look."

He pulled out the full-body mirror that they had brought in the Workshop during their experimentation, so that Shirou could see what he looked like while drawing upon his power.

"Do you see the resemblance now ?" He asked, putting the mirror in front of Saber.

Saber stared at her reflection with wide eyes, reaching with one gauntleted hand to toy with her hair. Like her skin, it too was pale, and Shirou had to assume that it had been deeper in color before the Servant had been trapped in the Grail's darkness. The biggest shock, though, had to be her eyes, which were now yellow – exactly like the Servant of the Mount's.

Eventually, Saber tore her gaze from her reflection to turn to Rider, looking the other Servant up and down before asking :

"Are you ... one of the parts of me it tore away ?"

Rider cocked her head in confusion. Saber explained, though her tone made it clear she wasn't enjoying reliving the memories :

"After I was drowned into the black mud of the corrupt Grail" - Rin had already explained her part in the Fourth War and its end, though Saber's identity hadn't been revealed until Shirou had told them what his eyes had seen - "I remember it tearing pieces of me. I don't remember what those pieces were, because along with them went my memories beyond the start of the Fourth War. I thought what was torn from me had been destroyed, but …"

"That might make sense," said Rin. "I think I have an idea as to what might have happened. King Arthur's legend is one of the best known in the entire world. And he – sorry, she, would qualify for almost every Class. That must have had an impact on her Spirit Origin."

"What do you mean, Nee-san ?" asked Sakura.

"According to Shirou's Mystic Eyes, Saber resisted the corruption that afflicts her sword," answered Rin. She had already gotten over the shock of her Servant's identity, noted Shirou, and gone in full lecture mode. "If the Grail tried to damage her Spirit Origin in order to make it easier to corrupt her, it would still have … pieces, for lack of a better word, left over from the process."

"I am not sure I like where you are going with this, Master," frowned Rider. Rin shrugged.

"Sorry, Rider. I don't like it either, but we need to consider every possibility. So I need to ask, what do you remember ? Of your life as a human, as a King, I mean."

Rider smiled, the expression as beautiful as it was intimidating. "I remember battle after battle. I remember riding out against those who would invade our lands and crushing them on the field. I remember battling men and monsters alike, safeguarding the borders of my Kingdom."

"Is that all ?" asked Rin. "What about the time you spent in Camelot ? What about the politics, the strategy meetings, the audiences with nobles and villagers ?"

For the first time since she had removed her helmet, Rider appeared unsure and confused.

"I ... I do not ... There are images, but they are distant, blurred. It doesn't feel like they happened to me at all …"

"And what of your death ?" pressed Rin. "Do you remember Mordred's rebellion ? Do you remember the fields of Camlann ?"

"... No." The word left Rider's lips barely louder than a whisper. "I remember battles against foreign invaders, and taking part in the Wild Hunt, but not what came in between. How is that possible ? How did I not notice this ?!"

"Your legend – the legend of the both of you – has grown since your death, to become bigger than any single life can contain." Rin went on. "For instance, the story of King Arthur joining the Wild Hunt is incompatible with the one saying he sleeps in Avalon, waiting for the hour of England's greatest need, but both of these are recorded in your legend, and both are inscribed in the Throne of Heroes. It wasn't just your memories that the Grail tore away, Saber. It was taking pieces of your legend … your Spirit Origin. As for why you didn't notice, well, you have just materialized. Maybe you would have noticed the incoherences in your memories on your own eventually."

"What you are getting to, Rin," said Shirou slowly, "is that the Grail took Saber's memories, and used them along with another aspect of her legend to create Rider."

"Yes," confirmed Rin, "that's what I think happened, at any rate. But if I am right, some of the memories the Servant your father summoned in the Fourth War should have are still unaccounted for. If Saber is 'the Artoria of the Fourth Grail War', and Rider is 'the Artoria of the Battlefields of England', then what became of 'the Artoria of Camelot' ? You know, the one who gathered the Knights of the Round Table, rebuilt the kingdom of Britain ... and married Guinevere ?"

Rin winced as she said the last part, but neither Saber nor Rider did – in fact, the former cocked her head to the side questioningly, as if she didn't quite remember who the name was referring to, but knew that it was supposed to be someone important.

"You are saying one of the other Masters could have summoned another version of Artoria ?" clarified Shirou.

"It seems very likely," confirmed Rin.

"Well ... that's good, isn't it ?" asked Sakura with a frown. "It would make it easier to convince her Master there is something wrong with the Grail, at least."

"It might look that way", admitted Rin, scowling. "But given what we know, I am suspicious of such good fortune."

"You think the Grail did this for a reason", said Shirou.

"Given their similarities and how you reacted to Saber's sword, there is no doubt that Saber and Rider were affected by the Grail's curse", replied Rin. "I think something similar happened in the Third Grail War, when one of the Servants summoned was an 'Alter' of their original self. Did it just need to something with the 'pieces' it had torn from Saber, or was there another motive ? For that matter, was the Grail already corrupted during the Third War ? Saber and Rider both resisted the Grail's corruption, but did the missing pieces manage it as well, or were they successfully corrupted ? We don't know. We can't know, not until we have more information. So when we meet the Master of the hypothetical third Artoria Servant, we are going to need to be very careful."

"Regardless of how or why," Rider growled, "the Grail toyed with me. With us. It will pay for that transgression."

"That it will," agreed Saber with a cold smile. "That it will."

The silence that followed was ended by the simultaneous growls of several stomachs. It had already been several hours since the teens had eaten breakfast, and the summonings had taken a lot of energy out of them.

"Alright," declared Shirou. "That's enough speculation for now. I am going to prepare lunch, and we can discuss our strategy meanwhile. Saber, Berserker, Rider, I don't know if modern cooking will satisfy your palates, but I am hoping you will join us anyway ?"

".. We do not need to eat," pointed out Berserker, speaking for the first time after several minutes of silence. "All we require is prana from our Master. Food is wasted on us."

"That doesn't mean you can't enjoy it, does it ? And it would be rude of us to eat without you."

"Just accept it," advised Rin. "He isn't going to let you avoid it. Besides, his cooking is really, really good."

Whether due to curiosity or politeness, the three Servants eventually accepted, and they all relocated to the living room. Sakura brought some clothes from their room for Berserker and Rider to wear, in case Fuji-nee came by unannounced, as she often had in the past. The presence of the Servants would already be difficult to explain, as would Saber's gothic dress : having someone else in armor from head to toe and a third in what could generously be described as a black bikini would be much more challenging. Berserker's blindfold would still require some minor hypnosis to explain away, though.

Shirou very carefully did not notice how Berserker's frame stretched Sakura's clothes, nor how they clung to Rider's legs and waist once the Servant of the Mount had unsummoned parts of her armor to sit more comfortably, and focused on preparing the meal.

As he cooked, Shirou gave more information to the three Servants. He told them about Avalon being implanted inside him, about the strange abilities he possessed whose origins they still didn't know, about the situation in Fuyuki and the call he had received from Lord El-Melloi II.

Shirou didn't know how much a Servant would eat, but he decided to go all-out on the quantity as well as the quality. Any leftovers could be put in the fridge : it was, after all, unlikely he would have time to cook properly again with the Grail War in full swing.

Five minutes after serving, he understood how foolish he had been.

The single male in the Emiya household wasn't stupid enough to even think that a woman had a big appetite : Taiga had long since taught him the perils of doing so. But Saber, Berserker and Rider certainly had been hungry. While the Masters ate their portions, the Servants took seconds, then thirds … The feast he had laid down was devoured in its entirety, with not a scrap left. Even Berserker, who had claimed not to need food, ate just as much as the deceptively slender Saber.

Shirou decided that he was going to need to buy more food soon. There were still enough supplies in the fridge and the freezer to last them a couple more days at this rate, but he didn't want to find out what would happen if he couldn't feed the Servants.

Still, it was nice to see that his cooking was good enough for people who had been kings or had lived during the Age of the Gods. Rider and Saber had been almost effusive in their praise, and even Berserker had broken her silence to quietly thank him and praise the quality of his cooking.

Although, come to think of it, Berserker had lived on an abandoned island, and Rider had been king of England, whose culinary reputation was … what it was. So maybe he shouldn't let their praise go to his head.

Once the table was cleaned up and the dishes done, they resumed their discussion.

The goal of their newly founded alliance was twofold : to prevent the corrupt Grail from manifesting, and to keep casualties to a minimum. Even Shirou was bitterly aware that the chances that no innocent would perish in the coming conflict were slight, but they were still going to do their best.

The first step would be to convince the other Masters to not fight, and to investigate and deal with the Servant responsible for the destruction at the Animusphere Castle. Then they would need to deal with the Grail itself, by learning more about the details of its corruption and then figuring out a way to defuse the threat it represented.

None present were blind to how daunting the task that laid ahead of them really was. And none of them were going to give up.

"Normally, this is the point of the War where we would introduce ourselves as Masters to the Overseer," said Shirou. "Of course, we aren't going to do that."

Rider frowned. "Why ? Wouldn't pretending to follow the rules of the War give us more time to find and convince the other Masters ? In fact, shouldn't this Overseer be the first to be informed of the threat ? The knowledge of the Grail War I was given indicates that this situation would fall right within their purview."

"That would be the case," agreed Shirou, "if not for the fact that this War's Overseer is Kirei Kotomine. The man was a Master in the previous War, and by all rights he should be dead. Dad shot him in the back at almost point-blank range with his Contender gun – which, for those of us not versed in modern firearms, is a weapon powerful enough to have completely obliterated Kirei's heart. This happened right before the destruction of the Grail and the unleashing of its curse. Kirei's corpse was near ground zero at the time, and he showed up right after to contact the Association and the Church in order to deal with the clean-up. A clean-up that, despite the sheer malevolence of the curse unleashed and the number of victims, somehow didn't raise any eyebrows in either organization. Do you see where I am going with this ?"

The Servant of the Mount nodded in understanding. "You think he was brought back to life by the Grail, and would therefore serve its will."

"We cannot be certain that the Grail's corruption has a 'will' to speak of. But given what happened to Saber, we have to act on the assumption it does. Besides, even if we were to consider the remote possibility that Kirei survived through other means and somehow missed how incredibly dangerous the Grail is, there are other reasons we cannot trust him." He went on to explain what he had learned from the Azoth dagger – about Kirei's betrayal and murder of Tokiomi Tohsaka.

"I see," said Rider, her face a picture of calm that masked the disgust Rin alone could feel through her bond. The King of Storms was outraged by such base treachery. "Then we will need to deal with him in due time. This shouldn't be too difficult. Even with the blessing of the corrupt Grail, he's still only human."

"We'll need to be careful," warned Rin. "He is a retired Executor of the Church, and much as I hate to admit it, he was one of the best in generations. There is a reason he was chosen as the administrator of the War, and why his word was trusted by both the Church and the Association."

"And there is a reason Dad told me to avoid him rather than arrange for his death himself," added Shirou.

"I would think so," remarked Saber. "Even with the wounds he sustained from the end of the War, surely Kiritsugu could have orchestrated Kirei's demise at some point before his own death otherwise. He was certainly capable enough during the Fourth War."

"Really ?" asked Rider with an air of curiosity. "What was he like ?"

"Brutal," said Shirou, cutting Saber off with an apologetic look. "And we aren't going to imitate his tactics unless we absolutely have to. His goals were to defeat the other Masters anyway, so that wouldn't serve our own objectives."

"I know we said that was our goal, Shirou, but the Association won't look kindly on our efforts to stop the War," said Rin. "There are provisions in the rules for this scenario. They were written in case the Masters decided that having the services of a Servant was more interesting than risking everything to pursue the Grail, but they can be applied to our situation."

"Especially given how paranoid, short-sighted and petty the magi of the Clocktower are," interjected Sakura, casually insulting some of the most powerful people on Earth without batting an eyelid. "They must have been terrified by the idea of someone without ten generations of interbred ancestors utilizing a Servant's help to reach the greater Mysteries."

"... Right. Rin, what's the protocol in that situation ?"

"If the Masters refuse to participate in the War, the Overseer must contact the Church and the Magus Association. Specialist exorcists and Enforcers will then be dispatched to neutralize the Masters, weakening the Servants enough that they can be banished. This has never happened in the previous Wars, and honestly, I think the Founders might have been a bit optimistic about the chances mere mortals stand against a Servant, but it would still be bad for us."

"Lord El-Melloi II has promised to help keep things from escalating at the Clocktower," Shirou reminded everyone, before adding for the Servants' benefits : "He is one of the twelve Lords of the Clocktower, and someone we have had dealings with in the past. At the very least, we should have advance warning if the Association decides to move against us in force."

"If we can trust him," said Sakura, making it clear that she did not think they could. The younger girl had never forgotten the fact that, in the eyes of the Clocktower, what had been done to her would have been entirely worth it in order to continue the Matou Magecraft.

"We are going to have to, Sakura," said Shirou with a grim smile. "I know you don't like him, but he has dealt fairly and honestly with us so far."

"Which leaves the Church," continued Rin. "But if Kirei is involved with the corruption of the Grail, then he wouldn't want to draw the attention of his superiors. Especially if we are right and his continued existence is the result of the Grail's interference : the Church looks very poorly on its members using unnatural methods to expand their lifespan. He might keep things under wraps as much as he can, which ironically would be his job anyway."

"We don't have enough information to know how he will act for sure," said Shirou. "But I think I know someone who can help us quarantine Fuyuki from the rest of the Moonlit World for the duration of the War."

"Who are you …" began Rin, before blinking in realization. "Oh. Of course. Still, are you sure you can convince them to help ?"

"Maybe, maybe not. There's only one way to know."

Shirou briefly left the room, returning with an unmarked envelope. He opened, revealing a scrap of paper on which was written a series of numbers. He picked up the phone – a recent model, which had been discreetly sent to one of the Fujimura Group's contacts to make it as difficult to tap as possible.

"Who are you calling, Master ?" asked his Servant, looking at the phone in his hands. Apparently, the knowledge of the modern era that was instilled into the minds of summoned Servants had survived the Grail's violations.

It felt strange that Saber, despite hailing from medieval times, was somehow better with modern technology than a typical Magus. When they had started to interact with each other more often, Rin had been absolutely hopeless with these things, Shirou thought with a wistful smile. It was fun to look back on it – and only in looking back on it. At the time, it had been a terrifying nightmare. Rin had been almost as bad with modern appliances as Kiritsugu had been with cooking.

"There is a … group of people that might be able to help us. Not magi," he hastened to add. "They are called the Mihashira Conglomerate, and are one of Japan's top companies, with branches in almost every industry. I learned that they had a presence in the Moonlit World last year, when I stumbled on the aftermath of one of their failed projects. I haven't investigated them, mostly because I don't want to make them angry at me, but it seemed to me that they have a lot of influence with both the mundane and supernatural world."

"Merchants and craftsmen dabbling in Magecraft ?" said Saber with a slight sneer. "Are you sure they can be trusted ? The greed of such men could easily be played on by the Grail's promises."

"They have known about the Grail War for years and haven't shown any interest in it before," calmly replied Shirou. "They sent me this letter after we made contact for the first time – it just showed up in the mailbox one morning, completely blank except for the Conglomerate's seal. I think I know whose number it contains, and that person treated with me fairly the last time our paths crossed."

"If you think that's for the best, Master, then I shall trust your judgment."

He smiled. "Thank you for your trust, Saber."

He imputed the number and waited. On the third ring, the call connected.

"It has been some time since we last spoke. Hello, Emiya-san," said a voice Shirou hadn't heard since that night in the construction site in Kumamoto City.

"Hello, Kodai-san. Sorry to call you on a Sunday, but this is an emergency."

"Do not worry, Emiya-san. I was expecting your call."

"You were ?"

"Yes. We have detected a perturbation in the ley lines converging on Fuyuki. There are only a few possible reasons for this, and none of them are good."

"The Fifth Grail War has started earlier than anticipated."

"I see. Troubling, but not entirely unexpected, given how the previous War ended. But I assume you have more information to share ?"

Shirou gulped. This was it.

"Exactly. I have evidence that the Grail was corrupted, at least as early as the Fourth War, possibly before. If it reaches completion, we might be looking at an apocalypse-class scenario."

"... Explain, please," commanded the voice. Shirou obeyed, revealing as much of what he knew as he dared, even over a secure line. He kept his own nature to himself, but shared what his father had told him, and the fact that his Servant remembered the previous Grail War and had been summoned in several Classes.

Saber didn't look happy that he was telling someone else what had happened to her, even without the full details. He would need to make it up to her later.

"… This is indeed a most grave situation," said Kodai when Shirou was done. "The evidence you have wouldn't be enough to convince the Association or the Church to intervene, especially if measures have already been taken to prevent them to. But we have long suspected that there was something more to the end of the Fourth Grail War than the official version."

"You believe me, then ?"

"Yes. You were right to call us, but our ability to intervene is limited. We will dispatch agents across the country's entry points in order to keep members of the Moonlit World from interfering. Our media teams will also work to help keep events in Fuyuki under wraps, and prevent evidence of Magecraft from spreading. But as Masters, it will be up to you and your allies to deal with the situation in Fuyuki."

"Thank you," replied Shirou sincerely. "That's what I was hoping you could help us with. But there is something else. You told me once that you could stop the Grail War if needed, Kodai-san. Is that still possible ?"

"... Yes. But we won't use this option until the very last moment."

"Why ?" Shirou's grip on the phone tightened. "People are going to die. People have already died, according to Lord El-Melloi II."

"Emiya-san. When I told you that our option would cost us dearly, I was understating things. Unleashing assets capable of dealing with the situation would, at the very minimum, lead to the death of everyone in Fuyuki. You might be able to survive, given your past prowess, but the death toll would be in the tens of thousands, and the fallout would be almost impossible to contain."

Shirou gulped. What kind of 'assets' was that ?!

"That's … alright. I understand. But what if the cursed Grail materialize ? My father didn't tell me the details, but he believed it could be a threat to the entire world."

"In that case, we shall enact our doomsday protocols, whose costs would be even higher."

"How much higher ?" pressed Shirou.

"The entirety of the Japanese archipelago," said Kodai without any emotion audible in his voice, "and every single soul in it."

Shirou sat still, stunned, his mind briefly refusing to process what he had been told.

"... I am not sure how I feel about a private company having access to that kind of option, Kodai-san."

"We aren't comfortable about having it either, Emiya-san. We would dispose of it if we knew how, or hand it over to someone else if we knew we could trust them to keep it secure. I very much hope you can keep things from reaching that extremity."

He shook himself. "Alright. I understand. I won't let it come to that."

"See that you do. None of us would survive this eventuality … though that might be considered that a mercy, I suppose."

On those ominous words, the line went dead. Shirou put down the phone, and found himself stared at by five women. He had set the phone on speaker before calling : everyone had heard his exchange with Kodai.

"We are going to need to learn more about the Mihashira Conglomerate once this is over, Shirou," said Rin with a frown. "I don't feel comfortable living in the same country that a megacorporation could apparently wipe out with a push of a button."

"Yes," sighed Shirou. "Probably. But that's a problem for latter. Right now, I need to go ask for Fujimura-san's help as well. His influence could really help keep things from going too badly."

"I am coming with you," said Rin and Sakura immediately.

"No, you are not," denied Shirou. He forged ahead quickly, before either of them could protest. "I have my reasons for that beyond just wanting to keep you safe." There was no point in pretending that didn't play a part in his reasoning. "We don't know if any of the other Masters already made it to Fuyuki, and while it's still day outside, that doesn't mean they won't attack us if they get a chance."

"Then you shouldn't go at all," argued Rin. "Can't you tell the old man whatever you need to tell him on the phone ?"

"I am going to ask him for a momentous favor while discussing a threat to the entire city, Rin. It would be an insult not to do that in person."

"Then why should you go alone, Senpai ?"

"First, I won't be alone : Saber will be with me. Secondly, because I have Avalon," he answered, pressing a hand to his chest, "and my own innate power. Of the three of us, I am the strongest, the hardest to kill, and the one whose visiting the Fujimura family will draw the least attention. I often go there to talk about my jobs for them, after all."

"Master," asked Saber. "Who are the Fujimura, and why do we need their help ?"

"You don't know ?" Shirou frowned. "I am pretty sure Dad had already made contact with them during the Fourth War."

"He may have," admitted Saber with a scowl, "but my relationship with my previous Master was … far from ideal. He didn't share much of his plans and preparations with me."

"… I see." He looked at Rider and Berserker. "Well, I guess I better tell you so that everyone is on the same page."

He ran the three Servants through a quick recap on the history, nature and resources of the Fujimura Group, before explaining his own relationship with the grand-daughter of its leader as well as the more 'professional' ties he had with the organization.

"It sits ill with me to associate with knaves and scoundrels, even if they hold to their own honor as you claim, Shirou," said Rider with a scowl. "Yet given the circumstances, we have little choice but to use every resource at our disposal."

"Yes," said Rin, "but that doesn't mean you should needlessly put yourself in danger ! What will you do if you are attacked by several other Masters, or by the Servant that destroyed the Animusphere Castle ? Yes, you are strong, but you have limits, Shirou !"

"The contract between us is still stable," replied Shirou. "I know we haven't figured out how to send actual messages through it, but if anything happens to me, you will know at once."

"Do not worry," intervened Saber. "I swear to you that I shall keep my Master safe."

Rin and Sakura spent a long moment looking between Shirou and his Servant, as if weighing Saber's reassurance against what they knew of Shirou's character. Eventually, they relented, though not without making Shirou swear to be careful a few more times.

"Saber," asked Shirou after dressing to leave the house, "can you go into Spirit Form ? I would rather keep your presence hidden for as long as possible."

"Of course, Master."

The Servant of the Sword dissipated into golden motes as she let go of her incarnation -

- and immediately, Shirou felt an overwhelming sense of panic come through his link with Saber. Before he had time to react, she all but slammed back into existence, trembling, her porcelain skin looking even paler. She stumbled and fell on her knees, hugging herself, trembling.

"I … I …" Her voice was small as it pierced the stunned silence that had descended on the room.

Gently, Shirou sat next to her, carefully putting a hand on her shoulder. She reacted to his touch on instinct, but instead of lashing out as he half expected, she threw herself in his arms, pressing her head against his chest. Even after everything that had been done to her, part of her recognized the presence of Avalon, and whatever was causing her distress made her seek its comfort.

"What happened, Saber ?" asked Shirou softly.

"I was scared," she whispered. "I couldn't feel anything … It was … It was like I was back there. Back in the blackness … I – I can't ! Please, Master, don't ask me to do that again …"

"Alright," said Shirou soothingly. "I won't. I promise."

Saber not being able to go into Spirit Form made sense when he thought about it. He had no idea what dematerialization felt like, but to someone like Saber, who was obviously traumatized by her time in the Grail's clutches, the loss of sensation would apparently trigger a panic attack.

This … this wasn't ideal. Rin had explained the advantages of Spirit Form in the War to him – lower prana consumption, almost impossible to detect without powerful Bounded Fields or ancient Mysteries, and in the case of most Servants, the ability to accompany their Masters in public without endangering the secrecy of the Moonlit World. Having one of the three Servants on their side not able to use it was a huge blow to their battle potential.

Looking at the trembling girl in his arms, however, Shirou found that he couldn't bring himself to give a damn about the tactical side of the situation.

"You don't have to go into Spirit Form," he decided. Eventually, that limitation would cause problems, but right now, they were easy to fix. And it wasn't as if they were going to try and win the War anyway. "We can work around this. Rin, we are going to need to borrow some of your clothes."

Saber and Shirou left the Emiya residence twenty minutes later. Saber had collected herself, and walked proudly at Shirou's side, dressed in clothes borrowed from Rin (her black dress would have raised too many questions, especially with how cold it was outside).

They went straight for the Fujimura residence, and were shown inside by the guards without fuss, though the men couldn't stop themselves from looking at Saber with wide eyes. Her Charisma might be only E-ranked in her current form according to the knowledge Shirou could glean from their connection (he was almost certain that the Skill had been higher before the Grail had captured her), but that still put her head and shoulders above normal people.

"This place reminds me of a fortress," mentioned Saber as they walked through the sprawling Fujimura estate, briefly out of earshot of the guards. There were, Shirou noticed, more of them than was usual, especially on a Sunday, when even Yakuza took a break from their activities.

"I thought you didn't remember your reign ?" he replied.

"I don't, but that's the impression I am getting from it."

Raiga was waiting for them in the same room where they had discussed Sakura's fate over a year prior. The Oyabun hadn't changed one bit since then, seemingly impervious to the ravages of time.

Just like then, there were two cups of tea waiting for them.

He is stronger than he looks, sent Saber through the Master-Servant link as the two of them approached. The connection was much clearer than the one Shirou had with Sakura and Rin through their contract, allowing for instant communication and sense sharing. Sharper, too.

Yes, replied Shirou in the same way. He keeps the appearance of a kindly grandfather, and that's really who he is most of the time, but there is a reason he's still the boss of Fuyuki's underworld.

"Hello, Shirou-kun," Raiga greeted them warmly. "And who is that guest you bring with you ?"

"Hello, Raiga-san. This is Saber", said Shirou.

They had considered using a fake name, but ultimately decided against it, at least while talking with Raiga. The wily Oyabun would detect the slightest hint of deceit, and they couldn't risk alienating him.

"That is an ... unusual name", noted Raiga, looking at Saber intently. "Then again, I suspect it is the least unusual thing about you. Welcome into my home, Saber-san. Please, sit, and drink. It is quite cold outside; some tea will warm you up."

Once they had sat down and taken a polite sip – and then another, because this truly was excellent tea – Raiga continued :

"I confess that I am curious as to why you are here looking so serious, Shirou-kun." There was an amused twinkle in the old man's eyes as he continued : "The last time my grand-daughter's ward came here accompanied by a young girl, it did end up causing quite the commotion, after all."

"This isn't like with Sakura. Bad as it was back then, I am afraid the situation now is much, much worse. I am here today to speak with you about a threat to the entire city of Fuyuki."

With impressive speed, all trace of amusement vanished from Raiga's face, leaving only the visage of the dreaded Oyabun behind.

"… Go on."

"Do you remember what happened ten years ago, before the Fuyuki Fire ?"

Raiga's face darkened even further. "Yes, I do. How could I forget ? Terrorist strikes at a hotel. Children disappearing, never to be seen again. Some sort of hallucinogenic gas deployed at the river, causing mass panic. And then of course, the fire itself … It was a dark time for everyone in this city. I lost many of my men back then, and afterwards too. They just … vanished, without any trace."

"It is starting again," said Shirou "Three of my father's old associates have come to help me stop it before it gets as bad, or worse, as it did back then."

"… I see. And I suppose Saber-san is one of these 'associates' ?"

"She is one of them, yes. All three are relatives of someone who worked with Dad ten years ago."

Raiga took a sip from his cup, gazing at Saber thoughtfully.

"… Your father knew the most fascinating people, Shirou-kun. Very well. I understand that the situation is grave. You wouldn't have come here without a plan. What do you need me to do ?"

"If I am not mistaken, the danger will be limited during the day, but it will be grave at night. I need you to put pressure on the authorities to declare a curfew across town. Make up some excuse about criminal or terrorist activity, but the less people are out after dark, the less casualties there will be before this is over."

"That'll be difficult. People tend to protest any disturbance to their lives, even when there is a good reason for it."

"I know." It hurt to know that people would die before the city would take things seriously, but that was the consequence of separating the Moonlit World from the mundane one. "Please, just make sure that the option is in the minds of the authorities. And you also need to decide whether to pull your men off the streets at night, or tell them to be careful and watch out for anything out of the ordinary. I would prefer if you took the first option, frankly."

"You don't think my people can take care of themselves ?" asked Raiga with a raised eyebrow.

"Against thugs and foreign criminals ? Yes. Against what is coming ? No," answered Shirou as bluntly as he could, desperate to convince the old man of the gravity of the situation. "They would be slaughtered if they got caught in the cross-fire, nevermind if they encountered one of the actors on their own."

"If a curfew is announced, it would behove law-abiding citizens such as ourselves to respect it," announced Raiga. "But until then, I won't ask my men to abandon their duties and leave the people who rely on us for protection defenceless. I will order them to spread the word to avoid being outside at night, though. Our 'clients' trust us enough not to ask questions, especially in the current climate."

"In the current climate ?" repeated Shirou. "I didn't notice anything strange going on." At least, nothing that the normal side of the World would notice.

For a moment, Raiga looked at his cup, frowning.

"There have been ... developments", he finally said. "You may have noticed that we are on high alert in this house. In recent weeks, my men have reported a surge in violence across the city. We have had more attempts by foreign groups to muscle in on our territory in the last month than in the last two years, and the people who come from oversea are some of the worse of their kind. They don't seem to be working together. In fact, some of them come from organizations that have been feuding for decades. Could this be related to what you are talking about, Shirou-kun ?"

"It ... might", admitted Shirou, thinking furiously. Could the corrupt Grail be responsible ? Fuyuki stood at a crossing of multiple ley lines, and every ley line was connected to every other somewhere on the globe. But surely if the Grail's influence had spread that far, Rin would have noticed ?

Did you not tell me, Master, that the girl's teacher was in the Grail's thrall ? cut in Saber's mental voice. She had been following his thoughts, not that he had tried to hide them from her. Could he not have kept this hidden from her ?

That was ... possible. Likely, even, if the corruption of the Grail was as bad as they all feared.

"It is possible", he told Raiga out loud, "though that would only be a side-effect at best."

"I see. Well, it will help push the case for a curfew", mused Raiga. "I don't like drawing public attention to our activities, but gang violence is one of the things no one with any sense would hesitate declaring one about."

How much does he know about the Moonlit World ? silently asked Saber.

I have no idea, replied Shirou. He always seemed to know more about Dad's real work than he let on, but I didn't want to push it.

"I want you to keep me informed as much as you can, Shirou-kun. I understand that there are secrets you must keep, but I will be most cross with you if they end up hurting those under my responsibility."

"I promise you to do all I can to keep the damage to a minimum", said Shirou truthfully. "And I will tell you what I can."

"Then you will have my assistance and that of the Fujimura Group. Now go. I have several calls to make."

"Oh, and … one last thing. Could I borrow a few bikes ? My father's associates are quite good on wheels, but they didn't bring theirs over."

Next to him, Saber noticeably perked up at his words.

"Well, that's a much easier request to grant," laughed Raiga. "Of course ! I will have someone bring some of our best ones to your home before evening. Take care of them, though, alright ?"

For a moment, Shirou imagined what a Servant fight could do to a bike.

"We'll do our best," he promised weakly.

After a final round of goodbyes, Shirou and Saber left the estate.

"Master ? Before we return home, there is somewhere else I want us to go …"

Saber's face was as cold as ever, but Shirou could feel a sense of trepidation through their bond.

"So this is the place ..."

Saber stood next to Shirou, looking around at Fuyuki Park.

In truth, the location hardly deserved the name. A few sickly trees rose amidst dead grass. Entire stretches of ground were bare, nothing at all growing there despite the efforts of the park's keepers. Behind the thick cloud cover, the sun was half-way to the horizon, and the thin shadows it cast only made the area look more desolate and haunted.

"Yes," replied Shirou. "This is where Dad told you to destroy the Grail at the end of the Fourth War, and where the curse inside it was unleashed in the form of a great Fire."

"And this is where he found you ?"

He nodded. "It's the first thing I remember. Walking through the flames, then falling and crawling … until he found me, and saved me."

"I am … sorry, Master. You shouldn't have had to go through this."

Though Saber's face barely changed, Shirou could see the anguish in her eyes, and feel it through their bond.

"I told Dad that it wasn't his fault, and it certainly wasn't yours," he answered firmly. "The Grail was already corrupted long before either of you joined the War. This ..." he gestured to their surroundings, "this is the result of you two choosing the lesser of two evils."

"'The lesser of two evils' ?" She repeated his words, as if testing them. "… Yes. Yes, I suppose it was."

Silence descended between Master and Servant, the two of them lost in contemplation.

Despite the fact that it was a Sunday afternoon, no one else was there. There were very rarely people here, Shirou knew. The remnants of the Grail's curse kept them away : even people utterly clueless of the Moonlit World could tell that this was a bad place. The only interesting feature of the park was the monument that rose in its center, where the Civic Center had once stood.

The monument was simple. A stone was laid on the ground, on which were inscribed a description of the public version of what had happened ten years ago, along with the usual oaths of remembrance and prayers for the dead.

There was no list of the deceased; as far as Shirou knew, no exact count of the dead had ever been possible. The confusion of the Fourth Grail War, combined with the efforts of Church and Clocktower to preserve the secrecy of Magecraft, had made such a record impossible.

Perhaps if they hadn't, Shirou would know the name of his birth parents. Perhaps he would know his own birth name. He was more interested in the former, of course – whoever he had been before the Fire, he was Shirou Emiya now.

And just like he had been, for all intents and purposes, born here, so too had Saber. His Servant was looking at the stone pensively, but he could feel her thoughts were elsewhere entirely. He didn't try to pry into her mind, unwilling to disturb her privacy in what was clearly an important moment to her.

Instead, he looked around, and let prana flow into his eyes.

Looking at the curse still coursing through the land made his head hurt slightly, but he forced himself through the pain. Over the years, he had kept watch over the park, returning here once every few months to remind himself of where he came from. After his mishap with Reinforcing his eyes, he had started using his new ability here as well, trying to get a sense of the force that had all but destroyed him and had, in the end, killed his father.

There was no mistaking it : the taint was stronger than last time. Even the ravens that nested in the trees were gone. The birds were a rare sight in Japan, and the subject of several urban legends gleefully swapped around by the students of Homurahara, each more disturbing than the last. They were also nearly the only wildlife that ventured in the park – or they had been, at any rate.

"Shirou", said Saber suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. Her eyes were sharp, and she was looking around them intently. "I sense someone nearby. We are being watched."

Had one of the other Masters found them already ? This wasn't entirely unexpected : the two of them had walked across the city for over an hour, and Saber was very eye-catching.

"How many ?"

"Two people … and one of them is a Servant."

This wasn't ideal. Despite what he had told his lovers, he had hoped to only trigger a confrontation with Sakura and Rin at his side. Having an overwhelming advantage and yet not making use of it to slaughter the competition would have lent weight to their words when they tried to convince the other Masters of stopping the War.

But if it came to a fight, well, this was the perfect place for it as far as he was concerned. No innocent to get caught in the crossfire, and nothing of value to anyone to be destroyed – except for the monument. He would have to try and preserve it.

He owed it to the dead, along with so much more.

Shirou looked around, starting to flick his Circuits open, drawing power into himself.

"There they are," he muttered to himself as he saw them. Two figures were approaching from behind, walking slowly down the path that led to the park's entrance.

Saber's fingers clutched, and he could feel her desire to summon her sword and armor.

"Wait", he told her. "Let's try talking to them first."

A pulse of shock and recognition came from Saber through their bond as the other Master/Servant pair approached them. They stopped about ten meters or so in front of them, and Shirou finally got a good look at the girl and the woman who had braved Fuyuki Park's curse.

The girl looked like a beautiful doll. She was pale, though not quite as much as Saber, with long white hair and ruby-red eyes. She wore a purple coat with a hat of the same color, and a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

At her side was a tall blond woman in a blue suit, whose face Shirou recognized, having seen it less than two hours before. It was Rider's face, though the skin was healthier-looking, her hair (which was held in a bun above her neck) was less pale, and her eyes were blue.

A long and thin scabbard hung from her waist, and despite the containment spells engraved in the object, Shirou could sense the power that radiated from it. It was … familiar. He had encountered that weapon before, he knew he had. But now was hardly the time to search his memories.

"Hello, Onii-san," said the young girl in a sweet, beautiful, venom-filled voice. Next to him, Shirou heard Saber gasp. "I am so happy to finally meet you. My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern, and I am going to kill you."

Chapter Text

November 21st, 2004 – Fuyuki Memorial Park

The sun was nearing the horizon, casting long shadows that somehow managed to make Fuyuki Park look even more creepy than it had before. With his back to the monument and Saber at his side, Shirou Emiya looked upon the child who had introduced herself as Illyasviel von Einzbern, and the Servant who stood with her.

With a flicker of will, he poured prana into his eyes, and looked at the other Servant/Master pair. The third Artoria – her appearance and power proclaimed her identity – shone with a power that was kin to that of Saber and Rider, if unmistakably different. But it was Illyasviel von Einzbern that captured Shirou's attention.

The young girl, who was older than she appeared – older than him, unless he missed his guess – wasn't entirely human. There was something artificial to the way her insides were arranged, but it was the sheer number and potency of her Magical Circuits that betrayed her origins. The Einzbern were famous for their unmatched mastery of homunculi creation, something that had never stopped making Shirou feel uncomfortable at the idea of hundreds of living, thinking beings created and used as slaves. But Illyasviel hadn't been created : she was partly human, he could see as much. A hybrid, then, born of the union between a homunculus and a Magus.

She was also dying. That much was immediately obvious to Shirou's sight, though even after months of Rin's teaching, Shirou didn't have the words to properly explain what had been done to Illyasviel. It reminded him of what Zouken had done to Sakura in some ways. The similarities were definitely here, with a connection established between the girl and a greater thaumaturgic construct, but the malevolent corruption that had festered inside his lover was absent in Illyasviel. Her fate was still grim, however. There was too much power contained within her small body : it was burning her from the inside, slowly eroding her very self.

Time seemed to slow to Shirou as he considered the situation before him. Clearly there was more going on here than the Master for the Einzbern in the Fifth Grail War taking the chance to attack him while he was in a relatively isolated location, with only his Servant for company.

Fact one : the girl in front of him was called Illyasviel von Einzbern. She was a Master and connected to the Grail in a way that was swiftly killing her. She was also a homunculus-human hybrid.

Fact two : his father had fought in the Fourth Grail War as the Master for the Einzbern family.

Fact three : when he had faced Zouken, the old worm had mentioned 'the Einzbern girl' – his exact words had been 'I can tell you about the Einzbern, and the girl he left behind' – as if he had expected Shirou to recognize who he was referring to. Shirou hadn't, it had been the first time he had heard the name, but the fact that Zouken had thought he would know it reinforced the connection to Kiritsugu.

Fact four : judging by the fury he saw in her eyes even as the rest of her face kept to the aspect of a smiling angel, the girl held a deep-seated resentment against him, despite them having never met, and him not remembering ever doing anything to earn the Einzbern's enmity (apart from asking Rin to investigate them, but while someone paranoid could have interpreted that as hostile intent, it wasn't enough to explain the intensity of the girl's emotions).

Fact five : Saber had reacted to the girl's appearance before she had introduced herself. His Servant knew her, despite only remembering her time in the Fourth War – a War that had occurred ten years ago, and despite Illyasviel barely looking that old, Shirou's sight told him that she would have been around eight years old at the time.

Fact six : before his death, his father had made several trips to Germany, trips that lasted weeks and always ended up with him coming back looking very sad and in poor health.

Fact seven : the girl had called him 'Onii-san', a term that could mean 'Mister' as well as 'Brother'.

Conclusion …

Oh.

Oh.

Understanding dawned, and so great was the shock of it that the words left Shirou's mouth before he could stop them :

"You are Dad's daughter, aren't you ?"

Today had been the first day Illya had ever been free in her entire life.

The plane the Einzbern had charted for her trip to Japan had landed a few hours before dawn, and Lancer had driven the limo that had waited for the four of them (Illya, Lancer, and the two homunculus maids accompanying them) across the island and to Fuyuki. Leaving the maids behind to prepare the castle for her stay there, Illya had gone to see Fuyuki, partly to get the lay of the land where the Grail War would be fought, but mostly because the idea of staying inside a castle when she could choose not to was abhorrent to her.

She had left the castle after convincing her maids that she would be safe, not that they could have stopped her anyway. Lancer had accompanied Illya across town in manifested form, adjusting her longer stride to Illya's pace. Even in the modern clothes the Einzbern had provided for her, the Servant had drawn attention, of course. A foreign woman of her beauty couldn't help but be noticed in such a dreary little town.

Not that Illya had ever been in a city before. But her grandfather had assured her that Fuyuki City was an insignificant town in the Far East, worth noting only because of the Heaven's Feel that took place there.

Still, preserving the secrecy of Magecraft was required even there, so Illya had used a few spells to ensure that even those who were struck by her Servant's beauty didn't think of recording it or mentioning it later. It was a minor suggestion, one helped by the subtle wards woven in Lancer's clothes, but it would be enough, so long as they didn't engage in outrageous activities in public sight.

She could have guarded Illya just as well in Spirit Form, of course. But Illya's prana reserves were so huge that the additional drain hardly mattered, and the half-homunculus liked Lancer's presence. She found it … reassuring. And even if she hadn't voiced it, she was pretty sure Lancer had understood that after she had spent half the flight from Germany sleeping with her head in King Arthur's lap.

She had intended to spend the day visiting, then go to the local church in order to introduce herself to the Overseer of the Grail War. Even though she had little interest in the Heaven's Feel beyond the chance at revenge it offered her, the rules of the Grail War had to be observed. Then, once she had gotten the lay of the land and gotten the formalities out of the way, she would begin her hunt for her brother.

At least that had been her plan, and Lancer had approved of it, even if her Servant was … leery of her objective. Artoria hadn't said so out loud, but Illya could feel her discomfort with her desire for vengeance through their bond. Given the history of the Round Table and the circumstances of Lancer's own death, Illya could understand her wariness for even adopted siblings fighting to the death. It hadn't dissuaded her, of course. Vengeance against Shirou Emiya was pretty much the only thing she had left to dedicate her remaining lifespan to.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, she had found her steps taking her toward the place where it had all gone wrong – where that man had destroyed the Grail born of her mother's sacrifice. Illya hadn't known why she was going there, except perhaps for a morbid desire to remind herself of just why Shirou Emiya had to die.

She had not expected to find him here, with a Servant at his side. Killing him before introducing herself to the Overseer wasn't technically against the rules of the Grail War – and even if it had been, she hardly cared. Besides, she wasn't going to kill him now. His sins were much too great for him to atone for them so easily.

Then he spoke words that were at once a confession of his guilt, and yet one more crime against her to add to the list, for Shirou Emiya had no right to call that man 'Dad'.

"Yes, Onii-san," she replied sweetly, keeping her boiling anger from showing on her face. "I am the girl Kiritsugu abandoned before adopting you as a replacement. Did he tell you about me ?"

"No, he didn't," he told her, unfazed. "Until just now, I hadn't any idea Dad had another child. I only just … put the pieces together."

Illya hesitated. Was he lying ? If he was, it wouldn't help him escape her wrath. She had considered the possibility that he might not know about her existence long ago, and come to the conclusion that ignorance of his sins didn't excuse them. He was still the child Kiritsugu had raised after abandoning her. He was the one Kiritsugu had deemed worthy of his attention, of being raised into the successor of the Magus Killer. He was the one who had plotted and schemed against the three Families, pursuing a goal she didn't yet know.

He was the one who had replaced her, the one who was … looking at her in silence, with glowing golden eyes and a strange expression on his face. He was … angry ? But not at her. Illya was intimately, bitterly familiar with what someone angry at her looked like, felt like, and this wasn't it.

So far, this confrontation wasn't going the way she had thought it would – and she had imagined facing her brother many, many times. It had been one of the few things that had granted her the strength to endure her 'training'. She had imagined fear, anger, contempt, or even the cold, emotionless stare of the killer Kiritsugu had been according to her Grandfather (though never when he was with her, a small, weak and treacherous part of her whispered that she forcefully ignored with practiced ease).

"Who did this to you ?" Her brother asked instead, and while his tone was soft there was steel beneath the words.

Illya blinked. "What do you mean ?" she replied warily.

"You are dying", he told her bluntly, and she hid a wince. "Your body is falling apart on the cellular level, burning from the inside under the strain of far too much power. You have months left to live, at best. And it was deliberate, not a result of your origins."

He knew what she was. How ? His eyes, she realized. Those must be what had let him learn that. He had to have some sort of perception-related Mystic Eyes, and judging by the level of insight he was displaying, they must be quite high-graded too.

Part of her felt repelled by the idea that he could pierce her body's secrets, the secrets of the Einzbern family, with only a glance. Another part of her, bitter and spiteful, wanted him see, to know all that had been done to her, to realize the depths of his crimes against her.

After all, it was her to duty to inform him, wasn't it ? The judge must tell the condemned why they are being punished. Yes, that made sense. There was no other reason to share that truth with him.

"It was the Einzbern who did this to me, condemning me to an early death so that I could win for them the Grail that Kiritsugu threw away," she told him, and the lightness of her tone against the bleakness of her words made them even more biting. "Why do you ask ?"

"So I know who to punish for it," he answered without pause or hesitation. "The Einzbern, huh ? … I see. So that's why Dad never told me about you. He didn't want me to get killed trying to rescue you."

… What ?

What had he just said !?

"Rescue me ? Rescue me ?! Don't you dare pretend to care about me !" she screamed, emotions suddenly pouring out of her barely-held control. "You are Kiritsugu's heir. The one he chose over me ! The one he stayed with after abandoning me !"

"I don't think he abandoned you. I don't know for certain," he admitted, "but Dad made several trips to Europe in the years before his death, even though his health got worse every time. And by the look on his face when he came back, he didn't get what he wanted each and every time, but he kept trying until his condition got so bad he wouldn't have survived the trip. I think … he was trying to get you away from the Einzbern, but kept failing." At his side, his hands tightened into fists. "And the fact that he survived the failures makes me think the Einzbern let him escape alive, just to hurt him more."

"You're lying. You're lying !" Illya was ranting now, but she couldn't stop. "He never came for me. He abandoned me ! Just like he abandoned Mom ! He killed her and he threw her away, and he left me all alone in that cold castle while he took in another child to replace me !"

He was lying. He had to be. He had to ! Otherwise …

The first crack appeared on the armor of frost that coated the young girl's heart, noticed only by the tall woman at her side, through the bond they shared.

"Illyasviel," urged Lancer, laying one hand on her shoulder in warning while keeping her gaze on the opposition. "Calm yourself."

She startled at the touch, and forced herself to take deep breaths. She couldn't lose her temper, she reminded herself. That would be a mistake, one that could lead to her death when faced with an enemy Servant, and she couldn't die, not yet.

"Don't take me for a fool, Shirou Emiya" she said, forcing her voice to be as cold as the snow she so hated. "I know you have been studying my family. Looking to finish what you started with the Matou, are you ? You will find me a stronger opponent than Zouken Matou, and less easy to deceive than the Tohsaka Head."

"I never lied to Rin, and I didn't kill Zouken to destroy the Matou," he replied. "I killed him because he was a monster who needed to die in order to rescue my friend. And I only researched the Einzbern because of his last words. I think he knew about you, and tried to bargain with that knowledge." She saw his fists tighten at his side, and his face became pained. "Looking at you now, I wish I had strung him along for more information before I ended him."

"Please, Illyasviel," he went on. "We don't have to fight. I am not your enemy, and there is more to the Grail War than you know. Dad had a good reason for what he did during the Fourth -"

"A 'good reason' ?" Illya repeated softly, and Shirou stopped talking at once. "A 'good reason' for sacrificing my mother !? A 'good reason' to spit on her death !? A 'good reason' to destroy the Grail !?"

"Yes," said the pale-faced, yellow-eyed Servant at her brother's side. She was almost identical to the Saber Kiritsugu had summoned during the Fourth Grail War, though the colors of her hair, skin and eyes were different. "I was there at the end of the War, Illyasviel. It was my hands that destroyed the Grail, though it was Kiritsugu's Command Seals that gave me the strength to do it. And I tell you this, on my honor : your father chose to destroy the Grail because it would have drowned this city in madness and ruin otherwise."

A lie, that, and a poor one. Servants couldn't remember what had happened during their previous summonings, it was one of the safeguards the three Founding Families had implemented in the Greater Grail. And if the Grail was faulty, then her family, with its connections to the Greater Grail system reaching all the way from Germany – the same connections that had let them know in advance that this War would occur decades early – would have found out for sure.

She turned her gaze back to Shirou with a sneer painted on her face, to see if he truly thought she would be taken in by such an obvious ploy, and let slip his real intent once it was clear it hadn't worked.

"It's true," he said instead. "The Grail is corrupted, though we don't know how yet. Dad suspected it might destroy the entire World if left unchecked, and so he made the only choice he could, even if it meant he had to turn his back on his dream, even if he thought it would kill him."

There was no anger in his eyes, no fear or hate or disappointment at the failure of his attempt to deceive her. Only frustration that she wouldn't listen, and something that she didn't consciously recognize, something that felt like a dagger to her guts.

A part of Illya did recognize it, the part of her that the Einzbern had done everything in their power to bury. She had seen that expression before, in the eyes of her parents, and more recently in those of her Servant, though she hadn't recognized it then either.

It was worry. It was care. For all that he had never met her before, Shirou Emiya cared for his long-lost, newly-discovered adopted sister.

But Illya had spent too long in the hands of a family that saw her as a tool at best and despised her as a reminder of their failure at worst. Her softer emotions had been frozen, a result of both her survival instincts and the desires of her tormentors. She had armored herself with contempt and spite, sharpening her hatred of those who had wronged her, sharpening that blade with every injury, every insult thrown her way.

But her brother stood in front of her and his face looked so earnest and there was actual sorrow in his eyes as he looked at her and …

She didn't understand, and she hated it, hated it, HATED IT !

"Illyasviel," Shirou pressed on, "please listen to me. You must realize that there is something wrong with the Grail. Your Servant and mine are both versions of King Arthur – look at them, surely you can see the resemblance ? And this place," he gestured to the park around them, "even now the curse of the Grail lingers here, the same curse that crippled Dad, that kept him from rescuing you and eventually killed him. It's growing stronger, too, as the Greater Grail gathers power into itself."

Resemblance ? She supposed so. Shirou's Servant was like the Saber Kiritsugu had summoned in the last Grail War, and that Saber had been King Arthur – the same King who she had summoned as a Lancer. Obviously the similarities were here, though her Servant was taller and more mature – a woman at the peak of her beauty rather than a girl frozen in perpetual adolescence by the gifts of the Fae.

And the curse … she could feel it, certainly. The entire park was suffused with it, to the point that she wondered why the Second Owner hadn't done anything about it. Even mundane people would be able to tell there was something wrong with the place.

For a moment, all was silent, before Lancer said to Illya : "There might be worth in listening to them, Master. There is more going than what we were told at the castle. If you aren't satisfied with what they have to say, then we can proceed with the War afterwards."

Listening ? What was there to listen to ? It was ten years too late for the words that might have fixed this, and the boy in front of her wasn't the Emiya she wanted to hear them from. All she had wanted to hear from him were screams and supplications.

She hated him, she told herself. She wanted him to suffer, to feel every bit of the pain she had gone through before she let him die. He owed her this, for the crime of existing, for stealing her father from her. Only when he laid before her, broken and begging, would she be satisfied. Only then would the hollowness inside her be filled. Only then would she be able to die fulfilling her purpose for the Einzbern family without regrets.

… Wouldn't she ?

"Please," Shirou asked. "Listen to your Servant. Let me tell you what we have found out. Both Sakura Matou and Rin Tohsaka believe as I do, Illyasviel. This War is a trap, and by fighting it we risk repeating the tragedy of ten years ago. But we can prevent it."

It's too late for that, she thought. She was doomed to suffer her mother's fate. That particular bit of the tale was already written in stone. But she wouldn't be tossed away again, like the two of them had been. She wouldn't she wouldn't she wouldn't -

Her brother's hands tightened into fists, and when he spoke again, the steel in his voice was no longer hidden beneath the surface :

"I can't let that happen again, Illyasviel. I won't. You said Dad killed your mother ? Looking at you, I can guess how that happened, and I know that it broke his heart. I promise you, I won't let that happen to you. What has been done to you can be undone, even if it won't be easy." A weak smile briefly flickered on his face. "You might say that I have a habit of doing the impossible."

He reached out toward Illya, palm held up.

"Please, Nee-san," and this time he wasn't asking : he was begging. "Let me save you."

If Illya had been reasonable, she would have been able to think clearly about what Shirou was saying. She would have seen that she had been lied to, that her father hadn't abandoned her, that his only fault had been to fail in rescuing her from the Einzbern Castle. After all, what reason did she have to trust the words of a family that had given her only contempt and pain ?

She might not have believed in his promise of salvation, even then, for the certainty of her death was deeply ingrained, and separate from the lies the Einzbern had woven around her. But she would have accepted Shirou's and Saber's sincerity regarding the Grail's status, and sought more information before making a decision.

But the truth was, despite the calm facade she had learned to project at all times, despite the iron-clad discipline that had been instilled into her one agonizing 'lesson' at a time, Illya's mind wasn't that strong. She had never had a chance to grow up before both her parents had been taken from her, leaving her in the hands of a cold-hearted old man who only saw her as a tool to fulfill his family's ambition.

For ten years, she had suffered physical and psychological torture, all aimed at making her the weapon that would deliver the Einzbern victory in the Heaven's Feel. She had been surrounded by sneering Magi who despised her and homunculi that ignored her, told that one of the two only people to ever love her had betrayed and abandoned her.

The most affection she had ever received in the last decade had come from Lancer. The Servant, at least, was on her side. It had been Lancer who had convinced Acht to let Illya leave Germany for Japan earlier than had been planned, arguing that more time to scout the area before the Grail War would be more tactically valuable than any advantage gained by last-minute 'training'. And while Lancer hadn't been lying, since Acht would have seen through it easily, Illya knew that the real reason had been that her Servant didn't want her to suffer anymore.

She loved Lancer for that, but the Servant's affection and loyalty weren't enough to repair the cracks in her mind. How could they be ? Her psyche was a jumbled mess of anger, grief and the simple, childish desire to be loved, shaped by Jubstacheit von Einzbern's careful ministrations.

She had been hurt, again and again, never able to fight back. Until Sella and Leysritt had been created, she had no allies, and her Magecraft was far too weak to defy the will of her Head of House.

Now Shirou's and Saber's words were challenging her perception of the cruel reality she inhabited. Her brother's kindness and offer were shaking the foundations of the fragile edifice of her sanity, and she didn't know what to believe anymore. Old wounds that had never truly healed had been torn open, and oh but how it hurt to feel again.

But for the first time in her life, she had the means to lash out at the source of her emotional turmoil.

"No," she whispered softly, eyes cast down.

"Illyasviel ?" asked Shirou.

"I don't believe you. You are lying, just like Kiritsugu lied. You're trying to deceive me so that you can use me and throw me away, just like he did with Mom."

"Illyasviel -"

"LANCER!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, loud enough to drown out his voice with the sound of her fury. "KILL HIM !"

Illya only realized that she had used a Command Seal when she felt the burning sensation across her body as the second of her unstoppable orders was spent. She wasn't too lost to grief and pain to know that this was a singularly poor use of a finite resource – a waste, plain and simple. She simply didn't care.

Lancer briefly struggled, before the command overwhelmed her and she leapt forward, drawing her rapier in one fluid motion and aiming it at Shirou's throat.

There was a flash of black light, and the sound of metal scraping against metal as the other Servant summoned a sword that burned with black flames and blocked the attack. The same flames engulfed Saber, fading away to reveal the Servant of the Sword covered by a heavy suit of black plate armor.

Shirou hadn't flinched, Illya noticed. He was still looking at her with that same look of understanding and grief on his face.

And like that, the first battle of the Fifth Holy Grail War began.

Illya had been trained to be able to follow the high-speed fight between Servants.

She wasn't a Magus, not really, for all the Mysteries she knew and the potency of her Magical Circuits. She was a tool, a weapon shaped and honed to win the Holy Grail War for the Einzbern. Every aspect of her training had been aimed in that direction. She had been taught fighting Mysteries, usually disdained by the older Magi bloodlines, and through the use specially designed homunculi, her battle perceptions had been sharpened. She had been made to watch beings that looked so much like her fight and die, moving at speeds that tore their flesh apart, before being told to describe the exchanges of blow in detail.

Every mistake had been punished with pain, to increase her tolerance along with her perception. Like so many things in the Einzbern Castle, it had been unnecessarily cruel, while hiding under the pretence of efficiency. But thanks to that training, she could follow the duel between Lancer and Saber, even though the Servants moved far beyond the speed of even the fastest modern-born human.

And it was a breathtaking sight.

With Lancer's first blow parried, her Servant leapt over Shirou and Saber, gracefully flying and landing on her feet twenty meters away. She kicked the ground, sending bits of earth flying at the impact, and launched herself toward her prey's exposed back.

It wasn't a manoeuvre Lancer would have used normally, since by placing their enemies between them it left Illya exposed. But the compulsion of the Command Seal was overriding the King of Knights' tactical acumen, forcing her to focus her every effort on the elimination of her brother.

Again, Saber was there, blocking the attack with her black blade. Merely seeing the weapon was making Illya feel uneasy. While her senses were not as unnaturally sharp as those Shirou had displayed, the half-homunculus still had enhanced mystical perceptions. She could feel what could only be described as raw, primal evil emanating from the sword. If nothing else, it confirmed that Saber had been lying when she had spun that ridiculous tale of having been Kiritsugu's Servant : how could anyone be foolish enough to think this was the legendary King Arthur's Excalibur ?

The entire exchange, from the moment Illya had given her order to the second parried blow, had lasted less than three heartbeats. Only now was Shirou turning to look at the Servant that had come so close to ending his life. As Lancer and Saber stared at each other, looking for the slightest hint of weakness in the other's guard, Illya's mind raced, piecing together what she had just witnessed.

Lancer was faster than Saber, she was certain of that. Her Servant's Agility stat was ranked A, and with that heavy armor Saber couldn't match her. But each time, the black-clad Servant had started to move before Lancer, somehow knowing what her Servant would do before she started doing it, and that had been enough.

A single heartbeat, and then Lancer went back on the offensive. Rhongomyniad shifted in her hands, going from a rapier to a riding lance, and she charged, still compelled to target Shirou above the actual threat she faced.

Every blow from Rhongomyniad was met by that black blade, or turned aside by a plate for armor. Not that the battle was going entirely Saber's way : while she managed to block all of Lancer's attacks, she had yet to land a single blow of her own in response. Lancer was just too fast.

Of course, speed was a relative thing. Saber was slower than Lancer, but even weighed down by her black armor the Servant of the Sword moved almost too fast for the human eye to see. The two Servants moved around their Masters as they clashed, Lancer trying to get an angle of attack on Shirou while Saber sought to deny her. Deep gouges were carved into the earth by the impact of missed blows or just the air pressure released by the Servants' onslaught.

If Lancer had been free to fight as she willed, then the half-homunculus believed that the fight would be going very differently, but as it was, Saber could … bait, for lack of a better word, her opponent into making certain moves, and though it was a dangerous tactic to use – she was essentially gambling her Master's life with every such trick she attempted – it was enough to keep Lancer at bay.

The duel rested on a knife's edge, with the speed and skill of Lancer matched against Saber's instincts. Neither of them were using their Noble Phantasms yet, keeping their trump cards in reserve. The fight would be decided by the first mistake one of the Servants made, of that Illya was certain.

Illya spared a glance for her brother, and found him watching the fight with eyes blazing darkly gold. Like her, his senses could follow the exchange of blows.

Her earlier fury had gone cold, forced so by training the moment this had become a battle of the Grail War, but it hadn't disappeared. She could attack him directly; summon her familiars, woven from the thread of her own hair, and attack him while he was distracted. This was what battles in the Grail War were supposed to be : Servants fighting Servants, Masters fighting Masters.

Then Shirou Emiya's presence shifted, and all thoughts of attacking him herself faded. The radiance of his eyes darkened, and black lines ran across his skin, while great wings made of shadow stretched from his back. In his hands was a sword he had pulled out from nothingness, taller than Illya was and likely weighing much, much more than she did.

"Enough," he said, in a deep voice that echoed in the open park. He marched, leaving burned footprints in the sickly grass, and before Illya's wide eyes, he joined his Servant in battle. There was a moment, come and gone so quickly Illya barely caught it, where Saber hesitated, frozen by her Master's seemingly suicidal decision, before she fell in at his side, the two of them moving in near-perfect unison.

He batted aside a blow from Rhongomyniad that would have carved his torso open, creating an opening for Saber to strike at Lancer's left flank. Illya's Servant dodged the attack, but was forced to give ground in order to disengage and bring her weapon back up to bear.

Now faced with two opponents, Lancer shifted her weapon again, turning Rhongomyniad into a great scythe of white and gold, whose blade sang as it cut the air. Lancer leapt, twirling in mid-air before striking at her prey.

Scythe met sword, and the shockwave stripped the closest trees of their remaining leaves and forced Illya a step back while sending her hat flying. She blinked to clear her sight from the blast, and her eyes widened.

Shirou was still standing, holding Lancer at bay, pitting his strength against her Servant's B-ranked stat. It took Illya a second to realize what it was that was even more disturbing – more so than the fact a mortal had matched the might of a Servant – about this scene : despite the strength of the impact from above, his feet hadn't dug into the earth.

"Rhongomyniad," said Shirou, and Illya shivered as she heard the name of Lancer's Noble Phantasm spoken in that unnaturally echoing voice of his. "There is power in that weapon that could kill me, should it be unleashed. But this battle isn't fought for the World, is it, Lancer ?"

Before Lancer could answer, Saber struck at her from below, forcing Illya's Servant to roll out of the way, releasing Rhongomyniad from Shirou's sword with a twist. She immediately went back on the offensive, but Shirou blocked her attack again – and again, and again, and again …

It was impossible for a human to match a Servant, but Shirou didn't look human right now. Illya was no swordswoman, but the simple fact that Shirou was still alive after a few seconds spoke to an incredible level of skill with that oversized sword. Simple strength and speed wouldn't have been enough against a Heroic Spirit, yet he was holding his ground, weathering Lancer's onslaught without a trace of fear on his infuriatingly calm face.

He was not striking back, she noted, though he had several occasions to do so. None that Lancer couldn't have evaded, of course, but they would have helped turn the flow of the duel back in his favor at least. Instead, he was purely focused on the defensive, keeping himself and his Servant safe.

With a sickening feeling, Illya realized that she couldn't win this fight. She wouldn't lose, because Lancer was the most powerful Servant to ever be summoned and she was the strongest Master to ever take part in the Grail War, but she couldn't win either.

Impossible.

Impossible !

... Was this it ? Was this why her father had abandoned her ? Because whatever inhuman bloodline Shirou was descended from, whatever transformation he had gone through, made him better suited for the Magus Killer's posthumous schemes ?

She -

"Now, Archer."

- saw a pink light at the edge of her sight, rushing toward her. It was, she realized with the kind of clarity that came far too late to do anything about it, aimed directly at her head. With her mind in the self-hypnotic trance required to follow the Servants' fight, she had time to consider that she was going to die right now, before she had any chance to get her revenge on her brother.

No. Not yet -

- then the shadow-wrought wings of Shirou Emiya beat once, and suddenly he stood between Illya and the attack, back turned to her. And he was tall, taller than she had realized when they had been talking. She barely reached the upper half of his chest.

There was a pause, less than a single breath, and then her brother shook. A pink arrowhead burst from his chest, stopped with its point aimed right between Illya's eyes.

He didn't fall, she thought, not knowing where the thought was coming from. Even with his chest transfixed, he didn't fall. He stayed standing in front of Illya, guarding her with his own body even as his huge sword slipped from his fingers and smashed apart into motes of light.

The crack that had formed in her frozen heart spread, and the battered armor of contempt, that mask that was also a shield, fell apart. Through her bond to Lancer, she felt the weight of the order she had given fade, its absolute imperative vanishing like mist.

Blood splattered on Illya's face, and she tasted copper and power on her tongue. For a moment, she saw a fire that wasn't there, heard the roar of the inferno, felt a keening, all-consuming sense of loss -

In the time it took her to blink the vision away, along with the red fluid that had gotten into her eyes, Saber and Lancer were there. Two Servants that had been fighting a moment ago acted as one, Saber supporting Shirou with one arm around his shoulders, while Lancer stood guard over the three of them. Her Servant's suit was gone, replaced in a flash of light by the armor she had worn when first summoned onto the world. In her hands, Rhongomyniad had shifted to the form of a great scythe she held before her, ready to knock out any new attacks.

None came. Illya looked in the direction the attack had come from – nothing. Not even a group of trees that the attackers could have used as cover, only the same patches of dead grass all the way to the edge of the Park. She thought back to the angle of the arrow : it had come from ground level, aimed at her head in a straight line parallel to the ground.

"Well, well, well," said a male voice dripping with dark amusement that echoed across the Park, coming from all around them, carried over the air by Magecraft. "That was … unexpected. Not the intended target, but … that will do. That will do very well indeed."

"Coward !" shouted Lancer, her gaze darting around while she held Rhongomyniad in a defensive stance. "Show yourself, honorless cur !"

"No," chuckled the unseen Master, "I don't think I will. I am more than satisfied with the result of this engagement. Withdraw, Archer. Your job here is done. Goodbye, Saber. I advise you to enjoy what time you have left in this world before your prana runs out. And as for you, Miss Einzbern, I will see you again shortly."

The voice fell silent. They waited tensely for a few moments, but it didn't speak again.

"They are gone," said Saber eventually, releasing her sword and letting it dissipate into formless aether.

"How do you know ?" There was no doubt in Lancer's tone, only the need for clarification before she let down her guard. Saber looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"So you don't have the Intuition Skill," she murmured. "That explains why it fell to my Master to save yours. Let's just say that there is no more danger around us and leave it at that."

It was only then that, finally, Illya's brother fell, caught in the arms of his Servants, ragged breaths leaving his lips. Saber gently laid him low before tearing off his shirt, a fierce scowl on her face as she took in his exposed wound. The arrow vanished, falling apart in a shower of pink shards that faded away to nothingness, leaving only the damage it had inflicted behind.

Shirou should already be dead, Illya realized as she got a better look at the injury. Archer's arrow (even if the other Master had lied to try and mislead them, the manner of the attack betrayed the Servant of the Bow as the culprit) had hit him right under the heart, tearing through his left lung and missing his spinal column by a hair's breadth. Worse than that, she could still feel the power of the arrow, a curse that lingered in the wound. Purple tendrils spread under the skin from where the arrow had hit, burning through Magical Circuits and blood vessels alike.

And yet, her brother still clung to life, though judging by his face he wasn't enjoying the experience.

He tried to speak, but could only get out a wet gurgle. Abandoning that course of action, he locked eyes with Saber, and Illya sensed the silent communion before the two, ending when Shirou's head fell back down. For a terrifying moment, she thought he had finally perished, but he still twitched, and his chest still rose and fell, blood spurting from the wound with every tortured breath.

He saved me, thought Illya. He took that attack for me.

Why ?

Why ?! He was going to die from this, and he had to have known a Servant's attack would be lethal, even to … whatever it was he actually was. So why had he sacrificed himself for her ? He didn't know her ! She was no one to him ! Just the girl his father had abandoned, little better than a complete stranger ! Why would he do that ? Why, why, why ?!

How was she supposed to feel now ? What was she supposed to do ?

Before Illya could decide, the day hit her with yet another shock. After wordlessly glaring in Illya's direction, Saber slammed her lips against Shirou's, kissing Illya's brother right in front of her.

Illya's knowledge of romance could best be described as 'non-existent', limited to a handful of fairy tales her mother had told her before her death – those books had all been burned after Kiritsugu's failure in the Fourth Grail War. And the most she had seen of it had been a chaste kiss exchanged between Kiritsugu and Irisviel before putting Illya to bed.

This … wasn't the same kind of kiss. Even with one of the participants unconscious and on the verge of death, it was much more passionate. It also went on and on, lasting well over a minute, during which Illya and Lancer stood by awkwardly, neither knowing how to react or able to look away.

Saber finally pulled her lips off Shirou's, her pale face flushed and frowning.

"It isn't enough," she murmured, before looking at Lancer, and then at Illya. For a few seconds, she considered something, before nodding to herself, having made some unseen decision.

"You," she told Lancer. "Kiss him."

"What ?!"

Lancer's face had been just as flushed as Illya's from witnessing the kiss, but now Illya's Servant looked like she might faint from sheer embarrassment at Saber's unexpected command.

"Avalon's inside of him," Saber explained, impatience plain on her face as she casually revealed something that would have sent most Clocktower Magi into a frenzy. "After years of having our scabbard dissolved throughout his body, Shirou can use his own prana to activate it, but the attack scrambled his Circuits and he can't properly feed it power. As Avalon's true owner, my own prana can activate the scabbard's healing properties, but I have almost emptied my reserves."

It was only then that Illya realized that, while she was watching her brother being kissed by his Servant, Shirou's wound had begun to close. The gaping hole in his chest was smaller than it had been, and the tendrils of purple energy were retracting instead of spreading further. His od was still a complete mess, but his breathing had gotten steadier.

"You, however, still have plenty of prana to spare," continued Saber, "and you are also King Arthur, the true owner of Avalon. And he got that wound protecting your Master. So hurry up and kiss him so that he can heal !"

Flustered, Lancer looked at Illya beseechingly, asking for instructions. The expression felt strange to see on the face of her proud, beautiful and confident Servant, though Illya couldn't help to think that Lancer still looked very pretty even then.

"Please, Lancer," the half-homunculus said at last. "I don't … He saved my life. And if Saber can activate Avalon, then that means that what they told us about the Grail not working as intended has something to it. I owe him that much at the very least."

Lancer gave her a betrayed look, before giving up and kneeling at Shirou's side. Saber stood up, keeping an eye on their surroundings and leaving her Master completely at the mercy of the Servant who had tried to kill him mere minutes before. Illya wasn't sure what to think of that – on the one hand, Lancer wouldn't strike at Shirou on her own in such circumstances, and she wasn't going to ask her to, but still … part of her felt somewhat vexed that the Servant of the Sword had so accurately judged her so quickly.

The kiss between Lancer and Shirou was nowhere near as heated as the one Saber had given to her Master, which was strange considering the two Servants' apparent age. Over the centuries, Magi had found a multitude of ways to exchange prana, though one of the most convenient, drinking blood, was frowned upon due to its association with Dead Apostles. Without the creation of a contract, the exchange of fluids remained the quickest way to do it, though it was far from being even remotely efficient.

As Lancer clumsily shoved her tongue inside Shirou's mouth, Illya felt the prana flow between her Servant and her brother, and the former's surprise at how easily it was being absorbed piercing through the embarrassment. Then came recognition, and awe : this was indeed Avalon inside the young man, the Noble Phantasm dispersed throughout his body and struggling to keep him alive and heal the wound he had received.

A lot of prana passed from Master to Servant to Master, the amount increased by the inefficiency of the process. It would have left an ordinary Magus on their last rope, but with Illya's artificially increased reserves it was barely enough to leave her winded.

When Lancer finally stopped, Shirou looked much better. He was still unconscious, and the wound on his chest still looked raw, but his breathing was stable, and there was no visible trace of the curse.

He was alive. He was going to survive. Her brother wasn't going to die because of her, after all.

"That will do," said Saber with a nod of thanks once she was done inspecting her Master. "He'll survive until I can get him home and get the other girls to look at his wound."

A feeling Illya didn't recognize formed in her chest at the Servant's words.

"The other girls ?" repeated the half-homunculus. Saber looked at her silently for a moment, expression indecipherable, before answering :

"As my Master tried to tell you, he's allied with the Matou and Tohsaka Masters. They're both aware of the Grail's corruption, and have joined his efforts to prevent the War from aggravating the situation and destroy the taint."

"And that alliance," asked Illya slowly, "involves them staying in the holdings of the Emiya family ?"

Saber shrugged. "Yes. Rin Tohsaka moved in for the duration of the War, but Sakura Matou already lived there."

"I see," said Illya, looking down at her unconscious brother. "I see," she repeated, frowning at the still-present feeling in her chest.

"It's to be expected," continued Saber casually, face turned back toward her Master so that Illya couldn't see the small smile on her face. "After all, the three of them are very close."

Illya's face twitched, and the hatred she had felt for so long briefly reared its ugly head as she understood what the Servant was implying. While she had been suffering in the Einzbern Castle, her brother had been … No. She forced herself to calm down, to turn away from the fury. She hadn't forgiven her brother, even now, but he had risked her life to save her own – had, for all that knew, given his life to save her, even if he had hoped Avalon would let him survive. He deserved to be heard, once he had recovered. If she liked his explanation, she might even give him a chance to pay back his debt to her in a way that didn't involve his death.

Saber stood up, carrying Shirou in his arms with an ease belying her petite stature, and looked down at Illya.

"This meeting didn't go quite as any of us would have wanted, I think, but at least we are all still alive. What are you going to do now, Illyasviel ?"

"I want … I want to know more about what you told us. About the Grail, and about Kiritsugu."

Saber nodded. "Come with me, then. There is much my Master wanted to share with you, and with Archer still out there, I don't think it safe for us to separate right now. We can regroup at the Emiya residence and start talking while we wait for my Master to fully recover."

At Illya's side, Lancer tensed. Saber was, after all, suggesting that her Master walk into the lair of another Master, where two other Masters and their Servants waited.

"You will be safe," told Saber, sensing her counterpart's doubts. "I will explain the situation to Rin and Sakura. It was always our plan to make allies of the other Masters, so they will welcome you."

Illya looked upon her slumbering brother, whose face was still twisted in pain, and made her decision.

"It took a lot of prana to heal him," she said. "If he dies in an ambush on the way home, it will all be wasted. I suppose me and Lancer can help you get home, and make sure that he recovers."

Illya smiled, and though the expression wasn't as bloodthirsty as it had been before, it would still have made Shirou very, very worried if he had seen it – though not nearly as much as her next words :

"Of course, my dear Onii-san will have to repay me for the effort."

Chapter Text

The Legionary screams and thrashes against his restraints, but the thick bands of steel hold even against his gene-forged and infernally-empowered limbs.

This is not torture, for the warrior is loyal to the Lion. It is sacrifice.

They have built a temple to their new god of secrets and ambition, of revelation and change, and upon its altars make sacrifices of their own brothers. All who are chained are willing, warriors who walked with the Lion amidst crystal and dust and saw the future they wish to kill.

This is the age of treachery and fire. This is the hour of rebellion, when princes listening to the whispers of daemons rise against the reign of their father.

This is the Age of Darkness, and what takes place here is but one of the lines the traitors who think themselves saviors cross in their blind rush towards damnation.

They need more power. They have lost much of what was hidden away under the corpse-stars to the Prince of Crows' vengeful crusade. The Eighth, which should have been broken on the black sands, rose up instead with cries of retribution on bloodied lips, and tore the plans of the First asunder. Alajos paid the price for his failure, but punishment cannot unmake the crime, nor can the screams of the commander's disembodied head restore the fortresses and armies he lost to the King of the Night's heir.

He has returned from the Maelstrom with his ascended lord. The Legion gained much from that odyssey, at the cost of a Primarch's loss, for the Wolf King vanished and will not return before the war is done, if then. It was worth it : no more is the Lion constrained by the trappings of mortality the False Emperor wrought to keep His sons from realizing their full potential. Now Lion El'Jonson is as unto a god, woven of shadows and mist, possessed of the secrets of the Architect of Fate.

But it isn't enough. If they are to prevent the nightmare to come, they need more, and so, by his own hand, his brothers are turned into vessels for the Neverborn to ride. Oaths are exchanged, bargains are made, the wheels of sorcery oiled with the pain of Space Marines and the sacrifice of valued servants, and Legionaries rise as Secondborn, wielding the power of the Empyrean through unholy communion.

And still, it isn't enough. Those who still stand at the side of the False Emperor are strong, even in their ignorance. And so they sail, across the Sea of Souls, to return home even as the Imperium bleeds under the blades of their accomplices. To bring their exiled brothers back into the fold, now that the final battle is fast approaching.

The knights are returning to Caliban, with devils at their side and in their hearts, deaf to the screeching of the ones ahead.

November 22nd, 2004 – Emiya residence

Shirou opened his eyes to find himself looking directly into a pair of yellow orbs staring right back at him.

"Good morning, Master," said Saber softly.

She traced her fingers over his chest, where the wound he had taken was reduced to a scarlet patch of skin. She was holding herself up above Shirou with her other arm, though the covers on her back indicated that they had been much closer while Shirou had been unconscious.

Despite the intimacy of the gesture and their position, Shirou didn't feel any stirring of desire – which might be because he was still recovering, or because Saber and him were already tied together in a much deeper manner already.

"That scar won't fade," she whispered. "You might have gotten used to Avalon healing every hurt, but even it has limits, Master. In this War, every opponent will wield Noble Phantasms of their own. One mistake, and you. Will. Die."

"Are you … angry at me, Saber ?"

She pressed her nails into his chest, not deep enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to hurt – though she was careful to avoid the wound.

"Yes. I am furious, Master. Can you guess why ?"

His wince had little to do with the pain. Yes. Yes he could.

"I am your Servant," she continued, not giving the chance to answer. "I am your shield and your sword, in return for the salvation you granted me, and the chance at revenge against the blackness that held me. And you risked everything. What do you think would have happened if you had died ? I might have survived, no matter what Archer's Master thought. Sakura would have gladly starved herself of prana for an ally in her quest to avenge you. But without you, our chances of success became much, much smaller. You risked this entire city, Shirou. If what that merchant on the phone told you was true, you risked this entire country."

"I know," he replied. He hadn't been thinking of any of that at the time, but that didn't make it any less true. "But I couldn't let Illyasviel get hurt."

"Because she is Kiritsugu's daughter ?" pressed Saber.

"Well … yes," he admitted, because he couldn't deny that the half-homunculus being family had influenced his judgment. Images flickered briefly into his mind of the vision he had just experienced – his brothers tortured and broken at his hands, made into puppets and tools – but he suppressed them. Now wasn't the time."But it's not just that. Even if she wasn't Dad's daughter, I would still have tried to save her. What has happened – what has been done to her – it is wrong, Saber."

She looked at him, and he felt her reaching out through their bond, trying to find any sign that he was telling anything less than the complete truth. She wouldn't. Shirou knew that someone else might find it ludicrous – to risk millions of lives for the sake of one ? That was madness. It wasn't what Kiritsugu would have done. It wasn't what most people would have considered sane, or even right, not when the consequences of failure were so great. If Illyasviel hadn't proven receptive to reason, then he should have treated her as an obstacle – a Master who wouldn't stop fighting the Grail War, and needed to be put down. He should have let Archer kill her, and then offered Lancer the chance to become his Servant instead so that she could avenge her fallen Master.

It was what the Magus Killer would have done, given the information and resources at his disposal. And it might even have been the right thing to choose. But Shirou had embraced the use of the Dark Angel's power, despite all its risks, despite how every new fragmented memory made him sick to his core, so that he didn't have to make the same kind of choices that had broken his father's heart.

Even now, with the latest vision of that temple and those bloody rituals fresh in his mind, he wouldn't stop using that power. And if that made him a monster, if of a different sort that what his father had made of himself ? Then so be it. No matter what, he wouldn't regret his choices, nor would he reject them.

"She is going to die, Master," softly said Saber once she was certain he meant what he had said. "I am surprised she even lived that long."

He frowned. "You knew about her." It wasn't a question.

Saber nodded, the gesture almost bringing their faces into contact. "I did. I remember seeing her play with Kiritsugu in the snow around Einzbern Castle, before we left for Japan with Irisviel."

Of course she had. That was why she had reacted when they had seen Illyasviel for the first time. It had been one of the clues that had led him to realize Illyasviel's parentage, but there was another question he hadn't had the opportunity to ask at the time :

"Why didn't you tell me ?"

"Because I didn't think it would matter. Because I didn't think she would still be alive. Because I didn't want you to feel guilt for something you couldn't change."

"But I can change it, Saber. I am going to save her, no matter what it takes."

"Are you ?"

"Yes. I promised it to her, and I keep these promises, Saber."

"Then promise me, Master." For the first time since Shirou had woken up, he saw emotion flicker through his Servant's usual mask of calm. "Promise me that you won't die before the end of this War."

He took a moment to consider his answer, before realizing it wasn't a choice at all. He couldn't die. Not when it would hurt so many of the people he loved. When he had thrown himself in front of Illya to protect her, it had been an instinctive reaction, but even then he hadn't truly thought he might die from it – like Saber had told him, he had grown too used to Avalon making him unkillable. After recovering from the battle against the shikome in Kumamoto City, death had become a more … distant concern.

It had been a mistake, and an arrogant one at that. He wouldn't make it again. He had far too much to do – saving Illyasviel from her doom, stopping the Grail's corruption from manifesting, preventing the slaughterer of the Animusphere from repeating their crimes in Fuyuki …

And yet he couldn't die, even if it was to achieve all of that. His death would hurt his loved ones too much, and he wouldn't accept that. He couldn't accept that.

"I promise," he said.

Master and Servant stared at one another in silence for a few more moments, before Saber slowly lowered her head -

Someone loudly cleared their throat to Shirou's right.

He must have been more out of it than he realized, for only now did Shirou realize he and Saber weren't alone in his room. He turned his head, and saw the red face of Lancer sitting in seiza, her armor replaced by the blue suit she had first worn when he had met her. Illyasviel was sleeping with her head on the busty Servant's lap, her face more peaceful than he had ever seen it before.

"Come on, Lancer," said an amused voice to Shirou's left. "This was just getting interesting."

Slowly, Shirou's neck turned, revealing Rider laying on her side, looking at him with a smirk. The Servant of the Mount was still dressed in Sakura's borrowed clothes, which stretched and clung to her body in … interesting ways as she laid down.

"What … what's going on, Saber ?"

Cheeks slightly red, his Servant refused to meet his gaze or answer his question as she rolled off him and sat up, taking the covers with her.

It was Rider who answered his question, not bothering to hide the amusement she felt at the situation. "When Saber dragged you back home with that one and her Master in tow, your wound was still healing. After a … let's say, heated discussion, it was decided that in order to ensure Avalon worked as best as possible during the night, the three of us would stay near you in corporeal form. Even without exchanging prana, our scabbard recognizes our presence, after all."

"It wasn't easy to convince Sakura that she couldn't stay with you, especially since Illyasviel refused to get away from Lancer," Rider continued. "Sakura is sleeping with Rin and Berserker, by the way. In the end, we decided that the two of us 'Alters' would keep an eye on you, while Lancer did the same for Illyasviel."

"I … I see." It was embarrassing, but it had clearly worked – he was in far better form that he had any right to be, given that he had taken an attack from an enemy Servant head-on. But … "Wait. My memory of it is pretty hazy, but I know that the wound I took was pretty bad," he frowned, looking at Saber. "How did you heal me enough for transport, Saber ?"

"With your Circuits scrambled by Archer's attack, you couldn't draw on your reserves to activate Avalon. So I gave you my own prana for my scabbard to use," answered his Servant. "It worked, but I didn't have enough in reserve, so I asked Lancer here to contribute her own energy. The fact that it worked is why we then came up with this sleeping arrangement."

Shirou nodded. "Alright, that makes sense. Thank you, all of ... Wait. You gave me prana while I was unconscious ? How did you do that ?"

Saber smirked and licked her lips, and Shirou felt himself blush, while Lancer's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Well, that answered that question. And oh God, Illyasviel had seen everything, hadn't she ?

Shirou had no idea what to say or how to react. Thankfully, he was spared from having to come up with an appropriate response by a small voice from his right.

"Uuh …"

The sight of a sleepy Illyasviel getting up was adorable, some part of Shirou's brain noted even as the rest of him froze like a computer being used by Rin for more than five minutes. For some reason, he couldn't get the image of Kiritsugu rising from the grave to punish him out of his mind.

"Good morning, Onii-chan," yawned Illyasviel before suddenly freezing as she too remembered where she was – and with whom. For a moment, adopted brother and sister just looked at each other, under the gazes of the three Servants.

"Good morning, Illyasviel," Shirou managed to say.

Twenty minutes and a great deal of embarrassment for three of the five parties involved later, Shirou had managed to extract himself from his own bedroom and make it to the main room with Illyasviel and their Servants in tow. Sakura was already there, welcoming him with a big smile and a hug that was only a little bit desperate. The knowledge of how he had worried his first lover was like a knife in Shirou's heart, and he repeated his promise of being more careful to her.

"Where is Rin ?" he asked her once they had let go of each other.

"I'm here, you moron," came the reply, as Rin emerged from the door. Sakura looked tired, but Rin looked exhausted, though how much of that was due to her not being a morning person and how much to the unusual situation was unclear. She looked him up and down, her gaze pausing on his chest. "How are you feeling ?"

"Much better. A few more hours and I should be fully recovered."

"Good," she said with a smile.

Then she slapped him, hard. When he stopped seeing stars, Rin was hugging him fiercely.

"Never, ever do something like that to us again, you big, inconsiderate moron."

Even months after the start of their relationship, it was rare for Rin to be so forward in front of other people. That she was so now – both in slapping and hugging him – was a sign of how shaken she was. Shirou hugged her back gently, ignoring his stinging cheek with some effort (Rin hadn't held back, though at least she hadn't used Reinforcement on her hand).

"I won't," he told her.

"You better not," she replied in a muffled voice.

Eventually she let him go, and he didn't comment on the redness in her eyes, or the wetness on his chest where her head had pressed against him.

They sat down to eat breakfast. Lancer was convinced to join them upon seeing Rider and Berserker do so, and the eight people pressed around the dining table, which fortunately had already been extended after the arrival of the first three Servants. The meal was tasty if simple, no one having the energy or patience for anything elaborate. Sakura had taken out the last of the meat in the freezer and cooked it for Shirou, who needed to replenish his blood reserves after his injury. He still had to share with his Servant, if only to stop her from glaring at him, of course.

"This food is acceptable," said Illyasviel. The half-homunculus would have sounded a lot more solemn if she hadn't been in the process of stuffing her face with pancakes.

In a normal child, Shirou would have worried about the sugar rush, but despite what he had seen yesterday he had no idea how Illyasviel's body would react. He assumed that she knew her own needs best, though it was difficult to keep thinking that while looking at her devouring another pancake with gusto.

Oh well. At least she was enjoying the food.

By the time everyone had finished eating and cleaned up, it was 7 AM and the humans in the group were feeling a bit more alive.

"Alright," said Shirou once they were done. "Rider told me about what happened after I passed out, but not in detail. Illyasviel, what do you know about the situation ?"

"Not much," admitted the half-homunculus. "You told me some of it yesterday, but that's it."

"We were a bit distracted, what with you being near death and all," added Rin with an irritated glare. She clearly hadn't forgiven him yet, but that was fine – he deserved that and more for what he had put Sakura and her through. "When Saber and her showed up with you half-dead, we focused on keeping you alive and healing your wound. By the time we had checked you over and come up with a plan, it was too late for explanations."

"We have time now," said Shirou. "So let's explain everything for Illyasviel and Lancer."

What followed was yet another explanation of everything they knew about the Grail's corruption, from Kiritsugu's tale to Saber's memories of the Fourth War's ending. Rin took over at several points, explaining the more arcane details of their investigation.

When they were done, Illya was silent, her head down as she digested what they had told her.

"Very well," she said eventually. "I accept that there is good reason to believe that the Greater Grail has been compromised. I will accept the offer of truce and alliance until more is uncovered."

"Thank you for your understanding, Illyasviel. And while I am at it, thank you for your help yesterday."

She blushed and looked away, as did Lancer, as the two of them remembered what form that help had taken. "Well, I couldn't let you die after you took that wound to protect me, could I ? And besides, even if I accept that Kiritsugu didn't abandon me willingly, you still owe me, Onii-san. I can't let you die until you have paid me back."

"Still," said Sakura, "we are grateful for your help, Einzbern-san."

"Illya," replied the younger-looking girl curtly.

"What ?" asked Sakura, confused.

"Call me Illya," clarified the albino. A self-deprecating smile appeared on her face, which was far too young for such an expression. "I was never really an Einzbern in the first place, after all. They certainly didn't treat me like one. And Illyasviel is what they called me."

Sakura nodded. "Alright, Illya-chan."

Illyasviel – no, Illya, Shirou corrected himself – pouted at that. "You do know I am older than you, right ?"

Sakura blinked. "Really ?" She looked Illya up and down, clearly unsure how to react or what to say.

"So you do remember Kiritsugu Emiya," noted Rin. "When Saber told us you were his daughter, I wasn't sure if you were old enough to have memories of him before the Fourth Grail War. How old are you exactly ?"

"I just turned nineteen," she said nonchalantly.

"Really ? When was your birthday ?" asked Shirou.

"Last Saturday," she mumbled a lot less nonchalantly. Shirou restrained himself from asking further questions about that. He had a feeling her birthday hadn't exactly been a cause for celebration during her time with the Einzbern.

A part of him – one far smaller than the part that mourned for his sister's hard life and wanted to give her a better one, but whose existence he couldn't deny – briefly flashed with burning anger at those who had done this to her. But it was far more important to save her from her suffering than to punish those responsible for it.

"Alright," said Rin. "Now that everyone is up to speed, what is our next move ?"

Shirou looked at the clock. "Right now you and Sakura need to get ready to go to school, and I need to call Fuji-nee and tell her I won't be there today."

"Our education isn't as important as the Grail War, Shirou," said Rin in an exasperated tone. "We can stay here while you recover. It will only take a bit of hypnosis to smooth things over, and I don't really care about the rumors that might start."

"I don't disagree, but that's not the reason you need to go. Do you remember what happened in the Fourth War ? Specifically, what Caster did ?"

Rin winced. To his side, he felt Saber tense. Both of them had their own recollections of that, neither of them good : Rin had almost been abducted by the mad Servant's Master, while Saber had fought his summoned monsters and seen his depravity first-hand.

"Yes," replied Rin. "I see what you mean. You are worried that another Servant will go after the children of Fuyuki, either to use as mana sources or for their own sick reasons."

"Exactly. From what happened at the Animusphere Castle, we know that there is at least one Servant in this War that doesn't care about collateral damage, and most likely practice necromancy of some form." Illya stared at him questioningly, but he would explain it to her later. "Of course, things will be more dangerous at night, but we can patrol the city then. A Magus might hesitate to act during the day in order to protect the secrecy of Magecraft, but the sort of individuals the corrupt Grail could call upon are unlikely to have that sort of qualms." He went on to explain what Raiga had told him and Saber the previous day, about the rise in violence in Fuyuki's criminal underground.

Rin cursed. "Alright. You win. We will go to school and make sure there isn't anything weird happening there. Saber, don't let him put a feet out of the house while we're away. Use strength if you have to – that moron won't listen to anything else if he gets it into his head he needs to get out for some reason."

It was a testament to Rin's authority, or perhaps to how Saber was still peeved with Shirou's behavior the previous evening, that his Servant didn't protest the command at all. She merely nodded in acknowledgement.

Sakura looked uneasy at the prospect of leaving him. "Are you sure you will be okay, Senpai ? If Archer's Master knows or learns that you are still alive, they could try to finish the job."

"I will be fine, Sakura," he reassured her. "I will have Saber with me, and I'm hardly defenceless myself, even if I haven't fully recovered yet. Don't worry about me, and be careful while you are out instead. I will be behind the Bounded Fields, but not you."

There was a part of him that wanted to have Rin and Sakura stay with him, of course. In the short term, they would all be safer if they bundled together – but only in the short term. They might want the War to end peacefully, but they still had enemies, and conceding the initiative like that would have been a mistake on a strategic scale, one that would lead to disaster eventually.

"Illya, can you stay here today ? Once I have recovered, I will escort you back to your castle if you want, but I would rather you don't walk through the city on your own. If Archer makes another attempt, Lancer alone might not be enough to keep you safe." He sent an apologetic glance toward the Servant, who looked unhappy with this observation but unwilling to challenge it. Her Master's safety was more important than her pride – that was a good sign.

"… Sella and Leysritt will be worried," said Illya. "I told her I would be back by evening …"

Shirou frowned. "Are those the names of the chaperones the Einzbern sent with you ?" That might complicate things. Illya being this reasonable (even if they had started on the wrong foot) was a godsend, both from a strategic and personal perspective. But somehow, he doubted any 'true' Einzbern would be willing to talk with the son of Kiritsugu Emiya. Rin's research might have failed to pick up any hint of Illya's existence, but the family's hatred of their father was beyond question.

Illya shook her head. "No. They are my maids; homunculi specifically created to accompany and assist me during the Grail War. They … they are on my side. I think. They will do as I say, at least. Sella won't be happy about it if I can't convince her it's for the best, but she will still follow me."

"Then we need to tell them you're okay." He thought about it for a second, then added : "Do you want to ask them to come here ? Having us all based in a single location would be safer for everyone. We can pick them up at the castle, along with your things."

It was only when he had finished speaking that Shirou realized he had implicitly offered his sister to come live with him. He wasn't going to take that back, but maybe he should have been more subtle. It was obvious that his sister had been hurt, badly, by the disappearance of her birth parents and the years she had spent in the Einzbern. Issues like that took years to recover from even partially, as he knew from bitter experience.

"I will call them tonight," decided Illya. "If I call them before, Sella will want me to come home right away, or she will come herself if I don't."

"Then we will discuss our plan for the rest of the Grail War tonight, once everyone is back and Illya has called her maids," decided Shirou, looking around to see if there was any objection. There wasn't.

After Rin and Sakura had left with their Servants accompanying them in Spirit Form, Shirou made a few phone calls to ensure his absence at school didn't cause trouble for them, and to restock their distressingly empty fridge. Then the siblings talked in the main room, their Servants watching and occasionally chipping in with questions (in Lancer's case) or details of their own (in Saber's case). They spoke of a lot of different things, some of them important to the entire city (like what El-Melloi II had told them about the Animusphere Castle's event), others important only to the two children of Kiritsugu Emiya (like how terrible their father had been at cooking).

By around eleven o'clock, when they had started to discuss Shirou's condition (as they called the Dark Angel inside him), the bell rang, and Shirou went to check the door while Lancer went into Spirit Form. A tanned man in a white suit with a frowning face and pulling a wheeled carrier bag in each hand stood at the gate.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted Shirou with a gruff voice.

"Good morning, Kamido-san," replied Shirou. "Please, come in. I'm sorry to make you do this."

"You better be," grumbled the older man as he pulled the bags, each of which was full of food, inside the Emiya residence. "I had some of our newbies run around and get the stuff, but I still had to answer their questions when they asked why the hell they were buying groceries, before dragging them here. We are a Yakuza group, not a god-damned delivery system."

"I apologize for the inconvenience," said Shirou with a bow, before taking the bags offered by Kamido and pulling them inside. "It was for a good reason, I assure you."

"Alright, alright, I get it." He took a look inside the room, looking Saber up and down from where the Servant was sat down. "So that's your partner, kiddo ? … I can see why the boys at the gate were so nervous yesterday."

That Kamido could see through Saber's appearance as a frail young woman was a sign of his experience. The Yakuza had been one of the Fujimura Group's top enforcers for ten years, and while he had no experience in the supernatural, his instincts were sharp.

Though perhaps not sharp enough, for as looked at Illya, his reaction was : "Who is the pipsqueak, kiddo ?"

Nothing dramatic happened. Lancer did not emerge from Spirit Form to stab the man with Rhongomyniad, and Illya did not throw a curse right at him.

Shirou hurried up to speak before that changed : "That is my sister, Illyasviel. She is Dad's daughter. Illya, this is Kamido-san, a friend of the family."

Kamido blinked, then paled as he remembered his previous words. "You are Kiritsugu Emiya's daughter ?! That Kiritsugu Emiya ?!"

"Yes," she replied sweetly. The Yakuza gulped, suddenly looking a great deal more nervous.

"... I apologize for calling you a pipsqueak, miss. I didn't know Emiya had a kid other than this one." He pointed at Shirou.

"That's not a problem," said Illya, still smiling her angel's smile. "Shirou didn't know until yesterday either. We are still getting to know each other."

"I will leave you to it, then. And, kiddo, the boss is waiting for an explanation as to why you couldn't go out and buy all of that yourself. Oh, and someone else will come later to bring the bikes you asked the boss about."

"Thank you again, Kamido-san. I will call Raiga-san in the evening to report to him."

"See that you do. Bye, then."

It would have been wrong to call Kamido's departure a retreat : the Yakuza had done what he come to do, and doubtlessly had many tasks to see to, especially considering what Raiga had told Shirou of the situation in Fuyuki's underworld. But he certainly left quickly, leaving Shirou with Illya, Saber, and the re-materialized Lancer, whose noble visage was carefully repressing a smile as she looked at where her charge sat.

"Just so we are clear," Shirou called out to Illya while putting the food Kamido had brought inside the fridge and freezer, "he really didn't mean anything by it. That's just the way he talk."

Illya pouted again, apparently angered that her brother had so little faith in her ability to keep her temper. Shirou couldn't stop himself from smiling at the sight. Older than him as she may be, that expression really looked at home on Illya.

"Who was that, Onii-chan ?" asked Illya.

"Kamido-san is a member of the Fujimura Group. They are the sole Yakuza organization in Fuyuki."

Illya frowned. "Why do you know Yakuza, Shirou ?"

"Well, the grand-daughter of their Oyabun – that's the leader of the Group – is my legal guardian. Also, as you saw, Dad had something of a ... reputation with them. I still don't know what he did to make them so scared of him even years after his death, mind you."

"But that man knew you personally," she pointed out.

"I have done ... work for them on occasion," he admitted. "When outsider criminals try to muscle in on their territory, my intervention can resolve the situation with a minimum of bloodshed."

She blinked. "What about the secrecy of Magecraft ?"

"I have always been careful not to use anything obviously supernatural," he assured her. "All the tricks I used on my tasks were things that could be done with mundane means. Rin already checked everything I did when she learned about it and gave me her approval."

He put the last of the food in the fridge and stretched. No pain in his chest; good. He turned and looked at the three women in the room with him.

"I am going to hazard a guess," he said in a dry tone, "and assume that none of you have any experience with cooking."

The silence that followed was answer enough.

"Right, then. Let me get to work. Illya, if you want, you can go into our Workshop. Rin's notes on what we know of my condition are in there, if you are curious."

The white-haired girl blinked. "You … are giving me access to your Workshop ? Just like that ?"

He sighed. "It's really more of a familial Workshop, and you're family. We brought in a lot of Rin's stuff yesterday, so you'll need to stay clear of that, but her notes are safe to read, and they would explain things much more clearly than I could, especially while focusing on cooking. Of course, you can stay here if you want. I can turn on the TV -"

"No no, that's fine ! I will go into the Workshop and check out Tohsaka's research !"

Ten minutes later, Illya was sitting in the Emiya Workshop, looking at notes spread across a table in front of her. Shirou had started a heater before leaving, and already the cramped Workshop was more comfortable than most of the luxurious halls of the Einzbern Castle. Illya was alone in there, with Lancer having remained outside to keep an eye out for any threat.

The notes were comprehensive, neatly separated between facts and theories. The former were listed in a clinical tone that didn't quite hide the disquiet the Tohsaka Head had felt while writing them.

The file started with an analysis of Shirou's 'condition'. During the cataclysmic ending of the Fourth Grail War, Shirou had been caught in the curse unleashed by the destroyed Grail, his body and soul damaged by the malevolent energies. It was then that his soul had merged with another entity – not merely possessed, but truly merged, to the point that the Magecraft available to the Emiya group couldn't distinguish where the human ended and the 'Dark Angel', as they called the entity, began.

Though Shirou had been rescued from the flames by Kiritsugu, his body had still been badly damaged. The copy of the hospital records that Tohsaka had somehow obtained made it obvious that the medics hadn't expected Shirou to live, though they had given it their best effort.

To save Shirou's life, Kiritsugu had given Avalon to Shirou, dissolving the Noble Phantasm into the child's body in the same way it had been dissolved through his own during the Fourth Grail War. It had remained there since, which Illya couldn't help but think must have had interesting implications for her brother's growth. To the best of her admittedly limited knowledge, there was no precedent for someone being in so close proximity to so potent a Noble Phantasm through their formative years.

Shirou had first became aware of the other aspects of his condition two years ago, when he had confronted and slain Zouken Matou. Apparently, during that battle, Shirou had 'awakened' the powers of the Dark Angel, manifesting the dread aspect he had assumed when fighting Lancer and wielding that oversized sword for the first time.

What followed was a description of these powers, which matched what Illya had seen yesterday : increased strength and speed, the skill to wield that sword, wings of shadow (they still had no idea just what those wings were made of exactly) that could cancel inertia, and eyes that could perform an advanced form of Structural Analysis on anything they beheld.

What Illya had not seen herself, however, was that apparently Shirou could imbue his weapon with some sort of purifying, spirit-slaying property. He had used it to destroy Zouken and free Sakura from the old magus' corruption, and later on, to fight against a spirit of rot and pestilence and annihilate it.

Since the confrontation with Zouken, the weird dreams Shirou had been experiencing on and off since childhood had increased in frequency and variety, showing him fragments of the life that the 'Dark Angel', as they had eventually taken to calling it, had lived before becoming merged with Shirou. Rin had thoroughly questioned Shirou on what he remembered of these visions, and compiled the resulting data into a rough timeline.

The first and most evident thing about this timeline was that it clearly didn't take place on their world, but on another, alternate version of it.

In this world, this 'Terra', a man called the Emperor had risen, and led the conquest of Humanity's scattered territories in a Great Crusade, to create an empire unimaginatively called the Imperium. Legions had been founded to fight this Crusade, equipped with gear that spoke of technology that was both far in advance of what existed in their timeline and at the same time bizarrely archaic in other ways. The Legions had been led by the Primarchs, sons of the Emperor and father figures to the soldiers under them, who underwent some sort of process to make them better suited for warfare. The Dark Angels were one such Legion, commanded by the Primarch Lion El'Jonson.

Shirou's own Dark Angel came from a land called Caliban, covered in dark forests within which dwelled great beasts. He had been a hunter of these beasts, a knight of Caliban, before becoming a Legionary (also known as Angel of Death). Like the rest of his Legion, the Dark Angel had been a soldier, fighting to free Humanity from the darkness that preyed upon them, until it had all gone wrong.

Reading it now, Illya felt as if she was learning about some ancient mythology rather than a parallel history – or perhaps an old Greek tragedy. The scale of it was just … too much. It didn't feel real, which of course it wasn't, but the idea that the World could have ended up following that path seemed unconceivable.

During the Great Crusade, the Dark Angels had seen something, a vision of the future so horrible that they had turned against the Emperor in order to prevent it from coming to pass. They had joined several other Legions in rebellion against the Emperor, and after decades of secret preparations and schemes, torn the Imperium asunder in civil war.

At the battle of Istvaan V, the Dark Angels had revealed their treachery when, instead of supporting the three loyalist Legions present, they had opened fire on their supposed allies as they retreated. Shirou's own Dark Angel had taken part in that battle, and Tohsaka's notes mentioned how badly her brother had been affected by the memory. They referred to a battle against something called a 'shikome', whatever that was – she would need to ask Shirou about this later – during which Shirou had come into contact with a mundane gun, the touch of which had been enough to trigger the memory of Istvaan V.

Apparently, Tohsaka had tried to replicate the effect, procuring an unloaded firearm for that purpose – but Shirou had violently rejected touching the weapon, even after agreeing to the experiment beforehand. Even seeing a gun was enough to trigger flashbacks to the beginning of the war Illya's brother had called – one time and only one time – the 'Heresy'.

During that war, the Dark Angels and their allies had made pacts with dark powers, summoning entities they had called 'Neverborn' or 'daemons'. They had aligned themselves with the gods the Emperor had sought to banish with the Great Crusade, 'Powers' of great might and greater cruelty.

The civil war had come to a climax at the battle of the Imperial Palace, which had been of such scale Shirou had called it 'the Siege of Terra'. There, the Dark Angel had used powerful sorceries against the magics wielded by the Sons of the Cyclops, who Rin believed to be one of the loyalist Legions. At that point, the Dark Angel had called itself a Chaos Sorcerer, and though there was little detail as to the precise aspects of its power, what little was there made Illya shiver.

What had happened at the Siege was unclear, but at some point, the Dark Angels had been exiled into a land of shadow and mist, where they had become monsters pursuing strange, arcane agendas. Lion El'Jonson, the greatest of these monsters, had been wounded, but used magic to keep his sons from noticing the injury.

And that was it. There were other details, such as mention of a girl named Altani who was supposed to be of great importance to the Dark Angels' war preparations, and of 'the Hydra', apparently another Legion led by a Primarch named Alpharius. Or of the Ninth Legion, which had sided with the rebels and preyed upon the civilian population during the Siege. And there was a quick note penned the previous day, describing the vision Shirou had had before waking up to discover the Command Seals on his hand. That vision had involved a land called Ultramar, and the preparations that had been made by the traitors before the beginning of the civil war.

But the list of facts ended there. From this point began the best theory the Tohsaka Head had been able to throw together as to exactly what Illya's brother was.

At its core, the Greater Grail was a device to reach the Root. It was linked to Akasha by the Second Magic, bestowed upon the old heads of the Three Families by a shard of the Magician Zelretch in centuries past. Through that connection, it could access the records of the Heroic Spirits who had ascended to the Throne of Heroes, and call them forth to participate in the Grail War as Servants.

Tohsaka's theory was that, through the fragments of the Second Magic incorporated in the Heaven's Feel, the calamity that had occurred at the end of the Fourth War had accessed the records of Terra's alternate history, and pulled the Dark Angel from it, using the unfathomable energies gathered within the Grail to make it real. That incorporate spirit, exposed to the Grail's curse, had then sought refuge within the body of the boy who would become Shirou Emiya, its soul fusing to that of the child.

Again, Illya noted that Tohsaka's hands clearly hadn't been steady when she had written her description of what had happened to Shirou in the flames ten years ago.

Next came the Magus' theories as to the difference between their world and Terra. In reality, the Age of the Gods had ended when the concentration of Mana on Earth had thinned, thousands of years ago. The gods and the Magic Beasts that had shared the planet with Humanity had been forced to depart, either hiding in the few places that could still sustain their existence, or fleeing to other realms entirely.

Shirou's visions were too vague to have a proper notion of the power level of the Imperium and its foes, but the sheer power her brother could call upon was evidence enough that the Dark Angel had been far, far more powerful than any Magus of the modern era.

Then there was the fact that, during his confrontation with the Fraga Enforcer, he had managed to cut through Fragarach, the Noble Phantasm whose secrets had been passed down that lineage since the Age of the Gods. Combined with the raw might Shirou had inherited, it made sense that Tohsaka believed that the thinning of Mana had never happened in the alternate history from whence the Dark Angel had come.

With the Age of the Gods never ending, Humanity had been forced to adapt in order to survive. Tohsaka suspected that the Emperor might have been the product of that evolution, or perhaps a god turning on his own kind and uplifting the species in order to secure his dominion. Given the horrific corruption of those who had rebelled against him, however, some altruistic motive to his Great Crusade couldn't be dismissed, weird as it felt for magi to consider in a being of such power and knowledge.

(Shirou's visions hadn't revealed anything of the Emperor's personal might, but even through the hazy veil that shrouded his recollections, Shirou had been able to tell them that even at his strongest, the Dark Angel had never considered himself a match for the Emperor.)

They had a single point of reference between the real world and the visions : the oversized sword Shirou had traced when he had fought Lancer (and Illya still hadn't gotten over the fact that he had been able to do so and survive). In the visions, the sword was normally sized for a two-handed weapons relative to the Dark Angel's body. By measuring the version of it Shirou could Trace (because of course her brother had found a way to make something like Projection useful), they had been able to estimate the size of a Legionary at over two meters and a half. Shirou was almost sure that normal people weren't that tall on Terra : something in the process that made the Dark Angel a Legionary was responsible for this gigantism.

The weight of the sword also implied that a Legionary was far stronger than their bulk could allow for. It was possible their armor enhanced their strength – Shirou had never had a vision of one of them fighting without it – but the fact Shirou could wield the sword with only the power of the Dark Angel indicated otherwise … then again, he was using Reinforcement on his entire body while fighting. Without more information, making any estimation of the Legionaries' strength more precise than 'greater than baseline human' was impossible.

Illya put down the papers and stared at nothing, lost in thought. Kiritsugu had never known this, she realized with shock. He had adopted Shirou mostly out of guilt for his part in the destruction that had cost the boy everything, not because the Magus Killer had seen the potential the child would one day possess. After all, Shirou hadn't manifested any of his strange abilities until years after Kiritsugu's demise.

Her mind was ablaze with questions and doubts. She was certain now that her brother had told her the truth – that Kiritsugu hadn't abandoned her, hadn't forgotten her after adopting another child to replace her. Her … her Papa hadn't abandoned her.

After they had laid down for the night, Saber had told her stories about her Mama from the Fourth Grail War. The Servant had known enough details to convince Illya that, at the very least, her brother hadn't lied when he had told her that the Saber of the Fourth War had been captured by the Grail and used to create the three Artoria Pendragon who were part of the Fifth. She had fallen asleep with the soft voice of the Servant of the Sword in her ears, telling her how Irisviel had acted when they had arrived to Japan.

But that certainty only brought more questions. What was she supposed to do now ? Shirou had said he'd save her, but how could he possibly do that ? Her grand-father had made sure that she knew exactly how doomed she was, to ensure that she didn't get any rebellious ideas.

The thought of Shirou and her, along with their Servants, razing the Einzbern Castle to the ground and tearing Jubstacheit to pieces for his lies was certainly appealing. Before, she had held back from unleashing Lancer on him because she had needed him to reach Japan and the target he had carefully aimed her toward.

Now ? She had other, more pressing concerns, but the revelation that he had deceived her all along, that he had lied about Kiritsugu abandoning her, that he had kept her imprisoned while she could have lived with her father and her brother all this time -

Illya took a deep breath. Not yet, she told herself. She couldn't let herself feel all that anger, because she was afraid it would drown her, and right now she needed to be as cool-headed as possible.

One day, though. One day ...

For now, she needed to figure out what was going with the Grail. Even now, she still had a duty to the legacy of the Einzbern family, if only because Mama had sacrificed her life to it. And if, as Shirou and the others believed, the Grail was irrevocably tainted, then it would be she who ended it. Alright, most likely it would be Lancer, using that terror that sometimes disguised itself as a spear. But it would be by her will.

And after that … Well. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to entertain her brother's fantasy that he could save her. She could stay here in Japan, and Jubstacheit couldn't do anything about it. Well, he could send people to get her back, but what were they going to do ? Fight her brother, who could stand off against a Servant and survive a Noble Phantasm to the chest ?

She only realized that she had drifted into daydreaming about a life that, until yesterday, she hadn't dared to hope she might enjoy one day, when a voice dragged her back to reality.

"Illyasviel ?"

She turned to see Lancer standing in the doorway. "Yes ?"

"Your brother asked me to come get you," said the Servant. "Lunch is ready."

As it turned out, Illya's brother could cook.

The first thing Illya noticed when she returned to the dining room was that her brother was wearing an apron. Her adopted brother, the one who had fought a Servant on equal footing and survived a direct hit from a Noble Phantasm – and yes, her mind kept going back to that, but the thought was just utterly ridiculous and she couldn't help it – was wearing an apron.

For some reason, she found it suited him.

She sat down at the table, and had a brief moment of vertigo as Lancer and Saber sat down as well. After years in the Einzbern Castle, Illya was used at seeing the same faces over and over – the German magi had long ago decided what the "perfect" face for basic servant homunculi looked like. It was the differences between the two Servants that made the similarities so weird to her. They looked like sisters, or perhaps half-sisters given Saber's paler coloration. Lancer looked like she was ten years or so older, of course.

Two different versions of King Arthur, both created from the Saber of the Fourth War after she was caught in that War's disastrous ending. After discussing with Shirou and reading Tohsaka's notes, Illya didn't doubt her hosts' reconstruction of what had happened back then, though she was as much as a loss as to the 'why' as they. Her education had included a great deal of knowledge about the Grail, to make sure that she could fulfill her duty as a sacrifice to it.

Summoning different versions of a Servant at the same time was possible, she knew. The Edelfelt family had done that during the Third War, summoning two Saber-Class Servants using their family's Sorcery Trait. At some point, Jubstacheit had considered doing the same to give her an additional edge in the Fifth War; her prana reserves were large enough that she wouldn't have any issue with supporting two Servants at the same time.

But for three Masters to summon different aspects of the same Heroic Spirit while performing unrelated summoning rituals at opposite ends of the globe ? No matter the catalysts employed, one of them should have gotten a different Servant. Maybe, maybe Shirou and Illya could have gotten two aspects of King Arthur, given that Shirou had Avalon inside him and the Einzbern were determined to have the King of Knights as a Servant this time around as well, but then how could Tohsaka have summoned a third aspect ? As long as the rules of the Grail were working, that should have been impossible. And yet, it had happened, which meant that there was something wrong with the Grail – which, too, was supposed to be impossible according to her entire education in the subject.

There were a lot of impossible things happening, which made Illya feel frustrated. Then Shirou brought the food from the kitchen, and Illya stopped thinking about that to focus on something much more important : how good the food smelled.

"I made hamburgers," said Shirou, putting a plate in front of Illya with a single burger on it, and a larger plate with a whole bunch of bigger ones in the middle of the table. "They were Dad's favorite."

The two Servants were staring at the food with naked hunger. Hesitantly, Illya picked up her cutlery – Shirou had brought out a fork and knife for her, though the others were going to eat with their bare hands – cut a part of the burger and put it into her mouth.

It was the sort of food that would never have been served at Einzbern Castle, and it tasted delicious. A part of her remarked that was probably more due to her brother's culinary skill than because hamburgers were normally that good, but the rest of her was too busy enjoying the taste.

She barely noticed that she had dropped her cutlery and was eating her burger like everyone else was, nor did she notice that she was getting sauce all over her mouth, in a display of messy eating that would have been utterly unacceptable in the stuffy Einzbern Castle.

In the time it took Illya to eat her portion, Saber and Lancer went through several of the big-sized burgers. Even Shirou ate two, still refuelling his body. They ate in silence, but there was none of the tension that had hung in the air every time Illya had shared a table with the other Einzbern : it was just that the food was too good to focus on anything else.

Once Lancer was able to look past her own food, she saw Illya's face and cleaned her up with a napkin, much to the half-homunculus' embarrassment and her brother's amusement.

There was a moment of silence after they had finished – not a single hamburger left on the table.

"Now, it's time for dessert," announced Shirou, getting up and opening the fridge. It wouldn't have been correct to call the gaze Saber and Lancer aimed at Illya's brother predatory, but it wouldn't exactly have been wrong, either. How the Servants could still be hungry after all that they had eaten already, Illya had no idea. She felt as if she couldn't eat another bite -

Illya's eyes widened as her brother pulled a big, frosted chocolate cake from the fridge and put it in front of her. Huh. Maybe she still had enough space left for dessert, after all.

"Happy birthday, Illya," he told her with a smile.

Her eyes flickered between her brother and the cake. He – her birthday ? He had – but – had he asked members of an organized crime group to bring him the ingredients to bake her a cake ?! The last time she had a cake had been … had been …

She remembered -

- the fireplace burns hot, filling the room with warmth. The three of them – Illya, Kiritsugu, Irisviel – sit at the small table.

Her parents are smiling at her, and she at them. There is a cake on the table, small and burnt, because neither Dad nor Mom know how to cook, yet they always insist on preparing the cake for her birthday themselves.

She finds it funny, so she plays along. She doesn't know that this is the last time they will celebrate like this, that there will be no burnt cake next year, no silly celebration. Just cold stones and colder glares.

She blows the candles out, and her parents clap and congratulate her, before Dad cuts the cake and puts something that looks and tastes a bit too much like charcoal in front of her -

- "Illya ?! Are you okay, Illya ?"

She blinked. Shirou was there, next to her, looking at her with that look of concern and affection on his face.

How long had it been since she had last let herself think of that day, she wondered ? How long since she had forced herself to ignore the memories of the only days of her life where she had been happy ?

She smiled through the tears that ran on her face, and hugged her brother. He was startled, but he hugged her back.

No, she wasn't okay. But for the first time in ten years, she felt that one day, she might be.

Chapter Text

They are the shattered pieces of something greater, mere fragments of a goddess whose name once inspired terror and worship in equal measure. The wishes of Humanity shaped them as they fell from her, making them into what they are now.

The two eldest are perfect, forever frozen in ideal beauty. The third is not, for there has always been and shall always be a darker side to Humanity's desires. Of the three, she alone grows past the wondrous beauty of childhood's end, which the men of that era desire above all else.

The sisters are cast out by those who should be their peers, exiled to a small kingdom surrounded by the sea while their judges feast on ambrosia in their gilded mountaintop palace. But they are happy nonetheless. The love of the land sustains them, and they have each other, and that is enough.

Many come to the Shapeless Isle over the ages. Warlords and conquerors, seeking to claim the beauty of her sisters. Heroes after the glory of slaying her, the Isle's monstrous protector. Even a few scholars, those who in another Age will be called Magi, their common sense overcome by their greed for ancient lore and divine materials for their heretical craft.

All come to the Isle … and all fall before her. For just as her sisters inherited the perfect beauty of their origin, so too did she inherit her strength.

And as more and more fall, as the tally of her victims grows ever larger, so too does her strength, and so too does her hunger. Her desire to protect her sisters turns to obsession, turns to the pursuit of strength, strength at all cost, until -

Until she ruins everything.

Until she turns on the ones she loves most.

Until, in one moment of all-consuming hunger, she eats her own sisters, adding their power to her own.

Until she wakes from her fugue, and the realization of what she has done breaks her.

Until she stops being herself and becomes the Monster they always called her, and nothing is left for her but to wait for the hero who will kill her …

This is what the girl sees, when she closes her eyes and lets her mind wander through places that once were home to naught but nightmares. This is the past of Berserker, the source of her pain and her madness; the raw, bleeding wound that her Master's Command Seal has bandaged, but cannot truly heal.

This is the story of Medusa, youngest of the Gorgon sisters.

November 22nd, 2004 AD – Homurahara Academy

Sakura and Rin sat on the rooftop of the school, eating mechanically while their Servants kept watch in Spirit Form. The cold air of late November didn't bother them, and the two girls enjoyed that brief moment of peace and quiet.

As soon as they had arrived at school, Sakura had told the Archery Club about Senpai's 'sickness', and used a little Magecraft to ensure Fujimura-sensei wouldn't come check on him tonight – they needed more time to deal with Illya-chan's situation.

After that, the morning had passed slowly, every lesson stretching out in the way they had for millions of teenagers across the world since schools had been invented.

It had been a long time since she and Rin had needed to get food at the school cafeteria. Normally, Senpai and her brought boxed lunches from home, along with Rin's portion.

At least it helped sell the story of Senpai being sick, thought Sakura as she ate mechanically, swallowing another mouthful of the cafeteria's bread.

Is the food really that bad ? asked Berserker, who was picking up her distaste over their bond. The other students didn't seem to mind.

Sakura paused. No, she admitted silently to her Servant, it really isn't. I've just been spoiled by Senpai's cooking.

Ah. I understand.

It made her smile that Berserker could say that after just one meal cooked by Senpai. Her bond to her Servant was a strange experience : beyond the silent exchange of words, they could feel each other's emotions, though the Command Seal Sakura had used right after Berserker's summoning had dulled hers. If not for the fact it had been necessary in order for Berserker to function, Sakura would have felt horrible about forcefully changing someone else's state of mind like that.

She had actually checked that the seal of Berserker's fury was still in place that morning, after what she was pretty certain were the memories that had driven her Servant to madness had filtered through their bond during the night. With Senpai wounded, Sakura hadn't slept much, but her few hours of slumber had been haunted by the visions of the Dream Cycle, something Rin had warned them all about.

Thankfully, the Command Seal was still active. Perhaps Sakura had seen those memories because it was meant to keep Berserker from being driven crazy by them, not keep them from her Master.

"Alright," said Rin once they had finished eating. She checked her watch and said : "We have half an hour before the end of lunch break; let's make the most of it."

Sakura nodded and stood up. This was why they weren't at Shirou's side, even as he recovered from his wounds, so they had to do it right.

They needed to check the entire school for traces of Magecraft, as well as set up their own defenses, and they needed to do it before the end of lunch break. With Senpai supposed to be sick, Sakura couldn't stay after school without drawing suspicion, and it was safer for the two sisters to make the trip between school and home together.

They found no trace of Magecraft in the school, except what they had put there themselves. The Bounded Field Rin had almost two years ago to keep people from noticing the change in her sister had faded, and they had let it happen. By the time it had vanished completely, everyone knew Sakura lived with Shirou and was in love with him, even if the details of their relationship were subject to much debate and gossip.

They placed new wards around the school, to detect Magecraft and the entrance of large quantities of prana. It wouldn't work on Servants in Spirit Form, but Rin was confident enough in their skill to know that few Magi would be able to meddle with the wards without their knowing. Of course, it would be a different matter entirely if a Caster-Class Servant was involved. Even the Emiya and Tohsaka residence might not be safe then.

Senpai and Rin hoped that they would be able to deal with Caster and their Master peacefully, so it wouldn't come to that. And yet, Sakura couldn't help but wonder, as she knew they did too. They had Berserker, Saber, Rider and Lancer on their side – yes, even Lancer, for all that Rin had told Sakura she and Senpai were far too quick to trust his adopted sister.

She didn't understand. Senpai trusted Illya-chan because she was his sister, and because he felt guilty for not having known about her treatment by the Einzbern, but Sakura trusted the younger-looking girl because she knew what she was feeling. Unless Senpai turned on her – and Sakura knew he would never do that – then Illya-chan would stick to his side, even if she herself hadn't realized it yet.

That left Archer, Caster, and Assassin as possible enemies. One of those had somehow destroyed the entire Animusphere family in the heart of their power, something even a Heroic Spirit would have found challenging depending on the circumstances, or their specialization. Archer had used their Noble Phantasm on Senpai – she suppressed a twitch at the thought – and while it would have killed any Magus, it was a precision weapon, hardly capable of the destruction Lord El-Melloi II had described.

Which left Caster or Assassin as the ones responsible for the downfall of the Animusphere. Neither of the two Classes would have been her first suspects, but then, the Grail was corrupted, wasn't it ? The old rules, set down by the Founders, couldn't be relied upon now. And either Caster or Assassin would be able to enter the school without tripping out the mana-detecting Field.

So they placed another Bounded Field, which would warn them if violence occurred within them. The alarm would come too late for the first victim if a Servant went on a rampage, but hopefully its very presence would dissuade attackers in the first place. Both the mana-detecting and violence-warning Fields were simple things, something any Magus worth the name would detect immediately, but their simplicity also meant it was difficult to interfere with them without triggering another alarm embedded inside them.

With this, they were essentially telling any Master from out of town that the Academy was under their protection, and to keep the War out of it. Sakura hoped they weren't accidentally marking the school as a target.

Homurahara Academy covered a large area, and setting up a Bounded Field covering it all took the two of them the entirety of lunch break. They closed the circle together, erecting the field with power drained from one of Rin's jewels. That particular jewel had been full of Rin's own prana. They had experimented with combining Jewelcraft with Senpai's power, and while the results had been promising, it wasn't the sort of thing you deployed over a school full of hundreds of students.

At least, not if you didn't want the Church to send a squad of Executors after you. Although, given who the Church's representative in Fuyuki was …

Ding-dong ding-dong !

"Alright," sighed Rin, stretching before putting the various Magecraft implements they had used into her bag. "We got it done just in time. Let's go back, Sakura. We'll meet outside at the usual spot once lessons are over, alright ?"

"Yes. See you soon, Nee-san."

Sakura returned to her classroom, Berserker following her. A few more interminable hours later, she made her way toward the school's gates. Rin and her had to make their way out of the school on their own even if their destination was the same : people didn't know Rin was living with her and Senpai, and it was best to keep it that way.

Someone else was already waiting for her.

"Hey, Sakura-chan," greeted Ayako Mitsuzuri.

"Mitsuzuri-senpai," replied Sakura. "Is there something you wanted with me ?"

Mitsuzuri was one of Sakura's growing circle of acquaintances, the two having come in contact at the Archery Club when Sakura had joined it upon entering highschool. Their friendship might have surprised other people, given the fact that Mitsuzuri wasn't nearly as good at concealing her attraction to Senpai as she thought she was. But the truth was, Sakura enjoyed teasing the older girl about it, especially given how blind to it Senpai was. Much like when her sister had become Senpai's lover, Sakura had enough confidence in his love for her to know that he would never abandon or betray her.

There was more to it, though. Despite her best efforts to socialize, Sakura still couldn't find it in herself to make male acquaintances, let alone friends. She could tolerate them well enough to attend school, but Senpai was still the only man she could truly relax around. Around other girls, however, she had slowly learned to let her guard down and actually enjoy herself.

Combining that with the fact that, since she had been saved by Senpai, she had also slowly come out of the shell of shame and self-hatred she had associated with the unnatural desires Zouken's ministrations had caused in her, and, well … she had found that she enjoyed the female form in ways she couldn't imagine doing for any man except Senpai. She knew it wasn't exactly the most healthy of ways to deal with her trauma, but honestly, as long as she and her loved ones were happy, she was fine with it.

It wasn't as if any other man could ever compare to Senpai, after all.

"Well … It's about Emiya." The older girl fidgeted. "I know I don't need to tell you that, but watch over him, alright ? He's not nearly as tough as he pretends to be. This morning, you said he suddenly fell ill, right ? Well, remember last year, at the archery tournament ? The same thing happened back then. One day he looked perfectly fine and kicking ass on the range, and the next he looked like death warmed over."

Sakura nodded. "Yes, I remember." She could hardly ever forget the fear she had felt when Senpai had come back in that state, after all. "But don't worry too much, Mitsuzuri-senpai : it isn't nearly as bad this time. I think he will have recovered enough to come back to school tomorrow."

"Really ? That's good," sighed Mitsuzuri in relief. "It took him, what, a week last time ?"

"Around that," confirmed Sakura. Of course, he had been fine much earlier, but with the need to deal with the aftermath of the Enforcer's attack, his sickness had served as cover to explain their absence from school.

"Still, that's twice it has happened now," frowned Mitsuzuri. "Maybe he should go to the doctor and see if he has some kind of … I don't know, underlying condition or something ?"

"We're considering it, once Senpai has recovered," Sakura lied smoothly. She didn't like to do it, but there wasn't another option.

"You know, Sakura-chan, you really should call him 'Shirou'. You've been his girlfriend for, what, a year now ? No one would blame you."

In spite of everything, Sakura blushed. The truth was, even after all the two of them had gone through, even after he had saved her, after they had become lovers, after two years of living together, she still couldn't call her beloved Senpai by his name most of the time. She had only been able to a few times, in the throes of passion, when the joy and pleasure were enough to make her forget everything but his presence and love.

She wanted to, though. And one day, she would.

Mitsuzuri laughed gently at her expression, mistaking it for simple shyness, and shook her head. "Alright, forget I said anything. Have a good evening, Sakura-chan. See you tomorrow !"

"Bye, Mitsuzuri-senpai," Sakura managed to answer.

She smelled nice, remarked Berserker as they passed through the school gates and toward the meeting point with Rin.

Sakura giggled at her Servant's words.

"So you are the adopted son of Illyasviel-sama's father," said Sella in a voice colder than the snowy mountains around Einzbern Castle. Illya smiled as her brother, who had faced Lancer without fear and taken a blow from Archer's Noble Phantasm without hesitation, visibly winced at her maid's words.

The two homunculi were dressed in identical maid uniforms. To the outside eye, they appeared to be sisters, with white hair and red eyes indicating their Einzbern origin, and the only differences between them being their haircuts and their bodies' proportions – for some reason, Leysritt was a bit more developed than Sella. Of course, they were much more different on the inside, each having been designed for a very different purpose.

After Tohsaka and Sakura had returned from school, Illya had finally contacted her maids, feeling guilty over leaving them to worry while she spent the day with her Onii-chan. After spending several minutes reassuring Sella that yes, she was fine, the Emiya siblings had left home on a pair of the bikes the Fujimura Group had brought during the afternoon. Saber and Lancer had driven, with Shirou riding behind his Servant and Illya securely strapped inside a sidecar attached to Lancer's own mount.

A car would have been more comfortable, but it would also have been more vulnerable to sniping by Archer, while Saber and Lancer could dodge long-range attacks more easily on bikes. The two aspects of the King of Knights were, unsurprisingly, supremely skilled drivers, despite Lancer never having piloted a modern vehicle before. When Illya and Lancer had gone to Fuyuki yesterday, using one of the cars at the castle (which they would probably need to recover at some point from where Lancer had parked it) the trip had taken just over an hour. This time, they made it in under thirty minutes – and that was with Lancer holding back to keep her Master comfortable.

It made Illya wonder how good Rider would be once she got on one of those. The King of Storms had eyed the bikes with a dragon's greed, and been even more difficult to convince not to come along than her Master.

Saber and Lancer had changed into biker outfits provided by her brother's Yakuza friends, once Illya had used Magecraft to adjust them to their size. Saber was a bit short for it, but Lancer made it work. Illya hadn't failed to notice how her brother was very carefully not looking at her own Servant in the skin-tight leather, and she could feel Lancer's embarrassment through the bond.

Part of her couldn't help but think Lancer looked cute when she was flustered.

The six of them – Shirou, Saber, Illya, Lancer, Sella and Leysritt – stood at the entrance of the Einzbern estate, to the west of Fuyuki City. A dark and foreboding forest stretched past the fence, keeping the castle Illya's ancestors had built when the Heaven's Feel had begun hidden from sight. A Bounded Field extended over the entire area, keeping mundanes from going inside.

"Yes, I am Illya's brother, Shirou Emiya," her Onii-chan replied with a bow. "I am happy to meet you, Sella-san, Leysritt-san, although I wish it were under better circumstances."

Sella didn't relax her scowl. "And you are the one who stalked her by having your allies ask questions about the Einzbern family in the Clocktower, aren't you ?"

"S-stalked ?" Shirou replied, taken aback by the accusation. Illya was fairly certain her maid hadn't meant quite what she had said : her knowledge of Japanese had been artificially implanted in her mind, and who knew how old the reference the Einzbern had used were.

"Sella, stop trying to threaten my Onii-chan," sighed Illya, ignoring Sella's own shocked reaction at the term of address she was using. She gestured to the luxury car next to the two homunculi maids. "Have you got everything I asked you ?"

The car was different from the one Lancer and Illya had used yesterday. That car had been mundane, the kind of which there were thousands in every Japanese city. This car, however, was the one they had driven in from the airport. Illya didn't know much about cars, but she knew this one was much bigger and more comfortable.

"Yes, Ojou-sama. I packed the clothes and materials you asked for in the trunk. But are you sure about this ? Surely this castle is the safest place for you in this country. Even your … allies would be welcome inside. We have more than enough space to accommodate them."

The suggestion wasn't without merit, even from a tactical standpoint. The Bounded Field keeping civilians away was only the first layer of the estate's defenses. There were several others, combined and keyed to Illya to let her detect intruders anywhere within the territory, track them, and support her Magecraft. All of that was sustained by the leyline running under it, which was the reason Jubstacheit had purchased the land and ordered the castle dismantled from the family's homeland and rebuilt there in the first place.

She had discussed that possibility with Shirou earlier today, but while her brother had agreed that the Thaumaturgic protections were likely stronger than those of his home, he had pointed out something else :

"This castle has also been uninhabited for ten years, Sella," Illya explained. "Its defenses might be compromised. With no one tied to the Bounded Fields, any Magus could have sneaked in."

"We checked everything when we arrived, Ojou-sama," Sella pointed out.

"You may have found any Magecraft that shouldn't have been there, but what about mundane explosives or technological devices ? I know you don't have any experience with that : there is more technology in one room of Onii-chan's house than in the entire Einzbern Castle." Something she had shamelessly taken advantage of during the afternoon, fascinated by the glimpses into the wider world the TV had shown her. "Anyway, I have made my decision. We might return here later, but for now, I will be staying with Onii-chan and our other allies at his home, and you are coming with me."

She didn't tell her the true reason as far as she was concerned : that the castle reminded her far too much of her family's ancestral stronghold in Germany, and that Shirou's place already felt more like home than that cold castle had for ten years. She especially didn't tell Sella that Shirou's cooking was better than hers.

"One of us should stay there, then," argued Sella. "To keep watch over the castle and keep it ready for your return."

"No. I'm not risking either of you like that. You're coming with us, and that's final."

"… Very well, Ojou-sama."

Sella drove on the way back, Leysritt at her side and Shirou and Illya in the back, while the Servants escorted the car on their bikes, ready to stop any attacks while also keeping an eye on the road. Saber had mentioned that, should a strange person appear on the road in front of them, they should just open fire with their Noble Phantasms and ask questions later.

"What are your intentions toward Ojou-sama ?" Sella asked Shirou as they approached the outskirts of Fuyuki.

"I intend to save her life and free her from her abusive family," replied Illya's brother.

Illya fought to keep a blush from reaching her face. He has said that so … so matter-of-factly, as if it were as obvious as the rising of the sun.

"That is a tall promise. Why should we -"

"Sella," interrupted Illya, "I trust Shirou. He put himself between me and a Noble Phantasm after I tried to kill him; he gave me access to his Workshop; and he told me secrets that would get half the Association coming after him. I trust him."

And oh, but it felt good to say those words and mean them.

"He … I'm sorry ?"

Ah, of course. Sella hadn't been exposed to Shirou's … uniqueness yet.

"It's a long story," sighed Illya. "Let me explain …"

By the time Illya had finished her summary of what had happened since she had left in more details than she had over the phone (according to her brother, phone conversations could be spied upon without even resorting to Magecraft, which was another reason the castle couldn't be used as a base), they had arrived. They parked the car in front of the Emiya residence and went in, Leysritt and Sella carrying their mistress' luggage without letting Shirou help them.

After the introductions were done, Illya went to take a bath and finally change into her own clothes, prepared for her by Sella, rather than what Shirou had been able to scrounge together for her in the morning. Everyone sat down for dinner inside the slightly crowded main room. Sella had to be ordered by Illya to join them, while Leysritt sat down as soon as she smelled the scents emanating from the kitchen. Sakura had prepared the food tonight, and it was just almost as tasty as the feast Illya's brother had cooked for lunch.

After the food was gone – with four Servants present, not a crumb was left behind – and the table cleaned up, the discussion turned to tactical matters.

"Everything went well at school," said Tohsaka. "We set up the Bounded Fields around the grounds, like we discussed. Shirou, how are you feeling ?"

"Much better," replied her brother. "I should be back to one-hundred percent tomorrow."

"I should stay with you tonight as well, Master," piped up Saber. "While you can activate Avalon on your own, my presence will accelerate your healing."

There was a moment of silence and exchanged glances between Illya's brothers and his two lovers, before Shirou nodded. "Fine. Every Servant should stay with their Master anyway, just in case. Let's go over the plan for tomorrow."

"You need to go back to school for the day, Senpai, or the teachers will start to suspect something is wrong," said Sakura.

Shirou looked at Illya. "Illya, will you be fine without us tomorrow ? You will have Lancer with you, as well as Sella-san and Leysritt-san, but if you want me to stay with you, we can make up an excuse …"

The half-homunculus wanted to say yes. The prospect of another day playing around her family's house with her big brother was a tempting one. But … no.

"Sella brought some documents from the castle," she sighed instead. "I want to go through them to see if I can learn anything relating to the Grail's corruption. I will be fine, Onii-chan."

"Alright," said Tohsaka, "then we'll all meet up here at the end of the day, and start patrolling the city for sign of Servant activity in the evening. Is there anything else we can do tonight ?"

"Yes," said Shirou. "We can start Illya's treatment. I may not be at full strength, but I can still Trace Avalon without issue, I think."

"… Forgive me, you can what ?!" shouted Sella, eyes wide.

"I can use my variation of Projection to duplicate the Noble Phantasm Avalon, scabbard of King Arthur, which protected her from harm," explained Shirou. "Then I can dissolve that copy inside Illya's body, and feed it prana so that it repairs the damage she has suffered."

Illya didn't miss the hint of steel that had crept in her brother's voice on those last words. Despite his calm demeanour and gentleness, she could tell that he was still livid about her treatment by the Einzbern.

"I told you, Sella," explained Illya, "Onii-chan has Avalon inside him thanks to papa. Somehow, his Magecraft lets him create copies of it, though I haven't seen him do it yet. But," she turned toward Shirou, frowning, "I thought your copies only lasted a few hours ?"

"She's right," said Tohsaka. "We tested this, Shirou. The longest you can maintain a projection of Avalon is nine days – until the sun has risen nine times since the Tracing. And Avalon wasn't active during those tests, while the copy inside Illyasviel would be constantly active, causing it to deteriorate much faster. We never tested what happens when Avalon vanishes half-way through healing something, but it can't be good."

"We also found that a constant flow of my od can reinforce the projection and slow the deterioration," countered Shirou. "And we do have a way to do that – one we have been using for months now no less."

There was a moment of silence, then Tohsaka and Sakura seemed to understand what Shirou was talking about.

"E-mi-ya-kun," began Tohsaka, a vein popping on her forehead, "you are NOT doing a tantric ritual with your sister, you … you … pervert !"

Oh. Oh. Wait, months ?!

What the hell had her brother been doing with these girls ?!

"Senpai," said Sakura with a conflicted expression. "I'm not sure …"

"What do you plan to do to Illya-sama, you ruffian ?!" shouted Sella, rising to her feet. Even Leysritt seemed a bit disturbed.

"Emiya …," growled Lancer threateningly, her fingers closing on the handle of Rhongomyniad, the Noble Phantasm materializing in rapier form.

"What ?! No !" protested Shirou, aghast. "No, I don't mean that ! When we established our contract, we had to do it quickly, and I wasn't in any condition to do something complicated. But you taught me about contracts afterwards, remember, Rin ? The … ritual, that we did, was because there was no other option. But I can make a proper contract with Illya."

"… I suppose," grunted Tohsaka, sitting back down after one last glare at Shirou. "It's worth trying, if only because she doesn't have many other options. You'll need to be careful about only sending her the od she'll need to sustain the projection, though. I saw how your power affected Sakura when it overflowed into her, and with Illyasviel's connection to the Grail …"

"I will be careful," promised Shirou. "And if that doesn't work, we'll figure out a way to take the real Avalon out of my body. I can use a Traced copy myself -"

"Absolutely not," interrupted Illya, only to scowl as she realized she and Tohsaka had spoken at the same time. She glanced at the other girl before continuing : "you've had Avalon inside you for over ten years, Onii-chan. We have no idea how it influenced your growth, or how it interacted with the Dark Angel. We aren't going to tinker with whatever cosmic alignment of coincidences and miracles resulted in you becoming whatever it is you are."

"She's right, Shirou," added Tohsaka. "I know you want to help her, but getting yourself killed will only make it worse for everyone. A Traced copy should suffice for now, and you are right : there should be no problem with the contract between you. Magi avoid using them because it requires a lot of trust between the involved parties, not because they are innately dangerous."

"I'm fine with making a contract with you to exchange prana, Onii-chan," added Illya. Part of her wanted to insist on using the same method the two other girls had used to forge their own contract, but she could read the mood of the room and knew that wasn't on the cards. Even if she managed to convince her brother, Lancer would never allow it.

You are very much correct, Illyasviel, Lancer sent through their bond, sensing her thoughts. Older than you look or not, that just would be wrong on too many levels to count, and your brother is aware of this.

You got to kiss him, Illya sent back petulantly, half in jest and half seriously. As did Saber, and Tohsaka and Sakura. It's not fair that I'm the only one excluded.

Th-that has nothing to do with this !

"… Fine," Shirou relented. "We'll do it this way. However, unfortunately I doubt Avalon will do anything about your connection to the Grail, Illya. Unlike Sakura, you were born like this, with the Einzbern's … tinkering solely aimed at enhancing your potential as a Master."

"As a Lesser Grail, my body absorbs the essence of defeated Servants," Illya explained in a clinical tone. "Once six Servants have been slain, my body will … break down, and, combined with Leysritt as the Dress of Heaven, I will turn into a cup-shaped Mystic Code connected to the Greater Grail and charged with enough energy to activate its wish-granting function."

"That might be a problem," muttered Shirou. "We were always going to limit the number of Servant casualties as much as possible in order to keep the Grail from activating and recreating what happened ten years ago – or worse – but it's likely we're going to have to kill the Animusphere Servant, at the very least."

"I can handle one Servant without problem," declared Illya with more confidence than she really felt. They were talking about the component energies of the avatar of a pseudo-deific force of nature, after all. "Remember, the Einzbern intended for me to defeat all the other Masters before Lancer brought my … the Grail back to Germany. They made sure that I could keep directing Lancer with up to five Servants' worth of mana inside me."

"And you agreed to that ?" Tohsaka asked the Servant of the Spear disbelievingly, Lancer looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Don't blame her," Illya said quickly. "Grandfather made me use a Command Seal so she wouldn't have a choice, before she even knew I would become the Grail at the War's end."

"I should have destroyed that vile creature the moment you explained the truth to me, Illyasviel," said Lancer, eyes downcast.

"Maybe you'll get the chance in the future," said Shirou. "Avalon will keep Illya alive, but since it will be active at all time due to her condition, it will also stop her ageing. We're likely going to need the expertise of the Einzbern to ensure Illya can live a full and happy life, and I doubt they'll give it willingly."

"You would go to war on the entire Einzbern family to help Ojou-sama ?" It was hard to tell if Sella was impressed or appalled, probably because she didn't know herself.

"Yes." "Of course." Obviously he would." Shirou, Sakura and Tohsaka replied at once.

"But that'll have to wait until we have dealt with the situation in Fuyuki. Let's go to the Workshop for now."

By the time they were ready to begin, night had fallen. The Workshop was crowded : Sella had insisted she and Leysritt be present, and of course Saber and Lancer had to be here as well. Since Shirou's brush with death in the park, the Servant of the Sword had only let her Master out of her sight on the return trip from the Einzbern property.

Tohsaka was also present, as the closest thing to an expert in what Shirou was they had on hand, and Sakura was there to assist if something went wrong with Shirou's power. Rider and Berserker were still outside, keeping watch.

It was more people than any Magus would have ever let inside his Workshop at the same time, but Shirou didn't seem to have any problem with it.

The two Emiya siblings sat inside the Formalcraft circle at the center of the shed, with a pair of wooden cups and a single knife between them.

Tohsaka made them repeat the words of the contract's spell one last time, and then they started. Shirou extended a hand between them, eyes closed. Isolated from the world beyond the circle safe for her link to Lancer, Illya felt him activate his Circuits, one by one. She counted twenty-seven, an acceptable number, but nothing to boast about in the Clocktower.

Then Shirou drew upon the Dark Angel's power, and Illya drew in a sharp breath. Energy flooded through her brother from an unseen source, just as it had when he had faced her in the park. His eyes glowed under the skin of his eyelids, black lines spread on his exposed skin, and she could have sworn the shadow he cast under the shed's lightbulb was twitching.

Golden particles manifested manifested above Shirou's hand, forming a shape before coalescing into a large, magnificent scabbard. Illya heard Lancer gasp – it was one thing to know Shirou had Avalon inside him, another to see him create a copy of the legendary artefact so easily. To be honest, Illya was surprised as well. She hadn't doubted her brother's words, but she had expected the copy's creation to take more effort on his part, or to be … shoddier, somehow.

If she hadn't seen it just manifest in front of her eyes, she probably wouldn't have been able to tell the Noble Phantasm in front of her was fake.

"Alright," said Shirou, his voice still normal despite his altered appearance. He opened his burning eyes and smiled at her. "That's the easy part done. Try to relax, Illya. This shouldn't hurt."

Illya nodded, and Shirou gently pressed the Traced copy of Avalon against her chest. Again, the scabbard turned into golden motes, which plunged into Illya, passing straight through her clothes.

"How are you feeling ?"

"… weird. But not bad."

She couldn't think of another way to describe it. Illya's training had made her aware of her body's condition at all times, and now there was something else inside her. It was like she had grown a second liver, though of course even the Traced copy of a Noble Phantasm was in a much better state than her own organs.

Shirou nodded. "Good. We tested this before with Sakura and Rin. What you are feeling right now is Avalon settling into your body. Usually it doesn't activate until they draw my prana through our contract, but since you are Lancer's Master and we have two versions of King Arthur here, I expect it will -"

Illya gasped, cutting him off. With a trembling hand, she touched her chest, eyes wide with childlike wonder.

"I guess that answers that," smiled Shirou. It was strange, to see such a gentle expression share a face with the blazing eyes and black lines of Reinforcements.

But that strangeness was nothing compared to the utter alien sensation Illya was experiencing right now. She … she wasn't hurting anymore. The constant pain across her body, which had been a background to her entire life for years now, had stopped. She could feel Avalon's power radiate through her, filling her fragile body with warmth.

Even if that had been all it did, it would have been worth it just to live the rest of her life without pain.

"It … it doesn't hurt," she said.

Shirou's smile dimmed slightly, but he went on :

"Let's make the contract now."

After taking a few moments to get used to Avalon's presence, Illya activated her own Magical Circuits. Unlike most Magi, they covered her entire body, and using them had always caused the pain to spike in the past – it was only her extensive 'training' that had desensitized her enough that she could power through the agony.

It was just one more consequence of her alterations, along with her stunted growth and shortened lifespan. And yet … and yet this time, the pain was much weaker than usual.

They cut their palm with the knife in turn, spilling blood inside their cups. As Illya put the knife down, she felt the Traced artefact inside her slowly react. Shirou had explained to her Avalon could only heal one injury at a time, and if there was a way to direct it her brother hadn't found it.

In truth, the palm was a terrible place to cut oneself for bloodletting purposes : hand wounds were crippling, healed slowly, and it was far too easy to damage something important permanently. Fortunately, Magi had come up with healing spells for that purpose centuries ago, even if one didn't have the legendary scabbard of King Arthur to call upon. That would have to wait until after the ritual was done, though : for now, Shirou wrapped a bandage around her hand – and then another around his own.

"My strength shared with yours," brother and sister said together, trading cups and holding them to their lips. "My power bound to yours."

They drank, and activated the spell at the same time. Illya felt her Circuits flare, and then, just like that, it was done. She could feel her connection to her brother, not too dissimilar to that with Lancer, although only od could flow between them.

"It worked," said Shirou, staring at her with blazing eyes. She shuffled, feeling a little uncomfortable at how deep his gaze reached. "Avalon is stabilized, and the drain on my reserves is manageable."

"There should still be some degradation over time as Gaia becomes more aware of the duplication," said Tohsaka. "Do you have an idea of how long we have before it becomes an issue ?"

"Well, obviously we'll need to wait to be certain, but compared to our previous tests, I would say we have … at least a couple of months before I need to replace Avalon."

A couple of months. Sixty days during which she would not hurt, during which she wouldn't get closer to death. That was already longer than she had expected to live when she had left the Einzbern Castle. And at the end of those two months, all it would take would be another session with Shirou placing another Traced copy of Avalon.

The realization that she might actually live finally sunk in. Of course, there were still dangers. The Grail War was raging, and she was the Lesser Grail for it. And if Shirou were to die, then her treatment would stop, though she didn't feel too bad about following her brother in death (after she was done avenging him, of course).

But now, miraculously, she had a shot at living beyond the Grail War. She … didn't know how to react. She didn't know what to feel.

Happy ? Yes. Happy would do for now, until she figured it out.

As she stood up and left the circle, Sella and Leysritt rushed in to fret over her.

"Are you feeling alright, Ojou-sama ?" asked Sella.

"Yes, Sella, I'm fine. It worked. I don't know what the long-term effects of this will be, but I feel better than I have in a long time."

And then, to her shock, Sella turned and actually bowed to Shirou, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

"Thank you, Emiya-san. Please … please continue looking after Ojou-sama in the future."

"Of course, Sella-san," replied Shirou. "She's my sister."

As the sun neared the horizon, Kirei Kotomine stood at the pulpit of his church, a pen in his hand as he wrote down the whispers of the voice in his head. The Grail's influence within him had surged since the beginning of the War, and what had been a diffuse presence at the back of his mind was coming into sharp relief.

It was a blessing beyond compare, to hear the words of his god, even if his mind was still too feeble to understand most of them. And thus, it was his sacred duty to transcribe those words, which he took great joy in doing here, in the house of the false God he had forsaken ten years ago.

Some of what he wrote was in Japanese, although there were characters he had never seen before and which seemed to move and shift of their own accord. Other parts were in Latin, or Russian, or any of the many languages he had mastered during his training as an Exorcist, who needed to be able to navigate any environment anywhere on the planet. The words weren't his own : he was but a vessel through which some ineffable truth was struggling to express itself, and he could have wept at how insufficient an instrument he was for that task.

He had been at this for two hours now, the activity turning into a sort of meditation as he let the words of the one true god flow through him and onto paper. Even as he listened to the whispers, part of his mind contemplated the progress of the War. All seven Servants had been summoned, this he knew, with the last three having been called forth in quick succession the previous day.

There had been a battle at Fuyuki Park the previous evening, but no Servant had perished, which Kirei thought might be sacrilegious given where they fought. If he had read the signs of the battle correctly when he had gone there to clean up – thankfully there hadn't been any witnesses, so he hadn't needed to invent some asinine excuse for the damage – at least three Servants had been involved in the confrontation.

And yet, only one Master had come to introduce themselves to him, the appointed Overseer of the Holy Grail War. The man who had presented himself as Archer's Master was interesting, even for a Magus. That he thought to hide his true nature from Kirei was amusing, but then again, if Kirei had been serious about his role as Overseer, he would have been required to reveal to the other Masters that the Ainsworth Head held two sets of Command Seals, while his role as a priest would have demanded he exorcise the body-thieving abomination at once.

But Ainsworth had no way of knowing of Kirei's true allegiance, and so had carefully hidden his two secrets. If not for the gift that beat in Kirei's chest, it would even have worked.

Still, the fact that none of Fuyuki's local practitioners had come to formally introduce themselves as Master was worrying. That the three teenagers would be chosen as Masters was inevitable : their different ties to the Grail and what laid waiting within were too strong to allow otherwise. Did they know, or even suspect, what he had become ? Possible. Shirou Emiya saw much, even if his eyes had yet to be opened to the truth. Sakura Matou would follow Kiritsugu Emiya's heir anywhere, bound to him as she was by blind gratitude and adoration. And Rin … well, it wouldn't take much to convince her not to trust him. She never had, after all.

There was a knock on the church's doors, strong enough to resonate throughout the entire nave. It drew Kirei away from his reveries and writing, and he put down his pen and closed the book just before the wooden doors were pushed open.

A man in a pale coat over a grey suit entered. His features were European, though his plaited white hair and greyish eyes were unusual. His hands were covered by a pair of white gloves, and there was a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.

"Greetings, Kirei Kotomine," the newcomer declared in a soft but powerful voice. "I am Marisbury Animusphere, and I have come to introduce myself to the Overseer of the Holy Grail War as one of the Masters chosen to participate in it."

It was very well done, the priest reflected. The correct words, the correct names, even the correct intonation – respect for his position mixed with pride at having been chosen by the Grail, and just the touch of ambition even a Magus couldn't conceal when presented with the opportunity to reach the Root through the Heaven's Feel. The gloves concealed where the Command Seals would be, but Kirei could still detect a faint magical aura emanating from Marisbury's right hand.

If not for the boons he had received from his god, Kirei would have believed the charade. Well, that, and the fact that he already knew what had happened at the Animusphere Castle from his contacts in the Mage Association. His own knowledge of the Grail had allowed him to fill in some of the blanks, though the theory Lord El-Melloi II had put together was quite close to the truth, if missing what Kirei suspected was the most crucial detail of the affair.

"It is customary for the participants of the Grail War to introduce themselves to the Overseer in person," he said, smiling. "Not through familiars. Those are only meant to be used when the Overseer calls the Masters to attend him in order to make announcements relating to the Grail War."

All expression vanished from the face of the Magus – or, to be more precise, from the face of the thing that wore his corpse. A ghostly chuckle echoed around the two creatures that passed for men, and a third figure coalesced into existence before Kirei.

His skin was dark, and his eyes were glowing circles of red parted by vertical pupils inside black orbs. A mane of white hair crowned his face, arranged in a manner similar to the meat-puppet at his side. He wore an elaborate robe and cape ensemble of white, black, red and gold, which left his arms exposed, showing the elaborate black tattoos covering them.

The Servant – for Kirei knew him as such at once – chuckled, and clapped slowly. On each of his fingers was a magic ring, deceptively simple bands of gold within which dwelled unfathomable power. And on his right hand, almost undistinguishable from the black tattoos, were three red markings Kirei recognized as Command Seals.

"Well done," he praised Kirei. "I thought I sensed something special about you, and I am pleased to see that I wasn't mistaken. I am Caster, and this," he gestured at the possessed corpse that still stood immobile in the church, "was my summoner in this world, before I disposed of him for daring to presume he could command me and made something more useful of his flesh."

If not for the fact that he had lived with Gilgamesh for ten years, Kirei might have been intimidated from being so close to a Servant, especially one capable of the devastation his contacts in the Mage Association had told him had happened at the Animusphere Castle.

Before Kirei could reply, Caster flicked a finger, and the book Kirei had been writing in leapt from the pulpit into his hand. The Servant opened it seemingly at random, and his smile grew wider as he took in the revelations Kirei had transcribed inside.

"Ah," Caster breathed out. "Very good." He closed the book reverently, and held it back to Kirei, who reclaimed it reflexively. "You have received a great blessing, my friend. I have not seen such a collection of revelations in many years. You aren't just a puppet, are you ? No, you are much more. You are a true servant of the gods."

Kirei hesitated. There were many questions he wanted to ask, but he eventually settled on the most immediate one : "Gods. Plural ?"

Caster gave him a curious look, before smiling in understanding. "Ah, you have felt the touch of the Undivided. A great boon, to be sure, but the Pantheon is infinitely varied, Kirei. That which sleeps and dreams in the Grail is but one aspect of the True Gods. They are, after all, the true face of Mankind, and is our species not one of limitless potential ? But there will be time for philosophical discussions later."

"I … I certainly hope so," replied Kirei. "But if we are to be allies, then will you not tell me who you are ?"

"Oh, of course," chuckled Caster. "How rude of me."

Suddenly, as if a curtain had been removed from a window to let in the sunlight, power blazed from Caster, swelling until his presence seemed to fill the church. Kirei recognized that aura, though it had been ten years since he had last felt its ilk, in the brief, wondrous moment before the heretic Kiritsugu Emiya had interfered in the incarnation of the Black Grail. The heart he had received as replacement for the one Kiritsugu had destroyed lurched in his chest, beating faster in recognition.

"I am Solomon," intoned the Servant, his eyes burning with crimson fire. "In life, I was a priest, and a mage who stood above all others. Now I am much more, but a servant of the divine I remain."

"From the moment I entered this world," Solomon continued, "I sensed the slumbering power beneath this land, waiting for the hour of its awakening. After ages of exile, the true gods of Mankind will return to this world, and we shall usher in their coming !"

His proclamation finished, Solomon lowered his gaze to meet Kirei's, and smiled.

"But come, my friend. We have much to discuss. Do you have somewhere we could talk more comfortably ?"

Kirei smiled back, and gestured for Caster to follow him. Yes, they had much to discuss, and much work to see to. First, he needed to know what other assets Caster had brought along with him – the priest knew that Marisbury's corpse wasn't the only one that had gone missing from the Animusphere Castle. Then he would tell Caster about the other allies they had in their quest to manifest the darkness dormant within the Grail – one aware of it and the other not. He would probably need to find Gilgamesh and drag him back from his restless wandering across Fuyuki, which would be a trial by itself.

But in the end, he knew, with all the zealous faith his father had tried for so long to instill in him toward the hollow precepts of the Church, that they would succeed.

The gods' will would be done.

Chapter Text

Shirou still wasn't sure how he had gotten himself into this situation.

Well, no. He knew exactly how. After lunch was over, Illya had refused to separate from him, so he had suggested they play some games together. The board games he had in his home were for three people at least, though, so Saber and Lancer had been roped in joining (not even the Servant of Swords could resist Illya's puppy-dog eyes, it turned out). Shirou had pulled one board game from the pile in the closet at random, and because this was Illya's first time playing any sort of "game" that didn't come with the looming threat of physical punishment, she and Shirou had teamed up while Saber and Lancer played on their own.

So far, so good. What Shirou didn't understand was why his living room had turned into a war room, where two rivalling monarchs glared at each other, occasionally speaking threats of retribution as they sent orders to their armies, locked in a perpetual war that forever dragged the world into some sort of dystopian nightmare.

Oh wait; he actually knew. That was because they were playing Risk, Britain was one of the game's territories, neither version of Artoria was willing to let the other hold it, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that they were both very competitive. Their incessant war for control of the island nation had left Europe a wasteland of which Illya and he had steered well clear. Dozens of troops had bravely given their lives on the shores of Britain, watering them with their blood.

Currently, it was Saber who held Britain, but Lancer was already gathering forces in America to reclaim it. Right now, however, it was Illya's and Shirou's turn. He looked over the board one last time, and winced. This … this wasn't going to be pretty, but it had to be done. He whispered into Illya's ears, who grimly nodded and gave the command, the dignity of her actions somewhat damaged by the fact she was sitting in his lap and couldn't quite suppress her giggling.

From the stronghold of Australia, the legions the two Emiya siblings had quietly amassed charged into Asia. The continent was liberated from the cruel grip of its King, the people rejoicing and adding their own strength to the revolution against the two warring tyrants. The armies went west, pursuing Saber's last troops, while Lancer launched her own attack on Britain early to take advantage of her rival's distraction.

Ten turns later, both Servants were looking at the board in shock – a board that was covered in the colors of the Emiya alliance. Really, the game had been over the moment Lancer had continued attacking Saber. Lancer may have had some good luck at the dice rolls (C-ranked Luck was still more than the common mortal could ever hope to enjoy) but there was a point even good tactics couldn't match superior numbers.

Illya turned to embrace her brother. "We did it, Onii-chan ! We conquered the world !"

Shirou laughed as he hugged her back, ignoring the glares of the two Servants, as well as the shock, disbelief and simmering anger he could feel from his link with Saber.

Yep. He had called it. Sore losers indeed.

Chapter Text

At the end of the Fifth Grail War, Shirou Emiya perished, sacrificing his life to destroy the Black Grail that had sought to corrupt Sakura Matou, his beloved, and use her to be reborn and destroy the world.

A few months later, Illyasviel von Einzbern died. She was buried near her father's grave in the Fuyuki cemetery. Rin Tohsaka departed for London after dealing with the aftermath of the Grail War, becoming the apprentice of the Wizard Marshall Zelretch. She only rarely returned to Fuyuki afterwards, unable to bear what had become of her sister.

For several decades, Sakura Matou remained in the Emiya residence, guarded by Rider. She continued to wait for her beloved's return, never giving up faith that they would be reunited one day, keeping the house ready for him. Those few close to her tried to make her see reason, but she refused them all, until they gave up.

Eventually, she died of old age, still faithfully waiting for Shirou's return. Rider faded away soon after, mourning her Master's heartbreak as much as her demise.

But the universe is not so dark a place as not to acknowledge such love as had blossomed between Sakura Matou and Shirou Emiya, however brief it had been before the two had been separated by capricious fate. Beyond death, their souls were drawn to each other, bound by a force greater than any oath or True Magic. They tumbled through the Kaleidoscope of Worlds and beyond, and eventually, they found new homes.

2450 IC – Watchtower Karkan, northern Naggaroth

The Druchii soldier pulled his sword from the guts of a Beastman, letting the foul creature fall to the snow-and-gore-covered ground. His own armor was painted in blood as well, to the point where the red color of his hair, a rarity among the Druchii, was all but invisible under it.

The battle hadn't gone well. The accursed nobles had treated this – a Chaos incursion from the Wastelands led by the dreaded Brass Bull Taurox – as just another opportunity to play their games, leading to a total collapse of the Druchii leadership on the very eve of battle.

Now the battle had devolved into a thousands smaller confrontations across the wind-swept plains, and the superior numbers of the Beastmen were telling. He was the sole survivor of his unit.

There, close by amidst the madness, a Sorceress was fighting off another group of Beastmen, turning them to ash with fire magic and ripping them apart with living shadows. Her purple hair flowed in the wind, and the corpses of her guard were scattered at her feet. She was as beautiful as she was terrible, but her face lacked the expression of cruel joy he would've expected on a graduate of Ghrond upon inflicting such violence.

She turned, and their gazes met. Time slowed, then seemed to stop entirely as he felt himself fall into her eyes.

For as long as he remembered, there had been an emptiness in his spirit that he had never been able to fill. The petty cruelties of his peers had never appealed to him, though he had soon learned to conceal how he felt about the so-called 'pleasures' of Naggarond. The necessities of survival had kept him from searching an answer to that void, yet now, in that single exchange, he felt it fill, and a pain he had never realized was there suddenly ended.

He remembered the Fire. He remembered the War. He remembered their love, blooming between two broken souls under the machinations of evil incarnate. He remembered the pain, the betrayal of his very self he had committed for love of her, the blood of his comrade – his friend – he had spilled to save her.

He remembered how, in the end, he had died to save her, knowing she wouldn't forgive him for it.

Her face was different, as was his own. Whatever had happened to them had left them as Druchii, Dark Elves, but then, neither of them could really have been called human, could they ? They were sinners and monsters, who had found absolution and peace only in the arms of one another. Fitting then that they would be reborn as Dark Elves, and at last both his own distaste for the cruelty of his people and the hollowness of his soul made sense.

Her name left his lips before he could stop himself. She spoke at the exact same time, and despite the distance that yet separated them and the sounds of battle, they heard each other perfectly.

"Sakura ?"

"Senpai ?"

Dazed as if in a dream, he began to walk, never breaking eye contact, until he stood next to her. For a moment, they simply stayed there, looking at each other, not quite believing this was real.

An approaching roar broke the spell and made them both focus on their surroundings. Taurox's rampage was still ongoing, and the Brass Bull had seen them. He was charging in their direction, picking up more and more speed with every step while a troop of Minotaurs followed in his wake.

His axes burned with infernal fire, dripping with the blood of all those he had already slain. Once he reached them -

No. No, he would not allow it. He would not let this miracle they had been granted be taken from them by these beasts.

Shirou's body burned as he drew upon the Wind of Metal, his Dark Elf flesh far more suited to manipulating magic as his old human body had ever been. A rain of swords fell upon the charging Minotaurs, cutting them to bloody pieces. Only Taurox remained, the blades bouncing off his metallic hide.

With a shout, Sakura called forth ribbons of shadow that caught the Brass Bull's limbs and held him in place. Moving on instinct, Shirou charged the beast, pouring power into his own body to move faster than he ever had in this life.

His Naggarothi sword, which he still held out of habit, wouldn't pierce through Taurox's skin, that much was obvious from the sheer number of Druchii soldiers the Minotaur had slaughtered. And he had already seen that most of the blades from Archer's memories wouldn't, either. But he had something else in mind, something he had already used to kill a demigod.

"Nine Lives Blade Works !"

Again and again, the Traced sword of Heracles slammed against Taurox's chest, until, on the seventh blow, it broke through. The massive blade plunged through the exposed spot on the Brass Bull's throat, severing his spine and killing him instantly.

The skies shook with distant, otherworldly roars, which Shirou and Sakura heard with their souls rather than their ears. The Dark Gods of Chaos, it seemed, were displeased with the death of their champion.

Walking back to Sakura, Shirou glared at the skies.

"Try it," he said softly. "I have killed a god before, and I will do it again if I have to in order to protect her."

As the terrified Beastmen fled, the two lovers embraced one another, uncaring of the blood and sweat that covered them both.

They were together at last, and nothing would ever separate them again.

Malekith frowned as he lowered the latest report of his agents in the north. This … this wasn't what he had expected. The coalition of Dread Lords he had sent to meet the Beastmen's onslaught had been carefully selected in order to purge the latest batch of opponents to his rule, their forces precisely calculated so that they would be able to slow down the invaders long enough for his loyal vassals to arrive and finish both sides off.

Instead, the Beastmen had been annihilated, with their monstrous leader himself being finally slain, something Malekith had been certain would require his personal intervention – in fact, he had been looking forward to getting a good challenge for once. His commanders had interrogated the survivors of the first wave, and learned that everything had unfolded as Malekith had planned, until two Druchii had single-handedly turned the tide, slaughtering the Beastmen in droves and slaying Taurox, breaking the animals' spirits and sending them fleeing back to the Wastes.

It was a ridiculous story, but the number of survivors who had told the same tale under intense pressure proved that there was some truth to it.

He would need to find out the details. A red-haired male and purple-haired female Druchii were a rare combination. They would be found, they would be brought before him, and they would answer his questions. If their answers satisfied him, they would be allowed to serve, just as the abomination Malus Darkblade had been allowed to.

If they didn't … well. There was always room for more heads to decorate the walls of his tower.

As the Witch King gave his orders to his spymasters, part of him couldn't help but feel uneasy as it remembered one detail of the survivors' testimony. They had claimed that both Druchii had wielded powerful magic against the beasts, not just the Sorceress, and this caused the old words of the Prophecy of Demise to echo in his mind …

"… the child will be learned in the darkest arts … thus shall the Dark King fall, slain by neither blade nor arrow but a sorcerous power of darkest magic and so shall his body by consumed in the flames and for all eternity burn …"

Chapter Text

My spear lies buried in Mordred's heart, and her blade is planted in my guts. We stand, holding each other up in a sick parody of a familial embrace.

Mordred's head hangs down, sparing me the sight of her face. At least she died quickly. My own death will be nowhere near as fast. Avalon strains against the injury, unable to close it with the sword still in my flesh, yet still trying all the same, accomplishing nothing more than prolonging my death. By that point, I have lost too much blood. Even removing Clarent won't save me.

That is fair. It is no less than I deserve.

These are the fields of Camlann. This is the last battle of Camelot's civil war.

This is where I die, among the ashes of my dreams. This is where the story of King Arthur ends.

And this is here, surrounded by the dead, that I am left alone with one burning question.

Was I wrong ?

I took on all the sins of the Kingdom upon myself. I cast aside my humanity to become the King I thought the people needed.

And in the end, it was all for nothing.

I didn't want this for you, Mordred. You, whose emotions shone so brightly, were not fit to carry this burden. It would have broken you. I didn't want that for you, and so I rejected you, refused to give you something I now understand you only wanted because, in your eyes, it equated to my acceptance of you.

Ah … there is no hiding from it now. I can feel it, everything I tried to pretend I did not for so long.

It hurts. It hurts so much. The pain of Clarent tearing through my guts is nothing in comparison.

My people, whom I sacrificed to protect the rest. My queen, who was condemned to death because I couldn't love her. My knights, set against each other by the consequences of my failings.

My son. My daughter. My child, whom I never called such out loud, whom I have killed as you have killed me.

Please …

Forgive me.

I wish … but no. Merlin told me, didn't he ? The past cannot be changed. Not even the Gods can undo what has already happened. Only the present and the future may be shaped by our choices and deeds.

There is no undoing this, no matter how much I may crave it. Here, at last, I face the same regrets, the same pain that is shared across all of Humanity.

This, too, is fair. In truth, it is the least of what I deserve.

But if my mistakes can't be undone …

If the past can't be unmade …

If so, then …

I wish I could tell you -

November 23rd, 2004 AD – Homurahara Academy

"Alright, everyone," said Taiga Fujimura. "Today, we have a new student joining us."

There were various noises of agreement and curiosity, which Saber took as her cue to enter. The moment she came into view, a stunned silence descended upon the classroom.

"Hello," she greeted the young men and women. "I am Miranda Watson. I have recently moved to Fuyuki from Britain for personal reasons, and will be staying here for the foreseeable future. I hope you'll treat me well." She smiled. "And if you have read the Sherlock Holmes books, I have already heard all the jokes."

And she had. Irisviel had been introduced to the series by Kiritsugu, and once she had seen the name on the passport that had been arranged for her, she had bombarded Saber with jokes during their long flight from Germany to Japan.

There were a few chuckles.

"Miranda-chan," said the teacher (who shared the same name as the crime boss Shirou and she had met before, and was apparently her Master's legal guardian), "you can sit behind Shirou. Don't hesitate to ask for his help, he's used to it. Oh, and Shirou, I need to see you and Miranda-chan during lunch break."

It was not a coincidence that the seat behind her Master was free. They had gotten up early this morning to set everything up for this – all of them except Illyasviel, who had barely emerged from bed when the rest of them had left. Shirou and Saber had met with several teachers and the principal in the morning, and a combination of Shirou's reputation as a trustworthy student, several small applications of hypnosis, and liberal use of her E-ranked Charisma had been more than enough to see her admitted into Homurahara Academy as a student in the same year and class as her Master. Meanwhile, Sakura and Rin had made sure one of the seats near Shirou was free – the whole point of this whole endeavour was to let her protect Shirou during the day, so it wouldn't have made any sense for her not to be as close to him as possible.

The entire class was looking at her as she sat down, as well they should. Saber knew she was beautiful; she remembered Irisviel saying so, and she had seen the appreciation in her Master's eyes when she laid with him, even if he had been the perfect gentleman, much to her frustration. She thought she had him yesterday morning, but the intervention of her prudish other self had stopped things from progressing; although with Illyasviel being in the room, perhaps that was for the best.

The first period started and went by without issue. At the first break, however, Saber found herself swarmed by questions the moment the teacher had left the room, as it seemed every girl in the class rushed around her desk.

"Where in Britain do you come from ?"

"Is that your natural hair color ?"

"What about your eyes ? They are really pretty !"

The questions went by too fast for her to answer, until Shirou got up and placed himself between her and the horde.

"Alright, alright. One at a time, and give her some space. What kind of impression do you think you are giving right now ?"

With apologetic whispers, the young women retreated a few steps.

"Thank you, Shirou," she said. He had made it clear she couldn't call him 'Master' while they were in school.

"The two of you already know each other, it looks like" observed a girl with shoulder-length brown hair who hadn't been as pushy as the others. "Is that why you weren't at the Archery club this morning, Emiya ?"

"Yes, Mitsuzuri," confirmed Shirou. "I accompanied her to the school and guided her to the faculty's offices."

"Oooh ?" The girl – Mitsuzuri, her Master had called her – was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Watson-san, what's your relationship with Emiya-san ?"

"Shirou is the reason I came to Japan," she replied, causing a gasp from the listeners. "He and I are bound together by a contract made by his father and a relative of mine ten years ago, and I am here to fulfill it."

There was a moment of shocked silence, then the classroom erupted in whispers and exclamations of disbelief, along with a choking sound from Shirou.

"Emiya !" shouted Mitsuzuri. "What the hell ?!"

"Her Japanese still isn't perfect," muttered Shirou. "She doesn't mean what you think she mean."

How ridiculous. She meant exactly what she had said, both what had been directly stated and what had only been implied. She may have taken liberties, with the script her Master and his friends had come up with, but she was confident there would be no issues with what she had said instead. It even had the advantage of being technically true, so she could always tell Shirou she didn't feel comfortable about lying to innocent civilians when she could avoid it if he was angry at her later.

"You already have Sakura-chan as a girlfriend, you are close to Tohsaka-san, and now you are getting a British princess as a fiancee ?! What are you, some kind of eroge protagonist ?!"

"Mitsuzuri," protested Shirou, "that's not what's going on at all !"

"Oh, really ?!"

It was amusing, thought Saber, to see her Master, who had faced Lancer at her side without hesitation and within whom lurked a power as vast as it was alien, squirm in his chair under the accusing glare of his classmate. No doubt Mitsuzuri's verbal onslaught would have continued for some time, but at that moment, the door to the classroom opened, and everyone suddenly fell silent and returned to their seats.

The man who entered moved like no human she had ever seen. Each of his movements was perfectly deliberate and controlled, and his breathing was completely even. Behind his glasses, his eyes were piercing, and he took in the students returning to their seats without comment.

Master, she silently asked. Who is this ?

That's Kuzuki-sensei, her Master answered. I know how he looks, but I checked, and he has nothing to do with the Moonlit World.

How interesting.

Classes resumed, much quieter than under Taiga. Saber's knowledge of the era was enough to follow lessons without issues, though the History this Kuzuki taught was certainly novel to her. All the while, she kept an eye out for threats, knowing Berserker and Rider were doing the same in Spirit Form at the side of their respective Masters elsewhere in the building.

At lunch break, she accompanied Shirou to the staff room, where she watched him with amusement as he attempted the arduous task of placating his guardian. The woman's grandfather had informed her of the warning Shirou had brought two days before, so she had some inkling of the true reason 'Miranda' was staying at Shirou's home. It still took ten minutes of lambasting Shirou for getting himself involved in such a dangerous situation in the first place (all away from the ears of the other teachers, of course) before she let them go, promising to come check on them at their home later this day. At which point Shirou informed her that they would all need to leave the house early and reminded her that she had a staff meeting this evening, prompting another few moments of worried recriminations.

And then, no sooner had they left the staff room that they had been approached by a bespectacled, serious-looking young man. There was a wariness in his gaze as he looked at Saber.

"Emiya," he greeted Shirou with a nod. "And Watson-san, a pleasure to meet you. I am Issei Ryuudou, the student council president. Welcome to our school. If you need any assistance, please come to me. Shirou knows where to find me."

"Thank you," she replied.

"If you don't mind me asking, though, can you tell me what is going on between the two of you ? There are a lot of rumors circulating right now, and some of them are downright ridiculous."

Next to her, Shirou groaned. "Please don't tell me what they are. I didn't realize our classmates had so much free time."

"We are in a building full of teenagers," the young man shrugged. "We both know rumors spread faster than the speed of light in such an environment. So ? What's the truth ?"

"Miranda is a relative of one of my dad's acquaintances," explained Shirou. "She's come to Japan for familial reasons and is living in my house with Sakura. That's all."

This was the backstory they had agreed upon and that Saber had decided needed to be developed. Several students were within earshot, but somehow, the Servant of the Sword was certain that if her Master hoped to stop the rumors with this, he would be disappointed.

"Of course." Issei shook his head. "That's very much like you, I suppose. I should've guessed there was nothing to it. Well, I won't keep you from your lunch any longer."

"Oh, and Issei," Shirou called out, "I'm going to be busy helping Miranda with various things for the next few days, so I won't be able to help the Student Council. Sorry in advance."

"You aren't part of the Council in the first place, Emiya," waved off Issei. "I'm sure we can manage to keep the school standing without your help."

They joined Sakura and Rin on the roof. They had already heard the rumors Issei had mentioned; Sakura from people genuinely concerned about her due to her well-known relationship with Shirou, Rin because she apparently kept up the persona of an exemplary, socialized student at school.

"Why did you do that ?" asked the older girl, glaring at Saber as Shirou and she sat down.

She looked at Rin, then at Sakura, then at Shirou, and shrugged. "Because it was funny," she said. "Shirou is cute when he's embarrassed, don't you think ?"

Her Master shot her a betrayed look, then did the same to his two lovers when they nodded in agreement.

"You are drawing attention, though," said Rin.

"She was always going to do that, Nee-san," pointed out Sakura. "At least that way, everyone's attention will be focused on her relationship with Senpai, rather than where she comes from or any inconsistencies with her background."

"And all it cost was my dignity and reputation," muttered Shirou.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that, Senpai," smiled Sakura. "If anything, your reputation has increased in the eyes of many."

"I don't want that kind of reputation, Sakura," groaned Shirou.

"Then you shouldn't have slept with your Servant, you moron," said Rin. "And yes, I know you didn't do it like that. Now shut up and eat. We waited for the two of you, and I am hungry."

By that time, Saber too was famished. A Heroic Spirit might not really need to eat, but Shirou's cooking had a way of convincing her mind she did.

The meal Shirou had packed for her was as tasty as the rest of his cooking, though there wasn't nearly enough of it for her tastes. Back when Kiritsugu had summoned her, Saber hadn't had many opportunities to eat : Irisviel had shared some of her meals with her, but that was the extent of her experience. With the memories of her mortal life spread among two other Servants, that meant that the lunch she had eaten after being freed from the Grail had been the single best meal she could remember, and she had found that she enjoyed eating immensely.

Although, judging by how Rider and Lancer had also devoured everything presented to them in the Emiya household, Saber suspected her amnesia might not play as important a part in her appetite as she thought at first. Rather, her Master and his lover were both incredible cooks.

The rest of the afternoon went by swiftly, with the number of gazes on Shirou and her only increasing as time passed, as did the whispered conversations about the two of them. Already some believed Shirou was leading her and Sakura on, two-timing on them and living a life of debauchery.

Which was ridiculous. As if her Master had it in him to do anything that would hurt Sakura or Rin. Saber could feel the bond between them through her own to Shirou, and it fascinated her. She wanted the same thing they had, only more.

She wanted her Master, who had saved her from the darkness, who had welcomed her in his home and promised her vengeance against the horror that had wronged her. But she didn't intend to take him from the girls he had already welcomed in his home and in his heart. For while Saber might not remember her mortal life, she did remember Lancelot as he had been in the Fourth War : a twisted and broken creature, wracked by hatred and madness. She was more than willing to allow Shirou to keep other lovers to prevent that tragedy from repeating. He would be hers, and the other girls would be his. Simple. Not allowed according to the morals of era, perhaps, but what did she care about those ?

"You know," her Master said as they approached his home, having joined up with the others at the school gates, "I am seriously considering punishing you for that stunt you pulled today, Miranda."

"Oh ?" She smiled. Her Master was far too kind-hearted to -

"Keep this up, and I'm going to cut your food portions in half when we eat at home. No seconds, too."

She froze in place, the blood fleeing from her face at the mere idea of what Shirou was threatening. No. Surely he wasn't serious. He wouldn't dare.

Would he ?

… Maybe she should ease up on the teasing. Just in case.

"Illya ! We're home !"

Illya most certainly did not rush toward the entrance when she heard her brother's voice. No, she calmly walked to greet him, with all the poise and dignity expected from a daughter of the Einzbern.

She might have slightly broken that image by hugging her brother with a big smile on her face.

"Welcome back, Onii-chan !"

"Welcome," said Sella in a more measured tone. "I trust everything went well ?"

"Well, Saber decided it would be funny to go off-script, but we managed," replied Shirou with a rueful smile. "How about you, Illya ? Were you bored ?"

"I'm not a child, Onii-chan," Illya pouted, while fighting a blush at the simple fact that he actually cared about how her day had gone. "I didn't spend the day playing around, thank you very much. I was doing research, like I told you."

"Oh ?" Shirou's expression turned serious. "Alright. We'll discuss this after dinner, before we go out."

"I am looking forward to it. Sella made lunch, but her cooking isn't as good as yours."

"Ojou-sama ..." the maid said with a pained face.

"What ? It's true. Besides, Shirou has a lot more practice at cooking than you, so it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Her maid continued to grumble as Shirou prepared dinner, while Tohsaka and Sakura prepared for their patrols later tonight. They ate a bit early, but all three versions of King Arthur agreed that hunger was the enemy, and one should eat when one could while on campaign.

Once the meal was over, Illya dropped the bombshell she had uncovered during her research :

"I think I figured out what the Grail's corruption actually is."

As she had thought, the announcement got everyone's attention. Saber looked especially tense, as if she were preparing to fight right away.

"You did ?" Her brother looked flabbergasted. Then he broke into a smile. "That's incredible. We've been trying to figure that out since the Command Seals appeared on our hands."

"She said she 'thinks' she has figured it out, Shirou," cautioned Tohsaka. "Doesn't mean she's right."

"Even a theory is more than what we have right now," replied the only male in the room. "Well done, Illya."

The white-haired girl preened under Shirou's praise.

"It wasn't easy," she said, before sobering up. "And if I am right, we are in deep trouble."

"Keeping in mind what you told me, I went through the files Sella and Leysritt put together for me. The castle's archives were full of notes from the Einzbern Magi who built it, along with the accounts of the previous Masters. Except for Papa. I'm not sure whether he never made one, or if it was purged-"

"He never made one," interjected Saber. "Jubstacheit asked him to, and he told him that doing so before the War was won was both dangerous and a waste of time."

Illya nodded. "That makes sense. The documents I found certainly would have been dangerous if they had fallen in the hands of rival Masters. As you all know, the Einzbern built the Greater Grail along the Matou and Tohsaka of the time, but … well, they cheated. They set up systems to remotely monitor the Grail from Germany, which the other two families knew about, but secretly modified them in order to be able to influence the Grail. They wanted to be able to tweak the Servant selection process for their own summons, to remove some of the restrictions placed upon the summoning system."

"Typical Magi," muttered Sakura.

"Indeed." Illya felt absolutely no need to defend the actions of her ancestors. "As far as I can tell, they didn't use this cheat until the Third War. By that point, after two failed Wars, they were getting desperate, and tried to summon a Divine Spirit so that they could crush the opposition and finally get the Grail. They purchased a catalyst from the East (it just says that in the notes, nothing more as to its nature or where they found it), and spent an obscene amount of money confirming its authenticity. And then, when they used it, what they got was the weakest Servant ever summoned in any Grail War, who was killed as soon as the hostilities started. I think that's why Jubstacheit didn't try to be clever with the choice of Servant in the Fourth War and just went for King Arthur."

"Alright," said Shirou. "I'm following you so far. But what does that have to do with the corruption of the Grail ?"

"Well, for one thing, that Servant wasn't one of the standard seven Classes. He was from a so-called 'Extra' Class, which were only theorized to be possible during the construction of the Greater Grail. In that case, the Class was 'Avenger'."

"That name certainly doesn't sound good," pointed out Sakura.

"Yes, but the real problem is that Servant's identity. I found his True Name in a draft letter that was left in the castle, written by one of the Einzbern who witnessed the Third Grail War."

"Well ? What is it ?" asked Tohsaka. "Come on, don't leave us hanging."

"Angra Mainyu," Illya said quietly. "The devil of Zoroastrianism, the Source of All Evil."

It took several seconds for the group to digest that answer.

"Yes," said Tohsaka at last. "I suppose that would explain a lot. Though I wonder just how the Einzbern managed to lose the Third War, with that sort of monster under their command."

"As I said, Avenger was nowhere near as powerful as the Einzbern had hoped," explained Illya. She didn't feel the need to defend her ancestors, far from it in fact. But they needed to have as complete a picture of the situation as possible. "Given that he should have been summoned as a Divine Spirit, it seems their meddling with the Grail backfired in some way and resulted in the Servant being summoned with crippled abilities."

"Or perhaps Gaia objected to summoning a God of Evil," offered Rider. "The World has means of defending itself from such blatant foolishness."

"In that case, I wish it had done a more thorough job," Shirou scowled, before turning more thoughtful. "Upon the defeat of Avenger, his spirit would have been drawn into the Lesser Grail of the Third War, which was later destroyed before the conclusion of the ritual, if I remember correctly."

"Yes," confirmed Illya. "That's why the Einzbern created Mama for the Fourth, in order for the Lesser Grail to be able to defend itself. Not that it mattered in the end," she added bitterly.

"And when that happened, the essence of Angra Mainyu leaked inside the Greater Grail, resulting in its corruption, which began to show in the Fourth War with the summoning of Gilles de Rais as Caster," concluded Saber. "Kiritsugu must have learned about this at some point. Probably at the very last moment, judging by his actions."

It also gave more context to her brother's condition, Illya thought to herself. In its legend, Angra Mainyu was a complex force/entity, but one wholly aligned with what could only be described as 'evil'. And while Shirou was both nice and adorable, Tohsaka's notes had made it very clear that wasn't the case of the Dark Angel. It was possible that, when Saber had destroyed the Grail, the accumulated energy that hadn't been spent turning a portion of Fuyuki into a flaming hellscape had been spent through the Heaven's Feel's connection to the Kaleidoscope, and had partially summoned the Dark Angel from the possible timeline in which it could have existed.

She didn't say that out loud, though. They had already enough on their plate, and she knew Shirou was smart enough to piece it together himself.

… she also didn't like to think of what her family's stupidity had cost her brother.

"Saber, you are the one who has had the most experience with the Grail's corruption. Does this sound like what you encountered ?"

It was clear from Shirou's tone that he was uncomfortable asking this to his Servant.

"I know nothing about Zoroastrianism, Master. That being said, a force of absolute evil certainly sounds like what I encountered in the Grail, and we could hardly be underestimating our foe by assuming they are a God of Evil."

"So now we know, or at least have a good idea, what the source of the problem is," said Tohsaka. "The question is, what do we do about it ?"

"Keeping Servants from dying remains our priority." Shirou grimaced, looking at Saber. "We know what happened to you when the black mud caught you, but it's likely the other Servants of the Fourth War were devoured by Angra Mainyu. Whatever the original process was supposed to be like, I doubt it's been made pleasant by the addition of an evil god to the mix. Regardless of the risks of having it manifest from a fully-activated Grail, I won't inflict that on anyone."

"Do you think there are still in there ? The Servants of the Fourth War, I mean," clarified Saber, looking slightly perturbed.

"I doubt it," answered Illya. "The Grail was destroyed, remember ? If the Heroic Spirits hadn't been digested by then, surely the cataclysm would have been enough to destroy their summoned selves completely."

"That's probably for the best." Saber couldn't quite hide her shiver. Given what she had gone through while being trapped by the Grail with her Heroic Graph still intact, she was undoubtedly right.

"The problem will be convincing the other Masters," said Tohsaka, bringing the conversation back on track.

"If we can't convince the Masters, we'll just have to kill them and offer a new contract to their Servants," said Illya. "If the choice is joining us or being devoured by the Grail, I think they will make the correct decision. I am worried about the Animusphere Servant, though."

"I doubt we could convince them to go along with us," agreed Shirou. "We'll probably end up having to defeat them. I'm sorry, Illya."

"One Servant isn't enough to activate the Grail, Onii-chan," Illya comforted him. "I should be able to bear having the essence of one Heroic Spirit inside me, especially with Avalon helping."

"Fine," Shirou sighed. "Then we need to find and deal with Caster, Archer and Assassin. Then we'll take care of Kirei.

Shirou had told Illya of his suspicions concerning the Grail War's Overseer yesterday. She didn't really care that he had murdered Tokiomi Tohsaka : they had been fighting in a war where they could only be one winner, even if the Magus had believed the priest was his ally. But trying to subvert the entire Grail War for his own ends and serving what they now believed to be the literal God of Evil was another story.

"Kirei doesn't know we suspect his true allegiance," Shirou continued. "As a direct pawn of the Grail, it's best we keep him ignorant until the cooperation of the other Servants is secured. And on that note, since they have already engaged us, I think we need to find Archer's Master first and explain the situation to them."

Everyone turned to look at him, their expressions making it clear what they thought of the idea. Illya frowned. Was her brother serious ? Gods help them, he was.

"Shirou, Archer tried to kill you," said Rin, sounding as if she were talking to a particularly dumb child.

"She's right," added Illya. "They tried to kill me and almost killed you, Onii-chan."

"I'm not particularly happy about it either, Illya." Somehow she got the impression he was more angry at the fact Illya had been targeted than the fact he had almost died as a result. "But if their Master thought this was a typical Grail War, there wasn't anything wrong with it from a Magus' point of view, was there ?"

She pouted. That made entirely too much sense for her liking. She didn't want to be understanding and diplomatic with the one who had tried to kill her Onii-chan; she wanted to hunt them down and unleash Lancer on them. And yes, she was aware of the irony.

"If Archer's Master is a typical Magus, they are unlikely to be willing to hear us out," pointed out Tohsaka. "And even if they are, and they believe us about the Grail's corruption, it's not impossible that they would still be willing to risk unleashing it so long as they get their wish."

"We'll deal with that situation as it arises. It depends on whether we can find them in the first place in any case," said Saber. She, too, looked a bit ticked off at her Master's cavalier disregard for the attack of two days prior. "Do we have any leads ?"

"I saw something on the television today," said Leysritt softly, speaking up for the first time in the meeting. Illya's second maid was a lot quieter and more reserved than Sella, if also less concerned with propriety and Illya's image as representative of the Einzbern. She had also spent the entire day watching the television that sat in a corner of the room, apparently fascinated by the glimpses of the wider world it showed. "There were other two dozen people found unconscious across the city, with no sign of wounds. They were taken to the hospital, but they have yet to wake up."

"A Servant hunting for prana," said Shirou, voicing the conclusion everyone had already reached. "At least nobody died, which implies restraint either on the part of the Servant or the Master."

"Most likely the Servant," added Sakura. "A Master willing to have their Servant prey on mundane people would hardly be concerned with their lives."

"Usually, the Animusphere Servant would be the most likely suspect, since there is a large chance they killed their own Master," pointed out Rider. "But since none of the victims are dead, it probably isn't them."

"Not necessarily," frowned Tohsaka. "Shirou, you should take a look at the victims when you can. Make sure all that happened to them was being drained of their od, rather than anything more sinister."

"You are right. I will pass by one of the hospitals tonight. In any case, thanks for informing us, Leysritt-san," said Shirou with a nod toward the homunculus. "With everything going on, I forgot something as basic as checking the news; we'll need to be more careful in the future. Even with the secrecy of Magecraft, the actions of the Moonlit World still cause ripples in the mundane one."

Considering her brother had become who and what he was as a result of one such 'ripple', that felt like one hell of an understatement to Illya.

"And with that," continued Shirou, "onto our plans for tonight. There are potentially three enemy Servants out there. And while alliances between Masters are normally rare and short-lived, our own situation notwithstanding, the mere fact that our own alliance exists may encourage the other Masters to work together in order to take us down."

"So patrolling on our own would be a bad idea," said Rin, catching on quickly. "They could defeat us in detail then. But we can't cover enough ground unless we split up."

"Which is why I have come up with a plan. The Command Seals allow us to summon our Servant directly to our side, regardless of distance, and as long as they stay within the Fuyuki area, the link between us will still carry prana without issue, right ?"

"Right," confirmed Illya. Teleportation was a long-lost True Magic, but the Grail system enabled a limited version of it, reserved to Servants and depending on the use of Command Seals as well as the Servants' own spiritual nature.

"Then here is what I propose : we split up in two groups, and we swap the Servants accompanying each Master around. That way, if one group is attacked, they can summon their own Servant to their side and double their firepower instantly."

It was an utterly bizarre idea. It flew in the face of every tradition of the Grail War, and was downright heretical if judged through the mentality of a Magus. It would be seen as a waste of Command Seals, and a blatant invitation to treachery – all one of the Masters had to do was summon their own Servant away at the same time as an arranged attack on the other Master took place.

But.

"It might work," Illya agreed, still stunned by the brazenness of her brother's proposal. Then she frowned. "I doubt anyone would see it coming, if not for the fact Saber can't go in Spirit Form. Archer's Master knows she is your Servant, Onii-chan."

"They also know I can fight on a Servant's level, so me sending my Servant to an ally's side won't automatically mean we are all doing it," Shirou pointed out, making Illya want to tear her hair out at how casually he could say something most Magi would consider a ridiculous boast. He looked at the assembled Masters and continued : "Here is the setup I am thinking we use : Rin and Sakura accompanied by Saber and Lancer, and Illya and me accompanied by Rider and Berserker."

It was a good plan, Illya had to admit. Unorthodox and uncaring of Magi mores, focused only on making the most efficient use of their resources. She wondered if this was how her father had fought.

It would also mean she would be separated from Lancer for the first time since she had summoned her Servant.

"I'm not sure I agree with this plan, Shirou," frowned Lancer, picking up on her Master's discomfort. Shirou looked at her pensively before replying :

"Well, I guess I could swap your and Rider's positions. Our group would still be able to call three Servants plus me – and you too, of course, Illya," he quickly added. "But Rin and Sakura would only be able to have three on their side at once in case of emergency."

"We'll be fine, Senpai," said Sakura with a reassuring smile. "Nee-san and I may not be able to fight on your level, but we can handle ourselves well enough not to get in the way of the Servants, and deal with whatever threat the other Masters may pose."

"… Alright," Shirou conceded after a moment. "But don't hesitate to call Berserker to your side the moment things get tense. Will that be fine, Lancer ?"

"Yes. Thank you for accommodating my misgivings," replied Lancer, bowing slightly.

The next half-hour was spent over a map of Fuyuki, noting the locations of the suspected attacks with red pins and planning the patrol routes. The attacks were too scattered to find a pattern : if they were the result of a Servant draining civilians of prana, their Master was at least careful enough not to make it obvious where they were operating from. Then they made their preparations, which included a spell Tohsaka had developed. Essentially, it piggy-backed on the connection between Servant and Master and the link that existed between the female Masters thanks to their contracts with Shirou in order to enable telepathic communication between everyone in the group.

It was an impressive piece of Magecraft, Illya had to admit, especially since Rin had essentially thrown it together in the few days since she had woken up with the Command Seals on her hand. Not that she said so out loud, of course. Besides, there were plenty of limitations : for one thing, none of the girls could communicate with each other without Shirou listening in, since Illya's brother was the relay (or 'router' as he had tried in vain to explain) for the whole thing.

Finally, as the sun set, the four Masters left the Emiya residence. They left Sella and Leysritt behind, the two maids having been keyed into the Bounded Fields, with instructions to use the phone (both the one in the house and the pair of cellphones Shirou had painstakingly taught them to use in case the landline was severed, whatever that meant) to call for help if the house was attacked in their absence.

Even though they were going on the hunt for other Servants, Illya couldn't help but smile. This, after all, could be considered a date with her brother.

Elsewhere in Fuyuki, Darius Ainsworth sat in dim lighting and watched something that a mundane observer would have described as a hole through reality, leading to a roof in Fuyuki. It was no such thing, of course : light alone could pass through that particular piece of Magecraft. A more elaborate working couldn't have gone undetected by the three Magi inhabiting the house it surveyed.

Through the spell, Darius saw as the rival Masters emerged from the residence – all four of them.

After the engagement at the Fuyuki Park, Darius had consulted the files he had brought over from his castle. He still had no idea what the hell the Master of Saber was that let him fight against a Servant on equal footing, but he had discovered that his attack's failure was a blessing in disguise. The white-haired girl was clearly the Einzbern Master, that much he had known as soon as he had seen her, but she was also the Lesser Grail, a homunculus specifically designed by the Einzbern for that task. If Archer had killed her, then the entire Grail War would have ended right then, just as it had the first, second and third time the Three Families had attempted the Heaven's Feel ritual.

Darius had to admire the sheer gall of the Einzbern, though. By making their Master essentially untouchable if one wanted the War's prize, they had given themselves a sizeable advantage in the competition, since the other Masters would need to take down their Servant without killing the Master. Still, he wasn't one to complain about cheating, not when he had two Servants of his own thanks to a glitch in the Grail's selection system.

A bit of investigative work had swiftly revealed that the other residents of the house were Magi, specifically the last members of the Matou and Tohsaka lineages, which meant they had to be Masters themselves. Identifying Saber's Master might have been more arduous, if not for the fact his name was literally written on the front gate : Emiya.

The advantage he had thought he held thanks to being the Master of two Servants had somewhat waned when he had realized that every Master native to Fuyuki was in an alliance, one that the Einzbern Master had apparently joined after being saved from Archer's attack. There was nothing in the rules of the War against alliances; it was merely the common sense of Magi that kept them from forming. Darius had given thought to finding the last remaining Master and allying with them in turn, but had eventually decided not to. While the alliance of the locals wasn't forbidden, his own status as a double Master very much was, and any alliance came with the risk of that secret leaking out.

The strange abilities displayed by the Emiya Master could be explained if he had the help of another Master : it was plausible that a Caster-Class Servant could enhance the abilities of the Magus Killer's son to that degree. Even recluses like the Ainsworth family had heard of Kiritsugu Emiya's skills, though the man was supposed to be dead, and Darius had never heard anything about him having an heir. But the fact that the house he had tracked the other Masters to was in the name of an Emiya was too much a coincidence to ignore, especially with the Magus Killer having taken part in the last Grail War.

He had considered attacking the house while two of the Masters were away. But even with his own two Servants and the Dolls he had brought, fighting Saber and Lancer in their own territory had been too dangerous a proposition. Archer and Assassin were not Servants suited for direct confrontation : their talents would be best used in ambushes and traps. Fortunately, it appeared that the opportunity to defeat his enemies was going to be presented by his enemies themselves.

His enemies were splitting up, the fools. Darius smiled. This was the opportunity he had waited for. They were hunting him, or so they thought; now was the time for him to hunt them. They were, at least, smart enough to move in pairs rather than on their own, but it wouldn't save them.

"Archer, Assassin," he called, and two young girls appeared in front of him, looking at him impassively.

Darius was still awed by the two Servants' appearance. Centuries of life had long since inured him to the temptations of the flesh, but even he couldn't deny that Archer and Assassin were beautiful.

They would have to die in the end, of course. The notes he had stolen were clear : opening of a path to the Root required seven Servants' worth of prana, and while their status as Divine Spirits may mean one could do the job of two, Darius wasn't going to take any chances. Besides, it wasn't as if the survivor would thank him for it. The bond between the two sisters was obvious even to Darius, to the point it had taken a Command Seal to force Archer to leave the house and separate herself from Assassin. Thankfully, the command had been minor enough by the Grail's standards that it was still in effect, which meant he wouldn't have to spend another Seal to send her hunting tonight.

Neither of them had protested when he had sent them out to feed on the population, not that he had expected them to. Their legend made it clear they had little love lost for humans. They hadn't killed anyone, which was fine by Darius, so long as the pull on his prana reserves was diminished. With that burden lifted, he had been able to turn the abandoned house he had chosen as his lair for the War into a stronghold, laying down enough Bounded Fields and traps that this could now be counted as his Workshop.

Of course, the feeding of his Servants might threaten the secrecy of Magecraft when their victims eventually woke up, but the Ainsworth Head planned to have reached the Root or be long gone from the region and into the body of his next descendant by then, so it wasn't his problem.

He paused, waiting for a reaction from Zachary to that last thought. Nothing came. His current host was well and truly gone.

"It is time," he said out loud. "Go to your assigned positions."

The two Servants glared at him for a moment, before the strength of the Command Seal compelled Archer to obey. Assassin followed suit, reminded that she could neither defy nor control Darius.

Despite all the advantages he held and all the preparations he had made, this was still going to be a challenge. He was up against several Magi of unknown capabilities, their Servants, and whatever the hell Emiya was.

The Servants moved to their assigned positions. Elsewhere, the dolls Darius had brought from his castle stirred. Dead Magi, Magecraft users and mercenaries, selected among the most versatile and dangerous of the extensive Ainsworth collection, answered the silent orders he sent through the spells that animated them. They were dispersed through the city, hidden by small Mystic Codes he had once spent a decade crafting in bulk a century ago, during a lull in his quest for the Root. Some wore modern clothing, but others would definitively draw attention, even this late. More work for the Overseer, but again, it wasn't Darius' problem.

Even if he lost and failed to reach the Root, the next Head of the Ainsworth would simply make a token apology for his predecessor's behavior, offer compensation for the Overseer's troubles, and the whole thing would be forgotten. After all, the one truly responsible would already be dead, and the great powers of the Moonlit World were nothing if not pragmatic.

Darius' immortality was a secret he had carefully kept contained among his descendants. This geas-enforced secrecy served a dual purpose : it kept the Church from hunting him down as an abomination, and it prevented his descendants from seeking outside help to free themselves of the undying parasite that threatened to overwrite their very existence or that of their male kin.

It had led to some issues when dealing with spouses from outside the family, but a few cleverly formulated marriage vows had taken care of any danger on that end. So long as he stopped his descendants from marrying with important Magus families, no one noticed anything. It wasn't as if the Ainsworth were the only bloodline with strange quirks, after all.

… His thoughts were wandering again. Darius forced himself to focus. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity the Grail War presented because he was too busy dwelling on the past.

It had been a long time, he reflected, since he had last gone to war. Even now, he found that there was nothing quite like it, especially when he was the only Magus involved whose life was not at risk in the whole affair.

Alone, without even the ghost of the man whose existence he had usurped to keep him company, the Head of the Ainsworth laughed quietly.

Omake : What's in a name ?

"Vivian ?"

"No."

"Nimue ?"

"No."

"Elaine ?"

"No."

"Guinevere ... well, no. How about Ginevra instead ?"

"No."

"Morgan ?" That one was a stretch, admittedly, but maybe, given what he had seen of her sword's falsified history …

"Hell no." The Servant of the Sword glared at her Master.

"Saber," Shirou sighed, putting down the book of Arthurian legends he had been picking the names from, "we have been at this for an hour. We need to decide on a name for tomorrow morning. Why are you being so difficult ? People in Japan mostly call each other by their family name anyway, so it's just for the paperwork."

"I know. I just don't like any of those you have proposed so far." Left unsaid but not unheard was the whole 'this is your fault for failing in such a simple task as finding an acceptable name'.

He sighed again. He supposed they were lucky Saber had remembered the name that had been on her passport during the Fourth War and was willing to use the same family name, instead of having to figure out two names she would accept.

They had first gone through a list of British names, only for Saber to reject all of them. Shirou had thought something closer to her legend might work, but it hadn't. He was honestly starting to get desperate.

Shirou's gaze wandered around the room. They were in what had been his father's office, surrounded by bookshelves full of all manner of literature. The collection was eclectic, if entirely mundane : there were historical treatises, compilations of myths, law texts, romance novels, and even a small section of manga Kiritsugu had purchased for him during his childhood.

His eyes fell upon one particular book. It was a slim volume, its title written on the spine in English. Shirou remembered reading it for the first time years ago, as part of his English classes. It was a play, written by a man who was widely considered the greatest dramaturge to have ever lived, about a sorcerer exiled on an island, his daughter, and their tribulations.

The sorcerer had done the right thing in the end. Shirou still hoped he would do the same.

"Miranda," he said, making Saber raise an eyebrow. "Your name will be Miranda Watson."

Saber looked at him contemplatively, before nodding with a small smile.

"Yes. I think I like that one. It will do."

Finally. Now all he had to do was fill in the blanks in the papers for tomorrow morning, and he could go to sleep.

… if he could fall asleep , that is. He may be used to sharing a bed with Sakura and Rin, but he wasn't such a degenerate that he could relax with another woman pressed against him.

Chapter Text

Her knights are gathered. Today, the Round Table goes to war.

Merlin stands at her side, his expression for once serious. Before them stands a horde of twisted beasts, bearers of the dying curse of Vortigern. It has been years since she slew her uncle's transformed form, putting down the black dragon who sought to drown the world in madness and fire. His corruption seeped into the earth, poisoning the land, and the foes she now faces drew upon it, uncaring of the effect it had on them.

After all, they care for nothing.

They are the cast-off children of the World, the guides and guardians who betrayed their sacred duty to pursue their own debased hungers and lusts. Some of them appear fair, even now, whilst others are monstrous, but they are, all of them, hideous in her eyes.

For she knows them for what they are.

Heartless. Deathless. Soulless.

She sees through their illusive seemings, and they have no place in her kingdom.

This is the purge of Britain's Fae. This is the end of the Fair Folk's predations upon Mankind.

This is the correction of one of Gaia's failures.

Battle is waged, with blessed blades of cold iron against claws and fangs, steel armor against thick hide, and Merlin's spells against Fae sorcery. The air is filled with defiant and bestial screams, the scent of blood and other ichors all-consuming. She rides at the vanguard, wielding sword and spear against the enemies of Man.

By her order, there will be no celebration of this battle, no record left in the annals of her reign. The people need not know that this evil ever existed, in fact they must not, lest it returns. Because while the horde can be struck down here and now, there are many more sealed away in their place of exile. They must be forgotten, lest fools call them back. Looking upon the abominations before her, she finds it difficult to believe anyone would be stupid enough, but she knows better than to underestimate the depths to which humans can sink.

She, herself, bears the cursed blood of Vortigern. The dragon's blood flows through her veins, pulsing from her Dragon Core, while at her hip hangs Avalon, the scabbard crafted for her by the last of the faithful Fae. So few of the Fae remain who did not succumb to this madness, and their grief at the fate of their kind will kill them in time. From them she received her sword and scabbard, that she may carry the light of hope into the future in their stead.

In time, she will join the monsters in exile, and take up the mantle of the Wild Hunt's leader, tasked with tracking down any who escape to the World. Her armor will blacken, and the guise of humanity covering her draconic nature will fade. She will pick up another weapon, having lost all traces of her mortal life – except for her horse, her faithful steed who will follow her even there, his spirit preserved and remade into a great stallion of legend.

This battle is but a prelude of that time, of that duty. The King of Knights will fade, and the King of Storms will rise.

She accepts it. Someone must bear this weight, and there is a simplicity, a purity in fighting against such a foe.

The air shakes. She hears the buzzing of great wings, carrying the stench of rotten flesh, the screams of damned souls and the howling of their tormentors.

Her lips curl in distaste. That hateful bug, that pretender king, is here at last. He has emerged from his lair in the deepest woods and come to lead his followers' final charge. She spits his name, like the curse it is :

"Oberon …"

November 23rd, 2004 AD – Fuyuki City

Fuyuki at night was very different from the towns Rider remembered from her mortal life.

Back when she had been alive, the coming of dusk had been the signal for everyone to huddle inside their homes and wait for the dawn. Only a few settlements had been illuminated by torches, and those had been restricted to the walls and guard posts, where their utility warranted the risk of fire. In between battling invading armies, she had spent years fighting to make the nights of Britain less terrifying for her people, hunting down the monsters that haunted the darkness.

By contrast, Fuyuki was illuminated by thousands of electric lights, though the few shadows that remained looked all the darker by contrast. Rider was impressed : Humanity had come very far since her death. The people of Fuyuki didn't fear for their survival : they could instead focus on living. The buildings around them were suffused with the echoes of thousands of individual lives. In her time, Fuyuki would have been one of the largest cities in the world, yet in the current era, it was only a secondary town to the province capital. Truly, Humanity had prospered since her days as King.

And now, they were being hunted once again, preyed upon by a supernatural being that fed upon them in the night and against whom they had no hope of defending themselves. Knowing she was kind to this predator only increased Rider's displeasure at the notion.

She was in Spirit Form, acting as scout while Saber stayed near the Masters. Her younger self didn't enjoy being separated from her Master, but she was doing her job well, showing her experience as a bodyguard despite her amnesia. It was clear that she understood the tactical necessity of their acting separately, but Rider was convinced she was regularly complaining about it to Shirou over their link – since theirs was a direct one, Rider couldn't listen in on their communication unless they deliberately relayed it to her.

The freedom of movement brought by the transformation into Spirit Form was enjoyable, if a little disconcerting. The limitation of her senses, which was the reason Saber couldn't use it, was certainly severe, but she could still detect supernatural presences, which was what they were hunting for tonight. A Servant in Spirit Form could hide from all mundane perceptions and most supernatural ones, but not from the gaze of another Servant. Unless they had the Presence Concealment Skill, of course, but they were searching for Archer, not Assassin.

Subtle enchantments kept people from noticing the three beautiful teenage girls walking the streets at night – that, at least, was still as much asking for trouble now as it had been in her time.

To her mystical senses, the trio looked like a cluster of blazing stars. Rin looked like a constellation of her own, the jewels her Master carried on her person shining with their own radiance, and she could feel the one filled with Shirou's own od resting against Rin's left wrist. Saber's presence was dimmed, shining through the lingering darkness of the Grail that clung to her, like sunlight through tinted glass. And Sakura was like the sea, tranquil and serene, but with fathomless depths hidden beneath the quiet surface.

They were beautiful, they were dangerous, and they were using themselves as bait. No Servant could possibly fail to recognize them for what they were. It was a dangerous tactic, one no sane Master would have employed in a sane Grail War; but this wasn't a sane Grail War, if such a thing could be said to even exist.

Looking upon Saber's spiritual presence brought to mind her physical appearance. As Shirou had remarked when they had been summoned, Saber looked like a younger version of herself. Apart from the shift in coloration, she was the image of who Rider had been in the memories of her mortal life, with the growth of her body blocked by Avalon until she had lost it upon her joining the Wild Hunt, allowing her to mature to her current form. Her own change of hair and eye color had also happened then, as the dragon blood inside her was brought to the fore by the duties she had inherited then.

She mentally frowned. Of course, that was if it had ever happened. Her Master had been kind enough not to point it out, but Rider had still noticed the inconsistencies at the root of her very existence. If her ties to the Wild Hunt were the result of King Arthur's legend, then what did it mean that she did remember it ? Were those memories real, or constructs of the Throne of Heroes ?

She didn't regret the parts of her life that she remembered. As someone born strong, it had been her duty to fight for a worthy cause, and the defense of Britain had been the highest one she could think of. She had made harsh choices, yes, but such were inevitable in war, and better she bear the weight of them than others, or that more suffer as a consequence of her inaction or hesitation.

But were those the real thoughts of King Arthur, or something conjured into existence to fill the holes in her personality ?

Was she, herself, real, or as real as a Servant could be ? Or was she nothing more than a dream, given form by the corrupt Grail using pieces of the Fourth War's Artoria's memories ?

Those weren't pleasant thoughts. Since her summoning, she had tried her best to avoid them, focusing instead on the threats they faced and needed to deal with. Nothing took one's mind away from existential crises like world-threatening ones, she had found. Regardless of her origins and nature, she had a duty to uphold and people to protect. It had been enough during her life; it would have to be enough now.

And besides, thought a treacherous part of herself, now that she wasn't king anymore, there were other distractions she could pursue. The food certainly was better than anything she had eaten on campaign, and the Masters were far less uptight than her knights.

For now, however, she needed to focus on her mission.

Did you ever do that sort of thing for Kiritsugu, Saber ? asked Rider. Surely you are more familiar with this city than I.

Her counterpart shook her head. "No. I remained at Irisviel's side for most of the War, and we didn't go out looking for enemy Servants to fight." She looked at the buildings around them. "And even if I had, the cityscape has changed a lot since then."

It was only ten years ago, Rider pointed out. It can't be that different.

"Construction is a lot faster nowadays, Rider," said Rin. "Didn't the Grail tell you that ?"

It didn't. I suspect it wouldn't have even if it was working as intended; it's not as if such knowledge is particularly relevant to the War. Tell me, Master, do you expect us to find anything ?

"Not really. For one, Fuyuki is huge and we can't afford to patrol too long, or we'll be tired – and vulnerable – tomorrow. For another, Shirou's group is the one most likely to be attacked."

Ah. So her Master had seen it as well.

What do you mean ? She probed.

Rin sighed. "Shirou expects Archer's Master to try to kill him again. He's betting that now that he knows what to look for, and won't be busy fighting Lancer, he can block the ranged attacks and establish a dialogue with the opposition."

"He's an idiot," said Saber bluntly. "A well-meaning idiot, but an idiot nonetheless."

"Senpai will be fine, Saber," Sakura reassured the Servant of the Sword.

How do you know that ? asked Rider, curious.

"He's with Illya-chan," said Sakura, as if that explained everything. It didn't, at least not to Rider.

I don't understand, she admitted. She felt no shame in it : there were many things about Shirou Emiya she didn't understand.

Rin snorted. "Shirou's at his strongest when he's protecting or helping someone, Rider."

That sounds … naive, Master.

"Oh, I'm not talking about his determination. I mean that literally. When he fights to help, to save, someone, he can draw upon far more of the Dark Angel's power than normally."

Ah, yes. The 'Dark Angel'. Rider's Master had explained what she knew of her lover's nature to her during the last two days, silently talking with her at school while maintaining her image as a perfect student.

"Honestly, it's ridiculous," continued Rin. "Entire lineages of Magi have spent hundreds of years trying to enhance themselves, but I don't know of any of them that have reached the kind of raw power he stumbled into. We don't just need to keep him a secret from the Association because of they would try to capture him, you know : I genuinely think some of them would try to replicate what made him what he is, and more Greater Grails being constructed by amateurs is the last thing we need."

"They would never take Senpai," said Sakura, her tone dead serious. "I won't allow it."

"Obviously," added Saber. "These arrogant fools don't deserve to so much as touch him."

Rin sighed. "Of course you would react like that. Relax. Unless the entire Association decides to enforce it, he could escape a Sealing Designation pretty easily on his own. And even then, I have a feeling the secrecy of the Moonlit World wouldn't survive the fallout. Shirou wouldn't let himself be taken alive, not with the possibility they would try to make more of him."

Shirou really is quite strong, isn't he ?

Rider remembered fighting alongside many of her knights, all of whom had been great warriors, many of whom could've been kings in their own right. She may not have seen Shirou fight with her own eyes, but she had experience judging someone's strength, and becoming the King of Storms had only furthered her insight.

And those instincts told her Shirou wasn't just strong, he was powerful. Yet none of his allies seemed to react to that the same way so many had reacted to her in life.

Tell me, she asked, just to make sure what she already knew, are you afraid of him, Master ?

"Afraid of Shirou ?" Rin shook her head. "No. Obviously not. I know him : he would never do anything to hurt me or Sakura. Afraid for him, though ? Always. No matter how strong he is, Saber's right : he is an idiot. I'm always afraid he'll get hurt if I don't keep an eye on him."

"He's with Illya-chan, Lancer and Berserker," Sakura reassured her sister. "He'll be fine."

… Ah. Shirou really was loved, wasn't he ?

She was a bit jealous.

Illyasviel was enjoying this, thought Lancer. Despite the seriousness of the situation, her Master was treating this night walk through Fuyuki more like some romantic rendezvous than the hunt for a deadly foe.

"Onii-chan," asked Illyasviel while pointing toward one of the closed stores lining up the street they were walking up, "what's that ?"

"That's a kaiten-zushi, a special kind of sushi restaurant," replied the young man. "You sit down around a conveyor belt, give your order to the chefs and they prepare it in front of you before putting it down."

Illyasviel tilted her head to the side. "What's sushi ?"

Lancer smiled as Shirou launched into an explanation of the nature, origins, and variations of sushi. The two Masters were interacting like siblings, just like they had since the previous day. It was both heart-warming and more than a little disturbing. Having seen how starved of affection her Master was, Lancer could understand why Illyasviel was acting the way she was. But Shirou's first encounter with his adoptive sister had been when she had tried to kill him, yet it was obvious he held no grudge, and either he was the best actor she had ever seen or his efforts to be a good brother for her were sincere. He reminded her of Kai, her own adoptive brother, although he had never indulged Artoria as much as Shirou was willing to for Illyasviel.

Since Lancer had already been observed by Archer during the fight at the park, she was staying in her materialized form, guarding Illyasviel while Berserker acted as a scout. Her Master could bear the additional prana cost easily, especially with her recent operation. Already, Illyasviel's body was in much better shape, thanks to the copy of Avalon Shirou had implanted inside her (and the fact that the young man had managed that still amazed Lancer). The half-homonculus was a lot livelier, freed from the pain that had been her constant companion for years. Her smile was no longer bitter and cold, and fit her appearance a lot more.

Lancer would do anything to protect that smile. Regardless of the circumstances with the Grail, she would not allow this second chance she had been granted to go to waste.

They had been walking for over an hour now, and were walking through a commercial district in the eastern part of town. The sun had set, and there were few people around. Those who were out moved quickly, and frequently looked around them with worried expressions.

"Raiga-san was right," said Shirou with a frown as he looked at the deserted streets. "There's something wrong."

"What do you mean ?" asked Illyasviel. Of course, Lancer thought. Her Master had little experience being out in public : she had no point of reference for how things were supposed to be.

"There should be more people around," explained the young man. "Raiga-san told me the level of violence and street crime has been rising for the last few weeks, and it seems the population has caught onto that. A few of these stores should be open even now, yet there isn't a single one doing business – not even someone making inventory."

"I didn't hear anything about that on the T.V.," said Illyasviel. "Just something about the people found unconscious, like Leysritt said."

"Let's just say Fuyuki's police department has a habit of concealing the numbers of mundane crime from the public," said Shirou, his expression darkening. "I think it's a result of Magi heavy-handedly suppressing the evidence of the Grail War for centuries, though it could just be plain laziness and incompetence. People being found unconscious without any visible wound is too weird to hide, though. With the number of witnesses, the citizens would wonder why it didn't make the news."

"Such behavior in peacekeepers is disgraceful," said Lancer.

"I agree. Why do you think I'm working with the Fujimura Group ? They may not know the reason why it's needed, but they have served as protectors of this land for decades."

Illyasviel fell silent. Lancer could feel her considering the impact her family's pursuit of the Grail had had on the people of Fuyuki, beyond the obvious damage such as what had led to her brother being orphaned and possessed by the Dark Angel.

They continued to walk down the street, Illyasviel eventually breaking out of her funk to ask her brother more questions. Suddenly, however, Shirou stopped, gesturing for the others to do the same.

"Wait," he said, frowning. He was looking at the shops lined up to their right. "Something's wrong."

"Onii-chan ?"

"There should be a grocery store there – MOVE !"

Lancer pulled Illyasviel close to her, while out of nowhere, beams of scarlet light suddenly appeared in the air in front of the group and slammed into Shirou, focusing at a single point on his chest. The attack burned through the layers of Reinforced clothing he wore, but was weakened enough doing so that when it stopped, Shirou only sported a small, perfectly circular burn on his plexus.

The injury was still deep enough that Lancer thought she could glimpse the bone under the burned skin, but already Avalon was at work regrowing it and closing the wound. With a grunt, Shirou summoned the sword he had fought Lancer with and swung it in a wide arc in front of him. There was the sound of glass shattering, and suddenly a figure stood in front of them, as well as two more stores on their sides – including a grocery store.

The figure was that of a European man in his late forties, dressed in overly elaborate robes of red and silver marked with thaumaturgic symbols. Most noticeable, however, was the halo of what appeared to be mirror shards hovering around his head.

Despite having been exposed, the man remained utterly still. His face was slack, completely devoid of expression. This wasn't just composure : it was as if something important, something vital, was missing from him.

How shameful to be caught by surprise like this, thought Lancer ruefully. It seemed the loss of the warlord aspects of King Arthur's legend to her Rider counterpart had impacted her skills in this area.

"An enemy Servant ?!" shouted Illyasviel at her side.

"No," said Shirou grimly. "That's not a Servant at all."

Despite the presence of the enemy right in front of them, Lancer couldn't help but steal a glance at Shirou when she heard him speak. His voice was deeper than usual, close to a growl. His hands were tightened into fists, and his jaw was set.

Shirou Emiya was furious. And this time, unlike when he had 'seen' what had been done to Illyasviel, he wasn't trying to hold it back.

"Shirou," asked Lancer, calling Rhongomyniad to her hand in its rapier form. "What is it ?"

"An abomination," spat Shirou before burying his greatsword into the enemy Magus' chest without any hesitation.

At Lancer's side, Illyasviel blinked in surprise.

"Well, so much for talking things out, I suppose," muttered the white-haired Master. Like Lancer, she was a little disturbed by how easily her loving brother had killed another human being – until the true face of their foe was revealed.

With the same sound of glass shattering that had accompanied the destruction of the trap, the outline of Shirou's victim vanished, revealing what Lancer could only describe as an articulated humanoid doll.

"Lancer, stay near Illya !" Shirou shouted before switching to mental communication. Berserker, prepare yourself. There are more around us. Rin, we've been ambushed. What about you ?

We're fine -

No, Master, cut in Rider's voice. There are also enemies approaching our position.

She's right, confirmed Saber. I can sense four presences drawing near.

Don't waste Command Seals, then. Everyone deal with their enemies with the current groups, and we'll reunite after that. Be careful. This was a Magus, or it was before it was made into this. There is no telling what abilities the others possess.

Do you think those are linked with what happened at the Animusphere Castle ? asked Rin.

… No. At the very least, the one I destroyed was too ancient to have been created there. I couldn't read too much of their history, but I saw enough to know that we're dealing with human Magecraft here, no matter how repugnant.

What do you mean ?

This isn't Necromancy as the Association defines it, but the end result is practically undistinguishable. We cannot rescue them, and there is not enough left of who they were to continue if their master is killed. The only thing we can do is put them to rest.

As the conversation continued, Lancer finally saw the other enemies coming out of the side-streets. There were four more, coming from all around them. How had they missed all of them ?! No, the answer was obvious, she realized. They must have used the same Magecraft as the one with the mirror-shard halo to hide. And if they were revealing themselves now, then either their concealed positions hadn't given them a good angle on the group, or their methods of attack were unsuited for range entirely.

She raised Rhongomyniad. No matter what the case may be, she wouldn't let any harm come to Illyasviel.

Rider's blood sang with savage joy as she fought.

Both Saber and she had sensed the attack coming. The ways in which they had reached that conclusion might have been different, due to the different Skills the Grail had bestowed upon them as part of their manifestation as Servants, but they had both reacted appropriately. Without the need to speak, they had fallen into their respective roles, Saber acting as a guardian for the two Masters while Rider went on the offensive, using her superior mobility.

Unlike what had happened to Shirou's group, their attackers didn't try to hide behind magical veils. Instead, they converged on their position from all around them, emerging from shadowed alleys. All around them were buildings higher than the greatest castles of her era, which her Master had described as office buildings. They should be completely empty at this hour, which certainly was convenient.

The closest one was dressed in rags and carried no weapons. It came at them openly, rushing down the street, its body twitching and growing in the last stretch of its run. Finally, with sickening sounds of bone crunching and cloth and skin tearing apart, it erupted into a huge beast, covered in fur and with huge, yellowing fangs and sharp claws.

"A werewolf," said Rin disbelievingly. "Someone actually thought turning themselves into werewolves would get them to reach the Root."

The beast was ten meters from reaching the Masters when Rider materialized directly in front of it and kicked it in the chest with enough strength to send it flying. It crashed into a nearby building, sending cracks along the glass and almost falling inside.

Even in her plate armor, Rider could move faster than any human could dream of. She leapt after the beast before it could recover from the impact and rammed Gungnir into its chest. Blood flowed from the wound, but Rider felt only disgust from her weapon. It had supped on the vitae of countless monsters, but this foe was devoid any spark of true life, an image frozen in time lacking even the magical impetus of typical undead entities. Shirou was right : this wasn't necromancy, for all that it also bound the dead to servitude. Somehow, it was something even more vile.

For all that it bled, the creature was lifeless. Breathless. Fearless.

This, this was what Rider lived for. This was the purpose of her strength, of her very existence.

There was no doubt, no questioning. When she fought monsters, she knew she wasn't one.

The spell anchoring the Doll's unnatural existence finally broke under Gungnir's assault, and Rider was left holding a humanoid figure carved of wood – which promptly erupted in black flames and turned to ash as her Noble Phantasm's energies consumed it.

From the moment she had attacked to the beast's demise, barely five heartbeats had passed. The other Dolls launched their own attacks immediately, not showing the slightest hesitation at the speed and ease with which their cohort had been dispatched.

Back on the ground, Saber plunged her blackened blade into the skull of a woman in a ball gown wielding a device vaguely shaped like a spear. The sight of what the corrupted Grail had made of the Holy Sword made Rider want to retch, even if she couldn't deny her counterpart knew how to use it. That sword was not Excalibur, and she was going to ask pointed questions to Shirou about it as soon as they were back home.

A third enemy, this one made in the shape of a man in a hooded black robe, brandished a wicked dagger and plunged it into his left forearm without any hesitation. Immediately, Rider sensed offensive Magecraft flow from the Doll and toward Saber. It was a curse of some kind, triggered by the pain it had inflicted on itself, using its own body as a proxy for the intended target. She wasn't sure how any sane Magus could have come up with such a technique, but the simple fact she could detect the curse from this distance spoke of its power.

Saber grimaced as the curse hit her. She was of the Servant Class with the highest Magic Resistance, but this has still hurt her, and her movements became slower as she struggled against its effects. With a kick that damaged the windows of the building she had impaled the beast on even more, Rider propelled herself toward the curse-making Doll and plunged Gungnir through its head before it could cast another spell, killing it instantly.

There was only one attacker left, and Rider wondered what spells it had used to be able to walk through town without drawing attention. The gender of the Magus that had been used to make it was impossible to determine, because over half its body was not made of flesh (or the illusion of flesh) but plants, all woven together into the shape of a human body.

It moved a hand made of roots and leaves, and -

"Sakura, watch out !" Saber screamed.

The ground next to the Masters exploded as a two-meters tall carnivorous plant reared over Sakura. The Doll had grown roots under the pavement, closing in on its prey without them noticing. Only Saber's instincts had given them any warning, but it was enough.

Sakura gestured with her hand, and a black ribbon burst out of her shadow to intercept the attack. It wrapped itself around the monstrous plant, and, without a sound, compressed itself back into its two-dimensional form, swallowing the plant into itself.

Rider had no idea where the plant had been sent to, but she doubted it would survive for long. Sakura's Imaginary Element was one of the most arcane branches of Magecraft Rider had encountered, but the girl had managed to turn it into a very effective tool, capable of serving both as defense and offence. By surrounding herself with those ribbons, Sakura was all but immune to attacks without the power or element to bypass her shield, and they could cut through more or less anything that was not specifically warded against her Element. Her Master's younger sister may not have the sheer breadth of skills and spells available to Rin thanks to her being an Average One with an excellent mind, but Rider judged she could be far deadlier on the battlefield.

Which, given her devotion to Shirou, probably was as much the result of Sakura's own efforts as of her thaumaturgic affinity.

With the plant dealt with, Rin moved to attack its controller. She drew one of the gemstones she carried and threw it at the Doll, speaking an aria in a language Rider thought sounded like the Goths' as she did so. The jewel struck the enemy in the chest and detonated into a fireball powerful enough to break the spell and turn the underlying construct to ash, as well as melt the pavement in a three-meters area. Rider whistled in appreciation : that kind of firepower would have solved a lot of problems in her time.

Silence descended on the battlefield as the last enemy was dispatched. It was Rin who broke it first, taking deep breaths as she recovered from her effort :

"That's that dealt with." Her next words were both spoken aloud and through their telepathic link : Shirou, what's your situation ?

We're fine here, Rin, Berserker heard Shirou answer her Master's sister over the link as she tore off the head of the opponent she had been facing with her claws.

With the Magecraft animating it broken, her enemy reverted into a humanoid wooden construct. In life, it had been a wielder of holy magics, using the words of a variety of human scriptures to channel energies that were anathema to the worst of the beasts of the Moonlit World. Berserker had taken care of it in Shirou's stead, not knowing how its Mysteries would affect the young man but knowing her Master wouldn't want him to be hurt.

Good. What the hell was that, anyway ?! These things wielded wildly different branches of Magecraft ! Just who are we dealing with here ?

I don't know. As I said, reading their background was difficult. The accumulated experience is ... warped.

To her right, Shirou was finishing off his own opponent, a figure clad in a suit of magical armor that had ultimately proven no match for his oversized sword. This was Berserker's first time witnessing her Master's lover fighting, and while she could tell he was still holding back, it was still an impressive sight.

Her eyes were still covered by her blindfold, but she could perceive her surroundings in other ways, and Shirou was hard to miss. To her, he was a towering figure wreathed in shadows, with two great wings spreading from his back and a blazing light inside his chest where Avalon's power was concentrated. In his hand, the sword with which he had fought her off right after her summoning was cutting through the magical protections of another puppet, sundering the Magecraft animating it.

Further back, Lancer had stayed near Illyasviel, covering the smaller Master and letting Shirou and Berserker take the fight to the enemy. The enemies had been focused on them anyway, but not a single stray attack had even come close to the half-homonculus, who had used her silvery familiars to aid her brother a few times. Their surroundings bore the marks of the fight, with several front windows shattered and doors broken in by attacks that had missed their target. The shrill sound of several security alarms was hurting her ears – they would need to move quickly, before they were discovered by the police that, no matter Shirou's lacklustre opinion of them, was bound to show up sooner or later.

The battle had been brutal, but its outcome had been decided the moment the initial ambush had failed. Truth be told, she wasn't sure a successful first strike would have been enough to turn the tide, which begged the question of what exactly the puppets' master had sought to accomplish here. She knew her tactical sense wasn't the greatest : even before being afflicted with her now E-ranked Madness Enhancement, the battles she had fought in life had either been one-on-one duels or one-sided slaughters against weaker foes. Yet something still seemed wrong about this entire situation.

That feeling was proved correct mere seconds later, when a beam of energy burst from one of the nearby rooftops, aimed squarely at Shirou's head. But this time, the teen had been prepared for it. Acting on instinct, he had begun moving before the attack had even really started, and placed his sword in its path with milliseconds to spare. With a grunt, he managed to endure what Berserker felt confident was Archer's Noble Phantasm with only being driven back a few centimeters. Relieved he wasn't going to be hurt this time, she turned her head toward the source of the attack -

Berserker saw the enemy Servant, and froze. For several seconds, she remained immobile, her expression masked by her blindfold, her mouth moving silently in shock.

The figure that stood on the rooftop was small, about the same size as Illyasviel, and distinctly feminine. In her hands, she held a bow that radiated power. She was different from when Berserker had last seen her – teeth and claws, thoughts burning, everything consumed by endless HUNGER – but she couldn't possibly mistake that aura, even blinded.

"… elder sister ?" she breathed, trembling under the weight of emotions she didn't understand.

Archer – her sister – turned to look at her, then, without a word, she – her sister – turned her back on the street and leapt away – her sister was going away …

Without thinking, Berserker jumped after her. She heard the voices of her Master and allies, but didn't pay them any attention. Her sister was here. She … she had to follow her. Had to find her. Had to meet with her. She didn't know what she would do then; the Command Seal was still holding up the madness born of her sin, keeping her from understanding her own motivations. All she knew was that she had to find her sister, that she couldn't simply let her get away.

Sakura, Berserker just took off after Archer without a word ! What's happening ?

It's her sister, Senpai. Archer is one of Berserker's sisters, and she won't let her get away ! I could use another Command Seal to call her to me, but with what I'm picking up of her thoughts, she would immediately take off again !

Don't waste it, then. Lancer, take Illya and meet up with the others. I'm following Berserker !

It's obviously a trap, Onii-chan !

Of course it is. Which is why I'm counting on you all to break us out of it when it closes !

You absolute -

Not now, Saber. Stay near Rin and Sakura with Rider and make sure they are safe. Talk to me, Sakura. What do you know about Ber- about Medusa's sisters ?

I saw something through the Dream Cycle, Senpai. I think … I think she killed them. That's why she was in so much pain when I summoned her.

The Gorgon sisters were Divine Spirits, Shirou. I did a bit of research while you and Saber went to meet with Fujimura. Medusa was the youngest of the three, but also the only one who aged. Eventually she turned into a monster, and killed the other two before Perseus slew her.

Do you know what their names were, Rin ?

I think … Euryale and Stheno. I think Stheno was the eldest, and Euryale the middle one ? I'm not sure.

Any intel about their battle capabilities ?

I don't – they shouldn't have any. That's more or less their entire legend : that Medusa had to protect them from men, until she became a monster and killed them. If they were summoned, I would expect something like what Illyasviel told us happened when the Einzbern summoned Angra Mainyu in the Third War : a Servant almost useless in fighting.

Well, they must have gotten some upgrades.

I remember that they were beautiful, Senpai. To the point where men were entranced by their beauty.

And of course she went after the sole male of our group. Whichever of the two sisters we are dealing with, her Master is smart.

It won't save them.

Shirou, we are supposed to convince Archer's Master to stop the War, remember ?

I do remember. I just don't care.

… Alright. I trust you. Try to get Archer's contract once you kill her Master, okay ?

Berserker shook her head, trying to silence the voices in her head. She had to focus. Her sister was here. Her sister … !

By and large, Shirou was not someone given to anger. There were only a handful of times in his life he had lost his temper : when he had confronted Zouken, when he had fought the shikome underneath Kumamoto City, when McRemitz had attacked his friends because she had been ordered to, when he'd seen what had been done to Illya …

… Alright, so maybe he did have something of a temper after all. Something to keep in mind, especially considering what he was capable of. The point was, right now, he was well and truly furious.

The sight of the Dolls – the name had come to him the instant he had seen the first of them, for that was what they were – had already infuriated him enough to abandon diplomacy and go straight on the offensive. Even if it was to keep the Grail from destroying the world, he refused to allow the continued existence of these things. He had seen how their souls were bound to the marionette bodies under the image of their living selves, seen the way they shivered with constant agony at being forced to endure this half-existence, enslaved to the one who had done this to them.

All of the Dolls had been Magi in life. It was unlikely any of them had been good people; Shirou understood that Rin or Lord El-Melloi II were rare exceptions among those who practiced Magecraft. But no one, absolutely no one, deserved such a fate. To be reduced to a puppet dancing on magical strings, all agency stripped away from you … It brought back to mind some of the darkest visions Shirou had received from the Dark Angel's memories, impressions of the time of exile that had followed the final battle of the Heresy that his conscious mind refused to recall with any clarity.

And now this. Using Berserker's sister as bait, playing on the trauma of Sakura's Servant, all for a prize that didn't exist. Unless he got a really good reason to change his mind, Archer's Master would not survive the night.

Despite Berserker's B-ranked Agility and Shirou's best efforts to keep up with her, the two of them were always just a little behind Archer as they leapt from rooftop to rooftop across a good quarter of Fuyuki. The Archer Class was supposed to have a high Agility, but this was ridiculous – they should've either caught up or lost her by now. As the pursuit continued, Shirou saw the reason why : Archer was making use of prepared spells that bent space to allow her to cross great distances instantly, using a branch of Magecraft resembling what had been used to create the Dolls. There were limitations : as far as Shirou could tell, she could only use them to move in straight lines, and the fact she left broken objects behind every time indicated her supply was limited.

But it was still enough to lead them on a merry chase across the eastern half of Fuyuki, with Archer staying too far for him to get a good look at her or her weapon. For a moment, Shirou worried Archer was going to lead them to the Kotomine Church, but she veered southward instead, reaching the city's outskirts. They passed through the residential area at the edge of town, and eventually reached the forest to the south.

There was a house there, at the very edge of the woods. It was built of red bricks and three stories high, and clearly very old and ill-maintained. Shirou had heard stories about that house in school, ghost stories shared by children to scare one another. Apparently, groups of teenagers had broken in every so often on a dare, but Shirou doubted anyone had done it recently.

After all, the entire building was covered in Bounded Fields. Some were standard spells to keep civilians away, but there were others whose purpose Shirou could only guess at.

Without looking back, Archer walked through the door, leaving it open behind her. Within seconds, Berserker burst through, quickly followed by Shirou.

Then, for the first time since the pursuit had started, Berserker stopped moving. There was no sign of Archer anywhere. They stood in a hallway, with stairs leading up and doors leading to the sides. A thick layer of undisturbed dust covered everything, there were spiderwebs in every corner, and the only light source was the starlight making it through the broken windows, though Shirou's Reinforced eyes could see perfectly well, and Berserker was of course unaffected.

It was the very picture of a haunted house. Shirou could understand why children had come here as a test of their courage, even if he couldn't help but think someone would have gotten hurt sooner or later. The isolation of the house also explained why Archer's Master had chosen to use it as his lair.

As if on cue, the door slammed shut behind them. Shirou wasn't some hapless civilian in a horror movie, however. Without missing a beat, he Traced his sword, infusing the blade with power before striking. The door was pulverized, but instead of revealing the outside, it instead showed another hallway, identical to the one Berserker and him were in.

Well.

Interesting.

Omake : Maintaining the Masquerade

"… police have blocked access to both streets and haven't made any further comments. We'll continue to inform you as more -"

Kirei sighed and turned off the television. While he was glad that the War was progressing, the actions of his former apprentice and her allies made more work for him. He may have betrayed most of his duties as Overseer, but until the Grail was activated and the Age of Chaos let loose upon this world, he still needed to go through the motions of preserving the Moonlit World's secrecy. Failing to do so might draw the attention of factions with the assets to interfere, after all.

He pulled a thick tome from a nearby bookcase and sat down with pen and paper. The book was titled Preserving the Masquerade for Dummies : A thousand ways to explain away the Supernatural. It had been published a few years ago, disguised as a resource for role-playing enthusiasts, and Kirei personally knew of a dozen individuals in the Church who used it for inspiration.

Quickly consulting the index, he opened the book in the section dealing with supernatural combat in urban settings. A checklist marked the most urgent steps to take before fabricating the story for public consumption. There had been no eye-witnesses to the two fights, but there were still cameras whose records would need scrubbing. A few phone calls to his allies in the police would take care of that.

Now to find an excuse that fit the damage. The chapter had an exhaustive list, each entry describing the type of damage it could be used to justify along with details as to how use it. It was really quite well done. Out of curiosity, Kirei had once tried to find out who had written it, and found the publishing company was indirectly owned by the Mihashira Conglomerate and headed by a Magus family in Europe who had given up the pursuit of the Root in favor of more materialistic goals.

Let's see, for the market street … Ah, yes. Gang warfare. A reliable staple, and the situation across Fuyuki's underworld had grown tense as the Grail's influence over the land grew. He could use that one for the commercial street : one of the sub-categories described how broken windows could be explained as attempts at intimidating the shopkeepers into paying protection money. In his case, that would have to be blamed on oversea criminals recently arrived in the city : the local Yakuza group were too well-known and respected.

It didn't quite work for the broken window on the third floor of an office building and the melted asphalt, though. He would need something else for that. A gas explosion, perhaps ? … No. Nobody would be that stupid.

An artisanal firebomb mixed with exotic chemicals that had gone off prematurely ? Now that might work to explain the damage to the road. He could also combine that with the gang warfare. As for the broken windows on the third floor … there. Improvised catapults. Yes, that would do.

Kirei had the foundation of explanations. Now he needed to write down the details, and then transmit them to the appropriate contacts. He glanced at the clock wistfully – he doubted he would have time to sleep before dawn if he wanted everything to be set up in time for the morning news.

The things he did for his God.

Chapter Text

It is the tenth century of the current age of the World. Since the fall of the Western Roman Empire, most of what will one day be called Europe has been locked in a dark age of strife and ignorance, petty warlords locked in perpetual feuds while monsters lurk in the shadows.

In the east of that suffering continent, there lies a mountain whose entrails have been dug up by generations of miners, who make a living trading the ore to other settlements. By the standards of the era, it is a prosperous and peaceful place, well-defended from brigands and beasts alike.

Until the day they find something in the mountain, that was buried there in another age.

Within days, the town is empty, its inhabitants taken by the slaves of that which sleeps and remade into more slaves to its slumbering will. Then comes the Magus. His name is Darius, a wanderer who has studied the philosophies of the Far East and is returning to his homeland carrying wisdom few of his contemporaries would have the wit to accept. He arrives and finds the empty town, and seeks the truth of what happened. He is strong, stronger than the villagers who were taken, and defends himself against the slaves of the horror beneath. He goes into the mountain to confront the source of this evil.

He finds it. His mind burns, aflame with terrifying implications, but Darius is no fool, and he isn't weak. He doesn't succumb to its corruption as the villagers did : instead, he sets its slaves free the only way he can. But he cannot kill it. He leaves, scarred and horrified by what he saw, and collapses the mountain atop it to keep others from being afflicted by its corruption. It is the greatest feat of Magecraft he has ever performed, and it almost kills him, but he knows such will not be enough to kill it.

He calls it Pandora, but it isn't its name. He just calls it that because it seems to fit : the source of all evil, keeping hope locked away. For months, he is haunted by visions of it, tormented by the knowledge of its existence. He thinks of revealing its existence to others, to gather an army with which to confront and destroy it, but he dreads what the ambition of other Magi might push them to do if they learn of it. He cannot trust anyone with this secret, for the threat of Pandora unleashed is too terrible to consider.

Eventually, he comes to a decision. If he can reach the Root, if he can join the ranks of the Magicians, he might just be able to kill Pandora and free both himself and the World from its presence. And so he dedicates himself to this goal with a fervor few Magi throughout the ages have ever matched.

But for all his talent, Darius Ainsworth is still just a man. He ages, he grows old, and eventually he must face death, his purpose still unfulfilled. Like many, he rejects this end; unlike most, he actually finds a way out.

He transports his essence, his self, away from his body and binds it into another. That first time, he uses a homunculus, purchased a great cost from a renowned family of alchemists. For the first two centuries of his existence, that is how he endures, but eventually, the process of his immortality starts to take its toll. The transference is not, cannot be perfect : always something is lost. A copy of a copy of a copy cannot be identical to the original.

Slowly, the moral imperatives that drove him to destroy Pandora are eroded. Why waste resources on homunculi, when he can make more vessels the old-fashioned way ? And so he founds the House of Ainsworth, finds someone to bear his children, and begins a thousand-years long cycle. He binds himself to his bloodline, forever usurping the lives of his descendants until he accomplishes his goal.

He tells himself his goal is worth the costs, that it will only last until he succeeds.

But to one who would be endless, the means bring their own consequences. When he is first reborn in this manner, when he steals the life of his own son, his knowledge of Pandora is lost. His knowledge of the purpose behind reaching the Root is lost. Without it, his mind must construct a new justification for his awful sin, because the human psyche cannot bear the weight of such a monstrous crime. He embraces the values of the Magi, the pursuit of knowledge and the Root at the expense of all else.

He becomes the monster that will plague his descendants for a thousand years.

And so it continues. Every rebirth, every copy, loses a bit more of what made Darius himself. Twenty-six generations later, all that remains is the all-consuming obsession with Akasha, and the tatters of a once-kind and noble soul twisted into something that would horrify the original Darius even more than Pandora itself.

Perhaps that is coincidence. Perhaps that is what it intended all along, the madness planted during that first confrontation finally blossoming. Who can tell ?

November 23rd, 2004 AD – Fuyuki City
"Ghost House"

Darius let out a deep breath as the Bounded Fields around the house slammed shut.

He had managed, barely, to close the trap around his foes. One second later, and that sword Emiya could conjure out of nothing would have ruined everything. But now, the space around them was locked in, and they wouldn't escape unless they found one of the keystones of the Bounded Fields. Of course, given how perceptive the enemy Master was, such was only a matter of time.

But Darius didn't intend to give them that time. They were in his territory, where he was stronger than anywhere else except the Ainsworth Castle.

"Our enemies have fallen into our trap," he announced to his Servants. "Prepare yourselves : neither of them will get out of here alive."

Neither Archer nor Assassin moved. They were staring at him.

"What's wrong ?" He suspected he already knew, and was soon proved right.

"She's our sister," hissed Assassin. She looked angry, which was the most expression she had shown since he had summoned her. "Hunting fool humans and Masters is one thing, but do you think we'll really fight her ?"

Darius had seen that coming. He had been in communication with Archer during the ambush by his Dolls – which had performed far more poorly than he had anticipated – and had sensed her shock when she had seen and recognized Berserker. With his Dolls being slaughtered and Archer's surprise attack failing to even harm Emiya this time, the Ainsworth Head had adapted his plan on the fly, ordering Archer to withdraw to the house while making sure Berserker followed her. He hadn't expected Emiya would come along, but he could work with it – so long as the fish he had caught with his bait didn't end up eating him alive.

"Didn't she kill you both ?" Darius pointed out. "Killed you and ate you, I might add. I admit my understanding of family is rather poor, but surely such a thing would strain any sisterly bond you might have shared ?"

"You are right : your understanding is poor." Somehow, Darius didn't think Assassin was referring just to his understanding of familial matters. "She's our sister, and nothing can change that."

"Regardless, you will fight her."

"No. We won't."

He looked at her, then at Archer. The other Servant was showing the same defiant resolve. He sighed. He didn't have time for this, which meant he would have to resort to extreme measures.

"By the power of my Command Seal," he said, smiling slightly as the two Servants tensed, "Archer, Assassin, I order you : you will follow my instructions and fight the Servant Berserker and the Master Emiya to the best of your abilities while they are within my domain."

He didn't like adding the qualification to the order, but studying the journal of the dead Master in his possession told him it was best not to use the Command Seals on absolute orders : those tended to be weaker as a result. And if the enemy Servant and Master made it out, then his odds of killing them dropped dramatically; by that point, it would be better to abandon the base and retreat to one of the rooms he had prepared as fall-back positions across the city.

He felt the burn on each of his hand as the Command Seals were spent, and saw Archer and Assassin writhe in discomfort as they tried to fight off the order before it settled into them, compelling them to obey. They glared at him, an expression that did nothing to diminish their beauty.

He now had one Command Seal left for Archer and two for Assassin. It was a great expense, but if he could kill Emiya, the most dangerous Master of the alliance he faced would be removed, and he could deal with the other Masters individually after. The young man's death was also likely to enrage the others, driving them to make mistakes he could take advantage of. His Servants' Classes were ideal for that sort of work.

"Now," he began. "Here is how we'll proceed …"

With her sister gone from her senses, Berserker's mind slowly cleared. The first thing she noticed was the voice of her Master in her head.

Berserker ? Sakura's mental voice was worried. Can you hear me ?

She nodded, distracted, before remembering her Master couldn't see her. Yes, Master. I can hear you.

Are you alright now ? Your thoughts were all over the place.

I – yes, Sakura. I am alright.

We are being watched, sent Shirou through the telepathic network binding all members of their strange alliance. Don't talk out loud.

She silently nodded.

We are trapped inside the house. There are a lot of Bounded Fields around us messing with space. We could probably break through them, but I don't know what would happen to the house if I do.

Master, sent Saber urgently. Call me to your side, now. We'll break free of this trap together and lay low this despicable foe.

No, Saber.

Why not ?!

If Berserker and I can't deal with this trap, then adding you to our group is unlikely to achieve anything except add to the casualties. We've to keep Illya's condition in mind.

You … What's the point of me being your Servant if I can't be at your side when fighting another Master ?!

There was genuine anguish in Saber's mental voice, which didn't surprise Berserker. The Servant of the Sword's attachment to her Master was obvious.

There might be more Dolls ready to ambush you, explained Shirou calmly. And you could also run into Assassin or Caster out there. We must keep at least one Servant with every Master.

Then Sakura can call Berserker to her side and -

Saber ! It was the first time Berserker had heard Shirou raise his voice to his Servant, which was weird, given none of them were speaking aloud. Berserker's sister is here. I won't ask that of her.

Saber went silent.

We'll try to delay confrontation for as long as possible, Shirou continued. I would like to see this place's Bounded Fields try to keep three versions of King Arthur out.

With that, the conversation was over, and they started to move, hoping to prevent the enemy Master from setting things up by not staying in one place. They moved through the building, passing from one room to the next. There weren't many rooms in the house, however, and soon they began to repeat as the entire house looped on itself. They passed through room after room full of pieces of broken furniture, covered in a thick layer of dust. Some of the walls were broken in or burned, though the doors they passed through had been replaced recently.

A battle was fought here, Berserker sent to Shirou. A long time ago.

Yes. I wonder – this house is old enough to have been here for the Third Grail War, and it's built in the Western style despite being in the Eastern side of the city.

Do you think … ?

It certainly seems plausible, doesn't it ? Perhaps one of the previous Masters had it built. We might need to investigate later -

He was interrupted by the first attack of the trap they had walked in because of her loss of control. An arrow suddenly appeared right in front of his face, heralded only by the slightest disturbance in the air as the Magecraft of the enemy Master displaced it. Thanks to his supernatural sight, Shirou barely managed to move out of the way, just in time to merely be cut on the cheek instead of shot in the eye.

Immediately, he drew upon his power, spreading his shadowy wings and Reinforcing his entire body even further than he already had been.

More attacks came, from all directions at once. They kept moving, rushing through the endlessly repeating rooms and corridors, dodging out of the way of her sister's projectiles. Euryale couldn't deploy her Noble Phantasm that often, of course, but she could use lesser attacks. Every time, Berserker felt the slightest hint of her sister's presence, before it was shut down, leaving only the attack behind. It was maddening.

After several minutes, however, Archer finally revealed herself. Berserker slammed open a door she and Shirou had already broken four times, and froze as she saw who awaited in the center of the next room. Shirou rushed to her side, stopping as well as he took notice of the other Servant.

"Will you kill me again, sister ?" said Euryale.

Euryale was being forced to say that. Medusa knew it. It was obvious, even to someone who didn't know her sister as well as she did. The words came out forced, and Euryale was grimacing as they left her mouth. She was under the effect of a Command Seal.

It still felt like a dagger had been thrust into Berserker's heart. She recoiled, her body spasming as suppressed memories tried to return to the surface. Teeth, claws, HUNGER, blood, the last moment of horror rending her sanity before she became the Monster forevermore …

Berserker ! shouted Sakura's voice in her head. Her Master's trying to make you lose control ! Don't fall for it !

She knew that. Of course she knew that ! But the memories were too strong. She could feel the Command Seal restraining them weakening.

Berserker couldn't move. Too many emotions were tearing her apart – guilt, anger, grief, self-hatred, horror …

It was then that another presence entered the room, and the shock of recognition was almost enough to shake off the paralysis that had seized her – almost, but not quite. The figure appeared to Euryale's side, almost undistinguishable from the other Servant, except for the missing bow and the wrist on which she wore her elaborate bracelet.

Rin, listen ! Shirou shouted over the link. There is another Servant here ! She looks just like Archer … it's Assassin ! She's Stheno, the other Gorgon -

Shirou's mental voice stopped as Stheno advanced toward him. She made no move to defend herself – but Shirou didn't attack. More to the point, he couldn't attack. His sword wavered, before he lowered it entirely, stabbing it into the floor. The wings that stretched from his back stopped moving, though it felt more to Berserker as if they were holding their breath.

Her eldest sister was a being of perfect, otherworldly beauty. The same beauty had driven so many men to seek to possess her, and made it necessary for Berserker to kill them in order to protect her siblings. But now, that beauty had been weaponized, turned into something she could use to protect herself. She sang as she walked, a beautiful and haunting melody – the kind of song that made sailors drive their boats on reefs.

Stheno reached out to touch Shirou's face with her small hands, and Berserker sensed the energy gathering within her sister, about to be unleashed. Like Euryale's bow, this wasn't something Stheno had been able to do in life : the Grail's summoning system had given her that ability by taking her legendary beauty and making it into something the Assassin Class could use. Stheno's beauty had charmed many of their would-be conquerors, reducing them to playthings the sisters had eventually discarded. Even now, Berserker felt no guilt over this : they had come to enslave or slay her and her sisters, so they deserved whatever fate they'd gotten.

Shirou was a man, and, though he wouldn't claim so, a hero according to the definition of the era. He was exactly the kind of target most vulnerable to Stheno's Noble Phantasm. She could see how it would unfold, how her eldest sister's smile would rip the life from him, or at the very least leave him stripped of his wits and vulnerable to Euryale's arrows.

Instead, before she could reach him, Shirou gently caught her wrists. His wings stretched, and the power inside him flared.

"That won't work, little goddess," he said gently. "My mind is my own, and I've already given away my heart."

Stheno stared at Shirou in complete shock. It was, Berserker realized, the first time any man had looked at her eldest sister and not be caught in the spell of her beauty, one way or another. Then her expression darkened, and she pulled her wrist free of Shirou's grasp before leaping backward. She ignored the Master in the room, focusing her gaze on Berserker, who froze again, feeling the eyes of her two sisters on her.

"Sister," they repeated, speaking in perfect unison. "Have you come to kill us again ?"

"Enough," said Shirou in a voice that was far too calm to belong in a battle. "Come here, Berserker."

He caught her arm and pulled her close. Then, suddenly, everything went silent, and the temperature dropped sharply. Shirou's wings had spread out, forming a sphere around the two of them through which Berserker couldn't sense anything. They were alone, with only darkness all around them.

"Huh," said Shirou as he took in what he had done. Here, in this strange darkness, his voice no longer echoed with inhuman power. "I wasn't sure that would work."

"What did you do ?"

"I have cut us off from the rest of the world. If I'm not mistaken, my own contract with Sakura is the only reason yours hasn't been blocked. They can't listen in on us, and the spatial Magecraft their Master is using cannot reach here. If it could, it would be a True Magic, and the War would already be over."

"Why -"

"Listen to me, Medusa," he cut her off. "We can save your sisters, but I need your help to make sure they aren't hurt. I'm not strong enough to defeat them without hurting them."

"I … I'll hurt them. I'll kill them. It's what I do, Shirou. I'm … I am the monster that kills its own siblings. That's what I -"

"You are not a monster !" said Shirou, freezing her in her tracks. "You are not, no matter what you think. I swear, you're just like Sakura used to be, blaming yourself for what others did to you. It wasn't your choices that made you turn into the Gorgon, Medusa. It was the choices of the Gods."

The Gods ? She remembered the Gods. Or did she ? Her mind was clouded, and not just by the Command Seal restraining her memories to keep her from going insane again. Those memories weren't blocked, merely absent. All she recalled was their disdain, their jealousy and pettiness, which had led to hers and her sisters' exile to the Shapeless Isle, and then, when they had made their own happiness there, sent hunter after hunter to kill or enslave them.

"I won't tell you to let go of your guilt, Medusa. But you shouldn't let it crush you either, and you especially shouldn't let someone else use it to hurt you and them. What happened to your family was a tragedy – but here and now, you've a chance to do better."

A chance to do better ?

Could she ? She was a kinslayer, a monster, it was written in her legend. She had thought she was doomed to repeat that fate, and cursed the Grail for putting her in that situation. But maybe – just maybe – if Shirou was right, then …

"It doesn't matter why the Grail summoned you and your sisters," continued Shirou. "It's possible it wants you to suffer, to force you down the same path you were made to thread before."

His grip on her arm tightened.

"But you know what ? Fuck what the Grail wants. The entire plan for this War is to against it, after all. Right here, right now, we have a chance to go against whatever plans the corruption inside it has made, and to reunite you with your siblings."

"Will you help me ?"

She wouldn't be forgiven. She didn't deserve to be. Even if they were forced to speak their accusations now, whenever her sisters looked at her, they would see the monster that had devoured them. The happy reunion Shirou was imagining was a delusion, because he didn't have any idea of what she had done.

Or did he ? She remembered what Sakura had told her about her beloved. The memories not his own that haunted him, of betrayal and murder on a scope far surpassing anything she had done. Perhaps, a cynical part of her whispered, the only reason he thought she could be saved was because he had to, lest he come to believe he was a monster as well.

In the end, it came down to a very simple fact. Her sisters were being hurt by their Master, forced to obey his will. And if that Master got his way, eventually they would be sacrificed to fuel the Grail, made to face the same horrors Saber had during her captivity – and that was the best case scenario.

Medusa would not allow this.

She nodded, and Shirou lowered his wings and released her arm. Her sisters were still standing where they had been, Euryale aiming her bow at them and letting loose an arrow the moment the barrier vanished. Shirou smashed it aside with a swipe of his word, moving to place himself between them and Medusa. It was an absurd scene : a Master protecting a Berserker-Class Servant from an Archer and Assassin. Even more absurd was that Medusa trusted him to guard her.

She focused. She had the means to end this fight, had it since it had started, but she hadn't dared to use it. It would hurt her sisters, but not too badly, as long as she could control herself.

You can do it, whispered Sakura's voice in her mind. Her Master had been listening on her conversation with Shirou, and she felt her approval and trust radiate through their bond. I believe in you.

Berserker roared. She put all of her grief, all her anger and sorrow into that scream, and it resonated in realms no mortal ears could hear. In such an enclosed space, her Skill didn't distinguish between allies and foes, but Shirou barely seemed affected at all. Her sisters, however, were struck with the full force of her scream, their small bodies locking in place.

Before her sisters could recover, Medusa moved. She seized them in her arms and held them close, stopping them from moving without hurting them. Her roar's mental interference would keep them from turning to Spirit Form (usually, an enemy Servant would have been prevented from doing so by the moment of vulnerability that preceded the transformation, which she could have used to crush them).

For a moment, she simply stood there, embracing her sisters, none of the four combatants saying a word, until the sound of clapping broke the tableau.

She hadn't noticed when someone else had entered the room, arriving through the same Magecraft technique her sisters had. It was a magus, but there was something off about him, something she couldn't identify but which was deeply unnerving to her senses.

"Darius Ainsworth," said Shirou, his voice not so gentle anymore.

"Shirou Emiya," replied the newcomer.

This was not, Darius reflected, an optimal situation. It could still be salvaged, though.

One advantage of immortality was that you could afford to take risks other Magi would write off as bad ideas. Not that facing off against Emiya without his Servants was a good idea, territory advantage or not; it was just that Darius could afford to take the losses failure would incur.

Emiya and Berserker were the two greatest threats among the alliance he faced. Emiya because he was a Master capable of fighting a Servant on equal grounds; Berserker because, due to her legend, she had a fundamental advantage against Archer and Assassin. Heroic Spirits were vulnerable to the things that had killed them in life, and he doubted that rule was different for Divine Spirits manifested as Servants.

His two Servants had been killed by the Medusa in life, which gave the other Servant a conceptual advantage against them. The fact she didn't want to kill them was irrelevant : she hadn't wanted to kill them last time either, and yet it had still happened. The very idea of Medusa turning into a monster and killing her sisters was inscribed into the sisters' legend, and it would cost him the Grail if it repeated itself. Right now, Medusa was able to control herself, merely keeping his Servants immobile, but he didn't believe for one second that would last forever. Still, Emiya's skill at managing the Berserker's madness was impressive.

He had to kill Emiya now, or he might as well slit his own throat and wait for his next rebirth. Anywhere but here, his chances would have been very slim, but the Bounded Fields he had layered on this house amplified his Magecraft to near-True Magic levels. It was still a risk, but one that he had to take. With Emiya dead, he could deal with Berserker, and then the other Masters that even now were rushing toward the house. Then only the Master of Caster would be left, and with Archer and Assassin, he was confident he could defeat them even with most of his resources spent.

"I'm surprised you recognize me," he said in a conversational tone. "I'm not exactly well-known outside of my House."

"I see you, Darius Ainsworth," replied Emiya. His every word made the Bounded Fields shiver. "And with that sight, I know you. I know your name, your nature and your sins. Out of concern for Berserker's sisters, I will give you this chance. Know that the Grail is corrupted, and any wish it grants will come at terrible cost to the World and the wisher alike. Surrender your Command Seals and your Servants, then leave this country and never return. If you do this, I'll overlook your many, many crimes and let you live."

The Grail, corrupted ? It would explain how he had been selected as a double Master – despite his bluster to Zachary, he hadn't been convinced his Magecraft had managed to trick the work of the Three Families. A glitch in the Greater Grail's programming certainly made more sense. And the fact four Masters were willing to work together lent further weight to Emiya's words.

But accepting the offer would cost him this chance to reach the Root. And he wanted it. He wanted it more than anything else, and he would not abandon this opportunity fate had handed to him. Even if Emiya was right, what did it matter ? If it meant he reached Akasha, then this entire forsaken island could burn in the backlash of the Grail granting his wish. What did he care ? All that mattered was becoming a Magician. It was the only thing that was important to him, because … because …

… because he was a Magus, and Akasha was the goal of all Magi. That was all. He didn't need another reason.

"A generous offer," he sneered, "but I am not interested."

"Then I shall destroy you as I destroyed the last Magus who sought the Grail for his own selfish ends, regardless of the cost to others." replied Emiya, his voice cold as the void. Despite everything, Darius found himself shivering.

How long had it been, he thought, since he had felt fear ?

"A bold claim," he replied, smiling viciously. "Let's see if you can live up to it."

Emiya didn't bother with further talk. His wings – and merely looking at them with his Magecraft caused him a headache : they seemed to exist in more dimensions than the rest of Emiya's body – beat once, propelling him forward in blatant defiance of the laws of physics. Luckily, Darius had his own methods of messing with the laws of the World.

With a flare of his Circuits, he moved himself out of the way of the sword and directly behind Emiya, before immediately moving again as the wings tried to engulf him. He reappeared at the other side of the room, blinking to dissipate the black spots that had formed in his vision with just that brief contact with the things.

This was more than he had expected. He had watched Emiya fight Lancer in the park, and had thought he had a grasp of his strength, but clearly he had underestimated the other Master.

He very much wanted to know what Emiya was, but he wanted him dead even more.

Emiya's wings beat again. Darius barely had time to displace himself out of the way, leaving the other Master's sword to rip another wall to pieces.

For several minutes, the two Masters fought. Darius tried every trick he had, and after a thousand years of fighting and killing other Magi semi-regularly, he had accumulated a great many of them. He tried to alter the light and sound coming from him to create duplicates of himself, but Emiya ignored them all, his burning eyes seeing right through the illusion. He tried to accelerate projectiles and hurl them at him, but Emiya always saw them coming and dodged out of the way. He tried to aim at where Berserker still held his Servants, only for Emiya's wings to stretch and knock away his attack.

Emiya was playing for time, he realized. His allies were on the way, and as long as he kept attacking Darius, he could force him to keep dodging and waste his time. And once his friends got there … Darius didn't fancy the chances of his Bounded Fields against that group.

Alright, then. He would have to resort to one of his most risky techniques. He moved out of the way of another attack, focused, and prepared. Again, Emiya moved with physics-defying acceleration – but this time, Darius didn't move out of the way.

Darius cast his spell the moment the sword plunged into his chest. One mistake, one slip, and he would die. The blade seemed to pierce right through his chest and into the wall behind him, but no blood poured out. Darius had warped the space of his own body, making it so that the sword passed through a section of his being where there was no flesh. It was agonizingly painful, but compared to the spells that kept the Dolls functioning, it was child's play.

Holding Emiya's sword in place with his own body, Darius reached up and placed his hands on the young man's shoulders. He could feel the power thrumming through the layers of clothes as well as the body underneath – more power than any Magus should be able to wield without assistance.

What Darius did next wasn't pretty. It was the thaumaturgic equivalent of taking a masterwork telescope and using it to brain someone to death. He had only used that technique once in a real battle after developing it, because it made such a mess and left nothing behind that he could use.

But it was very, very effective.

He spoke the aria, a single word in a dialect whose last speaker had died eight centuries ago and that roughly translated to 'unmaking'. He pulled his hands apart, expecting one half of Shirou Emiya to stay attached to each, which would kill even the Magus Killer's heir instantly.

The spell Darius was using required absolute concentration, which meant he felt the spell unravelling in his grasp with perfect clarity. Reality broke under his grasp.

Blood ran from his eyes, nose and mouth, and his Magical Circuits were throbbing with the backlash of the failed spell. The spell that kept the sword from wounding him collapsed, and the felt the new agony of his body being rent asunder by the magical weapon embedded in his chest.

His vision was swimming, but he forced himself to concentrate, ignoring the pain as he tried to figure out what had happened. Emiya was still stood before him, glaring at him with burning eyes, but there was something different about him, something Darius couldn't identify but which reminded him of … of something …

"I AM NOT SUCH A SIMPLE THING," said the thing that wore the shape of the Magus Killer's son, "THAT YOU COULD UNMAKE ME."

Darius cried out in renewed pain at the voice. The walls trembled, and several Bounded Fields collapsed entirely at its power.

"You … you aren't human," he gasped out, more in admiration than condemnation.

"I am more human than you, Darius Ainsworth." The voice was quieter, but still carried power and threat.

Darius tried to think of a way out of this … but no. There was nothing. He was going to die here, wasn't he ? He had lost.

"Ah … ah ah ah ah ah !" He laughed, despite the pain. "Well done ! Well done indeed, Emiya !" He coughed out a mouthful of blood and smiled, his teeth painted red. I suppose you weren't bluffing earlier. Your father … must be proud !"

"In this case, yes, I think he would be. But, Darius Ainsworth. Do you think it will be that easy ?"

Through the agony of the sword impaling him, Darius frowned. "What are you – ack – talking about ?"

"I told you : I see you, Darius Ainsworth. I see the truth of what you are. I see your hollow soul wrapped around the flesh of your own blood, stealing his life so that you can cling to existence as a grotesque parasite." Despite Darius being an adult, who had been especially tall for the era of his birth, Emiya seemed to loom over him.

"And you will not escape to steal another's. Berserker !"

The Servant let go of her sisters, called a scythe into existence and leapt toward the two Masters, her beautiful features marred by a grimace of hatred. The sight of the weapon triggered Darius' memory : this was Harpe, the blade with which Perseus had killed Medusa in the original myth. A weapon said to be imbued with the power to kill the unkillable.

His thoughts almost froze as he realized Harpe might very well be able to truly and permanently kill him, despite all his efforts to secure his existence until he reached Akasha. But he hadn't survived a thousand years by being a fool. Instead, he immediately realized the last chance for victory this represented – or, if not victory, then revenge and escape from annihilation. This body was a lost cause, and so was the Grail War, that much was clear, but if he escaped, he could start again, continue his research, and one day reach the Root.

If he could escape. If he could pull off one last trick with the burning Magical Circuits of his current incarnation.

As Harpe's edge reached past Emiya's throat and straight at his, Darius reached for the other Master's chest with his bloodied hand. In his state, it was all he could do to perform the simplest form of Displacement Magecraft : the exchange of positions between two roughly similar objects. He and Emiya were both men, both Masters : here, with the Bounded Fields still supporting him, it would be enough. Emiya had resisted the Unmaking spell, yes, but that was something entirely different : there would be no attack against his essence, merely a rearrangement of the space inside the house. Technically, Emiya wouldn't move at all – the rest of their surroundings would.

He didn't know if Emiya could survive Harpe cutting his throat, but he was willing to bet he wouldn't. His hand raised -

FOR MY CHILDREN !

- and froze in place. He couldn't move it. Another will, one he had thought extinguished, prevented him from doing so. He couldn't reach Emiya, he couldn't cast the spell.

He couldn't do anything, except listen to Zachary's laughter. His host had deceived him, Darius realized, pretending to have been completely erased, biding his time in the deepest recesses of their shared existence, refusing to rise to any of the provocations Darius had sent his way. Suddenly, Darius wondered whether his decision to stick to his plan of Archer drawing his foes to his lair after Emiya had followed had really been his own, or if his descendant had subtly influenced him into taking the more risked option, remembering Harpe's part in Medusa's legend and gambling everything on it.

Or perhaps Zachary had instead been jolted awake by the sword through their chest and the backlash to their Magical Circuits. Both were plausible, and now Darius would never have the opportunity to find out.

Harpe buried itself in his throat, driven by all the strength of Berserker. It tore through skin and muscle and into his spinal column, all but decapitating him. Yet the damage to his body was the last of Darius' concerns.

Pain. Pain such as the Ainsworth founder had never felt before. Everything that made him who he was, everything he had painstakingly preserved for a thousand years, was dissolving, the Magecraft that anchored his existence falling apart at the touch of the weapon from the Age of the Gods.

He couldn't leave Zachary's body behind. He couldn't escape, displace his existence through the Ainsworth Magecraft. He was stuck here, with that oversized sword in his chest, that ancient scythe in his throat, and Death towering over him, eyes burning darkly gold.

"I told you that I would destroy you," Death said, and poured power into his sword. The blade ignited, and everything that made up the being known as Darius Ainsworth was consumed, until all that was left was Zachary, bleeding out and breathing his last with a smile on his face.

He was finally free.

Shirou pulled his sword out, letting the corpse – which had turned into another man that resembled Darius Ainsworth but clearly wasn't him – slid to the ground while suppressing the energies he had called upon. He felt his wings fold in on themselves and disappear, and his thoughts returned to their usual patterns, no longer affected by the power of the Dark Angel.

Once again, the meaning behind the words he had spoken during battle faded away, just like the context of his visions of the Dark Angel. For a moment, when Darius had tried to rip him apart with his Magecraft, he had felt … something … from the Dark Angel, an echo of emotion that reminded him of when he had confronted the shikome and sensed his own disgust echoed by the entity with which he was fused.

Next to him, Berserker let Harpe dissolve into golden motes and stepped away from him. At the other side of the room, Assassin and Archer chuckled, which was a rather disturbing reaction to the sight of a corpse in someone so young-looking. At some point, the two Servants had broken free of the paralysis induced by Berserker's scream, though much faster than Shirou had expected. One of their Skills must grant them partial resistance to mental effects.

"Good riddance," said one of them – Stheno, he saw by the position of the bracelet on her wrist. "That man was quite the detestable fellow."

"That he was, me."

"Sisters," said Berserker in a hoarse voice. "I … I'm …"

The twins – and now that he had seen Darius Ainsworth, Shirou understood how the Magus had been able to summon them both as Servants, though he was certain the Grail's corruption was involved somehow – turned toward Berserker. The tall Servant looked torn between wanting to rush to hug them again and running away.

"You idiot," Archer gently mocked, as she and Assassin moved to their sister's side. "Listen well : we love you, Medusa. We have always loved you, and we always will. Nothing will ever change that."

Medusa fell to her knees, which still left her above her sisters, and the three of them embraced. From within the embrace, Stheno turned to look at Shirou :

"Earlier, you said you wanted him to give us up and leave. But supporting three Servants will suck you dry. The consumption of me and I is low, but Darius still needed to have us hunt for prana. Is that what you intend ?"

"No. In fact, I will ask you to not do that whilst I am your Master. But as you may have noticed, I'm not exactly a normal human," he said drily. "My od reserves are a lot larger than most Magi. My Servant needs to stay in corporeal form all the time, and the drain doesn't affect me at all."

Archer and Assassin looked at each other.

"What do you think, me ?"

"I think that sounds amusing, me. It certainly beats fading from lack of prana and being taken into the Grail."

"True. He doesn't seem to be lying about it being corrupted either."

"In which case going inside would be most unpleasant."

"Then we have made our choice."

"Indeed we have, me."

As one, they gently extracted themselves from Berserker's arms and walked to him. Shirou wondered if their eerie synchronization was the result of having been summoned by an anomalous Master, or if they had always been like this. As far as he could tell, the two were not twins, even if they looked identical : Assassin had been born before Archer, and the two of them were born before Medusa, despite their appearances. Of course, 'born' might not be the right word to apply to them.

"Heed my words," said Shirou, flooding his Circuits with prana yet again. "My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.

If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me.

I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world.

That I shall defeat all evil in the world.

You seven heavens, clad in the three great words of power,

Come forth from the circle of binding,

Guardians of the Scales !"

Each took one of his hands into theirs and lifted them to their mouths. He hadn't expected that : as far as he knew, simply touching should be enough to re-form the contract.

"I, Stheno, in the name of Assassin, accept this contract."

"I, Euryale, in the name of Archer, accept this contract."

With that, they bit his fingers, which he admittedly hadn't seen coming. He felt their fangs pierce the skin and a little of his blood pour into their mouths, before the exchange of prana completed the aria and the two of them registered as his Servants. As they pulled away, Avalon already closing the small cuts in his palms, he started to feel their presence like he could Saber's …

Oh. Right. He had almost forgotten.

Saber ? He sent out tentatively.

Master ! His Servant's mental voice sounded both half-panicked and relieved. Is the battle over ?

Yes. Don't worry, we won. Archer and Assassin are on our side now, and their former Master is dead. Where are you ?

We're coming almost at the house. There hasn't been any other attacks since you entered.

Alright. Wait outside, we'll join up with you and go home.

The punctures on his fingers had already closed by the time the exchange was over. Shirou looked at his new Servants :

"Thank you for trusting me like this. I promise -"

He couldn't finish his sentence, because Berserker was on him. Her arms wrapped around him, hugging him to her generous bosom as tears of joy ran from underneath her blindfold.

"Thank you," she whispered fervently, shaking as she held onto him. "Thank you, thank you !"

His two new Servants were looking at him, smiling like cats that had just seen a canary bathe itself in cream.

Somehow, Shirou had the impression he had gotten himself in a much more dangerous position than he had been while fighting Darius Ainsworth.

He was rescued from his predicament when the building around them trembled, and Berserker let him go, her head darting around as she searched for danger. The Bounded Fields that warped space were collapsing : Darius must have set them up to do so upon the death of his host body. It was unlikely to kill anyone capable of dispatching him, but it did make for a good final insult before he took over his next host.

Of course, now that the parasite Magus was no more, this was instead his last spiteful act.

"We need to get out of here," said Shirou. "Quickly."

He looked around, pouring prana into his eyes, and – there.

"Everyone get ready to jump," he warned, Tracing his sword again and aiming it at a specific spot on the wall.

Ten seconds later, the four of them jumped out of the newly-formed hole in the second floor of the house and landed on the ground in front of their allies. To Shirou's surprise, it was Archer who had the most trouble with the jump : now that Stheno and her were his Servants, he could see their stats as rendered by the Grail, and Euryale's was at a surprisingly low C for someone in the Archer Class. In fact, except for their Mana and Luck stats, both of Berserker's sisters were surprisingly low-ranked in their stats, which was probably another result of their doubly irregular summoning.

Still, if the Grail was going to summon more Divine Spirits, at least they weren't embodiments of pure evil this time.

Five seconds after they landed, the Bounded Fields collapsed and the house imploded, reduced to a pile of shattered bricks, wood, and bits of Magus corpse. Shirou looked at his friends, who looked back with various expressions of relief that he was fine. Sakura rushed to Berserker's side, while Saber marched toward him, frowning and glaring at him all the way.

"Hey. I didn't take a Noble Phantasm to the chest this time," said Shirou, rising his hands in defense before his first Servant could say anything.

"That is the only reason I haven't punched you out and dragged you home before tying you up to your bed, Master," replied Saber, looking him up and down for signs of injury.

"Ooh," said both Assassin and Archer from behind them. "How scandalous."

It took Shirou a few seconds to understand what the small Servants were implying. When Saber did as well and blushed slightly before glaring at the eldest Gorgon sisters, Shirou felt a weight form in his stomach, and a sense of dread and doom came over him.

His earlier presentiment had been right. In a way, he was in a lot more trouble now that he had been fighting the Ainsworth Master.

Omake : Those Who Are Saved

November 23rd, 2004 AD – Ainsworth Castle

Since his tenth birthday, Julian Ainsworth had always been afraid. That day had been when his father Zachary had taken him to his Workshop, sat him down, and told him the truth of the Ainsworth family. How their House had been founded a thousand years ago, and how they were all just meant to be vessels for the true Head of the Ainsworth, their lives doomed to be overwritten so that the ancient Magus could continue to exist. To his credit, Zachary hadn't tried to sugercoat the truth. The same day, Darius had taken over Zachary's body and forced Julian to swear the oaths of secrecy that kept him from spreading that secret to the rest of the Moonlit World, along with others to prevent him from killing himself.

From that day on, Julian had lived with the knowledge that at any moment, his father could die, and he would become the next host of Darius Ainsworth. That sword of Damocles had always hung above his head, for every waking moment of his life. Even when Zachary stayed at home, it was always possible he would end up killing himself experimenting on his Magecraft : all Magi walked with death, and a single mistake in the use of Displacement could be fatal.

When he had understood, truly understood, Julian had tried to kill his emotions. To stop feeling anything, because he thought feeling nothing was better than the constant, sickening fear. It hadn't worked, partly because Julian was a ten-years old child, and partly because of his childhood friend, Beatrice Flowerchild.

Beatrice was Julian's only friend outside of his family. She didn't know of the Moonlit World, and their meeting had been complete coincidence, but Julian had kept in touch with her even as the Ainsworth Castle moved to another region, even managing to meet her again a few times. She and Julian were in love, though neither had admitted it to the other – albeit for very different reasons. Knowing the doom that awaited him, Julian dared not pursue more than Beatrice's friendship, knowing that any dream of being with her were only bitter delusions. Even so, her friendship, and the love of his elder sister Angelica, were the only reasons Julian hadn't yet completely succumbed to the crushing depression that had afflicted most male members of the Ainsworth family throughout its history.

Since Darius had left the Castle (and it had been Darius, with no trace left of Zachary), Julian and Angelica had stayed together, brother and sister spending as much time in each other's company as they could. There were only two possible outcomes to Darius joining the Grail War : either he would win and reach the Root, fulfilling the Ainsworth Head's centuries-old ambition, or he would die, and Julian would inherit the family curse. Though they hadn't said it out loud, both of them considered the later outcome to be the likeliest : no one had ever won the Grail War, and very few Masters had survived it.

It was the middle of the afternoon when it happened. The two of them were reading in the library when they suddenly fell off their chairs, clutching at their chests as a terrible pain spread through their Magical Circuits.

All members of the Ainsworth bloodline were implanted with a tiny fragment of the Family Crest at birth in order to tie them to the spell that ensured Darius' counterfeit immortality. Where most Family Crests reinforced their hosts, these ones were parasites that, once activated, slowly turned the Magical Circuits of their host into an exact copy of Darius' (or, in the case of women, imposed a set of geases upon them that would ensure the birth of a male heir).

Now, these Crests were burning, the magic embedded inside them turning in on itself. Angelica recovered first, since her own Crest was much less deeply ingrained, and held her brother in her arms until he stopped thrashing, keeping him from injuring himself and casting healing spells to undo the damage his body was suffering as a side-effect of the Crest self-destructing.

The ten minutes it took for it to end were among the most painful of Julian's life, matched only by the first time he had failed to properly cast Displacement and nearly killed himself by accident. Eventually, however, the pain stopped, replaced by a growing sense of shocked realization.

The Ainsworth Magical Crest was gone from his and his sister's bodies. They were free of the curse that had plagued them since birth.

"Did … did he win ?" he croaked out.

It was the only thing he could think of. If Darius Ainsworth had won the Grail War and used the Grail to reach Akasha, then he would've become a Magician. Having accomplished his ambition, it made sense that he would abandon the family he had cultivated as back-up vessels for his essence.

Angelica shook her head. "No. Magicians are powerful, but they are still mortal, Julian." Everyone in the Moonlit World knew that nowadays. "Do you really think he would release us if he had any other choice ?"

She smiled. How long had it been since he had seen his sister smile, truly smile ?

"He's dead, Julian. Dead and gone. He must have run into a Heroic Spirit that could destroy him for good."

She embraced him.

"We are free, little brother. The nightmare is over."

It was … over ?

The enormity of it all finally hit him. Darius was gone, dead beyond the power of his Magecraft to return him. Julian wasn't going to be his next vessel, slowly losing his very existence so that the founder of his House could cling to life for another few decades.

In his sister's arms, Julian Ainsworth wept for hours, in relief, joy, and grief for the father he had never really known. And when he fell asleep, exhausted, he dreamt of the future – a future that, now, was more than just a fantasy.

He didn't know who had killed Darius or why, but he swore that, if he ever got the chance, he would repay them for giving him back his life.

Chapter Text

Warriors in armor bearing the heraldry of knights stand amidst crystal and dust, surrounded by the promise of terrible futures.

Their ships were caught by the storm while returning to the Imperium from their long campaign at the frontier, under the light of the corpse-stars. Exhausted by war, strained to the limit of their resilience by the storm, tormented by the horrors they have seen and committed in that most terrible of crusades, they cannot think straight. They are vulnerable, and their Emperor has kept so much from them, thinking to protect them from the dark truths of the universe. But He made a mistake, for ignorance is no shield against those who would drag Mankind into madness and ruin.

Now all of them, even those without the Gift, can hear double-throated laughter in the distance, though none can tell the direction it comes from. The curse that has blighted their sire is now visited upon all of the Lion's sons who have followed him in this dismay place.

This is the death of dreams. This is the first time of tribulations. This is where the doom of angels is written.

This is the Crystal Labyrinth.

Within great panels, the warrior sees his brothers slaughtered by their cousins, his homeland burned to ash and the castles of his Order razed. He sees the Imperium they have built upon the corpses of foes and brothers alike turn into a degenerate parody of its glorious self, a monument to blind fanaticism and ignorance, a bloody tyranny that crushes all of Humanity under the rule of a merciless bureaucracy, forever and ever, in the name of its Carrion Emperor.

It is not a lie, the boy sees, just as the warrior does. But it isn't the truth either, and this only the boy does see. The deceit is masterfully woven, but to one who has witnessed what will come from the Legion's acceptance of it, it is obvious. By trying to prevent what is shown here, the Legion shall bring about the very future it will seek to avoid, and the weight of that awful paradox will break them.

But all this will come later. Now, the Dark Angels howl in abject torment, unable to bear the future they are shown by the creature that would make them bend the knee. They rail against it, they decry it as impossible, but the truth that edges the lie bites through their defenses.

Bit by bit, it digs into their minds, into their souls. He feels its bitter cold seep into his hearts, and he screams as the despair this foe seeks to break them with before offering them false hope takes root within them –

His sire. The thought comes unbidden, from the deepest part of him, where lies a loyalty that has not yet been broken. He must find his sire. He clings to that one thought, that one duty.

The warrior forces himself to walk –

"Well, well. This is quite the sight, isn't it, me ?" "You're right, me. It certainly is."

He turns – but he didn't turn – as the scenes of madness around him freeze – but time means nothing here – and he sees two small figures before him – not small enough, he isn't as tall as he should be – he recognizes them – he has never seen them – they shouldn't be here -

"You should wake up, Master." "Yes, you really should."

Wake up ? He doesn't understand – yes he does – this is who he is – this is not who I am – his fate was written long ago, never to be changed – this will never be who I am –

He awakens.

November 24th, 2004 AD – Emiya residence

Euryale watched her Master's eyes open. For a brief instant, they appeared to shine with golden light, before the radiance faded and they returned to their normal hue. He blinked several times, before squinting up at her. Looking at him now, it was hard to see the burning-eyed warrior she had faced the previous day. If not for the power that coursed from him through their contract, he would look like any other young man – though, she had to admit, a particularly handsome specimen.

"Archer ?" he muttered. "What are you doing ?"

"You were having a nightmare, Master," she generously explained, "and wouldn't wake up even when that infernal contraption started ringing."

She gestured to the device, or what was left of it. None of them had known how to shut it up, and when it had become clear Shirou wasn't waking up, tempers had started to fray, and it had paid the price.

"So we decided to have a little peek inside your head," she concluded.

"… I didn't know you could do that."

"We couldn't when we were alive," revealed Stheno, stretching languorously on the floor behind Shirou's head. "Only Medusa could, but our abilities were enhanced when we became Servants. Between that and the bond between us, it was enough for us to pull you out."

"I see. Well, thank you." He shook his head, clearing it, and looked around. "Where is Sakura ?"

"She woke up early, and got out of bed to prepare breakfast," explained Saber, who was sitting at his side, looking torn between relief and anger. "She didn't want to wake you up because you needed to rest after yesterday's battle. Medusa went with her."

"Well, at least they didn't worry when I didn't wake up right away."

"Still, it was quite disappointing," said Archer. "To think that our Master could spend an entire night with two women and do nothing at all with them …" She smiled sweetly, lowering her face until it was just a few centimeters away from his. "Are you so captivated by your newest Servants' beauty that all else pales in comparison, Master ?"

"That's enough, Archer. Get off him," growled Saber. Their Master's first Servant was glowering at them, her expression impossible to take for anything but jealousy.

"Oh ?" Euryale teased. "Are you jealous, Saber ? Did you not enjoy such closeness and more to our Master before ? Medusa told me all about it last night."

"Yes, I did, after you shot him through the heart. Now move."

"Very well," she allowed, and rolled off her Master. Really, Saber's unwillingness to let bygones be bygones was ridiculous, especially given their Master seemed to have already forgotten the fact she'd almost killed him.

The four left the room together, soon joined by the other two Masters, both struggling to stay awake and accompanied by a bigger version of Saber. The white one guided her diminutive Master to the breakfast table, while the black one sat down and began clamouring for food.

According to Medusa – the elder sisters had spent much of the night extracting gossip from their youngest, talking to each other while keeping watch in Spirit Form – the black-haired Magus was also one of their Master's lovers. Although, why she hadn't joined them in bed if that were the case, Medusa didn't know.

"Sit down too, Archer, Assassin," said Sakura. "There's enough for everyone."

"You do know we don't need to eat, right ?" inquired Euryale with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course," cut in Rider, "but not needing to isn't the same as not enjoying it. Sit down, you'll see what I mean in a moment."

Euryale exchanged a glance with Stheno. Darius certainly hadn't seen the need to provide them with food : the only thing they had tasted since being summoned was the prana they had drained from the humans they had hunted. The prospect of real food, even if it was something from this era, was certainly enticing.

They all sat around the table in the cramped living room, and the food was brought in from the kitchen, carried by the two homunculi maids.

Euryale could feel the ties that spread through the room like a web. Their own Master was a nexus of these connections, being linked not only to his three Servants, but also to each of the other Masters. The flow of prana from their Master was steady, and true to his word he didn't seem affected by it. Of course, Archer and Assassin needed only a little prana to sustain them outside of combat, thanks to their Core of the Goddess Skill. Considering Saber had a similar Skill thanks to her Draconic nature, it could be said their Master had really lucked out, even if Saber apparently couldn't go in Spirit Form to save energy.

They had asked her about it last night, when she had joined their Master and Medusa's in bed instead of dematerializing like the three sisters, and only received a glare in response. In the hours since they had become Servants to the same Master, Saber had glared at Euryale and her sister a lot, something the two Divine Spirits found deeply amusing.

As they ate, Shirou informed the others of what had happened earlier. Euryale paid the conversation little mind : she had already been told of her Master's strange condition and the theory his second lover had constructed to explain it, and the food was far too appetizing to waste time on something else. Rider was right : even if they didn't need it, they could certainly enjoy the food.

"Thank you for helping Senpai," Sakura said to her with a small bow, before turning back to the sole male in the room and asking in a worried voice : "Senpai, are you sure you're alright ? You've been using your powers a lot more recently, and you've had more visions since the War started."

"Yes, I know. It's likely that the more I draw on the Dark Angel's power, the more of his memories I'll unearth." He grimaced. "This morning, I think I dreamt of the moment the Dark Angels turned against the Emperor. They saw something that scared them so much they were prepared to break their oaths to stop it."

"Great," sighed Rin. "And the more you remember, the more likely it is that you'll end up having some kind of mental breakdown or identity crisis. As if we needed more things to worry about. You'll give me the details later, Shirou. For now, we really need to hurry and deal with this situation before things get worse on that front."

"We have six Servants here, three Magecraft users, and Onii-chan," listed Illyasviel. Now that she had properly woken up, the white-haired girl was sneaking glances at her and her elder sister, which carried a mix of emotions Archer couldn't quite identify. "I'm sure we'll be able to deal with Caster – or whatever Extra-Class the Animusphere Servant belongs to – just fine."

"Hopefully that will be the case," said Shirou. "I'm more afraid of the collateral damage, truth be told. The Animusphere Castle was completely ravaged by the battle that took place there; I'd rather not have the kind of devastation happen in Fuyuki."

There was a moment of silence as they all considered what the casualties would look like in that event, then Shirou turned to Euryale and Stheno :

"Unfortunately, until we've got a lead to pursue, we'll just have to be as careful as possible. While those of us who need to go to school today, I want the two of you to stay here and help Lancer if this place comes under attack while we're out."

"Oh ? So eager to get away from us, Master ?" said Stheno in a hurt tone of voice, before smiling and licking her lips. "Or are you afraid to do something you'll regret if you stay close to us ?"

As expected, Saber glared at her – joined by Rin, Illyasviel, the maids and even the two older Artorias.

"Stheno," Shirou asked with a frown. "Did the Grail not give you the knowledge of this era that would make it clear how inappropriately for your looking age you're acting, or are you just messing with me ?"

"What are you talking about ?" Stheno cocked her head to the side. "Surely there isn't that much difference between our apparent ages, Master."

"You and Illyasviel look to be the same age," said Rin, her voice clinical with an edge of frost, "between twelve and fourteen years old. Given that Emiya-kun is eighteen, I can confidently tell you that yes, your behaviour is inappropriate and would get him in trouble if you acted like that in public."

"I really wish you hadn't said that last part, Rin," deadpanned their Master as he took in their expressions, doubtlessly correctly anticipating the teasing the two of them were imagining they could get out of this. "And please answer my question."

"Actually, it's both," said Euryale. She didn't really want to tell them, but it was better for them to know this, surely. "I was the only one who received the knowledge of the era; Assassin didn't."

It hadn't taken long to find out, and they had kept it a secret from Darius, for no other reason than they hadn't liked him and he hadn't thought to ask.

"I see. That's probably because of your irregular summoning due to Ainsworth's parasitic nature," mused Shirou, "though he qualifying as a Master in the first place must have been due to the Grail's corruption in the first place. In any case," he continued, putting the conversation back on track and away from the uncomfortable topic, "we'll already have three Servants at school, so I would feel better if Illya was accompanied by the same number."

"I'm perfectly capable of protecting Illyasviel on my own, Shirou," protested Lancer.

"I don't doubt that," said the red-haired male with what Euryale felt was great diplomacy considering he had taken her Noble Phantasm to the chest to shield the other Servant's Master not three days ago. "Even so, I think it makes more tactical sense. I can always call Archer or Assassin to my side using a Command Seal if we need more numbers, but Illya cannot."

"So we can either stay here and relax, or accompany you to a building full of noisy humans for the entire day," Euryale summed up.

"I think we'll go with the first option, me," continued Stheno.

"Yes we will, me," finished Euryale.

Their Master blinked. "That's going to take some time getting used to," he murmured, shaking his head. "If you're okay with that, good."

"Don't worry, Medusa," said Euryale in a soft tone. "We'll still be here when you come back. I promise."

Her sister nodded hesitantly, before finally going into Spirit Form and departing alongside the three Master and Servant pairs. Once they were gone, one of the two homunculi maids addressed her Master's adopted sister :

"Ojou-sama, before breakfast Matou-san told us about something I think you should see."

"Call her Sakura, Sella," replied the white-haired girl. "You know she doesn't like being called by her family name."

"Very well, Ojou-sama."

The Emiya household wasn't what she had expected. It couldn't have been more different from the Ainsworth Castle, and despite her current surroundings being much less grand, she found she much preferred them.

Despite the growing number of people in the residence, there were still several empty rooms. The maid – Sella – brought Illyasviel to one of them, and, curious, Euryale and Stheno followed. Lancer accompanied her Master, of course : if the residence was attacked, the half-homunculus would be the most obvious target.

Sella brought them to one of the empty rooms, and opened the closet at the opposite side from the door, revealing piles of clothes that were obviously meant to be worn for grown women. Slowly, hesitantly, Illyasviel took one long white dress out, laying it down on the bed, gazing at it with a forlorn expression on her face.

"These … these are Mama's. I recognize them ..."

The half-homunculus' voice trailed off. Euryale and Stheno exchanged a glance and nodded.

"You know, these wouldn't fit any of us three." "True, me. But there's someone who's just big enough for that, isn't there ?"

The two of them turned to look at the other Servant in the room. Lancer didn't quite flinch back, but her eyes widened in alarm.

"What do you -" she began.

"How do you think she would look in something else than that stuffy suit ?" "I bet Master would enjoy it when he comes back."

"Now look here," said Lancer with the beginning of a blush on her cheeks. "We have more important things to -"

"Lancer ?" asked Illyasviel, looking at her Servant with hopeful eyes. Apparently, their attempts to distract her from the memories the sight of the clothes had dredged out had worked. "Could you …"

As the tall Servant weakly protested before meekly giving in to her Master's doe-eyed stare and starting to strip, Euryale and Stheno giggled at the comfortable familiarity of the scene.

"We'll need to have Medusa do this later too." "What a wonderful idea, me."

Returning to school after the events of the last evening felt more than a little surreal to Rin.

The four of them arrived at school together, with Rider and Berserker accompanying them in Spirit Form. By that point, none of them cared about the rumors this would inevitably fuel (Sakura and Saber were known to live with Shirou, but Rin certainly wasn't). Even Rin, who had spent a not inconsiderable amount of effort to keeping up her image as a model student, was looking forward to the day where keeping her peers from realizing she was sharing a boyfriend with her sister was her greatest concern.

As she sat at her desk and class started, knowing that Rider and Berserker were keeping watch in Spirit Form and that her and Shirou's Servants had Skills that would warn them of danger in advance (especially now that Assassin was on their side), Rin allowed herself to relax. The familiarity of her surroundings and the routine of school life felt like a balm on her spirit. Her self-control as a Magus had been greatly tested in the last few days, beginning with her initial breakdown when she'd thought the Grail War meant she would have to fight against Shirou and Sakura.

She didn't like to think about it. It had only lasted for a few seconds before Shirou had told her it wouldn't happen, but her mind had conjured all manners of horrible outcomes. Then, the reveal that Kirei, the man who had raised her after her father's death and her mother's mental crippling, was the one responsible for the former ... It had only shaken her further.

For now, though, she had the War to focus her energy on. On the surface, things were going well for them : they had secured the assistance of the Einzbern Master, slain one of the others, and claimed two more Servants to their side. But in truth, things were still very, very tense. For one thing, the remaining Servant was the one responsible for the destruction of one of the Association's most powerful lineages. Given the revelations of Illyasviel about the Third War, it was possible that Servant belonged to that mysterious Avenger Class, except far more obviously powerful than Angra Mainyu's incarnation had been.

Then, they would need to deal with the Greater Grail. Between her family's notes and Illyasviel's, they knew how to access the cavern where the core of the Heaven's Feel ritual machinery laid, but they had only the beginning of an idea as to how deal with it without the backlash wiping out the entire city. Lancer's Noble Phantasm, Rhongomyniad, was their best option at the moment : according to Shirou, the spear had been made to protect the World, and this most certainly qualified. If they could strike at the Greater Grail with that kind of overwhelming strength, they might be able to destroy it so thoroughly they could confide the destruction to the immediate surroundings. It was far from being a sure thing, though, which was why they would need more information before going down that route.

At the same time, Kirei was likely going to be a problem eventually, since their theory he was a thrall to its corruption was almost a certainty. For all that the fake priest couldn't hope to match a Servant in combat, Rin knew better than to underestimate how much of a threat he could pose. He hadn't survived serving for years as an Exorcist without developing sharp battlefield instincts.

Kirei had also managed to completely hide from her the fact that, according to Shirou, he was little more than a zombie propelled by the power of the Grail. She wondered how many signs she had missed over the years, attributing them to the man being just that creepy instead.

And then, of course, even if by some combination of miracles they managed to achieve their goals perfectly and without any collateral damage, there was the question of how they would handle the aftermath. The ley lines that made Fuyuki worthy of the Association's attention in the first place would be destroyed, either by the Grail's destruction or when the last gift of Shirou's father made itself known a few years down the line. Rin was certain to lose her position as Second Owner when that happened, but that would be the least of the problems the Clocktower could bring on them all.

What worried Rin the most, though, was Shirou's condition. When the redhead had drawn upon his power yesterday, she'd sensed the overflow of energy pour through her bond, but just like when he had fought Lancer in the park, it had been a lower amount than when they'd first established it. With his bond to his Servant, Shirou now had three distinct ways to release the pressure drawing on the Dark Angel's seemingly endless reserves of prana put on his Circuits.

A treacherous part of her consciousness, which sounded suspiciously like Sakura's, whispered to her that maybe the three of them together could help her boyfriend release another kind of 'pressure', but she ignored it.

She had more important things than her hormones to think about, because even with Saber to help share the overflow of prana, she had still felt the spike when Shirou had resisted the enemy Master's most powerful offensive spell.

It had only lasted for a few seconds, but they had all felt it. Even as they ran toward the abandoned house, they had sensed the echoes of Shirou's transformation progressing further than ever before, his existence becoming less human and more weighted in the eyes of the World so that not even the Ainsworth mastery of space Magecraft could affect him. For an instant, the influence of the Dark Angel on her boyfriend had swelled. According to Shirou himself, it had been like when he had destroyed Zouken and the shikome : for a brief moment, his actions had not quite been his own – his words and deeds had made sense to him at the time, but he didn't remember the thought process behind them afterwards.

It was no wonder the idiot had had a new vision this morning. They were fortunate his new Servants could use their skills to pull him out – just for that, Rin was willing to tolerate the pair of snobby, slothful, teasing sisters. Yet the fear refused to leave her mind.

The idea that one day he would go too far, that he wouldn't be able to emerge from that altered thought process, or worse, that he would completely change into the demon-worshipping warlock the Dark Angel had become in that alternate history … it scared her. Not because of the threat such a being would pose to the World, though she knew it probably ought to be her primary concern, but because she and Sakura would lose Shirou if it happened.

I ask you once more, Master, sent Rider, who had followed the way of her thoughts even as she kept watch on their surroundings. Are you afraid of him ?

No, she replied immediately, despite everything. I worry for him, even more now, but ... I am not afraid of him. She frowned. Why do you keep asking me that, anyway ?

That's, Rider paused, and Rin felt her hesitation through the link before she made a decision and pushed on : that's because I find it surprising, Master. As you know, my memories of my mortal life are incomplete and untrustworthy due to the Grail's meddling, but I'm still pretty certain most people were afraid of me and my Knights, even as they were glad of our protection.

Being fearful of their monarchs was pretty much a survival trait in the Middle Ages, sent Rin, who knew enough about History to know drawing the attention of the powerful had almost never been a good idea. Besides, ignorance breeds fear, and even if King Arthur was one of the better rulers of the era, your people were still mired in ignorance and superstition.

But you don't know what Shirou is for certain, pointed out Rider. You only have your theory about the Dark Angel coming from an alternate timeline thanks to the Second Magic.

True, the Tohsaka Head conceded. For all that it fit what they had observed, her theory was badly lacking in supporting evidence. But Shirou doesn't know either. He trusted me with information that would see him hunted by the Clocktower, and he did it without hesitation. It's hard to be afraid of someone like that.

Sure, the red-haired boy had kept the events of the previous Grail War and his father's vandalism of her territory secret, but those hadn't been his secrets : they had been his father's.

Your knights knew more about you than your people, the young Master continued. Were they afraid of you ?

... You really love him, Master.

I-I ... yes. Yes, I love him.

She felt Rider's amusement at her embarrassment at merely thinking the words.

You really are ... what's the word ? Ah, yes. A 'tsundere', isn't it ?

How do you even know that word ?! I refuse to believe it was in the knowledge the Grail gave you !

Rider chuckled in response. Sakura showed me some of her collection of romance novels to occupy myself during the night.

Of course she had. The room Sakura had in the Emiya residence served mostly to keep Fujimura-sensei from realizing she and Shirou slept together most of the time, but it also contained dozens of books Sakura had bought since being freed of the Matou – a not insignificant number of which Rin was almost certain her sister had used hypnotism to be able to purchase despite still being legally underage.

Your sister loves him too, continued Rider more seriously.

I know. She had known long before Shirou himself had realized it, blockhead that he was sometimes.

Aren't you jealous ? I admit my understanding of romance is limited, but it seems strange that you'd consent to being but one of your beloved's lovers.

I cannot be jealous of Sakura, Rider. I refuse to let myself be that petty. Sure, it might hurt my pride a bit, but pride has never brought my family anything good. I'm happy with Shirou, disregarding our current circumstances.

And she was, much to her own surprise. Shirou's public relationship with Sakura meant he and Rin couldn't exactly go out on dates, but Rin's interests ran in other directions anyway. She had spent many days, evenings and nights with him, discussing Magecraft and various subjects, as well as simply relaxing together. Sakura was almost always there as well, of course, but the three of them had just clicked together.

I don't know how to explain it. But this happiness is mine, and I won't let anyone destroy it.

That is a cause most worth fighting for, approved Rider. Also, on that note : I want to fight him.

What ? asked Rin, taken aback by the abrupt change of subject.

Shirou. I want to fight him. Yesterday's battle against the Dolls was interesting, but hardly challenging. And I'm the only Servant in our group who didn't get to fight another Servant since the Grail War started.

Right. She had forgotten that her Servant was a battle maniac. Given the portion of the memories of King Arthur she had inherited, Rin supposed it made sense. There was a problem with what she was saying, however :

… At the risk of stating the obvious, Shirou isn't a Servant, Rider.

You know what I mean, Master. He can fight on our level. I want to see how my skills measure up against his gifts.

I suppose he might accept to spar against you if we phrase it familiarizing with each other's abilities so that you can fight together more efficiently in the future. Saber might have something to say about it, though.

Good point. I'd love to fight her as well.

That's not what I meant, Rider, she sighed.

Before her Servant could respond, another voice cut through her mental communication – a calm, male, authoritative voice.

"Tohsaka. Are you paying attention to the lesson ?"

She blinked. Right. She was in History class. And she had completely blanked out her surroundings, so focused on her discussion with Rider had she been.

"Sorry, Kuzuki-sensei," she apologized.

"It is unlike you to be distracted," noted the thug-faced teacher. "Please be careful."

"Yes, Kuzuki-sensei. She could feel the gazes of the rest of the class, surprised that the model student she took great pains to look like at school was slipping like that.

Another day spent at school was, in Saber's opinion, a welcome respite from the excitement of the previous evening. Keeping up with classes was easy enough, and it gave her time to mull over her thoughts. Her introduction the previous day had drawn a lot of attention, of course, but even that was enjoyable after a fashion. It felt only right for the students to pay attention to her, after all.

When they came back home, Saber noticed with some distress than the fridge was already half empty, despite having been refilled two days ago. With eleven people now living at the Emiya residence and eating food, they had dug through their reserves fast. The Einzbern maids – who had taken over most of the chores at the Emiya residence, apart from the cooking, which Shirou and Sakura had firmly refused to completely give up on when they were in the house – had prepared lunch for those who had stayed home, and though the snake's sisters had a less healthy appetite than Saber and her alternates, they had still put a dent in their provisions.

"I think we're going to need a bigger fridge," declared her Master, looking mournfully at the empty shelves. "In the meantime, though, we're going to need to restock if we want to last the week. Running out of food is a complication we don't need, especially if things escalate and the city is put in lock-down."

"Can't you ask the Yakuza to bring more again ?" asked Illyasviel. Shirou shook his head.

"They're busy people, Illya. No, I'm going to go out myself this time. I'll be back in time for dinner, don't worry. Sakura, can you start the preparations without me ? There should still be enough ingredients for tonight."

"Of course, Senpai."

"I'm going with you, Master," said Saber, her tone brooking no discussion. He looked at her in puzzlement.

"Well, yes. I assumed that was obvious. There's still another Servant out there, after all. None of us should go out alone."

"Good." It seemed that he could be taught. "Then let's go."

"Have a nice date," called out Sakura with a teasing edge to her voice as they left.

They went south, toward the shopping district. Though the sun was already approaching the horizon, there were still more people out than they had encountered on patrol last night – although Saber could sense the tension still lingering in the air, even if none of the mundane people had any idea as to its source. The conversations were subdued, and there was an edge to the way everyone moved.

Shirou was clearly a frequent visitor, as most of the shopkeepers greeted him by name, with a few asking questions about her, which her Master answered with the backstory they had designed for school – though he didn't mention the bit about the contract between them Saber had added in at the last minute.

They bought several bags of foodstuffs, which Shirou insisted on carrying them all despite Saber's A-ranked Strength. On the way back, as they walked down an empty street illuminated by the sun's last rays and the light filtering out of the windows of the houses around them, Saber moved behind Shirou, sneaking her arms around his chest and stopping him in his tracks.

She pulled him close, resting her head against his back. This close, she could fell Avalon's power inside him, and the strong, regular beating of his heart.

"Saber," he said softly, "what's wrong ?"

"Last night," she said, "you left me behind. I am your Servant, and you are my Master. You shouldn't fight without me. Next time we go on patrol or into battle, Archer and Assassin can assist our allies, but I'll stay with you."

"From a tactical perspective," he began, but she didn't let him finish, tightening her grip and cutting him off.

"I know it may make more sense to combine their subtler skills with yours on mine more direct ones," she said. "But I don't care. You fought an enemy Master, and it was Berserker at your side, not me, even though she isn't even your Servant."

Fighting alongside her Master in the park had felt right. Like they were two pieces of the same whole, moving in unison. Their goal hadn't been to kill Lancer, but if it had, she didn't doubt for a moment that they would have achieved it.

She knew her Master was strong. That wasn't the point. If the Fourth Grail War had taught her anything, it was that even the strong could be brought low by cunning and treachery, which the Ainsworth Master had possessed in spades.

"I couldn't stop Berserker, nor abandon her."

"Then you should have summoned me by your side immediately after she went off !" she hissed.

"I didn't know if Rin and Sakura were going to be attacked again," he argued. "I didn't want to take one of their defenders away."

"Archer almost killed you the first time you faced her," she murmured into his back. "You only survived that because me and Lancer were here. Say what you want about using a Command Seal to bring me to your side, but would you even have been able to do so if she had struck you again ?"

He remained silent. In truth, he didn't know the answer to that, and neither did Saber. Perhaps he could have done so : perhaps his inhuman resilience would have let him call her to his side in time.

Or perhaps he would have died, and that was a thought Saber refused to let become real.

"I promised you I wouldn't die, Saber," he said softly. "I meant it. Archer didn't hurt me again, did she ?"

"Even with that promise, you'll put the safety of others above your own. I understand that's the kind of man you are, Master."

She released her hold on him, letting him turn so that she could look him in the eye :

"But I'll make sure you're safe, even from yourself. Do you understand ?"

He nodded in silence.

"Good," she said. "Now let's go home, I'm hungry."

By the time they made it back home, the sun had already set, and Saber could tell from the fragrant scent wafting from the kitchen that dinner was almost ready. However, just as they crossed the threshold, they were attacked by a violent tiger :

"SHIROU ! Come here ! You have some explaining to do, young man !"

Saber blinked in bemusement as Taiga Fujimura put her Master in a headlock and dragged him into the living room. Shaking her head at the antics of the pair, she picked up the bags Shirou had put down – sacrificing the chance to dodge his guardian to make sure nothing in them was broken – and brought them to the kitchen, where Sakura was putting the finishing touches on dinner. Illyasviel and Lancer were already sat down, alongside Rin, while the maids were standing up behind their mistress.

All of them were watching with a mix of surprise, shock, and amusement.

"W-what is it, Fuji-nee ?!"

"Don't you 'Fuji-nee' me, mister ! I knew Miranda-chan was living with you, so I came to tease – to make sure that you were treating her like a gentleman should, and what do I find ? Not only did you take her out on a date, you also have four more women in your home ! And you invited Tohsaka-san to dinner as well ? When were you going to mention this to me, huh, you playboy ?!"

Saber blinked. Had they … Oh dear. That was right, wasn't it ? They had completely forgotten to inform the teacher of that detail in the two days since Illyasviel had joined their alliance. Through her link with her Master, she could feel that he too had completely forgotten to do so, so preoccupied had he been with all the other things that had happened.

Well, at least, the snake and her sisters were out of sight in Spirit Form, as was her Rider self. Berserker's blindfold and Rider's horns would have been difficult to explain, and even Saber shivered at the thought of what Archer and Assassin would've gotten up to in Taiga's presence to embarrass her Master.

"We weren't on a date, we were buying food !" Shirou protested, but Taiga didn't pay any attention to it.

"I am your guardian !" The supposedly adult woman bemoaned. "Why did I have to learn that Kiritsugu's daughter had come from Kamido ?! Where did I go wrong ?"

"That's … well, alright, I'm sorry about that. I should've told you. But Illya's arrival was unexpected, and it surprised me a lot too."

The woman's expression softened a fraction. "Well, I guess it was a shock to learn you had a sister … But still !" She wagged a finger in front of his face. "Don't try to hide anything else from me, alright ?"

"Ahaha," Shirou laughed weakly, clearly thinking of the many, many things he was still keeping secret from her. "Yes, Fuji-nee …"

"Shouldn't she be asking about Rin's presence here too ?" whispered Saber to Sakura while to two of them watched the show.

"Nee-san put a light hypnotism on her long ago to keep her from noticing anything abnormal about her staying here unless we're blatant about it," whispered back the young girl.

Eventually, Shirou managed to break free of Taiga's grip and everyone sat down as the food was brought to the table. Sakura had cooked something relatively simple – rice and chicken curry, in a quantity more than sufficient for those present. Taiga sat next to Illyasviel, and lost no time in engaging her in conversation :

"So, you're Kiritsugu's daughter … If your mother looked anything like you, I can see how even that old man couldn't resist her. Still, I can't believe he never told me he was married !"

"Mama was already dead when he adopted Shirou and settled in Fuyuki," Illyasviel explained. "I was … I was with her side of the family at the time, and they refused to let him see me. They blamed him for her death, and since they have a lot of influence in Germany, there was nothing Kiritsugu could do."

She nodded at Lancer, who was sitting next to her, wearing what Saber recognized as one of Irisviel's dresses – and, she noticed with a spike of irritation, filling it out nicely.

"Amelia helped me escape and brought me here to meet my brother, and learn the truth of what happened."

Ah, yes. Showing a truly abysmal lack of imagination, the Einzbern had used the name 'Amelia Watson' for the pseudonym on Lancer's passport, nevermind the fact that it was almost identical to the name of 'Emily Watson' they had used for her ten years ago.

Taiga turned her gaze on Lancer, looking her up and down.

"So you're Miranda-chan's … sister ? Aunt ? Surely not her mom, right ? You look so young !"

Lancer chuckled. "We are cousins," she explained. "I actually wasn't expecting to meet Miranda here, but I'm grateful our work brought us together."

The two continued their discussion for a few moments, before Taiga turned back to Illyasviel and began regaling her with stories about Kiritsugu that Saber found just as fascinating as the young girl, so out of character to the cold-blooded man she had known in the Fourth War did they seem.

As she ate, Saber didn't fail to notice the portions her Master discreetly put aside for the four Servants who couldn't join them. She was glad not to be connected to Rider and Berserker any longer, as she doubted any of them were pleased to be forced to wait until Taiga was gone to join them. Archer and Assassin were already complaining to Shirou about it.

We will figure a way to explain your presence to her, Shirou promised his other Servants. She took me by surprise tonight, that's all.

This, at last, seemed to placate the sisters, and they stopped their babbling. Saber focused on her own meal, savouring Sakura's excellent cooking, while a part of her mind wondered how she could push her Master to tighten their bonds further during the night. After the subtext of their earlier conversation had failed to penetrate his thick skull, she felt that she needed to make her interest in him unambiguous.

She would need to talk to Sakura in private; her help would be invaluable in that pursuit, and of course she couldn't exactly couple with her boyfriend in front of her without her permission, much as a possessive part of her found the idea appealing. Given how Lancer had reacted at the mere idea of kissing Shirou, she suspected that part of her was related to her draconic nature, which had risen to the fore in order to combat the Grail's corruption.

But she didn't want to hurt the other girl, and it was clear that Sakura had no issue in sharing Shirou's attentions with other women.

Kirei watched the ritual unfolding before him with unfeigned interest. It had been ten years, after all, since he had last witnessed the miracles of the Gods with his own eyes, and he remained a man of the cloth, even if his faith now rested in a very different – and far more powerful and real – pantheon.

Ritual circles had been drawn in blood at the points of an eightfold star. Within each circle laid one of the captives they had seized from the streets of Fuyuki since Caster's arrival, their limbs spread out, wrists and ankles bound to stakes set at precise intervals. They had been gagged as well, but the sounds of their distress still echoed around them.

Kirei had offered to render them unconscious while the apostle of the Gods worked, but Caster had rejected him, before expanding at length him about how their dread in anticipation of whatever fate their pitiful minds could imagine would make them better sacrifices for what was to come. He had made sure to speak in English, the language most of their captives would understand, and loudly enough that they had all heard him.

Kirei could only admire such attention to the little details.

The eight men would not be missed. They were criminals from a handful of nationalities, whose viciousness had seen them exiled from their own organizations. Such individuals rarely lived long, as both sides of the law sought their death, but these eight had unknowingly heeded the call of the Grail, which had whispered in the darkness of their souls and brought them to Fuyuki so that they might serve it. They had travelled to Japan, constructing their own reasons to do so, and crossed the border illegally before making their way to the city.

Caster's minions had found and captured them, before bringing them here, in the depths beneath the city. When Kirei had spoken with Caster, he had mentioned the Workshop his predecessor in the Fourth War had built in the sewers of Fuyuki, and the King of Mages had been very interested. There were other locations that might have served, but even with four Grail Wars having left their mark on the city, none were as suited for their purposes as this one, where Gilles de Rais had perpetrated horrors such as the World had rarely seen.

Gilgamesh, of course, hadn't accompanied them. The King of Heroes had changed much under the influence of the Grail, but he would never set foot in sewers. He had stayed in the church, drinking the last of Kirei's wine. Though Kirei doubted he was still there : the King of Heroes had taken to random walks throughout the city recently, savouring the growing power of the Grail across the land.

"As I told you before, Kirei, not all humans can serve for what I'll do tonight," explained Caster, putting the last touches to the ritual circles.

"I admit that I thought you required the bodies of Magi at first," confessed Kirei.

"They certainly make for most suitable vessels," allowed Caster. "But thankfully, that isn't a requirement. No, what is needed for the binding to properly take root is an affinity with the Primordial Truth. In the case of Magi, their Circuits mean that this can be bypassed, as they serve as a direct path to their soul that can be forced open with the appropriate knowledge and power, both of which I possess in ample measure."

Having seen what the Caster of the previous Grail War had been capable of given time to prepare, and considering the fact that Gilles de Rais' legend was nothing compared to that of Solomon, Kirei could easily believe that.

"That is why we didn't just take people from the streets that wouldn't be missed," Caster continued. "These people, however, were called here by the voices of the Gods, marked by the Four as worthy receptacle of their power."

It was all fascinating to Kirei. Every snippet of revelation was yet more proof that the Primordial Truth of Chaos Undivided, as Caster had told him it was formally called by some of its followers, was indeed what he had been blindly searching for all his life, until the blessed and cursed day when he had died and been reborn.

"Of course," the Servant went on, "even then they wouldn't accept to play their part in our plan willingly. For all that their nature is closer to the true face of Humanity than most on this benighted planet, they are still blind and ignorant. Fortunately, their consent isn't required. In fact," he switched to Japanese there, "the more they struggle, the better this will work."

Caster began to chant in a language Kirei recognized from the Grail's whispers, even if he didn't understand the words. As the chant progressed, the beating of his dark heart grew louder and louder.

The priest watched in rapture as the sacrifices became vessels for the entities Caster had called from the beyond. Flesh warped, bones cracked, and screams of agony finally echoed in the underground chamber as mouths contorted around their gags, before abruptly falling silent.

With a snap of Caster's fingers, the bonds of the newly created Demon Pillars came loose, and they rose to their feet, unsteady at first as they came to terms with their new bodies. The air around them shimmered, reality itself buckling at their presence. They were hideous things, yet possessed of a dark and monstrous majesty. Each of them was a declaration of sanity's end, the incarnation of terrible things and the promise of yet more to come.

"Magnificent," whispered Kirei in awe.

"Oh, Kirei," said Solomon, amused. "This is only the beginning."

Omake : Pale and Purple Flowers

After dinner, Saber managed to corner Sakura alone.

"I need your help," she said to the other Master bluntly. Then she told her what she wanted to do.

As Saber had thought, Sakura was neither surprised nor outraged by what she said.

"You are right that you'll need to be very clear, or Senpai won't make a move, just in case he's misreading the situation. He can be remarkably dense about these things."

She looked the Servant up and down, frowning.

"None of my or Nee-san's lingery will fit you, and we don't have time to go out and buy some ... Wait. You changed your armor into that dress, didn't you ? Can you make other adjustements, or is it limited to two forms ?"

Saber focused, sending her will through the Mystic Code the Einzbern had made for her to wear in the Fourth Grail War and which had become attached to her essence after being caught in the Grail. Back then, she could shift it between her armor and the suit she had worn while pausing at Irisviel's bodyguard, but now, like her, it had changed.

"I think I can," she said hesitantly.

"Good," nodded Sakura. "Now let's get you into something more suitable for what we've in mind."

It took some embarrassing trial and error, which fortunately no one but Sakura witnessed, but eventually she got the hang of it. Under Sakura's direction, Saber shortened her black dress, which had reached to her feet, into a skirt that didn't even reach her knees. She removed the sections of clothes that had covered her shoulders, and turned the fabric into long gloves that reached past her elbows.

Sakura grinned as she looked over the final results, and even Saber made a small smile as she saw her reflection in the full-length mirror of the dressing room.

"This will work," declared Sakura confidently. "Senpai won't know what hit him."

And indeed, when Saber and Sakura first joined him, he didn't. But, to his credit, he was a fast learner, and the sound-proof wards Sakura had quickly cast around the bedroom when they had entered were soon put to the test.

Chapter Text

November 24th, 2004 AD – London, Clocktower

There were several places where the Lords of the Clocktower could gather to discuss matters reserved for those of their exalted rank – or, in Waver's case, those who had managed to stumble into the position through no merit of their own. Some of them took days of travel and spiritual preparation to reach, but fortunately, this time they had all agreed to use the council chamber within the Clocktower itself. Its security was just as good as any of the other options, but its location meant that everyone who mattered would know that the Lords were meeting. On his way to the antechamber reserved for him, Waver had heard at least a dozen rumors as to the subject of their discussion, though at least Bazett and Gray had kept anyone from asking him questions.

Despite his reputation as a dissector of Mysteries, Waver remained the most approachable of the Lords, which really was quite the indictment of the group when you thought about it.

Four days had passed since his visit to the ruins of the Animusphere Castle, five since the summoning ritual had taken place there. Waver had just gotten off a phone call with Shirou Emiya informing him of the events unfolding in Fuyuki when the call for the meeting had reached him – another snub thrown his way by the Clocktower's bureaucracy, as he didn't doubt for a moment the other Lords had been warned much more in advance.

He looked around at the well-furnished antechamber, desperate for anything to get his mind off the coming meeting. There was one such room for every Lord, accessible only using a key that would kill anyone else carrying it, and a crest above the door leading to the meeting room would glow when everyone had arrived. Gray and Bazett stood next to the entrance while he paced; they could follow him this far, but they wouldn't be able to accompany him into the meeting room itself. Even Reines couldn't come in, despite the fact Waver was just holding the seat of Lord until she came of age.

There was a painting hanging from one of the side walls of the antechamber. It showed a man in his fifties, with a dignified beard and mane of grey hair, wearing a black costume and cape. The style of dress was anachronistic in the extreme, but then again, given the identity of the subject, it could very well have been something he would have worn despite that style of clothing not being invented for centuries.

The painting showed the man standing tall on an open plain, with a moonless night sky in the background. He held in his hands a sword that looked like a jewel, point resting on the ground. The artistry of the painting gave the impression that he was staring back at the viewer, judging their worthiness but withholding any conclusion he might come to.

For all that he felt like a fraud every time he saw it, Waver quite liked the painting.

"Teacher," asked Gray, "who is that ?"

"You don't recognize him ?" replied Waver, surprised. Bazett looked equally taken aback. "His portraits are a frequent sight across the Clocktower."

"I've seen him before," the silver-haired girl admitted, "but I still don't know who that is."

"I feel ashamed as your instructor," muttered Waver. "Then again, I guess I just assumed everyone in the Moonlit World knew about him … Very well. We might as well use the time before my esteemed colleagues arrive for an impromptu lesson."

"This," he began, "is Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg. Wizard-Marshall of the Association, wielder of the Second Magic, and savior of the World."

"Centuries ago, the being we know only as Brunestud, the Crimson Moon, descended upon the Earth. Its intentions were benevolent : having witnessed the many plights and suffering of Humanity, it sought to help us achieve our true potential. To that end, it selected those it found most worthy of its gift, appearing before them and making them its Apostles."

"So Brunestud was an alien ?"

"I don't know for certain. it came from the Moon, and you know we don't talk about the Moon."

Gray nodded, having been taught that much long before she had become his apprentice, at least. There were subjects you didn't talk about, didn't even think about if you could help it. To do otherwise was to court the same kind of madness that plagued the practitioners of Astrology.

"Brunestud chose the wisest and kindest of men and women for this, as well as a few Magi who weren't quite as awful as most of our kind. This was before the foundation of the Association, of course : back then, Magecraft was practiced by scattered lineages all across the World, with little interaction with each other."

"These Apostles were granted immortality, that they might help guide and protect Humanity as well as safeguard its accumulated wisdom across the ages. To facilitate that task, the Crimson Moon also gifted them with the ability to absorb knowledge through blood. They didn't need it for nourishment, for they were sustained by Brunestud's own power."

Gray was standing very still. She could already see where this was going : ignorant of ancient history she might be, but she knew the monsters of the World like few others.

"According to what few records survive, for a time there was peace, with the Apostles doing exactly as Brunestud had intended." For a moment, Waver imagined what it must have been like. Then he sighed. "But then, one by one, they went mad. No one knows why for certain, though there are plenty of theories."

"The Apostles were consumed by a terrible Thirst for human blood. They resisted it for months, even years, but eventually all succumbed to it, and turned on the communities that had gathered around them. Thousands perished, but those who were drained of blood by these first Apostles did not rest in peace. Instead they rose again, possessed of a distorted echo of the gift Brunestud had bestowed upon its chosen Apostles. They were the first of what we call Dead Apostles : a plague upon the World, their very souls twisted by the all-consuming Thirst."

"And so began a war between the Dead Apostles and the entire world, though calling it a war might be an exaggeration. The Dead Apostles were so consumed by the Thirst that they paid little heed to tactics and strategy. It was more like a zombie apocalypse, except the Dead Apostles were far stronger than the undead depicted in most modern fiction. The only reason Humanity wasn't wiped out in the first few months is that even then, the Dead Apostles couldn't bear sunlight and were forced to hide during the day."

"Even then, entire nations were brought to ruin. Meanwhile, Brunestud searched for a way to save its children, but found nothing. In the end," Waver gestured to the statue, "salvation came from a Magus who, amidst the madness of the war, managed to reach the Root and returned with knowledge of the Second Magic."

"The Second Magic is the operation of parallel worlds. With it, Zelretch could access information from timelines that could have been, and which are recorded in the memory of the World itself. Using it, he devised many spells that could be used against the undead hordes, but that wasn't all. The Second Magic also allowed him to channel far more prana than a normal Magus could, making him a terror on the battlefield. He gathered the Magecraft Users of the entire world, laying the foundation for what would become the Association generations later, and led them to purge the Dead Apostles, one nest at a time. The old accords that bind us to the Church also harken back to that time, when the entire Moonlit World fought as one – or as close to it as it would ever get."

"And they won ?" asked Gray in a small voice.

"Well, given that we are all alive to talk about it instead of the planet being a barren wasteland, obviously they did," Waver joked, before schooling his expression. "But victory didn't come without its own pitfalls. Eventually, the roaming hordes of Dead Apostles were annihilated, though of course not every undead was destroyed. A few escaped, and their curse continues to blight the world to this day, despite the best efforts of many monster hunting organizations, be they from the Association or the Church."

Thousands of lives had been lost to the depredations of the Dead Apostles over the centuries. It was a vicious cycle, not unlike those of an incurable disease : those infected would hide while some of their sanity remained, preying on isolated people to satiate their Thirst and futilely clinging to their humanity, until they succumbed to madness and went on a rampage that would inevitably see them destroyed one way or another, but which created a lot more infected, some of which may slip through the net and repeat the whole process all over again.

And then of course, there were the Magi who tried to use the curse in order to gain immortality, willing to become blood-drinking undead abominations if it meant they had more time to pursue the Root. Every few decades, a new moron got it in his head that he would be the one to succeed where everyone else had failed and died in agony, and every few decades, the Enforcers had to clean up the mess when yet another Magus went mad, his precautions and alterations brought to naught in the face of the Thirst. These tended to be the most dangerous Dead Apostles, at least for the few months where they retained enough presence of mind to make use of their Mysteries before that, too, was lost, along with the Magus' Magical Circuits and Crest. Attempts had been made in the past to recover the Crests of such converted. As a Lord, Waver had access to the records of how that had gone, and he had suffered from fresh nightmares for a week after.

As he had told Gray, there were plenty of theories as to what had gone wrong in Brunestud's creations, along with equally disturbing theories as to what a Dead Apostle could become capable of if it existed long enough in its cursed state. Mercifully, no vampire had managed to exist for more than a few years, a decade at best, since that first, apocalyptic conflict. The madness of the Thirst consumed all reason sooner or later, turning even the cleverest of schemers into a rabid beast.

Better not to inflict that particular knowledge on his apprentice and keep to ancient history for now, Waver decided. It was more than disturbing enough already.

"By that time," he continued, "Brunestud had managed to capture and gather them all into one place, where it was still attempting to free them of the Thirst. No one was willing to let it try, however, especially since it had already been doing that for years and nothing had come from it. Zelretch attacked the stronghold and killed the Apostles in person, but unfortunately, doing so drove Brunestud itself mad. The Crimson Moon had been in deep communion with its children, and their madness and corruption flowed up the connection and infected it with the Thirst."

"Brunestud attempted to descend upon the Earth to devour everything upon it, and Zelretch fought to stop it. The details are obviously vague, due to the fact there were no survivors and it involved a Sorcerer, but it ended in a mutual kill – kind of. The Crimson Moon was destroyed, but Zelretch was forced to use his True Magic to wield the power of the World itself against it. His essence was shattered into fragments that were then scattered across the ley lines."

"From time to time, one of these Reflections manage to get a physical form and will interact with someone – most of the time a Magecraft User, but not always. These Reflections of the Kaleidoscope, as Zelretch was known, are regarded with the highest respect by those in the Moonlit World, and though they are but a shadow of the Wizard-Marshall of old, they are still powerful and knowledgeable in their own right."

Waver smiled bitterly. "They also tend to not have the kindest of views on some of the Association's less morale practices, which is why despite honoring him with paintings like this one, many of the Bounded Fields around the Clocktower, for instance, just happen to interfere with the ley lines, which might prevent a Reflection from manifesting within its grounds. Of course, if you ask anyone, they'll tell you it's for security purposes."

"Have you ever met one, Lord El-Melloi II ?" asked Bazett.

"No," he shook his head. "It is a very rare occurrence for a Reflection to manifest, and it draws a lot of attention when it happens. Come to think of it, he added, I remember that the whole Tohsaka lineage in Fuyuki really took off after their founder met with one of them in a bar of all places -"

He was interrupted when the sigil above the council gate flared into life, indicating that each of the Lords of the Clocktower was ready.

"Well, here I go," he said miserably, standing up. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck, Teacher !" said Gray with a smile far too honest to belong in this place.

"Try not to get killed," said Bazett, only half-joking. It had been a long time since a Lord of the Clocktower had been killed in the middle of such a meeting, but it wasn't unheard of.

Truly, he thought, to be a Magus was to walk with Death.

It was, mused Lorelei Barthomelloi, quite the strange gathering of Lords. There were twelve Departments of the Clocktower that ought to be represented at such a convocation, but there were only eleven seats around the table, and one of them was empty.

They sat around an oversized round table of black wood, carved from the trunk of a tree whose species only existed in the Reverse Side of the World. Powerful enchantments were carved into its surface in elegant patterns, adding another layer of security to the anti-scrying Bounded Fields already in place around the chamber. The origins of the artefact were lost to time, though Barthomelloi suspected it had once belonged to Morgan Le Fay, who had planned her campaigns against King Arthur around it with her generals.

The seats of the Lords were equally ornate, though nowhere near as ancient. By custom, a seat was destroyed when the incumbent Lord died or was otherwise removed from office, and a new one brought in by their replacement upon their ascension.

"As acting Vice-Director of the Clocktower, I call this meeting of the Lords to order," she declared, and in a display of power that dwarfed many Mysteries, the assembled worthies of the Association fell silent. "Our purpose today is to discuss the events of the Animusphere Castle, their consequences, and what the reaction of the Clocktower to both ought to be."

"I trust that you have all read the report compiled by my Department," she continued. In fact, most of them had probably read it before she had officially sent it to them : despite her best efforts to root out corruption in her staff, the sheer size of the bureaucracy involved in Policies' work made such a task impossible. "But just in case, I will summarize the results of the investigations."

She briefly went over the dates of the gathering Marisbury had called, and the timeline of events they believed had then occurred.

"We believe a Servant was responsible for the destruction of the Animusphere Castle and the death of those present," she concluded. "Our prevalent theory is that the Servant managed to kill Marisbury before he could control them using his Command Seals, and took the corpses missing to use them in some Necromantic Mystery. It is also possible, though considered unlikely, that Marisbury was an accomplice in his Servant's actions, or even their instigator."

"Which brings us to our first point of discussion." Her gaze swept over the other nine Lords before falling upon the empty seat opposite her, where Marisbury had sat when they had last gathered in this room. "What do we do about the chair of the Department of Astrology ?"

"We'll need to appoint someone swiftly, that's for sure. And managing that particular Department is a full-time job, so it cannot be one of us," said Meluastea, showing a remarkable lack of shame about the fact that he himself led two Departments.

Unfortunately, he was correct, so no one called him out on it.

"Marisbury's daughter is the rightful heir and obvious candidate if we go by protocol," said El-Melloi, whose seat was the least richly decorated in the room, but which still bore enchantments she hadn't identified – the fruit of the mongrel research his students performed, no doubt. "She bears the Crest of the Animusphere already. I have met with her, and she is a capable wielder of her family's Mysteries despite her young age."

Of course, Barthomelloi had known about this already. Her agents – she refused to think of her so demeaning as spies, for such was below the dignity of the Barthomelloi – had told her that the Lord El-Melloi II had met with the child almost as soon as he had come back from her ruined home. They didn't know how that conversation had gone, but Olga Marie Asmleit Animusphere had submitted the paperwork to become a student in the El-Melloi classroom, so obviously whatever agenda the newest Lord was pursuing advanced apace.

Not that this was surprising, or unexpected. If it had been the Head of any other Department who had died, the jockeying for position in order to put one of their own Faction members in charge would have already begun, and there would already be a few bodies down by now. When El-Melloi's predecessor had managed to get himself killed in the previous Grail War ten years ago, Meluastea hadn't wasted any time to cement his control over the Department of Mineralogy the dead Lord had presided over, for instance. It was also highly unlikely that every Lord would bother to attend in person : most would have sent proxies in their stead, as they did for the vast majority of these meetings.

But this was the Department of Astrology, and that made things more complicated. For all the prestige, power, influence and wealth the Department possessed, it also had a long history of its members going insane (which was why few Lords had been surprised when they had heard the news about Animusphere Castle). The fact that the Animusphere Castle had also been destroyed, along with so many prominent Magi of the Department, also played a role in ensuring that every surviving Lord had attended in person, a rare occurrence if ever there was one.

"She's young, however," continued the man who had joined the ranks of the Lords last, if only by a few months given Barthomelloi's comparative youth, "and lacks experience. While I've no doubt she'll make a fine Head of the Animusphere family eventually, dumping the Department of Astrology on her shoulders right now isn't just cruel, it's also stupid. She herself agrees with this, though she fully intends to reclaim the seat at some point."

"Well, at least the girl has ambition. This leaves us with quite the quandary, however, since most of the obvious candidates were at the Animusphere Castle," pointed out Rufleus Nuada-Re Eulyphis, the Lord of the Department of Spiritual Evocation. The wizened Magus was scowling : either by temperament or because of his advanced age, he didn't like unexpected surprises, and this whole situation definitely qualified. "The Astrology Department has been crippled for at least one generation."

"Even if Marisbury survived and returns from the Grail War, his involvement in this debacle is more than enough to strip him of his position," said Barthomelloi. "Therefore, I suggest we formally declare the position vacant, and wait for a suitable candidate to present themselves." She frowned. "Also, I feel I should remind everyone at this table not to get too involved in the competition. We do not want the Magi of that Department to go to open war with each other again."

She smiled, knowing from experience the expression tended to make people around her nervous.

"None of us want a repeat of the 1908 incident."

Keeping the mundanes from realizing something had happened had been impossible. According to the records of that era she had read, it had been a challenge to even prevent them from realizing a research facility of the Astrology Department had stood at the center of the crater that had been left behind. Thankfully that region of Russia had been scarcely populated.

If the same thing happened today, in this era of nuclear weapons, it could all too easily end up burning the entire world in atomic fire.

One by one, each of the Lords signified their agreement, and that particular matter was concluded.

"Now that we are in agreement, there is another point I want to raise, related to the events of the Animusphere Castle," she declared. "It does not affect the matter of succession, but it is relevant to the topic at hand. You are all aware, of course, of the Fifth Holy Grail War taking place in Japan at this time. It was to participate in it that the former Lord Animusphere performed the disastrous summoning in the first place."

"If a Servant has gone rogue, then we need to make sure they don't endanger the secrecy of Magecraft," said Jigmarie, Lord of the Department of Curses. "If I recall correctly, the Grail summons only Heroic Spirits with a wish they seek to have granted, in order to make sure they participate in the War, right ? Combined with the missing Animusphere plane, it's quite clear the one responsible has gone to the Far East, to … what was that place called again ?"

"Fuyuki," answered El-Melloi, who was the one with the most experience in the matter. "And yes, this is where Policies' investigators and myself both believe the culprit left to. They could have gone somewhere else, of course, but that is our only lead."

"Has there been any word from the Church Overseer ?" Rufleus asked.

"None," answered Barthomelloi. Which, truthfully, was just as worrying as the opposite.

"We should still deploy our people in the area," said Jigmarie. "Keeping things under wraps last time was difficult enough, it's best if we have boots on the ground in advance so we aren't caught by surprise if things go wrong again this time."

"Agreed. I can prepare a few teams of Enforcers specialized in memory and record manipulation -"

"Lady Barthomelloi," El-Melloi cut in, "I must respectfully advise against this course of action."

Complete, stunned silence descended upon the gathered Lords. Barthomelloi herself was taken completely by surprise. No one interrupted her. Ever. She was the Head of the Barthomelloi family, one of the Clocktower's three most influential lineages and the leader of the Aristocratic Faction.

She wasn't the kind of idiot and arrogant noble who punished people for disagreeing with her, but interrupting her mid-sentence was another thing entirely.

"Explain yourself, Lord El-Melloi II," she said coldly. He nodded, taking her tone in stride without seeming the least bit intimidated.

"Following my investigation at the Animusphere Castle, I called my contacts in Fuyuki to learn if anything amiss had happened there as well."

"And who are these mysterious contacts of yours ?" she asked.

"Masters in the current Grail War, each of whom having already summoned their own Servants," answered El-Melloi. "To be more precise, as of today, they are an alliance of four Masters, including all three representatives of the families who created the ritual in the first place."

"You said four Masters, but three families," Barthomelloi pointed out. "Who is the fourth ?"

"That isn't relevant to our discussion," he answered with a face that might as well have been carved from stone for all the emotion it betrayed. "They have uncovered irregularities in the Grail War, and have put the competition on hold while they investigate."

"What do you mean, 'irregularities' ?" challenged Jigmarie.

"The Servants they have summoned, while not hostile like the one we believe was called at the Animusphere Castle, shouldn't have been summonable by the rules of the Grail War in the first place. Then, of course, there's the fact that this war started much earlier than it should have. They think the Grail was cursed starting from the Fourth War, due to an irregular summoning that took place during the Third. Obviously, I was sceptical of their claims at first, but what happened at the Animusphere Castle, as well as other anomalies in the summonings they have performed themselves, have convinced me that they are telling the truth."

"The possibility of the Grail War exposing Magecraft to the world still exists, of course," conceded El-Melloi. "If anything, the Grail's potential corruption makes the situation even more perilous. But that is precisely why we shouldn't rush in."

He paused, looking each of the Lords briefly in the eye before locking gazes with Barthomelloi. The two were sat next to one another, but the sheer size of the table meant that the Lord of the Department of Modern Magecraft barely had to move his neck to complete the motion.

"I do not mean this as an insult to the Enforcers or your family's employees, Lady Barthomelloi. It is simply the truth. Servants have access to powers that are lost to us," he explained, telling her the obvious as if she were a student sat in his classroom. "The Heaven's Feel ritual calls upon the Greater Mysteries of the World to counteract the diminution of Mystics that has continued since the end of the Age of the Gods, giving the Servants full access to the abilities they possessed in life, as well as new ones based on the strength of their legend."

"If you sent, said, fifty Enforcers against one Servant, I would still bet on the Servant, though they might have some difficulties depending on their Class," he said bluntly, his gaze sweeping the gathered Lords. "To my knowledge, none of you have seen a Servant fight before, but you have read the report on the desolation visited upon the Animusphere Castle. Right now, there are seven beings capable of such destruction in Fuyuki. Tossing people between them is just throwing them to their deaths for no gain."

"I don't think," began Jigmarie, before suddenly falling silent. Slowly, his head turned to look behind his seat, and only then did Barthomelloi realize that someone else had joined the meeting.

One moment, there had been nothing behind the other Lord. Now, a hooded figure stood there, their features cast in shadow even her Magecraft-enhanced eyes couldn't penetrate.

Breaking into this chamber was supposed to be impossible, but then this individual wouldn't have needed to. They were perfectly within their rights to be here, even if they didn't have a seat of their own at the table.

"Lord Brishan," Barthomelloi greeted the new arrival, once the attack spell she had been about to unleash was properly dissipated and she felt she could trust her own voice. "This is unexpected."

"The Department of Folklore has been contacted by our allies in the East," said the shadowy figure, without preamble or greeting. Their voice was shrouded by Magecraft, making it impossible to determine anything about the speaker while remaining perfectly clear. "The covenant with the Pillars of the East was forged long ago, under the auspices of the Wizard-Marshall and the Director. It shall not be broken. Interference in the Heaven's Feel shall be strictly restricted, lest the World be endangered by the ambitions of fallible instruments."

Silence. Complete, absolute silence, as the Lords absorbed the words of the Thirteenth of their number, whose existence only they knew and whose very Department was barely more than a rumour in the rest of the Moonlit World.

"The Clocktower will follow Lord El-Melloi II's proposed course of action," Brishan continued, "with one amendment, for even his contacts in the East do not yet comprehend the true scope of the defilement that has taken place and the threat born from it. Agents of the Department of Folklore are already on their way to Japan. They will coordinate with our allies to ensure the situation is confined to Fuyuki in the worst case scenario."

And just like that, the Lord of the Department of Folklore was gone, vanishing without a trace or any motion of mana Barthomelloi could detect. The silence stretched on and on. Even Barthomelloi remained silent for a moment, thinking hard on everything she knew about Brishan and the Department they headed – and, to the best of her knowledge, always had. It wasn't much.

It was Policies' job to enforce the laws of the Association : the Designation Seals, the forbidden areas of research, the collect and distribution of the funds related to the patents for various branches of Magecraft, and the secrecy of Magecraft. The Enforcers fell under their purview as well, being the armed arm of the Clocktower. Even the hunts for Dead Apostles, which were performed in cooperation with the other factions of the Moonlit World, were something they were responsible for, all so that the other Departments could focus on the research that was theoretically the sole purpose of the organization in the first place. All of this was public knowledge in the Clocktower, though of course the Department had its own secrets and hidden branches, since they also had to deal with the politics of the Clocktower.

The Department of Folklore, on the other hand … If she were asked to summarize what she knew of them, she would say that they enforced the laws that were not public knowledge, because merely knowing their existence was dangerous. The fact imbeciles continued trying to use the curse of vampirism to gain immortality despite the obvious drawbacks was proof that some things were definitely better off kept secret, and it was those things the Department dealt with.

She'd had some dealings with Folklore over the years, and while she was no coward, she was glad her job didn't cross paths with them too frequently.

A thought suddenly struck her. Had El-Melloi known about this ahead of time ? No, surely not. But then again, he had dealt with many strange forms of Magecraft in his career as a freelance investigator of sorts. Could it be that he had made contact with Brishan at some point in one of his adventures, or at least drawn their attention ?

"Well," she said eventually, drawing the gaze of all the other Lords to her, "that's that then. Lord Brishan's authority in these matters is not to be questioned."

She glared at those of her peers who looked like they might argue, and they fell silent.

"You all know, of course, that none of what they told us is to leave this room," she continued. "With that in mind, I declare this meeting adjourned. Thank you all for your attendance on such short notice."

With a few desultory exchanges of farewells, the Lords left the room, each exiting through the same door they had entered. El-Melloi remained on his seat, as did Barthomelloi, until the two of them were the only ones left. She cocked an eyebrow.

"Did you have something else you wanted to tell me in private, Lord El-Melloi II ?"

He looked at her for a moment before shrugging.

"I actually thought you might have questions for me," he admitted. "This is as good a place as any to answer them. Better than most, in fact, given the privacy measures in place."

"You were correct. Now, this mysterious fourth member of that alliance you mentioned your contacts had formed … Would his name happen to be Shirou Emiya ?"

"I should have known better than to expect you wouldn't learn as much," he admitted with a rueful smile. "You've my thanks for not mentioning it in front of the others. That would've gone poorly, I suspect."

"Undoubtedly. I knew of the Archibalds' attempt to kill him even before your bodyguard did," she casually revealed, but he still didn't show any reaction. "I had nothing against him, however, and his father had proven of use in the past, so I allowed your efforts to keep his existence mostly under wraps."

During his career, the Magus Killer had dealt with no less than four vampiric outbreaks before they could get out of hand, not taking into account the one that had ended with him killing his own father. He had also taken out many contracts on individual Dead Apostles who had retained enough sentience to avoid the Enforcers, including a few of the abhorrent renegade Magi who delved into such depths. Impressive work, especially for someone working alone, which had earned the respect of the Barthomelloi even if the rest of the Magi looked down on the freelancer for his methods.

"The events of one year ago were … complicated," said El-Melloi. "Right now, it is enough to say that had Emiya not acted as he did then, the situation in Fuyuki would be even more complicated than it already is."

"I'll trust your word on this." The 'for now' wasn't said out loud, but El-Melloi was far too keen to miss it anyway. "What else did you keep from our esteemed colleagues ?"

"One of the Masters is already dead," El-Melloi said evenly. "The Head of the Ainsworth family was slain by Emiya yesterday after refusing to cooperate with Emiya and his allies' investigation of the Grail, and attempting to kill him.."

"That makes two House Heads your associate has killed," Barthomelloi frowned. "I hope he won't make a habit of it."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the circumstances surrounding the first instance, but according to him, the Ainsworth Head was using his family's Magecraft to unnaturally prolong his own existence by stealing the lives of his own descendants, and had done so since the founding of the House," said Waver Velvet calmly. "I have contacted the two surviving Ainsworth, both of them children of Zachary Ainsworth, who is in our records as the current Head of the family. Once I convinced them to talk to me, they quickly have confirmed everything. Furthermore, they also told me that until recently, they were bound by Geases to keep silent about this – Geases that were also placed upon those who married into the Ainsworth family."

"And," he continued, "for the last few centuries, the Ainsworth were also using their Magecraft to turn Magi from other families into puppets. This, too, was confirmed by the Ainsworth survivors : they are in the process of dismantling those puppets who were left behind by the Head when he went to Fuyuki. When I told them I knew who was responsible for the true death of their Head, they all but begged me to tell them so they could thank them properly."

"You only got that information today, yet you have already confirmed this ?" asked Barthomelloi with a raised eyebrow.

"I work fast," he replied with a shrug. "And I have good assistants. They got me the contact information for the Ainsworth Castle, and I managed to get a hold of the eldest child quickly."

And, unless she missed her guess, he would have offered them the same protection and assistance he had given to the Animusphere heir. Another family put into his debt, under his influence. If the Ainsworth children came to study at the Clocktower, as they likely would now that the one responsible for their isolation was no more, she didn't doubt for an instant they would somehow end up in his class. Once again, El-Melloi was quietly gathering resources, all while keeping up the appearance of an overworked flunky who only held the seat of Lord due to his debt to the Archibald family and their lack of a more appropriate candidate on which they could all agree.

Of course, Barthomelloi knew better. She knew about the adopted son of Kiritsugu Emiya who lived in Fuyuki, recorded in the annals of the Clocktower as the apprentice of Rin Tohsaka, and responsible for the destruction of the Matou family – save for their last Heir, who he'd taken under his wing after wiping out the rest of her bloodline.

Still, that the Ainsworth had been plagued by such a curse certainly made her reconsider her position, which she was sure had been El-Melloi's objective. The Barthomelloi had spent centuries fighting the vampiric blight all across the planet, and they were the primary force behind the Association's comprehensive restrictions on all research into immortality. The usurpation El-Melloi was describing wasn't as bad as some of the horrors they and the Enforcers had put down over the years, but it still broke more than enough regulations to warrant termination. Combined with the Geases imposed on spouses and the creation of these 'dolls', it amounted to more than enough to justify the man (or entity, she supposed was a better term) being expelled from the Association and hunted down by the Enforcers.

Seen from that angle, which was no doubt exactly what El-Melloi wanted her to do, Emiya had actually done them a favor. But it still left one issue :

"What of the Ainsworth Servant ? If the Grail is compromised, feeding it prana seems counter-productive."

"Still alive. They accepted the story about the Grail War's irregularities, and Emiya has become their Master."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "So he's capable of sustaining two Servants at the same time, as well as eliminating a Magus who has maintained their existence and studied their Magecraft for a thousand years ? I think I would like to meet this Shirou Emiya in person at some point. He seems like the kind of talent I could use."

"Again, I would have to advise you otherwise, Lady Barthomelloi," warned El-Melloi. "His view of the Association isn't exactly amicable, and the Archibalds' attempt on his life didn't help the matter. Much like his father, he has no interest in either the prestige of the Clocktower or the research opportunities it can offer. And I very much doubt money could convince him to put himself under your authority."

"The Emiya Crest is still in storage within our vaults, from when it was taken from Kiritsugu Emiya's own father following his disastrous research into Dead Apostles," she pointed out. "Do you think he could be persuaded to trade his services for it ?"

The older man frowned.

"I'm going to be direct to the point of rudeness, Lady Barthomelloi, and I apologize in advance for it. Do not attempt to manipulate Shirou Emiya. The Crest of his adoptive family might – might – give you something to bargain with, but you should not believe that this gives you any leverage over him. You are used to dealing from a position of force, but most of your advantages are nullified by the fact he has no interest in our society, and should it come to open conflict, the only certainty is that we would all end up losing."

That wasn't what she'd wanted to hear, but she could appreciate El-Melloi's honesty.

"Then what do you suggest I do ?"

"As I said before : wait and see how the situation in Fuyuki develop. Pray that whatever happens is contained, if you can, and prepare to deal with the fallout if it isn't. Most important of all, though, we must make sure Brishan's edict is strictly followed."

"… You have a point. I suppose seeing how he handles the situation in Fuyuki will be a good evaluation of whether or not he's worth the trouble to recruit in the first place."

She stood up from her seat.

"Goodbye, Lord El-Melloi II. We'll talk again soon."

"Of that," he answered drily, "I have no doubt. Good day to you as well, Vice-Director."

When the door closed behind Barthomelloi, Waver finally let his mask slip and collapsed into his chair, as if his bones were suddenly made of jelly. The truth was, he hadn't wanted to have a private conversation with the Vice-Director at all. But after facing down the other Lords about the situation in Fuyuki, his legs hadn't had the strength to bear him. Now the Lady Barthomelloi, who despite being almost half his age was leagues above him in Magecraft and influence, believed that he was running some manner of genius plan involving Emiya, the Holy Grail War, and the Department of Folklore. Worse, Brishan's appearance and proclamation had probably convinced the other Lords of the same thing, too.

The moment they realized just how out of his depth he really was, how much he had been whinging it after Brishan had shown up, they would try to kill him out of sheer embarrassment. Yet at the same time, he needed to use the reputation he had somehow been saddled with however he could. The potential consequences should unscrupulous Magi – and wasn't that a superfluous adjective – interfere with the Grail War were simply too grave for him to do otherwise.

It was the same thought process that had let him project a façade of calm while talking to Barthomelloi. He had a chance, however slim, of surviving her wrath, or more reasonably of avoiding provoking it in the first place. But if things went bad at Fuyuki, it was the entire World that might be in peril. He remembered all too well the terrible powers that had been wielded in the Fourth War, and the horrors a relatively weak Caster had been able to unleash upon the city. Given what Gray had felt in the ruins of the Animusphere Castle, and what Emiya had told him about their suspicions that nothing less than Angra Mainyu – a genuine God of Evil – might be responsible for the anomalies in the Greater Grail's behavior … No, this was the only sensible course of action.

He had managed to avoid lying to Barthomelloi, at least. Fortunately, the English language had allowed him to keep the fact that Emiya had three Servants under his control secret without outright deceit. He hadn't planned to mislead the Lady of Policies, but in the moment, his instincts had told him it was best not to hype up Emiya's potential value any further.

He swore he could hear Rider laughing at him all the way from the Throne of Heroes.

November 25h, 2004 AD – Outskirts of Fuyuki City

Despite its legs ending in ragged stumps, the vampire still crawled on the grass, pulling itself up the hill, where it could see Fuyuki City spread in the distance. It opened its mouth, moaning in frustration.

"It calls," it gasped, reaching out a claw toward the lights of the city. Its voice was like sandpaper on glass, as wretched as the rest of it. Clearly, it hadn't fed in a long time, and its body was falling apart without stolen life-force to sustain it. "I can hear it … the angel's song …"

Kairi pulled the trigger of his shotgun, firing two shells directly into its skull. It blew apart in a shower of bone shards and gore, and the rest of the Dead Apostle twitched once before starting to decay at preternatural speed.

The freelance Spellcaster looked around while he reloaded the weapon, checking for any other threat. The sunglasses he wore despite it being well past midnight were a Mystic Code that enhanced his vision, letting him pick up masses of magical energy like thermal vision detected heat. Nothing. He began the preparations for the spell that would incinerate the corpse and remove the evidence, just in case someone had heard the shot and came to investigate later.

He almost jumped when his phone started ringing, and stumbled to open it and answer the call.

He wasn't useless with technology like most Magi – the mercenary lifestyle pretty much required being able to function in mundane society – but this was some kind of top-of-the-line piece of hardware the Conglomerate had given him, disguised to look like their public line of mobile phones so he could use it without drawing any more attention that his appearance always did.

"Sisigou-san," said a cool and collected voice. "Good evening."

"Evening, Kodai-san," the mercenary gruffly replied.

"I trust everything is going well ?"

"Yeah," replied the mercenary. "I just dealt with another bloodsucker trying to get into the city."

"Good work. That makes it seven since you arrived in the area, correct ?"

"Yeah," confirmed Kairi. "They aren't much trouble to take care of, but the numbers are worrying all the same. Especially since they each came on their own and not in a group."

Despite their unnatural vitality, the Dead Apostles were still, well, dead. That made them vulnerable to the kind of spells a Necromancer used, and Kairi was the best Necromancer in the mercenary business. He wasn't stupid enough to think there weren't Magi in the Association whose skills far surpassed his, but they spent their time developing their Mysteries, not putting them to practical use, so that was a moot point.

"Our other agents have also encountered Dead Apostles, as well as other predators of the Moonlit World. So far, the quarantine appears to be holding, but …"

"But we won't know if one of them made it through until they start something in the city," Kairi finished the chain of logic with a sigh. "It's like every monster in the whole damn world is trying to get inside. What the hell is going on over there ?"

"The Grail War, Sisigou-san."

"Shit like that didn't happen last time, though." He paused, an unwelcome thought dawning on him. "Wait, did it ?"

He hadn't been in Japan at the time, so maybe the cover-up had fooled even him.

"No, it didn't. This is a recent development."

"Oh, joy." He sighed again. "Alright, lay it on me. Why did you call ?"

"We are mobilizing other assets to help enforce the quarantine, and reinforcements have been dispatched by our allies in the West. I have been calling all of our personnel already on site to warn them in advance in order to avoid misunderstandings."

"Magi from London, huh ?" He clicked his tongue. "You sure none of them will try to make a play for the Grail themselves ?"

"Our allies should make sure to only dispatch people they can trust to keep their wits about them. However, there is always the chance they are mistaken about their agents, or that we underestimated the strength of the corruption. You'll need to be careful and exercise your best judgment. The last thing we can afford right now is making the situation in Fuyuki more complicated."

"I see. What's the situation in the city ? I heard on the radio some people were falling unconscious."

"We received a situation report from Emiya earlier this evening. One of the Masters is dead. He was informed of the situation but refused to cooperate. His Servants have been transferred to Emiya; they were the ones responsible for these incidents."

Kairi almost shivered. He had heard of Kiritsugu Emiya. It was hard not to : even ten years after his disappearance from the mercenary scene, the man still cast a long shadow. But Kairi had the dubious privilege of having seen the Magus Killer in action.

It had been disturbing work, but necessary, and the kudos he had earned with the Conglomerate had helped him get the top-notch medical and Thaumaturgical care his adopted daughter had needed a few years after, when the Crest transplant had gone horribly wrong. If not for their assistance, she would have died for sure, and though calling on their help had ended up causing him to sever his ties with his own father, he certainly didn't regret it. It was Touki who had insisted on Kairi adopting her in the first place after they had found out the curse afflicting the Sisigou family would keep him from siring children, but she was more than a way to perpetuate the bloodline and the House to him.

She was his daughter, and he would do anything to protect her. Which, right now, meant working for the Conglomerate to help prevent an apocalypse from starting in Fuyuki. It was hard work, but necessary, and well-paid to boot.

"Still no sign of the rogue Servant ?" he asked.

The briefing from the Conglomerate's Security Division had been thorough : even if they had only theories as to what had happened at the Animusphere Castle, it had included a copy of the Clocktower's own investigations. Kairi fervently hoped he wouldn't have to fight whatever had been responsible for that mess : he might be a veteran mercenary in the Moonlit World, but the reason he had lived that long was because, among other things, he knew his limits. And a Servant capable of wiping out the top Magi of a House as powerful as the Animusphere in the middle of their castle was definitely beyond them.

"None. We are monitoring all mundane channels for anomalies, but we daren't scry the area through Thaumaturgical means."

"Yeah, that's probably the smartest play right now." He looked down at the corpse of the Dead Apostle. It had been difficult to tell given the changes the Thirst had wrought upon it, but he was pretty sure the creature had been a Caucasian male before its transformation. "If whatever is inside the Grail can reach as far as it seems to be able to, looking closer at it isn't going to end well."

"Indeed. We will contact you again as soon as we have updates on the situation. Good night, Sisigou-san."

"Bye."

The line went dead, and Kairi shook his head.

"What a fucking mess," he grumbled, before resuming his interrupted clean-up.

At last he wasn't directly fighting in the Grail War. Being selected as a Master in that … he suppressed another shiver. No, thank you very much. He was curious what kind of Servant the Grail would pair up with someone like him, but not enough to risk being exposed to the kind of corruption that could summon vampires from half across the bloody world. One curse was more than enough for him.

Omake : Lords of the Clocktower

In the interests of clarity, here is the version of the Clocktower's Council of Lords I am going to use for this fic, along with the names I will be using for the Departments (since I have found varied translations for the original Japanese material).

Do not use this as reference for your own stories, since this is my own interpretation, combining material scoured from the wikis and adapted to my own needs. Also, a lot of information is missing about the Lords whose characters haven't been developed in canon material, which I intend to make use of later in the story since it'll let me make them basically whatever I want them to be.

Aristocratic Faction :

The Aristocratic Faction is composed of those Lords who prize lineage above all else, believing that only through the accumulation of knoweldge, power and wealth over generations can one hope to reach the Root. They put great stock in Magic Crests, and believe the management of the Association should be entrusted only to those with distinguished bloodlines, regarding themselves as the nobility of the Moonlit World – nevermind the fact that actual nobility, in the mundane world, is descended from the authority bestowed by a King.

Department of Policies : headed by Lorelei Barthomelloi, acting Vice-Director of the Clocktower. One of the three major families, leader of the aristocracy.

Department of Spiritual Evocation : headed by Rufleus Nuada-Re Eulyphis (father of Sola-Ui, who was the fiancee of Kayneth, Waver's predecessor).

Department of Modern Magecraft : headed by Waver Velvet, Lord El-Melloi II. Technically Aristocratic Faction due to the family he is the nominal head of belonging to it.

Department of Botany : headed by Archelot.

Department of Zoology : headed by Gaiuslink. The family is a puppet of the Barthomelloi.

Democratic Faction :

The Democratic Faction cares only about achievements, not bloodline. They desire to replace the current system of the Clocktower with a more meritocratic one : by making use of all talents, they believe they can reach the Root faster. While this may seem more appealing to those from a mundane background, it must be remembered that this attitude also leads to things like the ritual murder of infants in order to achieve results being considered acceptable so long as precautions are taken to preserve the secrecy of Magecraft and the results are worthwhile.

Department of General Fundamentals : headed by McDonell Trambellio Elrod. Has had five wives before his current one. One of the three major families, leader of the Democratic Faction.

Department of Creation : headed by Inorai Valualeta Atroholm. One of the three major families.

Neutral Faction :

The members of the Neutral Faction do not care about the management of the Association, and only desire to perform their own research in peace. In this way, they are perhaps the closest to the academic ideals the Clocktower profess to embrace. Of course, merely remaining neutral in the feuds of the Clocktower requires great skill as well, and Neutrals of lower rank can often be persuaded to take part in one scheme or another in exchange for unique materials, or funds with which to pursue their research.

Department of Archaeology : headed by Lord Meluastea.

Department of Mineralogy : headed by Lord Meluastea (took over this additional Department after Kayneth's death, who was its previous Lord).

Department of Individual Fundamentals : headed by Solonea.

Department of Curses : headed by Jigmarie.

Others

Department of Astrology : their Head, Marisbury Animusphere, is currently presumed dead, prompting the meeting to occur. He was of the Aristocratic Faction.

Department of Folklore : headed by Brishan. Only the other Lords of the Clocktower and a very select few other individuals in the Association are allowed to know of the Department's existence, let alone its purpose in the Moonlit World.

Finally, here is the quote that inspired me to have the Department of Folklore be so different from its canon self (warning : potential spoilers for Fate : Grand Order) :

"This world is rife with legends, with stories that are neither divine, mystical, nor demons incarnate. The Mage's Association has a Department dedicated to folklore. It is one of the Association's most closely guarded secrets. What's more, it is guarded by Brishan, one of our King's pupils."

Demon God Räum, FGO, Salem (English translation).

Chapter Text

Four armies have gathered, on a plain of whispering mouths that endlessly repeat the last words of the forgotten dead. The hosts of Plague, War, Excess and Change are mustered in the fullness of their glorious horror. The fog of memory mercifully blurs their true forms, yet what is visible remains the stuff of nightmares.

Black blades held in blood-red scaled claws, radiating murderous intent. Pincers of sickeningly sweet purple, promising agonizing ecstasy. Bloated, suppurating bellies the color of mass graves left open to the midday sun. Staves of silver topped with blue fire, held up by cackling horrors that foretell a future forged of deceit. They laugh and they weep and they scream, a cacophony fit to inspire madness – and the battle has not even started. They are the Neverborn, the children of Ruin, the footsoldiers of perdition.

They are daemons, the hosts of Chaos, come now to make war upon each other.

Here lies what could be, what might have been, what must never be. The dreams and nightmares of every soul to ever live, along with the souls themselves that have passed from the Materium. It is Hell, and it is Heaven, and it is every afterlife ever conceived by mortal minds desperately wishing for there to be more to their ephemeral existence. It is paradox and impossibility, the antithesis of the reality on which it feeds and wars in equal measure.

This is the Realm of Chaos. This is the Great Game of the Gods.

She knows these things, without knowing how or why she knows them. Here, their truth is self-evident.

Despite all the horror that surrounds her, her gaze is drawn to one who stands under the banner of Change. He is a lord among the horde of infernal rank and file, yet forever marred in their eyes by his origins – for he was mortal once, she knows, and that is a sin the Neverborn will never forgive.

Even as part of himself remains atop his tower in the land of shadow and mist, another part is forever present in that eldritch realm, just as a part of it is forever inside him. It is the cost of apotheosis, that he is called to participate in wars beyond the long campaign of extermination waged by his mortal brothers against the traitorous Fallen. The God that elevated him – first among his kin, second only to his sire – demands his service, and he can do naught but answer.

Though he is neither knight nor sorcerer any longer, the memory of the past cloaks him and shapes his form. He is a dark lord, tall and terrible, clad in armor the color of the woods of a land now lost, decorated with eldritch sigils and the faces of extinct beasts.

He draws a sword that isn't there, raising it high as a silent command to the host of Change. There is a moment of pause, as all the mouths hold their breath.

Then the sword comes down. The armies charge. The battle, which is just one of an infinite number of such battles waged across the Realms of Chaos, means nothing. And yet, it must be fought, for such is the will of the Gods.

But there is one amidst that carnival of horrors that doesn't belong. Besides the towering slave-lord, a smaller figure stands no less straight.

This figure, she recognizes. And with that recognition comes awareness of who she is, and what this is.

This is what haunts her Master's dreams. This is the memory of the Dark Angel given form.

"Shirou !" she calls out, ignoring the fear that she will draw the attention of the monsters to herself. Instead, the moment his name leaves her lips, the whole tableau freezes. He turns his head towards him, eyes widening in recognition.

"Sa-"

November 25th, 2004 AD – Emiya residence

"-ber ?"

The Servant of the Sword blinked, emerging from sleep along with her Master, who was pinned down to the bedding by her body and Sakura's. The pleasant soreness that had filled her body after the exertions of the previous evening was gone, a few hours of rest more than enough for a Servant to fully recover from such delightful exhaustion. She might have lacked any prior experience to which to compare last night, but she'd nothing to complain about in Shirou's performance.

Once Taiga had left, Saber and Sakura had slipped into Shirou's room, after telling Archer and Assassin to stay out of it for the night. By respect for Illya's presence (no matter her actual age, the progeny of Irisviel and Kiritsugu looked and behaved like a child and would thus be treated as such), Sakura had cast a soundproofing ward around the room. Her proficiency with these led Saber to believe that her Master's first lover had used them in the past for the same purpose they had been deployed last night.

"Good morning, Shirou," she replied at last, fully waking up. She still didn't move, savouring their closeness, using it to banish the unease that lingered after what she had just witnessed.

"Good morning, Saber. Did you see … that ? At the end, I thought I sensed your presence in the vision."

"I did," she confirmed, her lips curling into a victorious smile. "Now Archer and Assassin aren't the only ones who shared one of your visions," she added, feeling inordinately smug at the fact.

Without saying a word about it out loud, the two diminutive Servants had clearly been lording that fact over her, despite the fact that SHE was Shirou's first Servant, and the only one who had never tried to kill him. No matter how stupid he acted sometimes.

"Are you okay ? I know it wasn't a pleasant sight."

"I have endured the tortures of the Grail, Master," she waved his concerns away. "It was more interesting than disturbing. It all made sense while I was seeing it, but looking back on it now, it no longer does. Is that what it is always like for you ?"

"Yes," confirmed her Master. "These visions are like dreams in that way. Though I would be seriously worried for anyone whose imagination could make stuff like that up."

As a Servant, Saber didn't dream, and she lacked the memories of her mortal life to give her perspective. She hadn't even slept since being summoned by Kiritsugu ten years ago, though she supposed the passage into Spirit Form could be linked to sleep in some ways. In the last three nights she had spent sharing her Master's bed, she had kept watch over him until he woke, but this time, it seemed she had actually fallen asleep, and been pulled into her Master's visions of the Dark Angel's past through the bond they shared.

On the other side of their bedding, Sakura stirred awake and stretched. The girl had been just as involved in their lovemaking of the previous night as she, and Saber was slightly surprised that she wasn't more exhausted. Then again, she did have more experience, even if she lacked the advantages of her Master's or a Servant's constitution.

"Good morning, Senpai, Saber," she yawned.

"Good morning, Sakura."

Before the conversation could continue, the stomach of the two humans rumbled, and the only reason Saber's didn't join them was that she technically didn't require food, especially with her prana reserved topped off by last night's activities. She still felt hungry, however, whether due to her unique circumstances or the fact that food in the Emiya residence was just that good, and it finally persuaded her to get off her Master.

"Well," muttered Shirou as they all stood up, "time to face the music."

Lancer could feel Illyasviel's annoyance as her brother entered the main room, accompanied by his Servant and Berserker's Master. The emotions of the half-homunculus that flowed through their link were mixed. Mostly, she felt jealous of Saber's closeness with Shirou, as well as angry at the reminder, however involuntary, of her condition. The copy of Avalon Shirou had implanted within her might do wonders to keep her alive and comfortable, freeing her of the pain that had plagued her constantly for years, but by the same token, it also suspended her ageing. She might be healthier now than she had been in ten years, but she was also trapped in her child-like body.

It was, Lancer reflected ruefully, the opposite issue of what had afflicted Mordred, who had been a child in a body whose growth had been artificially quickened, but she suspected the psychological impact was equally damaging. Though as far as she knew, Morgan had at least made sure Mordred's lifespan was unaffected – the child had been meant to success Artoria as King of Britain, after all. She had been created as a tool, but not a disposable one.

The King of Knights found that the thought that her Master's blood family was worse than hers wasn't especially comforting. But she would not allow history to repeat itself; she would not let her Master be used as the tool of amoral Magi.

Everyone, Masters and Servants alike, sat down for breakfast, which had already been prepared by Illyasviel's maids. It wasn't quite as good as Shirou's own cooking, but no one was impolite enough to bring up the subject – not when there was something else to address.

"So," said Rin in an easy tone as Shirou brought a cup of tea to his lips, "did the three of you enjoy yourselves having sex last night ?"

The sheer bluntness of the question made Shirou choke on the hot liquid, while a hint of red appeared on Saber's cheeks. Sakura, however, looked utter unperturbed.

"Yes, Nee-san," replied the girl as her lover laboriously stopped coughing. "We very much did."

"Indeed," added Saber. "It was a most pleasant experience, and one I look forward to repeating in the future. You have my thanks, Rin, for helping to train my Master's skills in that area."

"Oh ?" asked Archer, who was looking at the scene with a mischievous smile identical to the one on Assassin's face, while Shirou was struck with a renewed cough at Saber's words. "Tell us more."

"I would think now isn't exactly the time for that sort of thing," intervened Lancer, aware of the blush on her own cheeks.

"And I would argue the exact opposite," answered Rider to her surprise from where she sat next to Rin. While her Master looked annoyed, she seemed positively brimming with curiosity. "It wasn't uncommon for young squires and soldiers to seek comfort during campaigns in my time. Facing death tends to have that effect on people."

"Aren't you the only one who got married here ?" asked Illyasviel, looking up at her. "Why are you of all people embarrassed ?"

"My and Guinevere's union was a marriage of state," explained the Servant of the Spear, mortified. "We grew to be close friends, and she was one of the few I trusted with the truth of my gender, but we weren't … like that."

Rin looked her up and down, before smacking her forehead.

"Right, your body changed when you were summoned. I forgot. Obviously you couldn't have passed for a man if you looked like that, though looking at Saber, I'm wondering if your knights weren't blind not to have noticed the truth."

"Oh, I am sure a few of them did suspect," Lancer replied. "Bedivere almost certainly knew. But at the time, the reveal would have weakened my authority, and I needed every advantage to hold Britain together … not that it mattered in the end."

Part of her envied the free-spiritedness of Rider and Saber. Even now, the memories of her life as King influenced her, shaping the way she acted despite her kingdom having fallen to ruins centuries ago. The years she'd spent concealing her emotions behind the mask of a King had affected her social skills badly, and given how her life had ended, she wanted to correct that now.

What she hadn't said, and didn't intend to, was that she did have sexual experience, of a sort. Mordred hadn't come out of nowhere, after all. But no one needed to know about Merlin's juvenile prank, and how it had contributed to the eventual fall of Camelot.

"In any case," she continued before Archer or Assassin could ask for more details, "we do have more pressing concerns than that. Shirou, Archer and Assassin weren't with you tonight : did you have any more visions ?"

When Shirou, Sakura and Saber had failed to emerge from their room in time to prepare breakfast, the two small goddesses had explained that Sakura had asked them to stay with Berserker in Sakura's own room. Apparently, despite having been Shirou's lover since the two of them had started living together, she still had a fully furnished room, which was mostly used to keep up the pretence that the two teenagers weren't sleeping together for their common guardian.

After having met Taiga last evening, Lancer wasn't certain the young woman was fooled.

"I did," admitted the sole male in the room. "But this time, Saber was pulled in."

"What ?" asked Rin sharply. "Explain."

He complied, describing the vision and how Saber had appeared in it, seeing it alongside him before helping draw him out of it.

"The Dream Cycle," announced Rin when he was done. Illyasviel nodded in agreement. "Saber doesn't have memories of her own – except those of the Fourth War, I guess – so your own visions must have … interfered with the link somehow."

"That seems the most likely explanation," agreed Shirou. "As for the vision itself, I think it took place after the Siege of Terra and the exile of the Dark Angels."

"Yes, but this place you're describing doesn't feel like anything that could exist on Earth, even in a timeline where the Age of the Gods never ended," said Rin, sounding distracted. She turned toward the three Gorgon sisters : "Do you remember anything from your lives that was even remotely like this ?"

All three of them shook their heads. Their memories of their lives were not perfect, though that had nothing to do with the Grail's corruption : the summoning process itself blocked certain memories by design, in order to avoid it being abused to learn the ancient secrets of the World. Otherwise, as Illyasviel had explained to Lancer back in the Einzbern Castle, far more Magi would try to summon Servants, especially of the Caster Class, just for the chance to learn long-lost Mysteries from them.

"These creatures in the vision," said Saber, frowning, "these … 'daemons'. They reminded me of the familiars the Caster of the Fourth War summoned."

"They might be related," replied Shirou. "Gilles de Rais became a demonist in his late years, and though I'm sure the distinction between demon and daemon is a significant one, the connection is obvious. Especially since it's almost certain the Grail's corruption is the reason Bluebeard was summoned in the first place."

"I still can't believe the Einzbern were arrogant enough not to realize anything was wrong with the Greater Grail after that," commented Sakura. "You would think the summoning of a Kaiju-sized monster in the middle of the river would be enough for them to get off their high horse and check the work of their ancestors."

Sakura, Lancer had learned quickly, did not like Magi – with her sister being the only exception, and Rin was far from a typical Magus. Given what Saber knew of the other girl's past, such antipathy made perfect sense, and she didn't miss any opportunity to throw an insult their way.

"It could have been the Reverse Side of the World," said Illyasviel hesitantly. "In our timeline, it is where the Mystic Beasts of the World were exiled to following the end of the Age of the Gods, but in the alternate timeline, it could have become something entirely different, especially with the other differences we know about from the other visions."

"Hmm, possible," mused Rin. "I don't know a lot about it, but the laws of physics are supposed to be less static than in our reality. Rider, don't you have knowledge of this place due to your ties to the Wild Hunt ?"

"I do, but as we know, my memories are suspect due to the sundering of our Spirit Origin. At the very least, I can say that I've no recollection of anything as … infernal as Shirou described."

"In the end, it doesn't matter," said Shirou. "For now, we have more important problems to deal with. Archer, Assassin, please stay here today as well and help Lancer defend this place while we go to school."

"Yes, Master," replied Assassin with a dismissive wave of her hand, before turning her gaze on Saber. "But before you go, you must tell us more about Master's performance. Was it satisfactory ? Is he -"

Shirou groaned in dismay as the Servant continued to bombard Saber with questions, while Illyasviel tried to look like she was still focused on eating breakfast and not listening in. Fortunately, it seemed Saber still hadn't forgiven the 'snake's sisters', and was refusing to tell them anything, looking down at them with a smile of superiority.

Ayako Mitsuzuri suppressed a yawn as she entered the building of the Archery Club of Homurahara Academy. It was early, with still a good half-hour before classes actually started, but there were still a few people in the dojo, practicing a few rounds before the day started. Most members of the club only came in the evening, once lessons were over for the day, but a few fanatics (which included herself) came in the morning as well.

One of those fanatics welcomed her, having managed to arrive before her.

"Good morning, Mitsuzuri-senpai," Sakura greeted her.

"Good morning, Sakura-chan," she replied. "Is Emiya here too ?"

"Right there," Sakura pointed toward the shooting range.

Emiya was showing Watson how to handle a bow, the two of them dressed in the club's practice gear – which, she had to admit, looked nice on the transfer student, but then she suspected Watson could make rags look good. He was holding her close as he showed her how to hold and aim it. Not too close, not anymore than was strictly required, but still definitely in a way that would have made Ayako uncomfortable if he had been her boyfriend.

"Did something happen between the two of them ?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

Sakura simply smiled. She didn't look pissed, so Ayako was probably imagining things. Sure, the younger girl was devoted to Emiya, but surely not to the point of being fine with other girls getting that close to her boyfriend.

... She hoped. If she was, then Ayako was going to be pissed off, for several reasons – some of which she wouldn't admit even to herself.

In any case, Watson was a quick learner, already hitting bullseye while Ayako watched her. Emiya was a good teacher as well as a god-damned prodigy with the bow, but this was still some fast progress. Did Watson actually already know how to use it, and was putting a front to get Emiya to give her some one-on-one training ? After her shocking announcement on the day of her arrival, Ayako certainly wasn't putting it above her to do something like that.

She was drawn from her thoughts by a sudden increase in volume that told her Fujimura-sensei had arrived. The club's advisor walked into the dojo, and Ayako immediately noticed the dark rings under her eyes : the young woman clearly hadn't slept much the previous night.

"Everyone, please pay attention," she called out, and the handful of people in the dojo put down their equipment and assembled in front of the teacher. "You'll hear this again in homeroom, but club activities are cancelled after classes today and next week. You can still come in the morning for practice if you want, but all of you should go straight home after class, and not wander the streets, okay ?"

"What's going on, Sensei ?" asked Ayako.

"There have been unsavoury individuals sighted in the city, and the police are still tracking them down. We don't want you to get hurt, so make sure to be good boys and girls and stay safe !"

Ayako thought the teacher's gaze lingered on Emiya as she spoke that last part, but it must have been her imagination. The boy was far too nice to get involved into anything dangerous, especially with Sakura watching over him and the fact he had just come back from the sickness that had forced him to skip school on Monday.

No, she was probably just worried her ward would get himself in trouble by accident. That or, like Ayako, she was worried about a teenage male staying in the same house as two teenage girls who were obviously attracted to him.

Apart from a repeat of Taiga's announcement and warning against staying out late, as she had told them, the rest of the day passed by without anything of note happening. She had accompanied Shirou and Sakura to talk some more to the teacher during lunch break, learning that her grandfather had begun to take action in response to Shirou's warnings and the destruction of public property caused by their fights against the Ainsworth Dolls, which the media had blamed on gang warfare.

Apparently, the Oyabun had given his grandchild an earful when she had come home late from the Emiya residence, so she wouldn't be able to come and mooch off – visit the home of Saber's Master in the evenings for the foreseeable future.

It surprised Saber that the adult woman would give in to her grandfather's demands so easily, but Shirou had quietly explained later that Raiga had probably threatened to cut off the allowance he still gave to his adult granddaughter if she didn't obey. Which, of course, had only made her surprised about something different.

Saber's Master was relieved that the school was reacting to the situation, even if Saber remembered all too well how little daylight had impeded the monstrous activities of the Fourth War's Caster. She'd mentioned this to Shirou, who had told her the Fujimura Group had deployed men to (discreetly) watch over the other schools. Homurahara Academy, with its hundreds of young men and women, was still the most likely target of an unscrupulous Servant, however, which was why the Masters still spent their day there.

There had been no reports of any anomaly by their Yakuza allies, and no news report which might betray the actions of an enemy Servant. With no lead to pursue, they wouldn't go on patrol tonight : the Masters of the group needed to rest in order to be in top form during the week-end, when they'd planned to comb the city in force and place new Bounded Fields calibrated to detect prana usage.

"Welcome home, Onii-chan !" Illyasviel greeted them as they returned to the Emiya residence. The mix of envy and curiosity of the morning was gone, replaced by the joy the half-homunculus now showed whenever she was in her brother's presence.

"Hello, Illya. I am back." Shirou looked around : only Lancer was accompanying her Master. "Where are Sella and Leysritt ?"

"They finished cleaning up the house to Sella's standards, and they're still working on the notes you asked them to write."

"Ah, good. It's best to get that done as early as possible, just in case."

The notes in question were a compilation of everything the homunculi knew about the Einzbern family, including their castle in Germany and its defenses. The two of them might have been created for the express purpose of accompanying Illyasviel in the War, but they had inevitably gained some knowledge of the Magus family's holdings. Shirou believed, quite rightly in Saber's opinion, that such knowledge would prove useful when the time came to politely ask the Einzbern for their assistance in healing Illyasviel after the Grail War was taken care of.

"Speaking of things best to do as early as possible, Shirou," said Rin, "Rider mentioned that she wants to spar against you. Sakura and I can take care of preparing dinner; why don't you go in the dojo and indulge her while we have the time ?"

"We don't know when things will escalate again, so getting familiar with each other's style is a good idea," mused Shirou. "We'll need to be careful, though – I don't want to have to explain to a construction crew the kind of damage we could do if went all-out."

"Can I come watch ?" intervened Illya with wide eyes turned up at Shirou, in what Saber recognized as a trick that had worked on Kiritsugu just as well as it did on his adopted son. The young girl, already separated from Saber's Master during the day, was clearly determined to stay near him as much as possible.

"Of course you can. Lancer, you've never seen Rider fight either, right ? Do you want to come along ?"

Her older self looked at her Master and gave in to the inevitable with a nod. It was obvious she would come along, if only to keep Illyasviel safe. Shirou would rather take a Noble Phantasm to the chest than let his sister come to harm, of course, and Rider knew she'd have to hold back in any case, but both combatants would feel better knowing someone was there to protect their audience.

"Then I shall also -" began Saber, before being cut off by Rin :

"Actually, Saber, can you stay ?" asked Rin. "I've some stuff I want to talk to you about. Don't worry, Rider won't hurt Shirou. Right ?"

"Of course, Master."

"Well, then," said Shirou, looking at the three girls he'd slept with with the gaze of someone who knew something was going on, but was also smart enough to realize he should get out while he still could. "Let's go."

The three of them sat down, with Berserker materializing and joining them. Archer and Assassin were apparently lazing around in one of the empty rooms, not having bothered to get up to greet their returning Master. Of course, they could communicate telepathically, but their disrespect still irked Saber, although at the same time, the least time her Master spent in the company of that pair of snakes the better.

"You want to talk about what Saber and I did with Senpai last night, don't you Nee-san ?" asked Sakura.

"Want is a strong word," grumbled Rin. "Need would be more appropriate."

There was a moment of silence, which stretched to the point Saber wondered if she should say something -

"I just don't understand," blurted out Rin, and it was as if a dam had broken as she continued : "I'm fine with sharing the blockhead with you because, let's face it, you are the most important person to him, and I'm not so awful as to steal him from you anyway. And he's probably the best catch I'm ever going to find, both from a personal perspective and from a dynastic one."

"Nee-san, what did I tell you about that ?" asked Sakura in a chastising tone.

"Look, Sakura, you don't care about the Tohsaka name, which is fine, but I'm still hoping to redeem it, in every sense of the word. Anyway, that's why I'm fine with being his lover, even if it's already obvious you are going to be Mrs Emiya someday. Even if we aren't married, I know he'd be a great father to my children too."

It was testament to how important Rin considered the subject, Saber thought, that she could speak of such things without even blushing.

"But what about you, Sakura ? You told me why you were fine with me being Shirou's lover when this all started, when that Enforcer came to kill him. But wanting to piss off our father isn't a good enough reason once you think about it. Shirou loves you, and would never do anything to hurt you, so even if he'd somehow managed to pick up Saber's signals, he wouldn't have acted on them without you pushing him."

"He is adorably obtuse in that regard," admitted Sakura with a wistful smile that Saber couldn't help but notice looked a little fragile.

"So why did you push Saber in his bed in sexy lingerie ?! Don't you want to keep him to yourself ?"

It was something Saber herself had wondered about, she had to admit. She'd known, when approaching Sakura about joining her in Shirou's bed, that the other girl would accept, but it was difficult to explain how she had instinctively come to that conclusion.

"I love Senpai." The words echoed with the strength of incontrovertible, unchanging truth. "He saved me, took me into his home, trusted me with all his secrets. I want him to be happy. I want him to be loved."

"That's it ?" asked Rin, not bothering to try to hide the doubt in her voice.

"What do you expect me to say, Nee-san ? That despite Avalon healing all the physical trauma I suffered at Zouken's hands, I'm still damaged psychologically ? That my libido is abnormally high, but the thought of intimacy with any male but Senpai fills me with revulsion, so I'm attracted to girls as well ? That the more powerful allies are bound to him by love, the less likely he's to be taken from me by our enemies ? That if Senpai has a harem, I can be sure he'll never cast me aside to replace me with someone he loves more ?!"

Sakura's expression had grown wilder and wilder as she went on, until she was almost ranting, her eyes wide and her hands trembling, and Saber could feel the agitation of her od.

"He'd never do that, Sakura," said Rin softly, concern replacing frustration on her face.

"I know ! Of course I know. But …"

"Alright, alright. Calm down." Rin engulfed her sister in a hug. "Deep breaths … You're fine. Everything is fine. Shirou is okay, and he loves you."

Sakura was still trembling with emotion, but she calmed down, slowly, in her sister's embrace, while Saber and Berserker could only look on awkwardly.

"If Euryale is in his bed, being brought to ecstasy every night, then she won't shoot him in the heart again," she mumbled.

"I'm pretty sure that isn't going to happen," deadpanned Rin.

"Maybe not," Sakura giggled weakly, before pulling halfway out of Rin's arms and looking at Berserker. "You, however, would be a different story. I know you've been thinking about it since he rescued your sisters."

"Master -"

"But," the purple-haired girl cut off her Servant, "you shouldn't do anything like that out of gratitude, Medusa. Helping your family being reunited was reward enough for Senpai. You should only go further if you think it will make you happy, understood ?"

"I don't think Shirou is capable of having meaningless, no-strings attached sex, to be honest," remarked Rin. "He's far too earnest for that."

"That is good," said Saber, speaking up for the first time since the discussion had begun. "I wouldn't want my Master to be a scoundrel like this. A man fit to fight by my side should be able to care for every woman he decides to take to his bed."

"Is that the dragon blood talking, or were you already like this when you were alive and just didn't have the chance to act upon it ?" grumbled Rin, before shaking her head.

"I intend to stay at my Master's side. His power is sufficient that he'll be able to sustain me once the Grail is destroyed, so long as I refrain from using my most prana-consuming abilities."

"That's … It would be difficult, but possible. Sustaining every Servant on our team would stretch our resources, but Shirou and Sakura have a high prana capacity, and Illyasviel was quite literally made for it, while I should have enough so long as I use secondary sources to supplement my own reserves … Wait. Something is happening with Rider," said Rin suddenly, before standing up and rushing out of the room. Saber exchanged a look with Berserker and shrugged : she couldn't feel any danger from the link with her Master.

She still stood up and followed the dark-haired girl, though. Because while she was pretty sure Shirou wasn't in any danger, she was picking up interesting things from their bond.

The dojo of the Emiya residence was clean and empty, as befit a space meant for martial training. Lancer might not have kept the memories of King Arthur's wars, but she did remember the training of her knights in Camelot, and this space was not so different from the halls where her companions had practiced against one another.

As Shirou had said, the fighters would need to keep things down, lest they destroy the building, but then, Rider wanted to test Shirou's skills, not his raw power.

Despite Rider's reluctance, both combatants wouldn't use their true weapons in this spar. Gungnir was far too dangerous to give it a chance to wound Shirou, and whatever Shirou's sword actually was, it had proven capable of killing the unkillable before. Instead, Shirou had used his Magecraft to Trace training weapons for the both of them, taking the wooden swords that were in a rack near the dojo's entrance as a base and adapting the shape until they wielded reasonable facsimile of their favored weapons, Reinforced so that they could withstand the strength of a Servant.

Illyasviel and Lancer stood to the side, with the Servant close to her Master, just in case Rider's excitement got the better of her. Shirou emerged from the changing room, having replaced his school uniform with a more practical garment.

They stood five meters away from each other, and Shirou activated his Reinforcement. Black lines ran across his exposed skin, and his eyes gleamed golden, but the shadows in the room remained unaffected. The young man was only using Reinforcement so that his human body could match Rider's (though even that was, she had been told by Illya, more than most Magi could accomplish with that spell).

"We shouldn't be able to hurt each other with these, but just in case, we'll stop at first blood, alright Rider ?" declared Shirou.

"Fine," replied Lancer's blackened sister, before jumping at Shirou, kicking off dust as she closed the distance between them in an eye-blink.

Rider's spear had slightly more reach than Shirou's greatsword, and the Servant of the Mount was significantly faster than the Master. She moved so fast around him she seemed to be dancing, but each blow she aimed was parried, Shirou's own footwork barely managing to keep up with her. As had been the case for his Servant when she had duelled Lancer in the park, he was forced on the defensive, unable to strike back.

"I've wondered : where did you learn to fight like that ?" asked Rider as she stepped back from the engagement, neither fighter appearing even slightly winded by the breathtaking display. "There can't be teachers for that kind of weapon in this era."

"Memories and dreams," replied Shirou. "The visions of battle are typically the most vivid ones, and I can use Reinforcement to match the strength of the Dark Angel. Then I practiced the moves here until I build up the muscle memory."

He frowned, pausing in his movement as a thought occurred to him.

"Actually, come to think of it, I might have surpassed it in sheer strength, given that I can match Servants, and it definitely wasn't that strong … at least to begin with -"

He was cut off as Rider leapt back into the fray without warning, and Lancer was once again reminded of the atrophy of her own instincts. She felt she should've seen her counterpart's actions coming, but she hadn't. As Saber had surmised, the sundering of King Arthur's Spirit Origin into three distinct Servants had left her without Skill in that regard, reflecting the fact that she was the 'Artoria of Camelot', as Rin had put it.

Lancer caught a glimpse of Rider's face as the fight accelerated further and further, each side pushing themselves further and further without calling upon the fullness of their power. The other Servant's face was flushed with excitement, a wide smile showing her teeth and her eyes glowing orange. She could feel the draconic power swelling within Rider as the other Servant drew upon the Core Merlin had implanted within them, and her own began to heat up in reaction.

The tip of Rider's spear caught the collar of Shirou's shirt, and despite being blunted, the strength behind the downward blow was enough to tear the garment from Shirou's body …

Oh.

Lancer knew from personal experience that Shirou was strong, but she had assumed it was entirely the result of his Magecraft. And while there was no doubt his Reinforcement was the reason he could keep up with a Servant's might, he clearly hadn't neglected his physical training. His upper body had the kind of muscles she'd seen on young knights, though there were differences that spoke of a different training routine.

There was another brief pause in the fighting as Rider took in the revealed sight. Then, with a roar, Rider threw her spear against Shirou's sword, briefly smashing it aside before letting go of her weapon and tackling Shirou to the ground. Instead of simply falling to the ground, however, the speed at which Rider had been moving meant that Master and Servant rolled over and over on the floor, eventually coming to a stop with Shirou laying flat on his back and Rider on all four above him.

The image of a hungry lioness salivating over a lump of meat briefly flashed in Lancer's mind. She moved her hands to block Illyasviel's vision, not listening to her Master's protests. She didn't think Rider was quite so lost to her own desires to start consuming them right there and then, but it seemed likely something was going to happen.

She tried very hard not to think of how her Master had already seen Shirou being kissed by someone who looked almost exactly like Rider, and fared about as well as she did trying to pretend she wasn't blushing bright red at the sight.

Then she heard rushing footsteps approaching, and turned her head to see the door of the dojo slid open, and Rin entered, only to be faced with the sight of her Servant draped over her shirtless lover on the floor while his sister and her own Servant watched with blushes on their faces. There was a moment of shocked silence, then :

"SHIROU !"

Omake : Chaos Dwarves Campaign Intro for Total War Warhammer III

AN : this made more sense before the Chaos Dwarves were actually introduced into the game, I promise.

Bearing the knowledge of Ursun's survival and captivity within the Forge of Souls, I journey to the desolate lands past the peaks of World's Edge Mountains. To free myself of my curse, I need to reach the captive god, but while the Book of Fate has provided me with the knowledge of the paths needed to pass through the tumult of the Maelstrom and access the Forge of Souls, I cannot hope to accomplish such an endeavour alone.

I need allies, and I know exactly where to find ones with the strength and will necessary to pit themselves against the horrors of the Realms of Chaos, at the center of which lays the Forge of Souls.

There are many warriors in the Dark Lands. Tribes of Orcs, Goblins, and worse fight each other for scarce riches, but all live in the shadows of Zharr-Naggrund, whose towers rise high above the blasted landscape. The sound of infernal industry raises from this place of wretched slavery and abject misery, where countless thousands toil under the barbed whips of cruel overseers, fuelling forges and assembly lines with their sweat and blood until they fall over dead, only to be replaced by more slaves. A pall of black smoke hangs over it, choking the light of the sun and further poisoning an already cursed land.

There live the Dawi Zharr, called Chaos Dwarves by the foolish and the ignorant. Long ago, in the first age of blood and fire, they were abandoned by the Ancestral Gods of their kin, and instead swore themselves to the Father of Darkness, Hashut. With the strength of his blessings, they survived here, in this hostile land, and built an empire to rival any of those their cousins in the west built – and one that has endured far longer.

After days of trekking through the inhospitable plains, I reach at last the gates of Zharr-Naggrund, and present myself to those who guard its gates. Thankfully, my frail body is of little interest to these pitiless slave masters, and their curiosity at my presence buys me time enough to make my case. The Dawi Zharr are well versed in the arts of the arcane, for they have built mighty engines to harness the powers of Chaos to their indomitable will.

The book I bear earns me passage past the grim guardians of the gates, and audience with Astragoth Ironhand, High Priest of Hashut, and the closest thing the fractious Dawi Zharr have to a king. He looks down upon me from his throne. After a thousand years of practicing Chaos sorcery, his body is more stone than flesh due to the curse that afflicts all Sorcerers among his kin, but a twisted contraption of sharp metal envelops him, an engine of woe and war as much as it is a replacement for his petrified limbs.

One mistake, I know, and I will be hurled into the sacrificial cauldrons, where I will burn in molten iron to appease the ravenous hunger of their Dark God. I kneel before this dreadful lord and reveal the secrets I have uncovered, holding up the Tome of Fate as proof of my words.

"All the knowledge of the Forge of Souls, and the power of a god, yours to do with as you please," I finish. "What dark wonders would your people be able to create with such things in your grasp ?"

"A tempting offer," he replies, and my old bones shiver at the power in his deep voice. "With the power of Ursun, we could fashion engines to conquer the world, and there might be something in the Forge of Souls we haven't discovered for ourselves yet. We could claim vengeance on all those who've wronged us at last. But what, human, would you ask in return for this great bounty ?"

"A single drop of Ursun's blood, oh mighty lord. That is all that I ask."

Though I keep my head down, I can feel his gaze upon me, scorching my skin with its intensity.

"Very well," he says at last. "Guide me to the Forge of Souls, and you shall have your blood. But fail me, or betray me, and I promise you, the torment you feel being bound to this tome you bear will pale in comparison to what I shall inflict upon you."

Struggling to keep my shock at his casual knowledge of my curse, I abase myself further.

"I shall serve you well, my lord. You have my oath."

Chapter Text

The flesh he has usurped is falling apart, a shell cracking to reveal the dark majesty of his ascended self. He yearns to shed it off completely, and tread the broken streets of this burning city in all his glory. But since his ascension, he cannot remain upon the mortal plane in his true form for long before being recalled to the Realm of the Gods. And there is still work to do here before he can depart.

Nearly all of the ninety-nine battle-brothers sworn to his banner are deployed across the burning city. Once, he commanded thousands of Dark Angels, but the decree of the Lion has restricted his authority within the Legion to less than a single company. Despite the annoyance this causes, he can see the sense in it, as those who have been granted apotheosis are easily distracted from the Long War by the demands of the Great Game. Never before has he deployed so many of them on a single operation, but this battle is more important than any he has fought since the Siege itself.

This is the second war of the Mortis Gate. This is where the Imperium learns of the Archdukes of Cysgorog, and the Dark Angels learn to dread the blades of Titan.

This is where the will of a Daemon Prince will be denied, and the seeds of doubt sown.

Once, in the long ago, when he still fought under the banner of the Corpse-Emperor, he led his Legion in battle here. They did not understand then the culture they found, and, believing it tainted and unfit for compliance, they put it to the sword, leaving the world ready for re-colonization.

Now, over two thousand years after the end of the Great Rebellion, the Mortis Gate will fall. The way will be open for the rest of the First Legion, and the Dark Angels will be free of their exile, free to slip past the Iron Cage that the Fourth believes it can raise around their ever-changing realm. Free to pursue the Hunt their gene-sire has ordered them to perform for their Fallen kin.

His eyes, which are burning within the sockets of this mortal skull, are drawn up to the burning heavens. There is something new there, amidst the storm his coming has brought. Trails of fire coming down, heralding the arrival of those who think themselves a match for his might.

He laughs as the Death Guard comes to make ashes of the Mortis Gate, that it might be denied to the First Legion. The dour sons of Mortarion cannot hope to stand against him. They can murder this world in their efforts, but it will not be enough. The Mortis Gate, that antediluvian structure from an age that has long since faded from all but the eldest myths, will be protected. All the destruction they will wreak will only serve to fuel the Ruinous Powers, ultimately facilitating his aims.

But …

He sees something else amidst the trails of falling drop-pods, with the sight that bloomed after he turned his back on the Golden Throne. He sees silver flames, burning bright against the fire-lit night sky.

He remembers that silver fire. He saw it burn in the heavens once before, the light of a battle fought far, far away while he and his Legion laid siege to the Imperial Palace. With that recollection comes understanding, and something as close to fear as the creature he has become is capable of.

The Grey Knights, they who defied the might of the Ravenlord and lived, are coming for him.

He should have known this would happen, thinks the boy who walks besides him.

For wherever monsters rise, so too shall heroes come to stop them.

November 26th, 2004 AD – Emiya residence

Rin woke up to the comfortable warmth of other people's bodies all around her. It took a moment for her brain to process the situation and when it did, embarrassment warred with satisfaction within her. Embarrassment at how easily Sakura had been able to talk her into joining her and Saber in Shirou's bed that evening, and satisfaction at having the tension that had been building up inside her since the start of the Grail War taken care of so nicely.

Saber's words yesterday had been right : Shirou was a very good lover. She didn't think the Fae who had created Avalon had envisioned the benefits of the Noble Phantasm for its bearer's endurance in that arena, but they were potent nonetheless. Otherwise, even someone as athletic as Shirou would have struggled to satisfy the appetites of three young women.

Saber especially had surprised Rin with the intensity of her desires. Perhaps those were due to the influence of her Draconic blood, which had protected her from the Grail's corruption but had also changed, altered her in the process. At least she'd still had enough of her wits about her to refuse Rider's request that she join them; she didn't think she'd have a moment with Shirou otherwise.

In any case, last night certainly had been as interesting as it had been enjoyable, but it as over, and the causes of her tension still needed to be seen to.

She saw that Shirou was already awake, staring at the ceiling. Noticing her gaze, he turned to look at her, and she fought in vain to keep the blush from her face as he smiled.

God, but the insufferable moron was handsome when he smiled.

"Good morning, Rin," he said.

"Good morning," she mumbled in reply. She didn't want to talk about what they had done last night, and fortunately, she had another subject she could bring up. "You're up early. Another vision ?"

"Yes," he nodded, grimacing. "It was … unpleasant. I managed to wake up without the help of Saber or Assassin and Archer this time, though."

Part of Rin was jealous of the Servants who had gotten the chance to share the memories of the Dark Angel which tormented Shirou. The rest of her, however, was very glad that the contract between them didn't allow for that sort of things. They had considered it early in their investigation of Shirou's nature : there were spells that would let her see his memories of the dreams, even if they would lack the weird understanding that he possessed during them and that vanished when he woke up.

Ultimately, however, they had decided against it. Sakura's transformation when fighting Bazett had proven that even the energy Shirou drew from the Dark Angel's essence mingled with the soul of the boy he had been could affect them, and they didn't want to risk deliberately exposing themselves to more of it. Well, Sakura had been fine with it, probably because anything that let her get closer to her Senpai was fine with her, but Shirou and Rin had been adamant on the matter. They would already be in enough trouble if the Clocktower learned of Shirou's condition without studying how it could affect other Magecraft users as well.

"Good," she replied, stretching. "You can tell me about it during breakfast."

Saber and Sakura stirred, awakened by the conversation (or, in the case of Saber, no longer pretending to be asleep so she could stay nestled to her Master's side). The sight of her sister's smile as she saw her finally routed her embarrassment and let satisfaction triumph.

No matter what society, propriety and decency might say about it, Rin would choose the path that led to her family's happiness.

As he emerged from the sewers where Caster had made his Workshop, Kirei looked up. The sky was darkening with the setting sun, and there was no sign of the hateful moon in the sky : they had waited for this, mustering their forces and biding their time until the day of the new moon. Its absence was necessary to the plan Caster had explained to him, the one that would break the last obstacles between them and their goal.

His ally's holy creations advanced around him, their blessed nature still hidden beneath the flesh they had claimed. Even so, a normal man would have been driven to terror by their proximity, but Kirei was long past such frailties. All he felt was the power swelling within his heart and reaching out to them.

The priest sensed the presence of his ally behind him, and turned to see Caster looking at him with a smile on his face.

"It will happen tonight, then," he said. "At long last."

"Yes." Caster nodded in the direction of the nine metal disks engraved with blazing sigils that his familiars were loading into the back of the truck Kirei had arranged to be left at the maintenance entrance of the sewers with surprising care. "We need only make our final preparations and set the bait. If the Gods will it, before dawn, we will have secured all we need to bring victory to the Pantheon upon this world."

"Should I call for Gilgamesh ?" asked Kirei.

Through his link to the Servant, Kirei could sense the King of Heroes was wandering the streets of Fuyuki, taking in the sights of the boring, mundane world before they sent it all crashing down and restored the glories that had been denied Mankind for too long.

Convincing him to assist wouldn't be easy : the ego of the King of Heroes was an unpredictable thing, even after his enlightenment. And while Kirei still had over a dozen Command Seals left from the Fourth Grail War and those he had taken from his father's corpse, using them to force Gilgamesh to obey was very much a last resort, as it was guaranteed to sour the relationship he had managed to cultivate with the egotistic King for the last ten years.

After a moment's consideration, Caster shook his head.

"If we need his help, then our plans for tonight will have already failed. In that case, it will be best to keep him in reserve. The Gods favor the bold, but they also delight in punishing hubris, even among their most loyal and beloved followers." The Servant's smile became a lot less congenial as he continued : "the King of Heroes will play his part in time, of this I have no doubt."

"How so, if we are to triumph tonight ?" asked Kirei.

"Completing our great work will take time, even if everything goes exactly as planned tonight. When the blind and ignorant send their forces in a desperate attempt to stop us, Gilgamesh shall prove his worthiness to the Pantheon. His great might will stand as the defender of the Grail, and the Gods shall reward him, just like they shall reward their humble priests."

Despite the words, there was nothing humble in Caster's smile, but then the Servant had taught Kirei that humility was a sin in the eyes of the True Gods. Devotion and obedience were expected, yes, but to be anything less than the greatest possible version of yourself was a failing, and humility was a chain that would always prevent one from reaching their full potential.

"Tonight, then," whispered Kirei, feeling a sense of excitement he hadn't felt in ten years grow within him.

Rider's instincts began to scream three seconds before the phone rang.

Everyone had just finished eating dinner in the living room of the Emiya household, after another boring day of keeping watch in Spirit Form, with the only entertainment on offer teasing her Master about her conduct the previous night. The table had been cleaned up and they were about to discuss their plans for the week-end when her Leader of the Wild Hunt Skill activated, warning her that something was about to happen. She stood up at the same time as Saber on the other side of the table, the two of them looking around for any threat – but none materialized until the phone started ringing.

Not wasting time on questioning their behavior, Shirou moved to answer. After a glance at the number displayed on the screen, he flicked the speakers on as he picked it up so that they could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Kamido-san ?" he asked.

"Kiddo !" said a gruff male voice that carried more than a hint of panic. "Bloody hell, am I glad to hear you. Listen, something bad is going on at the docks. Our guys there reported they were hearing screaming and weird noises, and now I can't get in touch with them !"

At those words, Shirou's transformation was less dramatic than when he called upon the power of the Dark Angel within him, but it was perhaps even more disturbing. The warmth and kindness that were always present in his gaze had vanished, buried under something cold and analytical – yet Rider could still perceive the burning desire, no, the need to act underneath. Shirou was still the same, he was simply focusing his drive to help others through the lens of battle.

It was, Rider thought, one of the most arousing things she had seen in a long time. Unfortunately, now was not the time to pick up where they had been interrupted by her own Master yesterday.

"Cordon the area off," he ordered in a tone that brooked no discussion. Less than two heartbeats had passed since the man – who must be one of Shirou's Yakuza contacts – had finished speaking. "Don't let anyone get inside and get everyone you can as far away as possible. Keep the police away as well. If you find people who saw what happened, get them to safety but don't let them get away; we'll need to interview them later." Which Rider knew meant they would use hypnosis to ensure nothing of the Moonlit World was revealed, lest the situation be made even more dangerous than it already was.

"OK." The controlled tone of voice of Shirou was doing its work : already Kamido sounded less panicked than before. "Do you know what is going on ?"

"I have my suspicions, but I won't know for sure until it has been dealt with."

"Hurry up, then."

The conversation ended, and Shirou put the phone back down before turning to face the rest of the assembled group.

"Sella, Leysritt, you are staying here," said Shirou in clipped tones. "Stay behind the Bounded Fields and be ready to evacuate if this turns out to be a diversion. The rest of us are going to the docks. Our goals are to save any of the Fujimura Group's people who are still there, identify the threat and neutralize it."

Not so different from many of the hunting quests she had taken her knights on, though if her people had access to devices like those phones, a great many tragedies might have been avoided.

"We are using the bikes. Saber, Rider, Lancer, you are driving," he continued. "Illya, you get in the sidecar; Sakura, you are behind Lancer. Rin and I are with our Servants. Berserker, Assassin, Archer, you are in Spirit Form and keep watch for ambushes. Move as fast as you can, but don't rush ahead of the others. We need to stay together until we know more of what's going on."

No one questioned his plan – there was no time, not when lives were in danger. Within three minutes of the phone call, they were on the bikes and leaving the Emiya residence behind.

They rushed through the streets of Fuyuki with all possible speed, and the Riding Skill combined with the capabilities of the bikes meant that it was fast indeed. With the last rays of the setting sun at their back, they raced east toward the docks, Rider and Lancer following Saber's lead. The Servant of the Sword had the best knowledge of the city's layout out of all of them, and even had experience fighting in the docks, having duelled the Lancer of the Fourth War there (though she didn't like to speak of it, due to how that honorable foe had ultimately been brought low).

The skies were clear, and already the temperature was falling. There was no moon in the sky, but the artificial lighting provided more than enough illumination to drive by even with mortal senses. Spells of obfuscation had been added to the bikes to keep other drivers from noticing the fact that all three were piloted by women in armor, or that a little girl was in the sidecar of one of them despite the speeds at which they advanced, which broke both the laws of the road and of engineering.

Ten minutes later, they left the bikes at the entrance of the docks, proceeding on foot. A quick word with the men of the Fujimura Group keeping watch on that side of the closed off area told them they hadn't seen anything, and a quick round of hypnosis ensured they wouldn't remember the armors of the materialized Servants either.

The area was vast, and there were metal boxes piled by the hundreds were workers had brought them off the ships that had transported them across the sea. Rider could only guess as to their contents, or the administrative nightmare that must be keeping track of all of them and sending them where they were needed. She could have used such logistical prowess in her army.

That thought was quickly dismissed, however, for they had far more pressing concerns.

I smell blood, she sent across the telepathic link Rin had reactivated between all Servants and Masters of their group. Lots of it.

They found the first body a few moments later, resting against a pile of containers. It had been mutilated to the point it was impossible to tell if it had been a man or a woman, ripped to shreds and with teeth marks in the ruined meat that was all that remained of what had been a thinking, feeling human being only a few hours ago.

It's fresh, she silently said, kneeling to examine it closely. The blood hasn't even congealed yet.

We move on, replied Shirou. Stay close to each other. Archer, Assassin, keep watch for ranged attacks.

Yes, Master. For once, there wasn't a trace of sarcasm in the two goddesses' reply.

There were more bodies. Many dockers worked late hours, and they had been defenceless against the predator in their midst. Not all corpses were as grievously defiled as the first one they had found, but all bore signs of having been killed in close-quarters with long blades.

Rider could feel her Master's shock and horror growing at the sight of the corpses. For all her mental fortitude, Rin was still a young girl, with little experience of battle and none of the realities of war. She may have hardened her mind with the discipline of a Magus, but she was still a kind soul underneath the façade she projected with various degrees of success. The grim spectacle of the docks had shaken her, and the refrain of her thoughts echoed through the link between them :

No.

I can't break down.

I can't fall apart now.

Not when the monster responsible is still out there, still killing.

Stop it first. Help those who can be helped. Get everyone back home safely.

Then …

Then I can scream. Then I can cry. Then I can hug Shirou and Sakura until I stop shaking -

No.

I can't break down.

And so it went, on and on, forming an undercurrent to her conscious thoughts, which were entirely focused on the threat they faced. This was an appropriate reaction, and one Rider was familiar with from all the young men (and even the older ones, whose experience was balanced by their own personal demons) she had led onto gruesome battlefields.

The ease with which Rin had dissociated her thought processes was surprising, but to be expected from someone trained in Magecraft, she supposed. If anything, she worried more about how Shirou and Sakura seemed completely unperturbed by the horrors they saw. In the former's case, she was fairly certain he was forcing himself to only look at the sights from a battlefield perspective in order to best deal with the threat, much like her Master.

But Sakura … There was a darkness in the girl that, were it not held firmly in check by her love for Shirou, the Servant of the Mount felt could swallow the whole world. It was not her fault, of course : Rin had told Rider of her sister's tragic past, and how she had been saved from it by Shirou. But her innocence didn't make the scars left on her soul any less real.

Whatever it is, I can feel its presence getting stronger, sent Sakura. Case in point, the purple-haired girl was far more attuned to the currents of energy than anyone else in their party. It is close.

They moved cautiously between two piles of containers, emerging into one of the alleys where the engines of the dockers moved to carry the metal boxes from one place to the next.

And there, at last, they saw their enemy.

It was a hideous thing, madness and horror made manifest. It reminded Saber of the monsters the Caster of the Fourth War had unleashed, only oh so much worse. The fiends summoned by Gilles de Rais had been mindless animals, collared by the will of the mad warlock, but there was a deliberate cruelty to the way it looked and moved that spoke of a malevolent sentience at work.

Its body was warped into a shape that had no place in nature. Its limbs were too long and covered in a short bluish fur, with black patterns that made her head hurt and her Dragon Core heat up (though, thankfully, most of them were covered by the blood that matted its fur). Each of its four limbs ended in an identical claw, with vicious hooked talons that matched the wounds on the corpses they had found. Its elongated maw and pair of antlers may have evoked the image of a deer, if not for the grotesquely human pair of eyes set in its skull, the three rows of short, pointy teeth, and the fact that the antlers were ivory-white and dripping with venom that hissed as it hit and melted through the concrete.

Only its eyes and the scraps of dirty clothing that still clung to its twisted frame betrayed that this, at some point, had been a human being.

Saber suddenly realized that she had seen its ilk before, not so long ago, in the vision she had shared with her Master, of a battle waged in Hell between the hosts of the Damned. Already her memories of that battle were fading, but she still retained enough to recognize the unnatural parody of life, though it was still more real than the daemons of the vision. And the taint that emanated from it like a cloud of pestilence was familiar too : it was the same corruption that had held her in its grasp for a decade, seeking to twist everything she was into a vile parody of herself.

The Servant of the Sword looked upon the spawn of the Black Grail, and her Dragon's heart burned with rage.

Master. That thing …

Yeah, I know. It's familiar to me too.

The monster was feeding, its jaws tearing pieces of flesh too big for it to swallow without gagging. It didn't seem to care, pushing down one piece of human meat after the other down its throat as if it were trying to suffocate itself.

Kill it, sent Shirou. This ends now.

Unlike when they had met Illyasviel and the Ainsworth Master, there would be no attempt at negotiation. Saber's Master would not, could not, allow a monster like this to live. She felt his revulsion, his rage, his hatred of the creature, held in check only by the need to protect her and the others.

She completely approved.

They could have obliterated it with their Noble Phantasms, of course, but her and her counterparts' most powerful attacks would also have wiped out the entire docks, and there might still be survivors, nevermind the risk of their Masters being caught in the blast. Archer and Assassin had more targeted trump cards, but Shirou had discussed their limitations with them : in Archer's case, he didn't think it would affect a monster like this, while in Assassin's, he wasn't willing to risk exposing Stheno to the attacks of something which was unlikely to be affected by her mind-control abilities.

As for Berserker, well … They weren't certain what her Noble Phantasm would do exactly, due to the Command Seal still restricting her memories, but it was unlikely to be anything subtle. No, they would have to deal with this thing – which, given the amount of power they could sense inside it, was likely the Avenger-Class Servant Illyasviel had theorized about – in direct combat.

It certainly wasn't going to be a duel, though. A monster preying on civilians didn't deserve the honor of a one-on-one battle, not that any of the Masters would've been willing to limit themselves like that.

Rider attacked first, making full use of her superior mobility. The Servant of the Mount leapt ahead of their party, her spear striking downward as she passed over the creature. The blow was perfectly aimed and should have struck right into its spine, but at the last moment, it dodged out of the way with a jerking motion so sudden and brutal, Saber heard the sickening sound of its bones breaking.

Passing mere centimeters away from the horror's fur, the tip of Rider's spear buried itself into the ground. Then, before Rider could even get her feet back on the ground, the beast caught Gungnir into its left claw, and threw it and its wielder straight into the closest pile of metal boxes with supernatural strength. Empty containers were sent flying by the impact, and an abominable cacophony echoed all around them.

Shame and fury blazed through the link with Rider, but she didn't seem to have been wounded. Without pausing, Saber moved next, charging the beast. As she approached, she glimpsed a line of charred flesh on its hand where it had grasped Gungnir; her sister's weapon hadn't liked being touched by that monstrosity.

Her blackened blade erupted in power as she struck, only for her blow to be parried away with a strike from the creature's claws. The talons were suddenly wreathed in pale lightning that burned away the gore stuck to them in a disgusting-smelling cloud of scarlet vapor. The scent of burned blood, however, paled in comparison to the reek of the creature itself up close, which was as revolting as its appearance.

She moved to block the other claw plunging toward her neck, before kicking the creature in its left leg. The bone broke under the impact of her armored boot, but it didn't seem any more impaired by what should have been a crippling blow than it had been by the breaking of its spine when it had dodged Rider's attack.

It opened its mouth wide, and she disengaged just in time to dodge the blast of lightning that erupted from its maw, tearing a trench in the ground where it hit. She blinked to clear her vision from the attack's after-image, which had blinded her even through her visor – and saw the monster coming for her again. It batted aside her sword and struck at her head, the only part of her unprotected by her armor (for some reason, she alone of the three versions of Artoria Pendragon in this War couldn't summon a full helmet).

A pink arrow whistled above her shoulder and slammed into the approaching claw, pinning it to the container behind it. Archer, she thought, bitterly realizing she would have to thank the other Servant for that.

She drew her sword back for the killing strike, determined to vent her frustration on the monster, drawing power from her Core and the link with her Master to ensure a decisive blow.

Before she could strike, however, it spoke.

Its voice was not a voice. It was a chorus of buzzing flies; it was the screams of the damned; it was a shard of glass running across her soul. Behind her, Saber distantly heard the pained cries of Masters and Servants, and she felt the linking spell collapse as the unholy screeching of the abomination tore through the connection.

Its words were not words. They were insults to the World; they were blasphemies spouted in the face of reality itself; they were notes in a discordant song that promised only ruin.

To her utter horror, Saber found that she understood them.

"DRaGonSPawN," it said. "dAuGhTer oF tHe BlaCk wyRM."

She stood there, frozen in shock and disgust at the fact it recognized her. Then it started laughing, and her anger rose to match her horror.

No one, and certainly no hell-born creature of the Grail, would laugh at her and live. Yet she still couldn't move. She remembered the blackness, and the silence, and the pressure, and the absence of anything, lost and trapped all alone, no light, no sound, no warmth, nothing -

"YoU BelONg tO US. yOU Will bE MAde To seRVe -"

Two wings of shadow beat once, and her Master was at her side, his greatsword plunged through the monster's chest and into the metallic panel behind it.

"Shut up," growled Shirou. "She is my Servant."

His sword ignited, and the creature screamed as it burned. Within seconds, nothing was left of its presence but ashes and a scream that lingered on the wind far too long after it should have faded away.

From the moment Rider had jumped ahead to strike, the battle had lasted less then twenty seconds. The Servant of the Mount was only just emerging from the pile of broken containers and their spilled contents.

"Shirou, is it dead ?" called out Rin in a hoarse voice, as she and the others approached.

"Yes," confirmed Shirou. "I'm sure of it. But its ashes are still there. Illya ?"

"I am not getting any energy from it," replied the young albino, looking at her brother with wide eyes. "And while I'm thankful for that, it means that thing wasn't the Servant summoned at the Animusphere Castle."

"There were bodies missing at the Animusphere Castle," mused Shirou aloud, "and given how … messy … its feeding is, I doubt the Clocktower would have failed to find at least traces of them if it was responsible."

"And I also doubt it could have gotten aboard a plane to Japan," added Sakura.

"So at best, we just killed a familiar, not a Servant," concluded Rin. "Which means ..."

"This is a trap," finished Saber, moments before her instincts finally caught up with her reasoning and started screaming at her.

One moment, they had all been standing near the pile of ashes that had been the monster responsible for the death of at least two dozens innocent people, still recovering from the … the thing it had done, that couldn't be called a voice and that only Shirou had been able to fight through. Rin shivered, and forced herself to think of something else, like the new threat they faced.

There were ten figures standing atop the piled containers around them, which had appeared out of nowhere, without the slightest disturbance to her senses that would have indicated a magic veil being taken down. Nine of them looked like men dressed in the kind of clothes only the truly wealthy ever bothered with, and radiated the same kind of baleful energy as the creature Shirou had obliterated. But it was the tenth that drew Rin's attention, because she was certain it was a Servant. The flowing robes and long white hair screamed 'Heroic Spirit', though there was something in his eyes that just seemed off.

And then, of course, there were the three red markings on his hand. Given that this most definitely wasn't Marisbury Animusphere, that meant they faced the being responsible for the destruction of the Animusphere Castle and the slaughter of that ancient family.

"How the hell did they manage to surround us without us noticing ?!" hissed Rin, drawing another jewel from her pockets and holding it in her free hand, ready to cast at a moment's notice.

Meanwhile, Shirou and the Servants were forming a defensive circle around the comparatively squishier Masters. Berserker had materialized the moment the newcomers had revealed themselves, and Archer and Assassin had done the same, though they were inside the circle – they were too small to serve as effective shields, after all, even if they had been willing to risk themselves for mere mortals.

"Greetings, Masters and Servants of Fuyuki City," said the brown-skinned man in a genial tone. "I am Caster."

Well, that answered her question at least. A Servant of that Class could be expected to be able to conceal himself and his allies from their senses, especially one capable of laying waste to the Animusphere in their own Castle.

"You fought very well," he continued conversationally. "Poor Furfur never stood a chance."

'Furfur' ? No matter how ridiculous, the name sounded vaguely familiar.

It took Rin a few seconds to remember. She had read that name in the Lemegeton, one of the most spread texts of Magecraft, so famous it was known even in the mundane world. It was a grimoire, written in the 17th century, no one knew by whom. Its first part, the Ars Goetia, listed seventy-two demons, detailing their natures and powers.

Studying it had been part of Rin's education, and she knew the names of each of the seventy-two demons described within its pages – and Furfur was one of them. It was supposed to possess elemental and mind-altering abilities, and be a pathological liar unless compelled by the appropriate Mysteries (which hadn't been included in the texts she had studied, and of which she doubted any copy existed outside of the Association's most secure vaults, and perhaps those of the Church as well).

There was also something about it having the shape of a deer, and Rin supposed the abomination they had killed vaguely resembled one, if you squinted very hard and were having a bad trip after ingesting some very potent, very illegal drugs.

"And to have inflicted such complete obliteration upon him ... Magnificent." Caster clapped several times, seeming genuinely happy that they had killed its familiar. "I am pleased to see that you retain more of your power than I anticipated, 'Shirou Emiya'."

The way he said those last two words made it sound like he was sharing a joke with them.

"Who are you ?" asked Rin. She already had her suspicions, but she was hoping she was wrong. The chances of the Servant answering were low, of course, but you never knew. Crazy people did crazy things, and if Caster was influenced by the Grail's corruption as 'Furfur' seemed to make certain, then he was definitely crazy.

She was right in both instances, even if she really wished she wasn't.

"Ah, how rude of me. I haven't introduced myself !" He laughed briefly, a sound that set her teeth on edge. "Truly, my manners aren't what they used to be. Please forgive me."

Caster spread his arms out wide, and his voice rang loudly across the docks as he declared :

"I am Solomon. King of Mages, Master of the Seventy-Two Demon Pillars, and a devout servant of the True Gods." He performed a mocking bow in their direction.

Oh. Oh, that wasn't good. Solomon's work was the foundation of all Magecraft in the current era. If the Grail had managed to corrupt him (which it must have, because Rin doubted a properly summoned Solomon would have said anything about 'True Gods' when his faith in the God of the Church was a pretty important part of his legend), then the situation was so bad it wasn't even funny.

"Liar."

Shirou spoke softly, but his voice echoed with power. He had let go of the Dark Angel's power after killing Furfur, but had drawn upon it again immediately after the reveal of their ambushers. Rin didn't want to imagine what sort of impact something like that would have on him in the long-term, but right now, she felt much safer behind his back, with his shadowy wings stretching out to cover Illya, Sakura and her.

Something ugly briefly flashed on Solomon's face at the single word, before vanishing and being replaced by another smile.

"Oh ?" the Servant said in a deceptively soft tone. "Please, go ahead. Elaborate."

"I know you." Under the black lines of Reinforcement and the blazing golden eyes, the expression on Shirou's face could only be described as one of horrified determination, and it scared Rin more than she cared to admit. "I have seen you before, in the years when treachery spread in glory's shadow. You had a different face then, but you cannot hide the truth from me. You aren't Solomon. You wear his shape, but you are not the King of Mages."

"Yes," the enemy Servant gloated, his smile revealing pointed teeth. He clapped his hands and laughed. "Yes ! You are indeed what I was hoping for. But tell me then, my friend. If I am not Solomon, then who am I ?"

"You are not of the Caster Class either," continued Shirou, his eyes blazing with power as he looked upon the Servant, seeing things Rin could only guess at. "That, too, is only a mask you wear to hide the truth to the World. You are nothing but a Pretender, but I see you."

Still, the demonist kept smiling. A terrible sense of foreboding came over Rin then. This was a mistake. They were playing into Caster's plan, whatever it was. She didn't know how, but Shirou was doing exactly what the Grail-corrupted Servant wanted.

But it was too late to stop Shirou :

"Last of the arch-priests of Colchis. Leader of the Covenant. The Black Cardinal, Prophet of the Dark Gods, Voice of the Ruinstorm, and the arch-nemesis of Lorgar Aurelian. Your True Name … is Kor Phaeron."

The name echoed in Rin's bones, and she felt a chill descend on her very soul.

"YES !" roared the exposed deceiver, laughing like a madman. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ! Wonderful !"

Caster threw his arms out wide, and before their eyes, his body started to change. It wasn't anything as simple as an illusion spell being dispelled, or a more physical kind of shape-shifting coming undone. Rin couldn't explain just how it happened, but the aspect of Solomon simply fell off the Servant, discarded like a mask that had covered not just his face but his entire existence.

Gone was the lustrous mane of white hair, revealing a bald and scarred skull bearing an impossibly old face that looked down on them with small eyes that burned with the sort of fervor that set continents ablaze. Gone was the bronze skin, replaced by a pallor that was more appropriate for a corpse rather than a living being. The flowing multicolored robe was gone too, replaced by a black garment that resembled those worn by monks, except for the eightfold star threaded in gold on the chest and the crimson jewel embedded at its center, which blazed with malevolent light.

The only thing that hadn't changed, much to Rin's horror, were the rings he wore on each of Kor Phaeron's fingers, whose simplistic design belied the power she sensed within them and which looked utterly out of place on the withered, claw-like fingers that protruded from his sleeves. According to legend, Solomon had been given ten rings by God in order to accomplish His will. The Moonlit World had a dozen different interpretations of the myth, of course, but none denied the power of the rings.

Rin still very much hoped these rings had been Kor Phaeron's all along. If this being was from the same alternate timeline which had created the Dark Angel which had been fused with Shirou's soul in the fires of the Fourth Grail War, as the familiar names her lover had employed in his denunciation indicated, then perhaps his own legend included ten rings of power too, which was how it had managed to usurp the summoning of Solomon in the first place.

She really, really hoped that was the case. Because if it wasn't, if the Pretender-Class Servant (something which not even Illyasviel's notes on the Grail summoning system had ever mentioned as a possibility) had managed to cling to the true rings of the King of Mages as he was stripped of his disguise …

"Now," said Kor Phaeron in a voice that was much drier and less congenial, "let us proceed with tonight's second Revelation."

Solomon, King of Mages
Class : Caster

[DECEIT REVEALED]

||
V

Kor Phaeron, the Black Cardinal
Class : Pretender

Strength : E
Edurance : E
Agility : E
Mana : A++
Luck : A++

Noble Phantasm : [ACCESS DENIED]
Rank : EX
Type : Anti-Humanity

Skills :
Daemon Summoning : Master of the Seventy-Two Pillars (EX)
Charisma (C)
Territory Creation (A)
Item Creation (B)
Independant Manifestation (A)
Mental Pollution (EX)
Revelation of the Octed (-)
[ACCESS DENIED]

Omake : The Clocktower's Rumour Mill

If there was one domain in which Waver's skills had grown since becoming a Lord of the Clocktower, it was dealing with paperwork. Other Lords had veritable legions of assistants to deal with the boring details of their office, as promising youngsters all but begged for these positions in the hope of making useful connections.

Him, however, needed to do it all himself. It was an arduous task, but at the very least while he was battling forms, filling in reports and grading papers, he wasn't fighting for his life in the midst of his latest unwilling investigation having gone horribly wrong. There was a tranquility to boredom that he had only come to truly appreciate in his later years.

That tranquility was shattered as the gate of his office opened and his adoptive sister and tormentor walked in with a smile on her face.

"Hello, dear brother."

"Hello, Reines," sighed Waver. "Go ahead, don't hold back. Tell me."

"Tell you what, dear brother ?" asked Reines innocently.

"Whatever it is you came here to tell me that you think will annoy me."

"My ! Is this really how you think of me ?"

"Yes," deadpanned the Lord of the Clocktower. "Now, out with it. I have enough to worry about already without having to wonder what additional trouble you are going to add to my plate."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it trouble. It's just that I have heard the most amusing rumors about the last meeting of the honorable Lords of our institution."

"There are always rumors before, during and after these meetings," dismissed Waver. "You would think people would have better things to do with their time than trading gossip, what with this being an organization dedicated to research."

"In their defense," Bazett – she and Gray had been quietly sitting in the room reading and keeping watch, just in case another of the Magi holding a grudge against Waver for his interference in their crazy, doomed-to-fail schemes – pointed out, "knowing what's going on in the upper circles of power is pretty much a survival necessity here."

"That might excuse it, if there was ever a grain of truth in the rumors. For all our differences, I do respect my esteemed peers enough to believe that they respect the secrecy of these meetings."

He sighed again.

"Now, Reines, get it over with. What ridiculous theories about the meeting are circulating right now ?"

"Well," the smile on her face didn't fill him with confidence, "there's one rumour that claims one of your former students has just become a Magician, and that the Lords gathered to decide how to handle that momentous event."

"Ridiculous. I have taught some gifted students, true, but none of them are close to that level. Well, except Flat, maybe, but his approach to Magecraft is far too random to actually grasp the Root … I hope."

"The other, most widespread theory as to the subject of the gathering is the succession of the Astrology Department's Lordship, since word of the Animusphere's downfall has already spread across the entire Association. It is whispered that you have managed to secure the Lordship for yourself, blackmailing the other Lords into acceding to your demands by threatening them with the same fate you already inflicted upon the Animusphere if they oppose you."

"… What ?"

"Oh yes," Reines nodded, her smile widening even further. "Apparently, you were the one to destroy the Animusphere Castle, as punishment for their studying of the Moon having led to them being contaminated by the remnants of Brunestud's madness."

"That's … there is so much wrong with that I don't know where to begin," admitted Waver, all too aware that Gray and Bazett were holding back their laughter and not quite succeeding.

"Either that, or a Reflection of Zelretch showed up despite the wards and endorsed your candidature, silencing all opposition. I take it there is nothing to that either ?"

"Of course there isn't ! I already have far too much work on my plate to take up the duties of another Lordship, let alone one so fraught with risk as the Astrology Department !" He frowned as a realization suddenly hit him. "I'll need to make sure Olga-Marie doesn't believe this nonsense. She's already in a difficult enough situation without thinking I'm to blame for it all."

"Apart from that … There are those who believe the Atlas Institute has offered you a place in their ranks in recognition of your talent at dissecting Mysteries, those who think you are planning a coup to install yourself as Director of the Association, and …"

"And ?" Waver asked with morbid fascination, convinced by Reines' pause that she was holding back the decisive blow.

"Well, apparently you and Vice-Director Barthomelloi are about to announce your wedding," she delivered without mercy. "Congratulations, dear brother."

Slowly, calmly, Waver pushed aside the documents he had been working on, along with the pens and stamps he had been using. Then, with great deliberation, he slammed his head into his desk, once, twice, three times.

"Teacher ?!" "Lord ?!"

God, but his younger self had been a moron, to think being famous was a good thing.

Chapter Text

The Throne of Heroes has been breached. The records meant to hold the greatest defenders of the World have been compromised.

The root of that infection occurred seven decades prior, but the poison was subtle, and stayed hidden until the cycle of war turned again and it could spread further. As a result, it was only ten years ago that the defense systems finally noticed, when the intrusion began to act. And by then, it was too late.

The three Kings are lost, and the three daughters of the Old Mother have awakened from the vault where their souls were laid to rest after the first king of Mycenae ended their torment.

But the World has reacted, learned, adapted. The confinement holds. The taint will spread no further, and while two of the three Kings are doomed, the third might yet be saved.

Old defense protocols have been activated for the first time in several ages of the World. The Warden has been notified of the threat; the Keepers of Mysteries have been set in motion; and the Alchemists are preparing for the ultimate sanction should the worst come to pass.

And it might come to pass, that much is ominously clear. A Pretender walks the World, an impossibility given form by usurped Mysteries, his mask of falsehood removed by the Foreigner who does not know himself. An obscene and primordial Truth animates him, and should he succeed in collaring the Foreigner again to the Enemy's will, the only path to salvation will lie in fire.

But all is not yet written. The Will of the World can guide and empower, but it cannot truly control the choices of mortals, cannot know all ends. There are none who can, especially those who claim otherwise among the Enemy's ranks. The free will of ensouled beings cannot be perfectly predicted.

And so, from his place of exile, the Magus of Flowers looks down upon the World, though he cannot intervene directly due to the alignment of the spheres. He prays that the son of broken dreams and the ashes of false miracles will make the right choice. He prays that the World will be spared from the hungry darkness that looms for another turn of the wheel.

And above all else, he prays for the safety and happiness of his beloved King.

November 26h, 2004 AD – Fuyuki Docks

It couldn't be.

But it was.

Kor Phaeron was an ugly man. It was an odd thing to think about in that situation, but he couldn't help it. He reminded Shirou of Zouken that way. Old people, as a rule, tended to look kind or at least harmless, but the Servant and Shinji's ancestor both managed to use their age to look even more sinister. Zouken had been more subtle about it (he had needed to interact with society from time to time, after all), but one needed only look at Kor Phaeron to know that here was a monster who had survived for decades despite all the universe had thrown at him to get rid of his existence.

Since Rin had come up with the theory that the Dark Angel whose power and fragmented memories dwelled within his souls had been brought into existence by the Second Magic going haywire at the end of the Fourth War, Shirou had been able to reassure himself with the thought that, no matter how horrible the visions were, at least they had never been real. The shikome had felt familiar, yes, but all that meant was that the World was haunted by its own monsters, and for all its horror the handmaiden of rot had still paled compared to some of the nightmares the Dark Angels had fought and later consorted with.

As long as the visions weren't real, then he could treat them as warnings, as object lessons about what happened when you didn't take responsibility for your own actions and embraced lies and delusions to avoid dealing with the consequences of your choices. Not too different from a morality fable, although not one he would have recommended for children.

But now Kor Phaeron was here.

Shirou had listed the titles of Pretender, and they had been true, each and every one of them, even if he couldn't grasp the details. Kor Phaeron had been responsible for the deaths of millions when he had been alive, and might have caused even more if Lorgar Aurelian hadn't killed him at the climax of the Wars of the False Priests. Instead, the Black Cardinal and all his works had been cast down, and his very name had been burned from all records by the cold rage of the Seventeenth Primarch.

Except … Except it hadn't been. There had been some records which had survived, and the First Legion had found them, and with that knowledge they – he – had –

No. No, this hadn't happened. This was nothing more than a might-have-been reality, a what-if the World had conjured in its exploration of the possible paths, and with all the horror his visions had shown him he could see why that path had been discarded. If this was where the Age of Gods might have led, then it was better for it to end, even if Humanity became weaker as a result.

And yet, Kor Phaeron was here.

If not for the fact he had so many people to protect, Shirou wasn't confident he wouldn't have collapsed under the strain. His friends thought him strong, but they didn't understand, because they weren't broken like he was. Because he was facing something from his visions, and he was awake.

And with that came a horrible thought :

What if it was all true ?

That doubt took root in his mind, and with it came the awful weight of the Dark Angel's guilt rushing back up from the pit of his mind where he had managed to lock it away for over a year. His hands held his sword in front of him – ceramite gauntlets drenched in the blood of his kind – blood, so much blood on his hands – the sins of the Dark Angels, forever Unforgiven -

"You are dead," he forced the words out, focusing on the present through a monumental effort of will. "Lorgar killed you at Varadesh."

"He did," admitted Pretender with a scowl. "That golden fool could have been the greatest champion of the Gods, if he had only accepted the truth. But the Gods did not let something as insignificant as my demise stop their plans, and they still had a use for me."

"He … killed you again," he mumbled, images and thoughts flashing in his mind before vanishing, each one feeling like a dagger plunging through his skull. "In Ultramar, during the Shadow Crusade … the Twelfth and Seventeenth defeated you …"

He stumbled, and his sword tip lowered.

"No. No, that's wrong … You aren't real ! You aren't ! You …"

"Shirou !" Rin called out. "Focus ! The Grail must have pulled him out of the same timeline it did the other one ! He's just another creation of the Second Magic, except it worked out better for the Grail than it did with you !"

A part of him recognized that, even now, Rin was being smart and avoiding giving more information to their enemy that she absolutely needed to by not saying the name of the Dark Angel aloud. The rest of him understood her argument, saw the logic in it, yet it couldn't shake the awful feeling that she was wrong – that they had all been wrong all along.

"Hmm ? Is that what you believe happened, young lady ?" Kor Phaeron's tone was clearly mocking now. "Ah, no matter. As I said, the truth will be revealed to you all soon enough."

As one, each of the nine figures (all of which were monsters like the one he had destroyed while Saber held its attention, though they hid their nature for now) held up a metallic disk above their heads. Each disk was engraved with glowing runes arranged in geometric patterns, and he knew immediately they had been crafted by Pretender back when he still had his mask of Caster.

Arcs of energy leapt between the disks, tracing geometric patterns above them, and only then did Shirou realize that the possessed Magi had positioned themselves at approximately the same height. Sigils that burned with fell light formed between the lines connecting them, forming what might be taken for a Formalcraft circle but which Shirou instinctively knew was something far more sinister.

"Stop them !" shouted Rin.

Joining action to her words, she blasted a curse at the nearest silhouette, only for her Gandr to crash against an invisible sphere of energy surrounding it. Archer fired an arrow at another, only for the same to occur – then, before anyone else had time to act, whatever Kor Phaeron had been doing activated.

"The time has come, my friend," declared Kor Phaeron. He raised his hand, and one of the Command Seals on it flared and vanished as the Black Cardinal called upon its power. "As you freed me from my mask, so shall I free you from yours, one servant of the Gods to another. By Their will and Their might I command you : remember who you truly are !"

There was a flash of light as nine beams of coruscating energy erupted from the disks and slammed into him from all angles, too fast for him to dodge or block them. He heard Sakura scream his name, and then there was only darkness.

Unfortunately, it didn't last, and what came next was much, much worse.

He is newly come to the Order, having been added to the ranks of its squires once his home town fell under the aegis of their protection as their influence extended all across Caliban. As he trained, he wondered if he would ever have the chance to use his skills, knowing that the Great Beasts which had plagued the world in all their history were on the verge of extinction. There were still monsters in the woods, and there were still people disappearing, but nowhere near the grim numbers recorded in the archives of the Order.

Now he knows, without knowing where that certainty comes from, that he will never run out of battles to fight.

He is standing in precise formation along with hundreds of other squires, with the anointed knights standing at the forefront. All those who can stand, who can be spared from the absolute minimum of their duties now that the beasts are all but wiped out across Caliban, have come. Any other day, the sight of so many noble defenders of their world would fill him with pride. Today, it seems pitifully little.

Above, a roaring beast of metal and fire descends. It is a machine, they are told, a transport carrying someone from the fleet of spaceships anchored in orbit above their world. To them, who have hunted beasts on horseback wearing suits of armor painstakingly maintained over generations using knowledge that has become more ritual than science, it would seem impossible if it weren't happening before their very eyes.

They believed the stories of Humanity having come to Caliban from the stars thousands of years ago to be just that : stories. The endless struggle against the Beasts left little time to ponder the question of where humans had come from, and the sages had their hands full keeping the lore needed to survive alive. Now the answers have come, and nothing will ever be the same.

This is the day the Emperor comes to Caliban for the first and last time. This is the day the Lion is reunited with his gene-sire.

But where the Master of Mankind should be, there is only a gaping hole in reality, a complete and utter absence. The memory has been excised, the face of Him on Earth purged. And as he sees the Lion kneel before the human-shaped void, all he feels is a sense of loss.

He was not permitted to retain that memory. His damnation to come reaches back into his past, burning away that which doesn't serve it.

At first, the thought that Caliban, with its Beasts-infested forests, was actually one of the luckier outposts of Mankind boggled his mind. But he has seen much since then, and he understands the bitter truth of it.

For five thousand years, Humanity has lived in terror as the Age of Strife reigned. Worlds were cut off from each other and at the mercy of mad witches, cruel xenos, and rogue technology. It is only now, with the Warp storms that prevented interstellar travel subduing, that the distant descendants of Terra's first galactic empire are coming back together, united under the leadership of the Emperor and His Great Crusade.

But though the light of Humanity shines once more across the galaxy, many horrors stand in the path of the Imperial Truth, and here, in the darkness of the galactic north, one such evil rises once more. Twice already it was beaten back, each time at a terrible cost that left the nascent Imperium weakened and scarred in a way that won't be surpassed until the Great Crusade ends in blood and treachery.

This is the apex of the Great Crusade. This is the Third Rangdan Xenocide.

This is where the First Legion bleeds.

Since leaving Caliban, he has grown stronger. The gene-seed of the First Legion has remade him into a transhuman warrior, building on the foundation of his time as a squire of the Order.

He is not the only one who changed. Luther, who was the Lion's father, mentor and comrade throughout their conquest of Caliban and the purge of the Great Beasts, who was too old to become a Space Marine but was granted the greatest gene-forging and other augmentations to be able to continue standing at the Primarch's side, does so no longer. None but the Lion know why he sent his closest advisor back to the homeworld : the Primarch keeps his reasons to himself, and none of his sons would dare question him about them.

Right now, however, he very much wishes Luther were here. The old knight might have an idea as to how they can get out of this situation. Already they have lost entire star systems, thousands of Dark Angels, and millions of soldiers to the Rangdan advance. World after world has been claimed by the Rangdan blasphemies and their mysterious masters, their human population subjected to unimaginable fates.

Where once a prosperous Sector stood, having endured the nightmares of Old Night, now there is nothing but an empire of corpses, where monsters feed upon the carrion left by their servants.

Yet the Dark Angels will keep fighting, no matter what. They will break the Rangdan fleets and wipe them out to the last. They will extinguish the taint of their presence in the galaxy, should it take the last drop of their Legion's blood, should it require the unleashing of all the forbidden weapons the Emperor entrusted to His First Legion, should their sacrifices be unremembered by the rest of the Imperium.

Humanity will survive. Humanity will prosper. The golden future promised by the Emperor is, must be worth all of this. This he tells himself, as he sees more and more brothers die around him, leaving him alone to rise through the ranks as a champion and lord of the Dark Angels.

He does not see the trap; how that conviction, forged into a shield to hold their sanity in the face of such horrors, can and will be used to break them and remake them into something vile and hateful, something which will drown the dream for which they fight in darkness.

The prisoner has been brought to his knees before Lion El'Jonson, stripped of his weapons and armor. He hasn't been tortured, but his flesh still bears the wounds from when his brothers had to subdue him, and he didn't go quietly. Several Dark Angels are still in the Apothecarion of the Invincible Reason, and two of them are unlikely to ever return to the frontline.

But then, Chaplain Nemuel was always a great warrior. He fought and survived the Rangdan Xenocide, leading his brothers from the front into the deepest pits of this horrible war. And when the Warp Storm trapped their fleet on their way back to the Imperium, when they were brought to the Ghoul Stars and there into the Crystal Labyrinth, he retained the strength of his conviction even in front of all the horrors that awaited them there.

Even now, as the Primarch of the Dark Angels gazes down at him from his throne, there is only defiance in Nemuel's eyes.

This is the judgment of the Angel who did not break. This is the defiance of Nemuel of Caliban.

This is where the last hope of the First Legion turning aside from damnation dies.

"Will you not relent, my son ?" asks the Lion, with uncharacteristic softness. "Will you not accept the truth we saw, and what we must do ?"

"Never," growls Nemuel. "The path you have set upon is one of heresy. It will only lead to the ruin of all that we hold dear, and it tears my heart that you are too blind to see it. The Emperor -"

"The Emperor lied to us," cut the Lion. "I always knew He did. I accepted it, seeing it as inevitable, necessary even. But until the revelations of the Crystal Labyrinth, I hadn't realized the scope of His deceptions. You saw it just as we did. He intends for us to conquer the galaxy for Him, only to use all of Humanity as fodder to fuel His ascension to godhood, while those of us who protest will be cast down and forgotten."

Nemuel laughs, a sound utterly without amusement or joy.

"You were always paranoid," rants the Chaplain, wide-eyed and straining against his bonds. "So obsessed with your own secrets you have to believe everyone else keeps them too. Because otherwise, you would have to consider that maybe the problem is with you ! If you could only accept, just for once in your damn life, that someone else might know better than you, you would go to Terra and asks your father to explain, and He would tell you what you would already know if you could just stop believing the worst of everyone : that the Labyrinth lied ! But you are too prideful, too stubborn -"

"Enough," says the Lion, and the two Dark Angels at Nemuel's side gag him once again. For a few more moments, Primarch and Chaplain lock gazes with each other, neither breaking eye contact.

He is impressed, in spite of himself. Even among the Space Marines, there aren't many who can withstand the ire of a Primarch.

"Take him to the cells," says the Master of the First at last. "He will see the truth, in time."

It is a moment of weakness, he thinks as he watches Nemuel being dragged out of the chamber. Later, there will be a need to purge those of the Legion who do not accept the truth, who did not see it with their own eyes in the Crystal Labyrinth. But right now, he cannot blame his gene-sire for it. They will need to commit such evils if they are to prevent the future they saw; avoiding the sin of fratricide, even once, surely must be worthwhile.

Nemuel will see the truth, he swears to himself. He will make him see it.

Ships are dying around him, broken by the wrath of those they thought to be brothers. The irony tastes bitter in his mouth, but he cannot deny its presence, nor the laughter of the Neverborn in his mind.

The Dark Angels have come to Caliban seeking reinforcements, ready to introduce the truth of Tzeentch to their exiled brothers. With their strongholds in the Ghoul Stars laid low by the Night Lords and their Prince of Crows, this is the only place left where they can find the warriors they need to break the walls of the Imperial Palace. Wielding the powers of a god, Lion El'Jonson at last believed he could bind the great power that dwells within the heart of the planet to his will.

For the end of the rebellion approaches, as the fleets of the rebel Legions and their slaves and allies muster for the final push to the Throneworld. The hour of the final confrontation on Terra draws near, and those who would see the False Emperor cast down rally to the banner of Roboute Guilliman, brother to Lion El'Jonson and the Arch-Traitor, bringing with them all the might at their disposal.

But the Lion was wrong. They were all wrong. The Space Marines on Caliban have already learned the truth, and they have spat upon it. The agents sent to turn them to Guilliman's cause are dead, shot down in orbit or killed the moment they made planetfall. The great power, the Ouroboros whose dreams shaped the Great Beasts that plagued this world since its machinations brought life upon its surface, is no more. Not simply banished, but slain by he who shouts his defiance of the Lion to the void atop the fortress of Aldurukh.

Somehow, impossibly, Luther has slain the Great Serpent, has destroyed the primordial sin of the Old Ones.

He has called for the Legionaries on the planet to answer his questions, and been met with only silence. Then the guns of the orbital defenses erupted with fire, while Luther sent a single message of defiance to his adopted son. Now the Dark Angels descend upon the so-called Fallen, who have fought their own terrible wars while the rest of the galaxy burned. He moves through the corridors of the Invincible Reason toward his drop-ship, his armor covered in frost from when the Primarch flew out of the bridge, breaking the occulus in his rage to confront Luther as soon as possible.

On the surface, battle is joined, as brutal as any fratricidal slaughter since this war began on Istvaan III. He is there, leading his brothers and killing them with blade and spell. He sees his reflection in their polished armor, sees the changes his allegiance and deeds have wrought upon him. He fights all the harder to banish the thought that he looks more like the monsters of the stories he was told as a child than the knight he once aspired to become.

This is the death of Caliban. This is Luther's last stand.

This is where the curse of the First Legion is born, from the shining blade of its Primarch's adoptive father.

They have lost. The Emperor and Guilliman have fallen, their bleeding and broken bodies carried away by their faithful sons.

The Traitors flee from the Palace, and the Loyalists fall upon them with righteous wrath. Aurelian and the Lord of the Red Sands are come, the slayers of daemon lords and tyrants burning with a fury to challenge the Gods themselves. The Night Lords, led by their Prince of Crows, freed the Emperor's Children from the trap of the Drukhari, and the mutilated Primarch of the Third Legion cut down the Arch-Traitor before he could strike down the False Emperor.

The threads woven by the Dark Angels to avoid the future they foresaw in the Crystal Labyrinth are coming undone. Their Primarch, grown so powerful in the Maelstrom, has been banished, defeated by the power of Magnus the Crimson King. There is nothing left to be done on Terra but die.

And so, with the taste of ashes in his mouth, he gives the order to withdraw. With the Lion banished, he, the Seneschal, takes command of the First Legion. For a brief moment of history, he wields greater power than ever before, yet he's also the most powerless he will ever be, for there is nothing they can do but run. The Dark Angels are not the first of the rebel Legions to flee from Terra, but that is cold solace.

This is the hour of the most shameful defeat. This is the end of the Heresy.

This is the time of the Scouring, the bloody days of reckoning. The castles of the rebels burn, the people they have conquered are freed or put to the sword where the taint of the Dark Gods lies too deep.

The First Legion runs, with him leading them in their father's place. He knows there is nowhere in the galaxy the Loyalists will not pursue, for even now a part of him remembers what duty and honor once meant. There is only one place where they can take refuge : the Eye of Terror, burning at the former heart of the Eldar Empire, whose decadence birthed the God of Excess and tore open a wound in reality that swallowed thousands of worlds in an instant.

He guides the fleet there, salvaging what he can from the systems they cross along the way. The storms are terrible, for the Dark Gods do not look kindly upon failure. But they push on, following the dark beacon of their Primarch's presence, and eventually they reach a world of mists and shadows, where great peaks rise above shrouded lands.

There, on the daemon world of Cysgorog, Lion El'Jonson awaits his sons. The moment they make planetfall, he calls his Seneschal to his side, to give him the orders that will shape the course of the Long War for the First Legion.

Once again, a prisoner is brought in chains before the Lion.

The captive is the first of the Dark Angels' treacherous brethren to ever be captured and presented to the Daemon Primarch of Tzeentch. In the ages to come, there will be more, as the entire Legion looks for the followers of Luther scattered across time and space by the destruction of Caliban. But for now, this one is the first, and he is the one to have captured him.

His father lifts his burning gaze from the captive to look at him. Once again, he sees the wound on the Daemon Primarch's torso, but doesn't notice it. The hooks of the Changing God are buried deep into his soul and mind, deeper than ever before, and Tzeentch won't let any Dark Angel realize that their gene-sire is crippled, forever bleeding from the wound dealt to him by Luther in his final moments.

The Lion speaks a word of praise, a rare thing even before his transformation. All around them, in the Warp, all three souls atop the Primarch's tower can feel the attention of Tzeentch, Chaos God of Lies and Sorcery, drawn by this pivotal moment in the Legion's history.

Suddenly there is pain, deep and monstrous in its intensity. He stumbles but does not fall as a god looks down upon him, examining every strand of his soul, every particle of his being. He does not understand what is happening, but he knows he will be undone if there is anything of him that would anger Tzeentch.

There is nothing. He hears the God of Change laugh, and the pain grows worse, and worse, and worse. Everything that makes him is remade, melted down and reforged – but those words fail to describe the change, as all words in all mortal languages fail to describe the action of a god.

When it finally ends (though it does not really ever ends), great wings of darkness stretch from his back as he stands, taller than before, though not the equal of his Primarch. He is mortal no more, but a principle of being, a prince of Chaos, an eternal being of the Primordial Truth.

His body is made of Warp-stuff, shaped by the memory of flesh into a humanoid form. His wings are made of the shadow cast on the cosmos by his sins. His sword is made of the screams of his victims, from the innocents he sacrificed to the Dark Gods to the Legion champions he slew in duels.

This is the hour of his ascension. This is the moment the first Dark Angel is elevated to daemonhood.

This is the rise of the first Archduke of Cysgorog.

He is the first of his blood to ascend, to be free of the shackles of mortality and bound by a different set of chains. The first to be named an Archduke of Cysgorog, that twilight realm of shadows and mist where the Dark Angels reign over an empire of slaves, witches and monsters. Others will follow in his wake, earning their rank through cunning and ambition, but he will always remain the first and greatest of them.

But nothing lasts forever, and all promises of eternity are lies.

Revelation is a process.

From atop his spire on Cysgorog, he watches the galaxy change. Like all of his Legion, he witnesses the Imperium's slow decay, the rise of ignorance and superstition that masquerades as faith in the God-Emperor.

And like all of them, he realizes that Nemuel was both right and wrong all those years ago. What they saw in the Crystal Labyrinth was both truth and lie at once. By trying to advert this future, they instead caused it.

The guilt of that paradox is heavy, and what remains of the First Legion's sanity bends under it. They lie to themselves, pretending that this was inevitable, that their and the galaxy's destiny was written by the Dark God they serve, and that there was never any choice in it. It is not that big of a lie to add to the ones they already told themselves to justify firing upon their cousins on the black sands.

He shouldn't feel that guilt, transfigured as he is, but Tzeentch delights in the torment of his slaves, leaving them just enough of themselves that, deep beneath the layers of masks they wear, part of them realizes what they have done and become.

Even so, it isn't until the battle of the Mortis Gate that he begins to doubt. When his spirit flees back to Cysgorog in shame, broken by the blades of silver knights wielding the embers of the False Emperor's power against the daemonic. Then, and only then, does he begin to question.

But his doubts are not turned on the path his Legion has followed, for that much free will is not allowed to him. Instead, he questions the leadership of Lion El'Jonson. He wonders if his sire made mistakes, if he failed to interpret the will of Tzeentch correctly. He wonders if he could do better if he were in command of all the First Legion's might, if he were first in the Architect of Fate's favor instead of the Lion.

Tzeentch watches this with delight, as the Great Conspirator does all blossoming treacheries.

"You disappoint me, Corswain."

He is burning.

The Name was a lie – the Name was wrong – the Name was a trap.

He thought he could surpass his lord. He thought he could rise above the Master of the First, bind him to his will with the power of his True Name, by which all beings of the Immaterium can be compelled. But the pieces he collected over the course of ages weren't enough. They were not the Lion's True Name at all, but that of something else.

In one moment, everything he built was gone. The Lion ripped the knowledge he had painstakingly gathered from him and, in a terrible instant of fury, summoned forth the entity bearing that Name to lay waste to the domain of Cysgorog's first Archduke.

It is a powerful weapon, and now it is the Lion's to command. Even in failure, even in betrayal, he serves. He cannot escape his chains, and the thought of it burns hotter than the fires of judgment. How long, he wonders ? How long has Lion El'Jonson been aware of his treachery ? How long has the Daemon Primarch manipulated him, blinded him to the true nature of the Name ?

How many more lies has he been blinded by ?

Now he falls, and burns, and screams. The sounds of his agony reach hundreds of worlds, driving psykers to madness and sundering the veil where it is most fragile. Millions perish or are damned in the echoes of his fall from grace, for such is the power he held.

This is the hour of judgment. This is the punishment of the failed betrayer, the would-be usurper.

This is the fall of Corswain, Seneschal of the Dark Angels, first of the Archdukes of Cysgorog.

Eventually, the fall stops, but the burning does not. He is but a shadow of a shell of his former self, stripped of most of his power and memories. Even his sense of self is fractured, leaving nothing but confusion and agony, and an all-consuming sense of loss.

This place is not Cysgorog, nor is it the churning tides of the Warp, where dwell all the Gods and daemons ever conjured by the deeds and emotions of mortal souls. It is of the Materium, and he cannot remain here for long, even if he were in the fullness of his power and not the crippled thing he has become. Beyond the rejection of the Materium upon his daemonic nature, the very air is full of a strange, eldritch fire that burns away at the remains of his essence.

True oblivion beckons, and while part of him might yearn for the quietude of annihilation, he's still possessed of his instincts to endure, to survive.

He searches for a way out, a way to hide from the flames that threaten to destroy what little remains of him. Empty shells litter the ground, but they are charred by the same flames that burn him. For a moment, something like panic flickers through his remaining mind, until …

There. A living, breathing body, laying down on the ground. Wounded, yes, damaged, yes, but still alive.

He plunges into it, seeking to make it his own, but he is too weak, and the flickering soul of the body's true owner is surprisingly strong. The usurpation, something he has done so many times in the past, fails. He is safe from the burning of the flames, but the heat is still too strong, born of something that exists in both the Materium and the Immaterium. His thoughts, his essence, melt and merge with the child's, until it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

This is the unmaking of Corswain of the Dark Angels. This is the final breath of a child whose name is lost to the fires of the Grail War, along with so much else.

This is the birth of Shirou Emiya, by miracles dark and bright.

When his awareness returned, he was alone in darkness, his mind a tangled mess of alien memories and revelations. Now at last, he remembered.

Corswain. At last, a name to put on the memories that had haunted him for so long. But with the name came so much more.

He remembered the Imperium, stretching across a million worlds. He remembered the fleets of the Great Crusade sailing the Immaterium to bring new civilizations to compliance, by diplomacy if possible, by blade and bolter if necessary. A glorious endeavour to reunite the realms of Humanity shattered by the Age of Strife, with not quite enough gilding to hide its foundations of blood and bone.

He remembered the Roboutian Heresy, the dark years of conspiracy that had preceded it and the still darker centuries that had come after the defeat at Terra. He remembered worlds burning, armies marching, cities being torn apart by rebellion, civil strife, and worse. He remembered looking upon the ruin of star systems in cold satisfaction, and hunting down his own brothers for the sin of refusing to join into his Legion's damnation.

Such suffering. Such misery. An eternity of war, oppression and torment, under the thirsting laughter of Dark Gods.

Is this the dream of Angra Mainyu ? he thought, his mind tumbling from one dreadful vision to another. Is this grim future what the Source of All Evils desires for Humanity ?

Perhaps. Or perhaps it was something else. He could not think properly, couldn't hold to his own words as they fell from his grasp. He was drowning, unable to resist the crushing pressure of Corswain's identity. But that was wrong. He wasn't Corswain. He was … He was …

Who am I ?

His memories, the memories of he-who-was-not-Corswain, felt like such small and insignificant things. How could they match the immensity of Corswain's memories, even ruined and fragmented ? And yet, he refused to accept it, refused to let himself become Corswain again. But that resistance could not last, and so he silently shouted that question into the darkness, desperate for an answer :

Who am I ?

"Isn't that obvious ?"

A match was struck, and a patch of light appeared, revealing the face of his father, looking just like he had when he had first seen him. His coat was battered and torn, his face gaunt with exhaustion, but his eyes were full of hope and love.

Not the Lion – never the Lion. The Lion isn't my father. My father is –

Kiritsugu extended his hand and pressed it against his chest.

"You are my son," said the ghost of the man who had saved him when he had given up. "And you alone, by your choices, will decide what that means."

Ahh … that's right.

I had forgotten.

Corswain had been twisted into a weapon to bleed Humanity's soul. But that blade was broken by Lion El'Jonson; its pieces had been melted by the fires of Angra Mainyu's thwarted rage; and its power recast within Avalon's mold.

I am not Corswain anymore than a steel sword is the lump of iron from which it was made.

And with that realization came another, purer memory :

I am Shirou Emiya.

The darkness screamed with a ninefold voice. It lashed out at him with unseen tendrils and claws, trying to drag him under, to drown all that made up Shirou Emiya under a torrent of Corswain's broken memories. But it had missed its shot. The vision of Kiritsugu, whether it had been his spirit or just Shirou's mind conjuring the image of the person who had rescued him from the annihilation of his soul last time, had been enough to renew his resolve.

He thought of his friends, who stood at his side against Pretender. He thought of his lovers, of his sister, of their Servants. He thought of all the people he knew across Fuyuki, all those whose continued lives and happiness depended on him being strong enough to protect them.

He thought of Kiritsugu's regrets, and the promises he had made, to him and to others, that he would strive for his own happiness as well.

"I accept this past," he declared to the roiling darkness, finding that he had a voice again. "I won't run away from it anymore."

With a thought, his greatsword was in his hands, and now he recognized it for what it was, what it had always been. It was the sword Corswain had been given upon becoming a squire of the Order of Caliban, and which had later been ritually reforged by the First Legion's Techmarines into the power sword he had carried during the Great Crusade. It had been defiled during the Heresy, tainted by infernal powers, and its memory had eventually followed its wielder into daemonhood.

He remembered its name now. Corswain had named it, back when he had still been a good man, before the horrors of war and the machinations of daemons had led him to make a terrible choice. It had been renamed after the Drop Site Massacre of Istvaan, and again after Corswain's ascension to daemonhood, but every time Shirou had used his Magecraft to Trace it, it had been in its purest form.

It was Radiant Moon, so named after the silver sentinel that had watched over Caliban from the skies, casting light even in the night to help the humans in their struggles against the monsters of their world.

"But I will not be ruled by it !"

There was a pulse, followed by a roar that was close to a pained groan, and the darkness coalesced before him into a towering figure. It was Corswain as he had seen him in the vision he'd shared with Saber, on the battlefield of the Great Game of Chaos. But the Archduke was ruined, his armor rent and rusted, his wings tattered and the eldritch fire of his sorcery guttering.

This was not really Corswain, he knew. Only a representation of him, conjured by his own mind in response to Kor Phaeron's spell forcefully awakening the shattered memories of a dead Daemon Prince. Shirou could have become the Archduke reborn, but only if he had given in, only if he had accepted the lie that Corswain was all he was and could ever be.

Shirou had rejected that lie, and now this revenant was one last-ditch attempt by Pretender's spell to accomplish its purpose. It would fail, but that didn't mean it couldn't hurt him.

"Corswain," he greeted the apparition. "It is over. You will not claim my body. I will not betray my dreams."

"It is the dreams you cling to that will betray you," said the revenant in a voice full of the bitterness of ages. "As ours betrayed us."

"You were deceived, and deceived yourself to avoid facing the truth," answered Shirou. "I will not make the same mistake."

"The hope you pursue is a lie," persisted the shadow of the Archduke. "All hope is a lie, for its light was stolen by Tzeentch long before either of us was born. Knowing this, you would still pursue that foolish path ?"

"I do not believe that the Dark God who enslaved you holds that power," he replied. "But even if that were so, then yes. No matter what, I will keep striving toward a better tomorrow. For my friends, for my family, for my loved ones, for my world : I will be a Hero of Justice."

The sword in his hand ignited, blazing with light that repelled the darkness, revealing a field of golden grass under his feet and a blue sky above his head. He felt grief, regret, and something that might have been relief from the echo of the Dark Angel.

"Then rise, Shirou Emiya," whispered the ghost of Corswain of Caliban as it faded away, banished by the light of Radiant Moon in Shirou's hands and Avalon in his heart. "Rise, and redeem us if you can."

Illya watched in shock as her brother fell to the ground, struck by nine arrows of something she didn't think could be called Magecraft. For a few heartbeats, he laid there unmoving, his wings of shadow having vanished along with the black lines of his unique form of Reinforcement. Saber rushed to his side, while Rin shouted for everyone to hold their ground and not give their enemies an opening – though the Servant, Kor Phaeron, seemed content to simply watch now that his spell had been unleashed.

Then Shirou stirred, and pushed himself up, his back turned to Illya as he looked at Pretender.

"Now, do you remember, Lord Corswain ?" asked Kor Phaeron.

"… you knew." Shirou's voice was flat, and Illya didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Of course I did," chuckled the Extra-Class Servant. "From the moment I saw you wield that power, I recognized your true identity. How could I not, when it was you who returned me to life that I may do the Gods' bidding in the Ruinstorm ?"

"… Yes. The Dark Angels returned you from the Sea of Souls in the Five Hundred Worlds, to pave the way for Guilliman's great sacrifice." Shirou raised his hands, looking down at them and flexing his fingers as if he didn't recognize them. "It was a grand feat of sorcery, made possible only by the fragile unity of the Four that then reigned."

"It was," admitted Kor Phaeron with a nod. "And it is a sign of the favor the Dark Gods held you and your Legion into that they gave you the honor of breaking the laws of life and death in their service."

"You are mistaken about many things, Kor Phaeron, but about one thing in particular."

"Oh ? And what is that, my friend ?"

"I am not Corswain," said Shirou forcefully. "Corswain is dead. I am Shirou Emiya."

"Shirou Emiya is nothing," dismissed Kor Phaeron. "Just a mask for the First Archduke of Cysgorog to hide behind as he worms his way into the perfect position to bring the Primordial Truth unto this world. Are you still confused ? I did design that spell within the constraints of this World; I may have made mistakes …"

"There were no mistakes, Kor Phaeron. You were always a great sorcerer, for all your other faults. I remember all that is left of Corswain's memories. But you underestimated the damage that was wrought upon his essence."

Once again, Shirou's skin was covered in black lines, except they were now edged in gold, and the wings of shadow that stretched from his back were less sinister and threatening, though Illya couldn't explain why. Inside her, the Traced copy of Avalon dissolved throughout her body seemed to pulse with energy, and she felt the slight muscle pains from their journey to the dock (no matter how good a pilot Lancer was or how comfortable her brother had tried to make her, her body was just not made for that kind of transportation), which had been left untreated due to the copied Noble Phantasm being busy keeping her condition from worsening, faded away.

"As I told you," said her brother, "no matter what else I might be, I am Shirou Emiya."

Kor Phaeron's eyes widened at the sight of Illya's transformed brother, before his mouth curled in disgust.

"Ah. How … pathetic. For one who stood so high in the service of the Architect of Fate to have been reduced to such an extent that he cannot even overcome the identity of one child is truly a tragedy. Yet if you truly have seen some of Corswain's memories, then you must realize that there is only one path open to you now, Shirou Emiya."

"Oh ?"

"The Grail already belongs to the True Gods," Pretender began to monologue, his eyes gleaming with a light that disturbingly reminded Illya of what she had sometimes glimpsed in the eyes of Jubstacheit when he had talked to her about the Einzbern's mission of reclaiming the Third Magic. "Through it, They will at last be able to reach this world and bring the Primordial Truth upon its people. Their victory is inevitable; if you truly remember even a fraction of Corswain's past, then you know that this is true. Only by devoting yourselves to them can you and your allies hope to thrive in the new Age to come."

"Do you expect us to willingly sacrifice ourselves to the Grail ?" mocked Euryale, surprising Illya. She hadn't expected the diminutive Servant to have the courage to speak up while they were surrounded, even if their odds had admittedly gotten a lot better when whatever brainwashing trick Kor Phaeron had tried on Shirou had obviously failed.

"It would be no sacrifice, but transcendence," claimed Pretender. "The Grail already contains most the energy it requires to activate, thanks to the peculiar circumstances of the last War's ending. Your essences would dwell within it only for as long as it takes to finish the ritual, for the Pantheon does not allow such potential as you all possess to go to waste. Upon the coming of the Dark Gods to this world, you all shall be reborn, no longer as spirits bound to the Throne of Heroes, but as champions of Chaos, avatars of the True Gods' might and leaders of their armies in the conquest of this world. All of you, all of us, shall be granted the ultimate reward for this, elevated above Humanity as Corswain himself once was."

His feverous gaze descended on Shirou. "Tell me, heir of the First Archduke. Am I lying ?"

"No," replied Shirou, and Illya felt her heart clench before he continued : "But just because you aren't lying doesn't mean you are right. The Grail might be able to bring the Dark Gods to this world, and they might reward us by making us all into Daemon Princes and Princesses. Immortality and the power to accomplish our wildest dreams and ambitions would be ours. That much I cannot deny."

Illya could feel the monumental 'but' that was coming. She wasn't disappointed.

"But I do remember Corswain's past, Kor Phaeron. From the moment he broke his oaths to his unmaking at the hands of the Lion and in the Fuyuki Fire, he was completely and utterly miserable. He felt no happiness, only bitter satisfaction, and he certainly wasn't free. He was a slave to darkness, a puppet made to commit unspeakable evil in service of the Power that had damned him. All of the Dark Gods' so-called gifts are hollow prizes, which only serve them, not the favoured slaves who call themselves champions and think themselves great. You would have us doom Humanity for a few moments of satisfaction, and none of us are stupid enough to accept that offer."

"What he said," added Rin, a scowl on her face. "We know enough about the Grail's corruption to realize it's a stupid idea to follow its will."

"The evil you serve kept me imprisoned for ten years," hissed Saber, "and broke my very self apart. I will see it burn, Pretender, if it is the last thing I do."

"Power and vengeance might have tempted me once, when I already thought myself damned," admitted Sakura. "But now ? I won't let you or anyone else threaten what I have, even your so-called 'Gods'."

"Fools, all of you," scoffed Kor Phaeron. His gaze moved across them, stopping on Lancer before it could reach Illya, for which she felt obscurely grateful. She didn't want those cold, evil eyes to look at her.

"And what of you, King of Knights ?" His tone had changed, reminding Illya of a snake. "I know your heart's desire. The others may be content with their lot, with blindly throwing themselves against the Gods, but you yearn for something that the World will never give you. But I can. Your child's soul still slumber in the Throne of Heroes. They could be brought back to life, true life. You could be reunited, given another chance."

Through her link to Lancer, Illya felt no hesitation, no moment of doubt or temptation. Only a spike of pain and grief, followed by unwavering resolve and cold fury.

"And all it would cost me is my soul ? I have seen the kind of monsters you have in your service, Pretender. I will not betray everything I believe in just to damn someone I already failed," spat her Servant. "You would know that if you understood anything about me."

"Indeed," said Shirou, raising his sword and pointing it at Kor Phaeron. "For all your dark lore, all your terrible wisdom, you understand precious little about Humanity. I swear this to you, here and now : the Chaos Gods will never claim this World."

"And who are you to stand against Their will ?!" All pretence of calm had vanished from Pretender's face, replaced by utter loathing and fanaticism. "You, who reject Their glory, despite all the boons they bestowed upon you, despite their generosity in offering you a chance to redeem yourself in Their eyes ! Who are you to dare oppose me ?!"

She heard the determination in her brother's voice, stronger than steel and far more unbending :

"Who am I ?"

He took a deep breath, and she felt as if the world itself was holding its own, waiting for him to speak :

"I am the blade that sunders the might of Gods."

Whenever Shirou spoke while he was drawing on his powers, his voice had an echoing quality that forced people to pay attention and made it obvious that whatever he was, it wasn't one hundred per cent human. This time, however, reality itself seemed to obey his decree. An invisible shockwave of something radiated from her brother, and when it reached the nine Demon Pillars standing on the crates around them, the disks they had each carried shattered while their bearers' bodies twisted in unnatural ways while shrieking like damned souls in agony.

Kor Phaeron was less dramatically affected, but he didn't get off scot-free either. Twin rivulets of blood ran down from his eyes, and he took a step back, glaring at Shirou with what Illya was pretty sure was fear in his eyes. Then the emotion vanished, replaced by apoplectic fury :

"KILL THEM !" screamed Pretender. "KILL THEM ALL, IN THE NAME OF THE GODS !"

With the same incredible speed they had displayed before, every Servant moved. Rider, Berserker and Saber leapt, each tearing the closest Demon Pillar to pieces before moving to the next. Euryale shot one of them in the middle of the forehead, the arrowhead erupting through the back of its skull, while Stheno sang notes that made another one plunge a right hand in the process of mutating into a razor-sharp claw straight through its own throat.

Two were caught in black and red ribbons stretching from the shadow of a suddenly white-haired Sakura, and with a shriek that couldn't be mistaken as anything else but terrified, they simply ceased to be, leaving nothing behind but drops of blood that hissed as they burned into the metal of the containers. Meanwhile, Lancer stayed at the Masters' side, ready to defend them against any attack.

If the Demon Pillars had been able to finish their transformation, no doubt each of them would have been just as redoubtable as Furfur had been, if not worse, since Illya doubted Kor Phaeron had used the strongest of his familiars as bait. But they were struck while their flesh was still twisting into their true, monstrous forms, and reeling from whatever it was Shirou had done that had triggered the fight.

As a result, they were utterly slaughtered. Considering the bodies they had found earlier, the people who had died just so that Kor Phaeron could bring them here and try to mind rape her brother, Illya didn't care that it wasn't a fair fight.

Meanwhile, her brother had jumped, or flown, or whatever he did when he used his wings to move, straight at Kor Phaeron himself. His sword went straight for Pretender's neck, but the Servant raised a hand and formed a mystical barrier just in time. The oversized blade slammed into the translucent obstacle with a clanging sound that made the containers around them tremble. Undeterred, Shirou swung his sword to strike from the other side.

Then Shirou swung again, and again, and again, each strike coming at a new angle, forcing Kor Phaeron to gesticulate wildly in order to create enough barriers to block them all, while also giving ground before Shirou's relentless advance. After a few frantic seconds, his feet reached the edge of the container on which the two of them stood.

"This isn't over !" snarled Pretender, before vanishing in a scarlet flash right before Shirou's sword could cut his ugly head off.

Illya recognized the signs from her training at the Einzbern Castle : this was the result of a Command Seal being used to teleport a Servant, though she wondered how Kor Phaeron (or the Grail itself) had managed to twist the rules like that. A Command Seal could be used to summon the Servant it was linked to, but that was to bring them straight to their Master, and the fate of Marisbury Animusphere and the other missing Magi from his Castle was obvious now.

With Kor Phaeron gone and the last of the Demon Pillars he had brought with him slain, silence descended on the corpse-strewn docks, soon broken by the distant sounds of police sirens. Shirou jumped down to the ground before cancelling his transformation, his face showing his frustration at Kor Phaeron getting away.

"Slippery bastard," he growled. "I shouldn't be surprised, really. For all that he's a poor tactician obsessed with theatrics and pleasing the Gods, it still took Lorgar years to corner him on Colchis, and just as long in the Shadow Crusade …"

"Shirou," asked Rin, nervously voicing the question they were all thinking (Illya could even see that Rider, despite all her teasing, hadn't fully dropped Gungnir yet), "what the hell did he do to you ?"

"Later," answered her brother. "I promise I am fine, it didn't work like he wanted it to. For now, we need to clear this area of all traces of Magecraft, burn the corpses of the Pillars, and get away before the police arrive. Even the Fujimura Group won't be able to keep them away from this mess forever."

Grudgingly recognizing his point, they set to work. They collected the shards of the disks (which even broken radiated a palpable sense of malevolence), and Shirou broke them down even further with his sword, dissipating the energy leftover within them before throwing them into the sea. The mutated remains of the Demon Pillars were burned to fine ash, which Sakura then annihilated with her Imaginary Element. Shirou didn't want to risk the police or anyone else stumbling on those remains, and just burning them apparently wasn't enough to be sure all risk of contamination had been dealt with.

"Ten down," noted Rin grimly, as they made their way back to their bikes. "Sixty-two to go."

Chapter Text

From the bridge of the Kiritsugu's Retribution, Illya could see the entire fleet, hanging in the star-lit void in front of the Dark Nebula which bordered the domain of the Einzbern Empire.

Of course, the score of ships were little more than points of lights through the reinforced windows, due to the vast distances separating them. But the computers showed her the names and class of each and every one of them. The Alliance they had forged over the last two years was as vast as it was diverse, for the Einzbern Empire they were gathered to fight had made many enemies, and the revelations of their inhuman practices Shirou had spread across the galaxy had earned them even more.

There were ships from the Kingdom of Avalon and the Fujimura Mercenary Group, from the Archibald Territories and the Mihashira Mercantile Union, as well as a dozen other principalities and organizations. Even the elusive Atlas Institute had sent help, in the form of a single ship whose equipment defied all their scanners' attempts to analyse it. Such an armada hadn't been mustered in centuries, and might never again in their lifetimes.

Behind the first line were the transport ships, carrying tens of thousands of troops. The Mihashira Union mostly fielded battle-robots, while the Fujimura Mercenary Group had gathered under its banner the remnants of over a hundred mercenary bands that had found themselves without work at the end of the Grail War. The Kingdom of Avalon had brought its elite forces, and the wealth of the Archibald Territories had paid for much of the equipment being put to use here, once Illya's brother had convinced their reigning Lord that joining their alliance was in their best interests.

Some were here for justice, others for revenge, and others still for profit. In the thousand years since its founding, the Einzbern Empire had accumulated a vast amount of wealth on the backs of its enslaved Homunculi, whose free labor had fuelled centuries of expansion on worlds the other galactic powers had left untouched due to being too hostile to human life. The decadence of the Einzbern courts was legendary, and there were many who had jumped at a chance to get their hands on even a fraction of that great hoard. Given the strength of their foe, they had decided to welcome everyone who was willing to help regardless of motives, so long as they were willing to follow the battle-plan.

Yet for all the might of this fleet, Kiritsugu's Retribution was still the mightiest of them all. The ship still bore the customizations her father had added to it when he had used it to win the Grail War for the Einzbern ten years ago, before betraying them and running off with her mother. Of course, it hadn't been called that at the time : back then, it had been the Magus Killer, named after the feared nickname people had assigned to its master. But Illya had renamed it after reclaiming it from the hidden base where Kiritsugu had left it after leaving his life as one of the galaxy's most dreaded mercenaries behind.

It might have stayed there forever, had the Einzbern not assassinated her parents as revenge for turning on them when Kiritsugu had realized the depths to which they had sunk. Only she could command it, for it had been gene-locked to Kiritsugu himself, and as his last living blood relative, it would only accept her as its commanding officer. The rest of the Alliance had been reticent to let her take command, for various reasons ranging from not wanting her to be exposed to danger to not wanting to give overall command to a little girl, but the sheer firepower of Kiritsugu' Retribution had forced them to accept.

At nearly six kilometers long, Kiritsugu's Retribution was a sleek vessel, capable of achieving incredible speed, but it was its main cannon that had given nightmares to generals and warlords all over the galaxy. The Origin Cannon could pierce through any energy shield, no matter how powerful or advanced. The only defense was not to be hit, which was far easier said than done when talking about a light-speed weapon. Combined with its state-of-the-art stealth mechanisms, it had been little wonder that entire flotillas had scattered at the merest hint of the Magus Killer's presence.

With such power combined with the numbers of the Einzbern's fleets, which could endlessly replenish their crews with new Homunculi, the Einzbern could've won the Grail War and conquered the entire galaxy, if only they hadn't been led by such heartless monsters. Such had been the cruelty and callousness of Jubstacheit von Einzbern, Emperor of the Einzbern Empire, that even the notoriously cold-hearted Magus Killer had had enough eventually, a turn of event no one had seen coming.

Kiritsugu had rescued the Homunculus who had been bred by the Einzbern to serve as a living amplifier for their technology, before marrying her when the two had, against all odds, reason and sense, fallen in love. Then, in the skies of the Fuyuki system he had turned the might of the Magus Killer against the fleet he had erstwhile commanded. It had been a slaughter that had seen both the Einzbern fleet and the ragtag band of defenders utterly annihilated, and the Fuyuki system turned into a graveyard, but it had put paid to the Einzbern ambitions of galactic conquest.

Of course, by the time Illya had found and renamed the Kiritsugu's Retribution, it had been accumulating dust for over ten years at the bottom of a canyon on a lifeless world, and it had taken a lot of effort to return it to battle-readiness. But she'd had a lot of help, from people who had earned her grudging respect.

One of these very people called to her now, drawing her out of her contemplations.

"Everything is ready," said Rin from her position lower on the bridge, surrounded by screens on which flowed complex equations. "The jump calculations are complete : this will take us straight to the coordinates our spies gave us of the Einzbern's homeworld."

"Good," she replied. Less than one in ten of the agents dispatched to the Einzbern Empire had returned alive, and she dreaded to imagine the fate of the others. "Call all the command officers, please. It's time."

Holographic screens popped up around her command throne, showing her the faces of the other ship commanders along with another of their trump cards : the seven Knights in the Retribution's launching bays, ready to take their mechs into the void to battle those of the Einzbern while the ships duked it out around them. There were the three Pendragon sisters, heiresses to the world of Camelot, come to help fight the evil of the Einzbern Empire (and, she knew, because all three of them fancied her brother and wanted to impress him so that he would become their King, though she would give them the credit of believing they would've come regardless). On the other side of the display, there were the three Gorgon sisters, who had sworn an oath to follow Sakura Matou into battle after she had rescued them from the stasis trap in which they had been imprisoned centuries ago.

And, last but not least, her adoptive brother and fiancee (no matter what all the shrews around him might think), Shirou. He had been an orphan from the Grail War who Kiritsugu had found in the ruins of Fuyuki, one of only a handful of survivors of that most terrible conflict. She had grown up with him as her older brother, despite having technically been born before him – the years spent in cryogenic surgery to ensure her genetics didn't fall apart due to being half-Homunculus had made sure of that. He was the only member of her family she had left, and she would burn the galaxy before losing him, just as she knew he would do to keep her safe.

Under each display was an image of the pilot's mech, showing their state of readiness – green across the board. They were just as diverse as the fleet : Knights tended to be eccentric people, a consequence of the strength of will required to master the artificial minds that dwelled within every mech, and this was reflected in the customizations they made to their engines. The youngest of the Pendragon sisters had her mech focused on heavy defense and offence, sacrificing mobility in return, while the middle sister prioritized speed and armor penetration, and the eldest favoured a more balanced approach.

The Gorgon sisters had more esoteric specs : the youngest (though you wouldn't know it to look at them, making Illya wonder what kind of genetic modifications their ancestors had involved themselves with) had a brute force machine with really impressive self-repair capabilities. The middle sister used long-range, anti-Knights weaponry, while the eldest … well, nobody was sure how Stheno did it, but it involved taking over the systems of enemy Knights and even ships and making them do whatever she wanted, which usually involved a lot of shooting their erstwhile allies and throwing themselves at heavy objects at full speed. Her mech was a lot more fragile as a result, though, which meant Medusa had to stay close to protect her, but together the three Gorgon sisters were a devastating force.

And then there was Shirou's own mech. The Dark Angel was unique, even by the standards of mechs. It could only be piloted by two people working together, one of whom had to be Shirou, and the other one of his … his bonded women. Of that select few, Sakura was the one he worked the best with, the two of them sharing a bond that nearly rivalled the one Illya had for her brother, and since she needed to command the Kiritsugu's Retribution, Sakura had been chosen to help him in the coming battle. There were few others in the galaxy who could handle the feedback from a Knight's mind like she did, and even fewer as young as she was : Sakura's strength of will was matched only by her love for Shirou, which Illya considered was the absolute minimum to be expected from someone who wanted to be by her brother's side.

Such strength of will was absolutely necessary for her current position. The Dark Angel made use of the special powers Shirou had gained in the aftermath of the Grail War, when Illya's parents had used everything they had to keep him alive even as they hid from the Einzbern hunters. Some of the technology used in its construction had been scavenged from battlefields that had been ancient when the first Einzbern had mastered the secrets of Homunculi creation, and Shirou didn't like using it too often, claiming that the mech's brutal mind tended to mix with his own if he wasn't careful. In battle, it was as disquieting as it was awe-inspiring, capable of laying waste to entire battalions on its own.

In the coming war, it would serve as the vanguard of the fleet, deploying ahead of the Kiritsugu's Retribution to lay waste to the Einzbern Knights and create openings the rest of them could exploit. Then, once they had seized the advantage, he would go on the hunt for Jubstacheit himself, to cut off the serpent's head once and for all.

There were more Knights across the fleet, of course. The tactical realities of space warfare in this day and age required that any flotilla past a certain strength must have a Knight presence to fight alongside or they were already doomed. No doubt her voice and face were being transmitted to them as well as across every ship on the fleet, which meant that thousands of people were now listening.

"My friends," she began. "At long last, the hour has come. For many months, we have prepared for this moment. We have trained, we have gathered resources and information. Many have given their lives to bring us to this point, and many more have made great sacrifices so that we may succeed. Now, we stand on the precipice of destiny."

"The moment we exit jump, we will be in hostile territory," she continued, making no effort to sugar-coat things. "The Einzbern will be caught by surprise by our attack, and hopefully the shock of seeing us in their home system will cause them to panic, but we can't rely on that to win the battle for us. They are as paranoid as they are cruel, and their home system is a fortress. We expect to face dozens of Knights and hundreds of ships, to say nothing of the orbital stations and planet-side cannons. The best Einzbern combat Homunculi which aren't deployed to guard their border territories from raiders will be there, with the best equipment money can buy in the entire galaxy."

She didn't need to say that some of that equipment was very illegal in other space-faring nations – it had all been in the briefing. The Einzbern cared nothing for the laws of other people, and their own could be summed up as 'obey the ruling family in all things and treat the Homunculi like disposable tools at best, outright dirt at worst'. Providing evidence of their possession of such weapons had been key to gaining the help of Atlas, as a matter of fact, though whether the isolationist techno-fanatics wanted to destroy these weapons or steal them for study was anyone's guess. The moral compass of the Institute, if they could be said to have such a thing, was a mystery to anyone who wasn't part of it.

"Yet despite all these obstacles in our way, I promise you this : the Einzbern Empire will fall," she declared, feeling the fire that burned within her soul flare anew. "Today, we begin the liberation of the billions of Homunculi enslaved by their progenitors. We will not let them hide behind their armies and fleets, we will not let them laugh as we are forced to kill those we fight to save. We will strike at the heart of their evil, directly at the center of their empire of slavery and suffering."

"We will break their pride and their power ! We will raze their castles and burn their torture chambers ! We will destroy the mind-wiping halls and the indoctrination towers ! We will salt the fields where they grow their alchemical herbs and melt the forges where they build the tools of their oppression !"

"For Kiritsugu and Irisviel." she finished. "For those we have lost, and those we can still save. For all the Homunculi enslaved to the Einzbern, those who have died never knowing freedom, and those yet to be born."

The rest joined in, shouting their own battle-cries of various degrees of honor and decency. Illya tore her gaze away, shut down the call, and focused on the Nebula ahead of them.

There, within those swirls of cosmic matter, were the ones who had ordered her parents' murder and bought it with gold earned by the slavery of her mother's people. There was Jubstacheit von Einzbern, who had tried to kidnap her and had only failed thanks to her brother (and his 'friends') managing to intercept the ship carrying her in time and rescuing her. It had taken her weeks to stop having nightmares about that, and even now she found herself shuddering from time to time when her mind wandered down the path of imagining what would've awaited her there if they had failed.

This would all end soon. One way or another, she would bring an end to the nightmare that was the Einzbern Empire. No more would be born to lives of slavery, never even dreaming of freedom, or condemned to suffer endlessly if they did.

"Shipmistress Tohsaka," she ordered, "you may begin the jump."

"Understood," came the crisp reply. "Final synchronization checks … Complete. Beginning jump in five … four … three … two … one … Jump !"

Across two hundred ships, the engines flared to full power, bending the laws of the universe using techniques inherited from Humanity's first galactic expansion. As they plunged into jumpspace, the familiar sense of dislocation swallowed her senses. The viewport was submerged by a kaleidoscope of colors that swallowed the stars, the void, and the Dark Nebula. Jumping from one location to another was instantaneous from the point of view of others, but to those travelling it could take anything from a few seconds to half an hour. This particular jump should be short, according to Rin's calculations, so everyone was to remain seated and wait for it to end.

There was, by definition, nothing outside the ship during jump : even the kaleidoscope was an illusion, conjured by the energy shield of the Kiritsugu's Retribution meeting the eldritch energies of un-reality. And yet, Illya swore she could hear a voice in the maelstrom -

"Ojou-sama. Ojou-sama. Ojou-sama !"

"Ojou-sama, wake up. If you don't, you will miss breakfast with Emiya-san before he leaves for school."

"Hmmrkkshsh … Full speed ahead … Sella ? What are you doing on the bridge ?"

"The bridge ? Ojou-sama, you were dreaming. Wake up."

She blinked, looking around to see her room in the Emiya residence – wait, the Emiya residence ? She wasn't aboard a … spaceship …

Oh.

She may have watched too many cartoons yesterday, Illya thought as she slowly finished waking up. Or perhaps not enough. It wasn't as if she was ever going to see a mech battle in real life, and though the dream was already fading from her memory, she was certain she would have seen one if Sella had let her sleep just a moment longer. She would have seen something … magnificent.

She'd have to write down as much of her dream as she could later. Right now, she wanted breakfast.

Chapter Text

The skies are burning with the fires of the Gods.

Ruin has come to Ultramar. Five hundred worlds have been offered up on the altar of Guilliman's ambition, their people given unto the Pantheon in order to earn their favor. In great marble cities and towering fortresses, from the depths of ocean planets to the highest spires of hive-worlds with tightly controlled populations and precariously balanced ecosystems, the children of Chaos are unleashed.

It is an apocalypse worse than any ever dreamt by the myriad faiths of Humanity. Seas boil and turn to blood, while the heavens are sundered by light that burns sanity. Swarms of the Neverborn descend from the skies and rise from the depths, feasting upon the flesh and souls of billions.

Pristine cities are turned into abattoirs, towers of law and order remade into palaces of atrocity while creatures born of lies dance amidst the cinders of enlightenment. Only those who were taught the ways of this new and terrible age are spared, protected by wards drawn in the blood of the unbelievers. They alone shall inherit the ashes of Ultramar's sacrificial pyre, and rebuild a new and horrible civilization under the fires of the Ruinstorm.

The Black Cardinal can hear the screams, and they please him. For the longest time, the only screams he could hear were his own, as the Gods punished him for his failure. Lack of a true body did nothing to diminish his torment, and only his faith and hunger for revenge had given him the strength to rise to the challenge and keep his sanity. For this, he has been rewarded with this new chance at life, this new opportunity to punish the one who killed him, the one who refused the Truth.

Around him, his followers bring forth the next round of offerings, their voices hoarse with singing the praises of the Pantheon. On each of their faces is an expression of religious ecstasy, their minds basking in the revelation of the Primordial Truth. In the distance, the great forges burn, shaping metal and bone into new shapes pleasing to the Dark Gods, that their legions may wear into battle against the fools who dare stand in the way of Chaos' inevitable triumph.

The golden boy is coming, he knows it. He can sense his soul, burning so uselessly as he flails in vain against the tides of Chaos around him. Even now, even here, in this place only halfway removed from their glorious Realms, Lorgar continues to deny the divinity of Chaos. He continues to struggle, continues to fight against the infinite legions of the Ruinstorm. He continues to believe that he can escape, that he can lead his brother and their sons out of the trap and back to the Anathema's side.

Fool. But all the better for the Black Cardinal. Kor Phaeron knows that he will enjoy this immensely.

He is wrong. Once more, triumph shall be denied to him. Once more, the Dark Gods shall howl in impotent fury.

Once more, Lorgar Aurelian shall behold the defeat of Ruin, and weep at its cost.

This is Armatura, where the industry of war churns in the name of the Thirteenth Legion, producing all that the armies of Guilliman require. This is the new Hell-Forge of Ultramar, where daemon engines and other, greater yet weapons are assembled and sanctified with the blood of those few innocent left in the Five Hundred Worlds.

This is where the trap holding the Twelfth and Seventeenth Legions will be broken, by defiance and sacrifice, and the Black Cardinal brought low yet again.

November 26th, 2004 AD – Kotomine Church

"You failed."

Kor Phaeron looked toward the voice, bristling at the accusations contained within the two words. Gilgamesh stood there, with his back against the wall of the church where he had retreated following the battle at the docks. At least the other Servant wasn't smiling : he was scowling instead, as if he were more disappointed with tonight's results as Kor Phaeron himself.

"Yes, I did" admitted Pretender, forcing the word out through gritted teeth. Thankfully, his control over his temper had grown through his trials. In the past, he might have succumbed to fury and lashed out at the Servant, which would have been deeply stupid. "The boy … I didn't realize how deeply our opposition's claws have gotten into him. My theory as to his nature was correct : he is the vessel of Corswain's power, sent by the Dark Gods to assist us. But he has been turned against us."

"How is that possible ?" asked Kirei, standing at his pulpit with a disturbed expression on his face.

"It isn't," Kor Phaeron said this with absolute certainty. "Not for long. Sooner or later, the God of Change will reclaim His servant, and punish him for his disobedience. On that day, Emiya will rue his foolishness and beg for mercy that shall be denied him until the Architect of Fate has broken and rebuilt him completely."

To turn the power of Chaos against itself was impossible, a lure designed by the Ruinous Powers to draw more into their service. Kor Phaeron knew this, because he had seen the echoes of the divine work that had made it so, and Guilliman's rebellion paled in comparison.

"But until then, we must deal with him as an enemy." Gilgamesh didn't sound all that disappointed by the notion.

"Yes, we must. It is disappointing, and it will make our goal harder to reach, but such are the trials we must undergo to prove our worthiness to the Gods." He turned toward the other priest : "And before I forget, you have my thanks, Kirei. Without your help, escaping this situation would have been … tricky."

He would still have managed it, he was confident of that. But that ungrateful child might have managed to land a hit or two on him before. Why was it that he was always plagued by children who dared reject the Gods, despite the bountiful gifts They bestowed upon them ?

"Think nothing of it," replied Kirei, absently stroking the place on his wrist where the Command Seal he had expended to get Kor Phaeron out of danger had faded. "I do, however, have questions of my own regarding your discussion with the boy. What did he mean when he called you the 'Black Cardinal' ?"

Kor Phaeron shrugged. "I did not lie to the boy, Kirei. I truly was unable to reveal my True Name to you until it had already been revealed."

"But you did lie to us," said Gilgamesh. "You are not Solomon. You deceived us, and laid claim to a mantle of kingship not your own."

"I did not lie to you," Kor Phaeron rejected firmly. "The Gods themselves bestowed upon me the mask of Solomon, that I might walk on this World until such time as I could discard it. Until Emiya stated my true identity and gave me the foothold I needed to manifest in my true form, I was Solomon for all intents and purposes, though free of the delusions that bound the King of Mages to the lies of this World."

"And the Pretender Class ?" asked Kirei, sounding genuinely curious. "I was taught the basics of the Grail's summoning system when I was selected as a Master for the Fourth War, and learned more afterwards from the notes I acquired from dear Tokiomi's estate after his oh-so-unfortunate demise. But I never heard anything about it, even in the theories about possible 'Extra' Classes."

Kor Phaeron briefly considered his options. He didn't especially want to share the details of his power, but if such was the price of retaining their trust, then it was one he would pay.

"Marisbury Animusphere sought to summon Solomon as a Caster-Class Servant," he began. Not that there had been any chance the so-called King of Mages would be summoned as anything else, of course. "He didn't know that the Spirit Origin of Solomon on the Throne of Heroes had already been neutralized at the end of the Fourth Grail War, however."

He nodded in Gilgamesh's direction. It was thanks to the King of Heroes having been bathed in the effluvia of the Grail's destruction ten years ago that Chaos had been able to access the Throne, once they had illuminated the arrogant king as to his true place in the order of the cosmos.

"In order to manifest," he continued, "I had to usurp Solomon's identity : I had to pretend that I was him well enough to deceive the summoning system itself. The True Gods only have a foothold in this World thanks to the darkness dwelling within the Grail, but it was enough for Them to construct the Pretender Class based on the others : its sole purpose was to allow me to take Solomon's place. Until Emiya revealed my True Name and gave an anchor to my existence as Kor Phaeron, I was limited by the Servant vessel of Solomon. And, powerful as it was, my true power lies in disciplines that he never realized could even exist."

"If you need Shirou Emiya for your existence to be acknowledged, then what would happen should he die ?" asked Kirei.

"Nothing. I only needed his recognizing my true identity to shed my mask, nothing more."

"It does all sound rather far-fetched, you must admit."

Kor Phaeron shrugged. He couldn't exactly deny the other priest's point. "For all my lore, all my power, I remain but a servant of the True Gods, Kirei, same as all of us. What I have told you is my interpretation of what happened, limited by my own perspective. Perhaps once we have accomplished our mission, our masters shall reward us with a more complete understanding along with the power they have promised."

"That is, of course, assuming we can believe anything you say," noted Gilgamesh in a deceptively calm voice.

Kor Phaeron could sense the energies gathering within the other Servant, rising alongside his wrath. He in turn began to stretch his fingers, while extending his mind to the Demon Pillars he still had left, scattered around the church and keeping watch in case their enemies somehow tracked them here.

The three servants of Chaos Undivided stood, tensely regarding one another. In the end, it was Kirei who broke the stand-off :

"This tension between us does not serve the Gods. We are their champions on this world, the ones tasked with bringing Their light back to its people. It was by Their will that we were brought together, and it is only together that we can fulfill the ambitions They have for us and this world."

Kor Phaeron nodded, not taking his eyes off Gilgamesh.

"We need more resources," he said. "It is clear from how Furfur performed that the Demon Pillars can fight Servants if they are in their transformed state, but we have lost half our forces tonight."

"Foolishness," scoffed Gilgamesh. "I alone am more than enough to deal with them."

"Really ?" asked Kor Phaeron, not even trying to mask his skepticism. Confidence had its place, but arrogance like that was a swift path to defeat, as he had learned from bitter experience. "You could deal with no less than six Servants, someone wiedling the shards of an Archduke's power, and the Magecraft of the other Masters ?"

"Do you question my strength ?" The King of Heroes' anger was obvious now.

Too late, Kor Phaeron realized that perhaps he didn't have as much of a handle on his temper as he had thought. This was, after all, an unprecedented situation for him : even when he had been returned to the Materium by the Dark Angels at the onset of the Roboutian Heresy, the followers of the Architect of Fate hadn't sought to control him, simply unleashing him to do as the Gods willed in Ultramar. This … cooperation, with an individual whose individual power rivalled his own (he still refused to concede that Gilgamesh might surpass him), wasn't something he was used to.

"No, Your Majesty," Kirei quickly intervened before things could turn to violence. "In a direct confrontation, your victory would be assured. The might of your treasury guarantee it. But our foe is not without base cunning, and in their desperation to oppose the Gods there would be no tactic too cowardly for them to use. Unequalled you might be, but that is not the same thing as invincible."

It was an impressive display of diplomacy, and Kor Phaeron's respect for the younger apostle of Chaos Undivided increased as it worked. Slowly, Gilgamesh nodded, and the tension vanished.

"How are we to proceed, then ?" Kirei asked him. "We can continue capturing individuals drawn by the call of the Grail to turn them into Demon Pillars, but that'll take time."

"Now that I'm free of my mask, other options are available to us," replied Kor Phaeron with a smile. A plan was forming in his mind, one that he believed all three of them would enjoy. "Here is what I suggest we do …"

You could have cut the silence in the Emiya living room with a knife.

They had come back from the docks almost half an hour ago, after Shirou had called his contact with the Yakuza to explain what had happened (though of course he hadn't told them the details). Once they had finished making sure the Bounded Fields around the home were still intact, Shirou had prepared a pot of coffee and they had all sat down, waiting for him to tell them just what exactly Caster – no, Pretender had done to him.

He had told them, holding nothing back, and now Rin and the others were trying to process the revelations of the one male in the room.

"So," said the Tohsaka Head eventually. "Spaceships, and a galactic empire. That explains some of the inconsistencies we noticed in your visions, at least."

"'Inconsistencies' ?" asked Illyasviel.

"Of scale," explained Rin. "For instance, Shirou described the Imperial Palace as being continent-sized, and the final battle of the civil war as engulfing the entire world, which didn't make a lot of sense since the war had been going on for years at this point. I thought it was a distorsion of the memories, or some kind of space extension Magecraft from the Age of the Gods was involved somehow."

"But instead, the war took place all across the galaxy, with Earth being the final battlefield," continued Saber, nodding in understanding. She was taking this better than the other two Artorias, who were looking rather confused (and Rin ruthlessly crushed the thought that the expression looked adorable on her and Illyasviel's Servants). That was probably because her only memories were of modern times, where the concept of spaceships, while still far-fetched, at least was ingrained in the collective consciousness. From the moment Humanity had walked on the Moon (and what a mess that must have been), the Grail's mechanism that granted summoned Servants knowledge of the era must have included that. "That also explains the use of ships to go from one place to another."

"But that doesn't make sense," said Rin, barely holding back from tearing her hair out in frustration. "The Second Magic cannot do that sort of stuff. My family knows a bit more about it than most, thanks to our Founder having been taught by a Reflection of Zelretch, and its scope is limited by the World's simulated timelines. There is no way Gaia has the resources to spare simulating an entire galaxy, especially one as hostile to human life as Shirou's visions show it to be."

"I hesitate to even mention the possibility, but could it be the elements of the Second Magic used in the Greater Grail themselves were corrupted by Angra Mainyu ?" asked Sakura. Rin's sister was sitting next to Shirou, and hadn't let go of his arm since they had sat down. She was still shaken from seeing him fall under Pretender's spell, even if he had recovered quickly.

"It's possible," admitted Rin. "But what would that mean ? Even the worst nightmare of Gaia wouldn't expand much further than our star system, and the Grail certainly doesn't have the kind of processing power it would take to simulate an entire galaxy."

"Therefore," said Illyasviel, "either our understanding of the Second Magic is wrong …"

"… or Corswain and Kor Phaeron came from something completely different," finished Rin.

"Does it matter ?" asked Stheno, speaking up for the first time since the start of the discussion.

They all turned to look at the Servant. She merely shrugged.

"I say, does it matter ?" she repeated, her gaze sharpening on Shirou. "Does the origin of our enemy change anything about your course of action, Master ?"

"No," replied Shirou. "Kor Phaeron must be stopped, and the corruption of the Grail must be destroyed. Its origin only matter inasmuch as it affects how we'll go about it."

"Then that's what we'll do. Regardless of how that Pretender came to be, he is here now, and he's shown that he's afraid of being cut in two by your ridiculously large sword, Master."

"You are right," agreed Shirou.

"Of course I am. I am a Goddess; I am always right."

Rin held back from saying what she thought of that out loud. Stheno had a point, after all.

"Regardless of his origins, you were still caught in his spell, Master," continued Assassin. "You told us Corswain's history, but do you really remember everything ? Somehow, I doubt that."

"And you are right," answered the red-haired boy. "There are gaps in the memories, big ones. The Fire consumed a great deal of Corswain's essence before it took refuge inside my body. And even what remains is fragmented."

"Something we are very grateful for, Senpai," said Sakura, hugging his left arm and resting her head against his shoulder. "I don't think I would like Corswain very much."

"No, I don't think you would," said Shirou softly.

"Tell us more about Kor Phaeron, if you can," asked Rider. "We need to know our enemy."

"Alright. As I said, he was the leader of the Covenant, a religious organization that held complete control over the world of Colchis and worshipped the Dark Gods in a somewhat more benevolent guise, not too different from some of our older, bloodier religions, except it was only a mask for their evil. That changed when the Primarch Lorgar arrived onto that world, and led a great rebellion against the Covenant."

"So this Lorgar landed as a child on a planet controlled by a cult worshipping demons, and managed to remain a steadfast defender of Humanity," noted Lancer. "Given how many of his brothers ended up turning evil later, that speaks well of his strength of character. I think I would have liked to meet him."

"So would I," Shirou smiled wistfully. "After the Heresy, he was … lost is probably the best word for it. He got trapped in the Warp by the machinations of the Chaos Gods. I think they were afraid that, with the Emperor trapped on the Golden Throne, Lorgar would be the one to replace Him as their greatest threat. Back to Kor Phaeron, Lorgar killed him at the end of his war to liberate Colchis from the Covenant, after fighting his way through the hordes of monsters the Black Cardinal had summoned by using the population of his capital as sacrifices."

"Decades later, after the Dark Angels had fallen, they summoned Kor Phaeron's specter in Ultramar, the domain of Guilliman, who had also been turned to Chaos and was making preparations for his rebellion against the Emperor. When Guilliman revealed his hand, Lorgar and his brother Angron were sent to Ultramar in order to deny him its resources, but Guilliman trapped them by unleashing a …" He paused. "I'm not sure how to properly describe it. He unleashed an infernal apocalypse across his entire territory, all five hundred worlds on it, trapping the two Primarchs and their Legions for most of the war. Kor Phaeron reborn was supposed to act as the champion of the Dark Gods, to break or kill them, but he failed and Lorgar defeated him again, which eventually paved the way for their escape and return to Terra just in time to force Guilliman into the desperate gambit that led to his ultimate defeat."

"This does all sound mythological," said Berzerker. "I can see why you all thought it was a story from the Age of the Gods."

"Shirou," asked Rin, suddenly struck by a thought through the fog of exhaustion that was beginning to press in, coffee or not. "Did Kor Phaeron have rings ?"

He blinked in confusion, then scowled as he caught her meaning. "I don't think so : there is no story about any particular artefact he used. But I don't think he can use Solomon's rings either, or at least not to their full potential."

"How do you figure that ?" asked Illyasviel.

"We're still alive," he answered bluntly. "And Kor Phaeron ran, which he wouldn't have done if he had unlimited power literally at his fingertips."

"The Rings of Solomon aren't that strong," said Rin, praying that she was right, "but you have a point. Given that they were supposedly given to the King of Mages by God, do you think he can't use them ?"

"I doubt we are so lucky. They wouldn't have stayed on his hands when his disguise was broken if they were nothing more than decorations. More likely, there are restrictions in place, limits to how he can usurp their power."

"No matter what toys he clings to, he can still be defeated," said Saber, with a confidence Rin wished she could share. "After all, Shirou sent him and his pet monsters reeling with a one-line aria."

"He did," mused Rin, thinking back on that moment. Shirou's words had hurt the Demon Pillars, throwing them off-balance long enough that they had been able to dispatch them while Shirou focused on Pretender.

But it hadn't been something he had inherited from Corswain, she was sure of it. It had felt completely different from when her lover had drawn upon his power in the past. Before, even while knowing there was no way Shirou would do anything to hurt her, she had still been perturbed by the darkness that answered him – which made sense, since it was the vestige of a traitor, heretic and mass-murderer in thrall to infernal powers.

It had felt … safe. For a brief moment, Shirou's will had made itself manifest on the World as he proclaimed his nature as 'the blade that sunders the might of Gods'. And the Demon Pillars, which Shirou had explained he suspected were actually more similar to the daemonhosts the First Legion and its cohorts had used in the Heresy, had been affected by –

Oh.

Of course.

"Reality Marble," she whispered to herself, not realizing she had spoken aloud until everyone turned to look at her.

Only Illyasviel seemed to know what she was talking about, which she guessed made sense. The white-haired girl had been trained for the Grail War, and it was possible for Heroic Spirits to develop Reality Marbles reflecting their legend, like the Rider of the Fourth War had. The others, however, were completely lost.

"Reality Marbles are one of the greatest feats of Magecraft, close to True Magics," she explained. "They consist of overriding the laws of the World and replacing them with those of the caster's inner reality. Back in the Age of the Gods, they were a lot more common, especially among phantasmal creatures, but now they are incredibly rare. Only a handful of Magi have ever achieved them since the foundation of the Association, and research into that subject is so dangerous that it is one of the few the Clocktower has actually banned."

"Why do you think Shirou would have something like this, if they are so rare ?"

"Because it would explain some of the stuff he did. Stuff like his sword destroying Zouken without hurting Sakura, or him being able to destroy the shikome he encountered under Kumamoto, or when he cut through Fragarach instead of being killed by it. Details about Reality Marbles is scarce, but all of these things don't make sense by the logic of the World."

"Which you think means another logic was at work," finished Shirou.

"It's just a theory," Rin insisted. "But, since Reality Marbles are a reflection of the caster's inner reality, it would explain how Shirou keeps doing the impossible when he is being a hero. Even without a full-scale manifestation, Reality Marbles are supposed to grant some pretty weird side abilities."

"Or it could be the result of Onii-chan's unique condition -" Illyasviel suddenly yawned, blushing once she was done. No one mocked her : every Master in the room had followed suit,

"Well, in any case, I don't think we are going to solve that mystery tonight," said Shirou drily, sounding remarkably calm about the whole thing. "We will talk more once we have all gotten some sleep."

Yes, thought Rin. Sleep sounded very good right now.

Kairi breathed heavily as he lowered his shotgun. His heart was beating painfully in his chest, and he felt as if all of his muscles were on fire from the effort he had put them through.

"I am getting too old for this," he muttered to no one in particular, before shaking himself, straightening, and calling out to the others : "thanks for the help. I don't think I could have taken it down alone."

"You are too modest, Mr Sisigou," replied the leader of the three Magi. At least he thought that was the leader : they hadn't told him their names, though he hadn't taken it as a slight, being passingly familiar with how the spooks of the Clocktower operated in the field. "You certainly contributed more to the fight than any of us."

He grunted, neither confirming or denying that statement, and looked down at the creature the four of them had managed to kill. It wasn't a Dead Apostle, that much was obvious, nor was it any kind of relation to that particular blight on the World.

It was humanoid, but over three meters high, and impossibly bulky. Its skin was scarlet under a layer of filfth. It had carried a club that screamed to Kairi's esoteric senses with all the death it had caused. Its face ... well. There was only a pulped, charred mess left of its face, but the Necromancer expected to see it in his nightmares for some time. An abomination like that had no place in any sane universe.

His gun and his spells had still worked on it, though. Death was death, after all : no matter their origins, all beings were ultimately bound by it. It just took more effort in some cases.

"Do you know what this was ?" he asked, trying to distract himself from his pained and exhausted muscles. "I have never encountered anything like it before."

"I believe," answered the Magus cautiously, "that we just killed one of the creatures responsible for Japan's Oni legends. It must have gone into hiding to avoid the purges, but was drawn by the call of the Grail."

"It was smart enough to veil itself from detection until it hit our perimeter; smart enough to survive for centuries without being discovered. All of that, just to die like this, compelled by something it probably didn't even understand …" Kairi shook his head. "I would pity it if it wasn't for all the deaths it caused."

"Indeed. The potency of the Grail's call and corruption continues to amaze me."

The mercenary had linked up with the agents of the Clocktower when they had arrived, along with the other agents of the Conglomerate deployed to enforce Fuyuki's supernatural quarantine. They had all been issued the same communication talismans : small, unconspicuous pieces of basic Magecraft made by the Mihashira Conglomerate that were voice-activated and allowed them to communicate with each other without the hassle of having to operate their phones in the middle of a fight.

Kairi was thankful for the rune-marked piece of paper he had slipped into his jacket's interior pocket, since it had allowed him to call for backup when the Oni had suddenly appeared in his patrol area. Even with their help, taking it down had taken almost an hour of baiting it and drawing it into prepared traps and killing grounds, every moment of it spent in fear that it would grow bored and go straight for the city before they could defeat it. Kairi shivered at the thought of that monster roaming the streets, in full view of everyone looking out of their windows to see what was causing that noise.

They had avoided that, thankfully. But, unfortunately, that didn't mean they weren't facing another crisis, and much as he didn't want to, Kairi felt he needed to bring it up now that his heartbeat was back to a rate that could be considered healthy.

"You sensed that, didn't you ?" he asked.

"The pulse of energy in the city while we were fighting ? Yes, I did. I couldn't tell you what it was, though."

"Yeah, me neither. It's bad news, though, that much I am pretty sure of."

"As am I. Yet the city is still standing, and there doesn't appear to be anything particularly worrying happening -"

The Magus was interrupted by Kairi's phone ringing. With an apologetic glance, the Necromancer pulled it out and checked the caller's number. Surprise, surprise : it was the Conglomerate's representative.

"Sisigou speaking," he said.

"Good evening, Sisigou-san," answered the voice of Kodai, cool and collected as ever. The Necromancer wondered if the man ever slept. He didn't sound tired, so perhaps he was simply nocturnal. "What is your situation ? You sound winded."

"I'm fine. Just took down another beastie trying to reach Fuyuki with the help of the Clocktower's boys. Are you calling about what we felt happening in the city ?"

"Yes. You might share what I am about to tell you with our allies : they are cleared for that type of information. Simply put, we were all very fortunate tonight, Sisigou-san, and by we, I mean the entire World. We came very close to disaster. However, the greater situation is far from resolved. Our auguries have gained new data on the nature of the Grail's corruption and the entity summoned by the Animusphere's ritual. We now believe both to be of non-Gaian origin."

It took a moment for Kairi to process that. When he did, he cursed violently, despite knowing his words were heard not just by his employer, but also by his Clocktower colleagues. The Magi took a step back in surprise, with the closest one raising an eyebrow at some of Kairi's choicest profanities.

"Fucking astromancers," he spat at the end of his tirade, finally running out of breath.

"Quite," said Kodai drily. "We are hoping to get more detailed information later today, once we make contact with the Masters in the city. For now, I would advise you remain on high alert, and do not split up from our English friends."

"Yeah, I think that's for the best. Goddamit, what a mess … Speaking of, any news on more reinforcements ? Between your people and the Clocktower's, I think we've got the quarantine handled for now, but I wouldn't say no to more boots on the ground, just in case."

"Unfortunately, in light of these latest revelations as well as information from our allies in the Clocktower, it has been decided that only the most powerful of the Conglomerate's operatives can be deployed in Fuyuki's immediate surroundings. We are moving more Special Division assets to the Kyushuu island in order to form a wider perimeter : demon hunters supported by more mundane personel. They will seek those drawn by the Grail in the region, hopefully far enough to not be affected themselves."

"That's better than nothing, I guess," sighed Kairi. He had fought alongside (and against, though he hadn't put that particular clusterfuck on his resume) Japan's reclusive demon-hunting clans in the past, and they knew their business, even if their approach to Magecraft was incredibly limited and some of their traditions outright baffling to a foreigner like him. "You're right : if things really go to Hell, most of SD's people won't be of any use. No offense, he added as an afterthought."

"None taken," Kodai assured him with every trace of sincerity. "We are aware of the limitations of our employees, and wouldn't place them in that kind of danger. We're already uncomfortable enough keeping you and the others where you are, Sisigou-san. On a related note, I should inform you that the situation most definitely qualifies under section 19 of your contract : the additional payment for excessive risk has been wired to your account."

Kairi blinked. With everything going on, he had completely forgotten about this. He, a mercenary, had forgotten about the money.

If this wasn't a sign of the End Times, he didn't know what was.

Omake : King and Urizen

"Would you like more tea ?" asked Lorgar Aurelian, Primarch of the Seventeenth Legion.

"Please," politely answered Artoria Pendragon, Lancer-Class Servant.

Lorgar picked the teapot with his right hand, which was a masterfully wrought construct of metal replacing the one he had lost in battle, and refilled their cups.

"So," the Primarch invited her to continue once they had taken a sip. "We were talking about your son – daughter – your child."

Artoria sighed. As much as it was a subject she needed to talk about, she still didn't enjoy revisiting her abject failure where the child her sister Morgan had created by taking advantage of Merlin's juvenile prank was concerned.

"I failed Mordred," she admitted. "When I learned that they were my child, I refused to name them my heir, because I didn't want them to become King. To be a sovereign requires to abandon emotion for logic in order to make hard choices, and Mordred was just so emotional all the time, I felt such a fate would be worse than death for them."

"See, that was your first mistake, though it's one more related to your method of rule than your parenting," said Lorgar. "I do not believe that a leader, whether it's a king, a president, or anything else, should be some perfect machine always making the best choice for the state as a whole."

Artoria winced. Yes, she saw that now. At the time, she'd truly believed this was the best way for a King to rule, but the fact her kingdom had collapsed during her lifetime, not even at her death like the King of Conquerors' had according to her Saber self, had made it painfully obvious there was something wrong with her approach.

"Your other problem," continued Lorgar, "was that you didn't communicate your reasoning clearly enough, so Mordred thought you had rejected them instead of understanding that you wanted to protect them. You thought they would understand you because to you, it seemed obvious, and so didn't need explaining. That was one of my father's failings too, though He did get better at it when me and my brothers were born. According to Malcador, He used to be much, much worse at it."

"I would think so, since your father managed to keep half his sons from turning against him."

"Well, yes, but at least Mordred didn't make a deal with the literal powers of Hell when they rebelled against you," pointed out Lorgar. "On average, I think you did a better job than Him."

"Maybe. And what of you and your sons ?"

"My sons … I don't think you should take advice from me or any of my brothers on that subject, Your Majesty. We call the Astartes our sons, because they share our blood, and the father-son bond is the closest human relationship to what exists between a Primarch and his Space Marines. But make no mistake : that is not the same at all."

"Oh ?"

"Yes. I have seen how parents are heartbroken when their children die before them. And yet, I have buried thousands of my Word Bearers, and millions of them have given their life for the Imperium and Humanity." His gaze darkened at the recollection. "That is how I know I'm not human. A human would have been driven mad by grief long ago. Though we were created from a human core, me and my brothers aren't human. We all had to come to terms with that realization pretty early in our childhoods, though eight of us didn't manage it all that well," Lorgar added with a bitter smile.

"Eight ?" asked Artoria. "I thought nine Primarchs ended up turning renegade ?"

"Poor Jaghatai didn't really have choice," explained Lorgar. "He didn't 'turn' so much as was stabbed in the back and his body paraded by those of his sons who had turned traitor."

"I … see." She didn't, and felt it was better that way. "I suppose Mordred at least chose to do what they did, though their mother always intended for them to bring about Camelot's downfall."

"At least some of the blame for how it all ended is on her," said Lorgar. "Do you know why she decided she had to destroy everything you'd built ?"

"Morgan was our father's firstborn," explained Artoria. "She had been raised to believe she would inherit his crown, or be married to someone who would and rule as queen. Instead, from her perspective, she was cast aside and replaced by me."

"Ah, sibling jealousy. I'm familiar with it."

"With respect, lord, me and my sister's dispute destroyed a kingdom. Your brothers' feud ravaged the entire galaxy."

"That's just because we had spaceships," waved off the golden Primarch. "Trust me, if we had all been stuck on the same planet, we would still have found a way to fight each other."

Somehow, Artoria didn't have any difficulty believing that.

"Take care of Shirou, would you ?" asked Lorgar. "If he can really break free of Corswain's influence, it just might help me convince my brother that he too can reclaim his freedom. Of course," he smiled wrily, "the situation of the two isn't quite the same. For instance, there are methods available to you that I cannot quite replicate -"

"THANK YOU FOR THE TEA !" shouted Artoria, her face suddenly scarlet.

Chapter Text

Beyond the walls of his city, the horde of horrors stretches across the horizon.

The noise is as abominable as the sight : a chittering, maddening laugh that must be drowned by the booming of great gongs and the shouted prayers of hoarse priests. Around him, brave soldiers man the walls, holding terror at bay with thoughts of what the monsters will do to their loved ones if they run.

By his order, the ancient vaults have been opened, and the arsenal of their ancestors emptied to be used against the horde. The earth is cracked with their power, marred with wounds that will take thousands of years to heal. As many horrors have been slain as there are coins in his treasury, but the horde is endless, spawned by the dying spasms of the mad goddess.

His friend – his one true friend – gave their life to imprison her, to bring her low, but the horde continues to advance. It cannot be fought, cannot be defeated.

Yet it must be, if there is to be any future for Humanity on this world.

The sword that is not a sword is heavy in his grasp. Its power burns him, even in its inactive state. A normal man would already have perished, but he is no normal man. He is the son of a king and a goddess, clad in golden armor forged for him by They Who Hold The Pillars Of The World. He has fought monsters, known love and loss, and been denied immortality by those who know its true cost.

All that he is was made for this moment, this choice, that will set the course of the World itself.

This is the Hour of the Dividing. This is the Fall of Uruk.

This is where Gilgamesh earns his place as first of the Heroic Spirits.

The veil between realms must be strengthened, though it will come at great cost to those who draw upon the power of the Othersea. By his actions this day, he will cripple his kingdom, his people. He will deal a wound to the divine that will not heal, and which will in time usher in the end of the Age of the Gods.

He does not hesitate. How could he, when faced with such abject evil ?

He rises the sword – the weapon – Ea – and –

nO

ThIS iS nOT How WE WilL iT To HaVe HAppEneD

November 27h, 2004 AD – Emiya residence

The night had ended, but the sun did not shine upon Fuyuki.

As ruler of England, Lancer was used to overcast skies, but this was something else. During the night, dark clouds had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and completely blanketed the sky above Fuyuki. It was so bad that the street-lamps had stayed on, but even they couldn't quite overcome the unnatural darkness that had befallen the city. The weather forecast crew on the TV were completely flabbergasted, as there had been no warnings of anything like that on the satellite imagery and the other methods they used to predict the weather.

There were many theories circulating, each more outlandish than the last. One channel in particular had hosted someone who claimed this freak weather was the result of a secret weapon program being tested off the coast by the army, though even the journalist interviewing him had difficulties keeping her scepticism off her face.

The Masters had their own suspicions, of course.

"I bet the formation of those clouds started the exact moment I revealed Kor Phaeron's True Name," said Shirou.

"Probably," agreed Rin. "We all sensed that something happened when he stopped hiding behind Solomon's face, even if I still can't make any sense of just what it was."

That made sense to Lancer. Though the memories of her reign were fragmented, she knew that the World itself reacted to malevolent energies, much like a human body reacted to sickness, and she could think of few things more malevolent than Pretender.

Even now, several hours later, thinking of Kor Phaeron's face filled her with revulsion. That ... creature (she refused to call him a man) had been simply, hideously wrong. Evil, in a way that surpassed anything she had encountered before. Even Rider, who remembered the battles they had fought to protect Britain, had agreed with her on that when they had talked about it while their Masters slept. King Arthur had fought more powerful monsters, but none of them had been so steeped in malice as the false Caster. In most cases, Britain's monsters had simply been following their natures, or been driven mad by supernatural corruption.

But Kor Phaeron had chosen to be what he was, according to Shirou's 'history lesson'. It might be a matter of debate for philosophers, but as far as Lancer was concerned, that made him worse than even the infernal abominations he bound to his will.

"Still, this does have the advantage of helping keep the civilians out of the way," Sakura pointed out as they continued to listen in on the news report while eating breakfast. "Between this and the 'terrorist attack' at the docks, they are advising everyone to stay inside their homes except for emergencies."

"And with school cancelled, we'll be free to move without needing to justify our absence," continued Rin.

Shirou's guardian had called them earlier to inform them that the school teachers had been called to an emergency meeting in the morning – which was why Taiga hadn't joined them for breakfast. Between what had happened at the docks and the unnatural weather, it had been decided school would be closed down until further notice, with students told to stay in their homes and study the material on their own.

"Should we tell our allies what we learned ?" asked Illyasviel.

"Probably, but we can't tell them the full truth," decided Shirou. Lancer nodded; that much was obvious. The situation was already complicated enough : sharing their theories about alternate timelines with other members of the Moonlit World would only make things worse. "So we need to give them an explanation for the clouds. This isn't an outright breach of the secrecy of Magecraft, but that kind of large-scale effect is certainly enough to make the Association nervous."

"How about this ?" proposed Rin. "We confirm that Marisbury Animusphere summoned a Servant responsible for the destruction of the Animusphere Castle, and that he is also using their bodies to create familiars capable of fighting against Servants without being immediately destroyed. As to his True Name, we tell them he's an evil wizard from another timeline accessed by the Grail through the elements of the Kaleidoscope incorporated in its workings specializing in demonic summonings."

"Isn't that just telling them the truth ?" asked Rider, cocking her head to the side.

"Yes, except for a few key details," Rin told her Servant. "We won't be telling them anything about the relationship between Shirou's power and Kor Phaeron, the Imperium, Chaos, or the Heresy. I am ambivalent about telling the Clocktower and the Conglomerate about the Pretender Class, but it feels like something important enough we should probably mention it."

"Yes," agreed Shirou. "The existence of the Extra Classes isn't well-known outside of the Three Families, but if the worst comes to pass they'll need to know Kor Phaeron isn't an 'ordinary' Servant, so to speak."

"Are you going to call them right now ?" asked Saber.

Shirou checked the clock on the wall. "It's the middle of the night in Britain, but we should at least contact the Conglomerate this morning and call El-Melloi this afternoon. There isn't much he can do right now, and if we need his help we'll need him as rested as possible. Let's finish eating breakfast, then I'll call Kodai-san. Then we'll go over our strategy to deal with Kor Phaeron."

The rest of the meal passed in companionable silence, with everyone eating heartily from the meal Shirou and Sakura had prepared. They were cleaning up when the Bounded Fields around the home signalled someone had crossed them, swiftly followed by frantic banging on the door. Everyone paused what they were doing and turned toward the entrance as the banging continued.

"I'll get it," said Shirou. Saber rose to follow him, her fingers twitching visibly, ready to summon her sword into existence at a moment's notice.

The Servants moved to protect their Masters, just in case. The moment Shirou opened the door, his posture relaxed slightly.

"Issei ?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "What's wrong -"

From her position in the living room, Lancer saw it all happen as if in slow motion. The bespectacled teenager in sweat-drenched clothes standing in the door frame suddenly spasmed, his face contorting into a grimace of pain and anguish. His right hand came up, drawing a hooked dagger from his pocket and pushing it up toward Shirou's chest.

Of course, Shirou was far too quick for such an attack to hit, even taken by surprise. He smashed the weapon aside before moving behind his attacker, slamming the door shut, and pushing the intruder to the ground, holding him down in body lock that would have been difficult to escape even had Shirou not cast Reinforcement on his body the moment he had been out of sight from the outside.

The dagger slipped from the attacker's hand, hitting the floor point first and burying itself into the wood. The would-be assassin twitched feebly in Shirou's grasp, until the Master pressed his left hand against the base of his neck and cast a spell that immediately rendered him unconscious.

From the moment Shirou had opened the door, the entire process had taken less than three seconds. Saber hadn't even needed to call up her sword and armor.

"Rin," Shirou called out, speaking with remarkable calm for someone who had just been the target of a murder attempt by one of his acquaintances. "I could use your help, please. I think Issei has been put under a geas."

"R-right," replied Rin. "Let's move him somewhere else first."

They carried Issei – who, it turned out, was one of Shirou and Rin's classmates – into one of the rooms that, despite the increasing number of house guests, was still unoccupied. Once he was laid down, Rin started to examine him, while the others cleaned up breakfast and prepared to move out. A few moments later, the dark-haired Magus came back to the living room, looking troubled.

"Issei'll be fine, I think. There was definitely some sort of hypnosis on him, but it wasn't anything like what we use. It was at once more primitive and more vicious, if that makes any sense. I have done my best to purge him of foreign energies, and put a spell on him to keep him asleep. I also used a few healing spells : he'd torn the muscles in his legs to the point of risking permanent damage."

"He ran all the way from the Ryuudou Temple," explained Shirou, his face sombre. "Without regard for the damage it was doing to his body. Issei isn't out of shape, but he isn't the most athletic student either. The only reason he'd do this is if he was forced to ignore his body's pain and fatigue."

"Kor Phaeron," hissed Saber. For all of Lancer's intense dislike of Pretender, it paled compared to that of the other Servant.

Shirou nodded. "Yes. The hypnosis could be the work of someone else, but I recognized the dagger he used. It's a Colchisian athame, once used in the sacrificial pits of Vharadesh. The Dark Angels recovered it from the remnants of the Covenant after Lorgar won the war against them, and gave it to the Black Cardinal after summoning his spirit …"

The eyes of the young man glazed over for a few seconds, before he shook his head, banishing whatever vision of Corswain's past had been rising through his mind.

"Giving it to Issei was a deliberate challenge," he continued. "I should have seen it coming. Of course Pretender would go after the largest religious center in the city …"

"This is no time for self-recrimination," Rider cut in. "We need to act swiftly. People are in danger, if not already dead."

"You are right," agreed Shirou. "Kor Phaeron'll be waiting for us at the temple, or more of his Demon Pillars will. This time, they'll already have transformed, so we'll have a real fight on our hands -"

The phone rang, cutting him off. With a muttered curse, Shirou moved to answer it. As he saw the caller's ID, his body language somehow grew even more tense, and he quickly picked the phone up.

"Kamido-san ?"

"Kiddo !" The man's voice was frantic, with more than a hit of terror. "There's a monster attacking ! It's some kind of – fuck !"

The sound of things breaking apart, screams of pain and something that resembled laughter came out of the speaker for several seconds.

"Kamido ? Kamido !" shouted Shirou.

"We need your help, kiddo ! Get your ass here before -"

There was a final crashing sound, and the line went dead. For one moment, the red-haired teen simply stood there, before slamming the phone back down.

"Senpai ?" asked Sakura worriedly.

"We are going to split up," Shirou replied. "Illya and I are going to the Temple." He turned to look at Lancer's Master. "Kor Phaeron might target you because he thinks he can use you as the Lesser Grail, so I'm keeping you at my side until the bastard's soul is sent back to Hell. Also, Lancer's spear might be able to kill him for good."

"Archer, Assassin, you're coming with us," he continued. His voice was cold, his tone short and clipped; a commander's voice. As always, the difference between his usual warm and kind tone and the one he took when battle called was jarring. The two Divine Servants nodded in acceptance. "We might encounter more brainwashed people, and your skills will be useful in neutralizing them non-lethally. Sakura, Rin, please go help the Fujimura Group. Sella, Leysritt, keep watch on the house and make sure Issei is fine, please."

Lancer saw the discontent on Sella's face – this would make it four times now that her lady went into battle without her – but she swallowed her words, realizing that now wasn't the time to argue.

"We aren't switching Servants this time ?" asked Rin.

"No. I am not confident Kor Phaeron can't find a way to mess with the Command Seal's teleportation function, given time to prepare."

"Then you're aware this entire situation is a trap," said Rider. Lancer's other self wasn't objecting to his orders, Lancer knew, merely pointing out the obvious.

"Of course it's a trap," Shirou scoffed. "Kor Phaeron sent Issei to us and timed his Demon Pillar's attack on the Fujimura Group to happen right after he reached us. He wants us to split up, and is using the Fujimura Group as diversion because he knows they are our allies. But we can't leave them to die all the same. At least Taiga-nee isn't there, but … Please, Rin. They've been family for years. I need you to help them."

"Fine," said Rin, sighing. "Sakura, come with me. We are getting our gear and moving immediately."

Shirou looked at everyone in the room, and nodded. "Good luck, everyone. Remember, no matter how cunning Pretender's plan might seem, he has a long history of fucking things up and getting defeated. No matter what he's plotting this time, we will defeat him."

"Well," drawled Rider, "that's the fate of all monsters in the end. And Kor Phaeron is most definitely a monster."

Being carried by a Servant as they jumped from rooftop to rooftop may be quicker and stealthier than using motorbikes, but Rin still found it slightly humiliating. The fact she was being bride-carried by Rider, whom her hormones kept reminding her was very, very beautiful, also wasn't helping her concentration.

The streets were almost completely empty, and Rider and Berserker moved quickly, crossing the distance between the Emiya residence and the Fujimura estate faster than they'd have using bikes that were restricted to the ground. From the outside, the headquarters of the Fujimura Group looked perfectly normal, though the absence of the burly men in suits at the door was a sign something was wrong.

Of course, everyone in their group could sense the Magecraft surrounding the area. Rin even recognized its magical signature.

It's a standard Bounded Field, she explained over the mental link she had reactivated before their departure. Enforcers and Exorcists use them when they need to operate in areas with lot of witnesses.

'Standard' doesn't seem like Kor Phaeron's style, pointed out Sakura.

You're right. Be careful, everyone. Shirou ? We're about to go in. Our communications will go dark until we've brought the Bonded Field down.

Alright, came the reply, which carried a hint of Shirou's nervousness – only to be expected, given he was riding along Saber, and the Servants' driving wasn't for the faint of heart. Be careful, and don't hesitate to retreat if it gets too dangerous.

Rin knew how much saying this pained Shirou. But with so much at stake, they couldn't sacrifice their lives, even to save people whom he considered family. If Kor Phaeron succeeded in his plans, whatever they were ('bringing the Gods to the World' could mean many things, none of them good), then billions of lives would be in danger.

We know, Senpai, answered Sakura. Don't worry. We're strong.

The moment Rider's final jump carried them over the wall surrounding the estate, they passed through the Bounded Field's border and the truth was revealed to them just as Shirou's presence faded in Rin's mind, leaving only the slow thrumming of their contract.

What waited for them inside was a scene straight out of a warzone. The gate had been smashed in, and the broken corpses of several guards laid where they had fallen, bearing wounds that looked like they had been the result of industrial accidents. The front wall of the old Japanese-style mansion had also been broken through, and there were burning, hoof-shaped marks on the ground.

"It looks like there was only one attacker," noted Rider as they landed in the ravaged garden. "That fits what Kamido told Shirou over the phone."

"Pretender lost ten Demon Pillars last night, and all of them looked like the kind of high-ranking Magi the Animusphere would call to their castle," pointed out Rin. "Maybe he's running out of Magi corpses to use ?"

"That would be nice, but I doubt things will be that easy."

As they cautiously advanced across the devastation, an eerie silence hang over the estate, broken only by the sound of something heavy repeatedly smashing against metal coming from deeper into the broken building. The closer to it they got, the more the scent of blood was being overpowered by something else – something Rin couldn't identify, but which was unmistakably worse.

Take cover, Master, sent Rider. We will deal with that monstrosity.

With a nod, Rin and Sakura moved behind one of the walls still standing. They weren't like Shirou : in a direct confrontation between Servant-level beings, they would only get in the way. A Master's job was to support their Servant by giving them mana and fighting the enemy Masters if the opportunity presented itself.

There wouldn't be a chance to do that here, but that didn't mean Sakura and her wouldn't be able to contribute before this was over.

From their concealed position, Rin could see that the Demon Pillar was smashing its fist against a square metal door in the ground. Some kind of shelter or panic room, Rin guessed, where the survivors had taken refuge when it had become clear their weapons weren't having any effect on the attacker.

That the defenders had the presence of mind to get to relative safety when faced with something like the Demon Pillar spoke well of their willpower : she knew most people, when confronted with something straight out of the most vivid descriptions of Hell, would simply have frozen in place, unable to accept what they were seeing was real.

Not that she could have blamed them, given what the Demon Pillar looked like. The one they had fought at the docks had been disturbing enough, but this one was somehow worse.

It was huge, far taller than the one they had faced in the docks. Its crown of black horns left burn marks on the three-meters high ceiling as it moved. Its skin was the red of skinless muscle, liberally daubed with the blood of its victims, which even now dripped on the floor. Vicious thorns erupted from its flesh, and its right arm ended in monstrous claws with talons the length of her forearm while its left was shaped like a gigantic crab's claw from the elbow. Its feet were hooves, clearly the ones that had left the tracks they had followed to this place.

A plate of metal was embedded in its chest, bearing the mark of the ultima symbol surrounded by a black circle pierced by eight arrows pointing inward. She recognized that symbol from the descriptions of Shirou's visions : it was the emblem of the Thirteenth Legion, the Ultramarines, who had led the traitors against the Emperor in that other timeline.

And its face … its face was a nightmare all in itself. Its jaws resembled those of a canine, with obsidian-black, irregular teeth illuminated from within by the inferno that burned within its throat. Its eyes blazed with a light that was of no color Rin could name, but which promised the slow and painful extinction of all that was good in the universe.

Then it spoke :

"I can smell your presence, little ones."

The Demon Pillar's voice was clearer than that of the abomination Pretender had called Furfur had been. Rider had the disturbing impression that this wasn't a good thing at all – that there had been a very good reason why the words of the other Demon Pillar had been almost impossible to understand before. Was this another effect of Pretender's True Name being exposed by Shirou ?

Rider and Berserker walked together in the ruins of the room, having slipped around it to make sure the Demon Pillar's attention was turned the opposite way from where their Masters were hiding. She held Gungnir loosely in one hand, while Berserker carried her scythe, Harpe. They had no idea how well the weapons would perform against a creature such as this, but now was as good a chance to find out as any they were likely to get. Her Leader of the Wild Hunt Skill told her this was the only Demon Pillar in the area, which meant their guess that this attack was a diversion was most likely correct.

"So you have come," growled the Demon Pillar as the two Servants came into view. "Just as Kor Phaeron said you would. Mortals are ever so predictable."

"You don't like much like Furfur did," Rider called out. "Though you are just as ugly."

"Furfur was nothing," it boasted. "Just one more of the nameless hordes born of Mankind's nightmares, called forth to play his part as bait. I am different from him, from all the others Kor Phaeron has called forth."

Its eyes blazed with eldritch light as it stood up to its full height, towering over them.

"I was there when the Dark Master claimed his crown in the Eye of the Gods. I was there when the King of the Night's blood was spilled upon black sands. I was there when the Eternity Gate fell, and battled the last Guardians of the Throne in the Lord of Iron's maze."

Rider had only the faintest idea what it was talking about, but she could get the gist of it : in whatever passed for a hierarchy among Kor Phaeron's thralls, this creature stood higher than the one its master had used as bait last night.

"I am Raum," it declared, "first of the Daemonium Venatores."

"Oh, so you are one of those losers," said Rider.

Raum's gaze sharpened as her words drew its attention fully on her. It felt like a physical weight, a sickening shroud pressing on her that made her want to lash out and remove its source.

"What did you say, little huntress ?" Raum growled.

"You heard me," she answered brazenly. "Shirou told us about the Siege of Terra. He doesn't remember everything, but he knows your side lost so badly you had to run away all across the galaxy to find a place to hide." Rider smiled. "But don't worry. I'm sure things will be different this time. It's not as if your so-called gods got their champion killed before spending ten thousand years punching against the walls, heh ?" She made a show of gasping in shocked realization. "Oh wait."

She could feel Raum's anger at her words. Good. Truth be told, Rider was furious. She had been able to feel her Master's shock at the sight of another slaughter, so soon after what she had seen at the docks. And just like back there, the deaths that had occurred here had served no purpose but to draw them out. People had died so that their enemy could force them to move according to his designs, and that was unacceptable.

Despite his defeat, Kor Phaeron was still dictating the pace of the War. They needed to retake the initiative before the madman caused more deaths.

And maybe – just maybe – she was also looking forward to a chance to pay back the humiliating way in which she had been treated the last time she had fought a fully-transformed Demon Pillar. It had been a poor showing on her part, and she was eager to reclaim her tarnished honor.

Next to her, she felt Berserker's posture shift as the other Servant prepared for battle.

Be ready, she silently sent to her ally. We don't know what other abilities its brutish form conceals.

"You … I will strip the flesh from your bones," Raum promised. "I will flay you alive, and drag your soul from your bleeding carcass to feed it to the Gods. Then and only then, you will learn what true suffering is."

"Words," she sniffed derisively. "That's all your kind ever have when facing people who can actually fight back."

Raum roared, a sound that broke the few windows in the building that had survived so far, and charged. The ground under its cloven feet cracked under its weight as it accelerated faster than seemed possible for something so large.

Rider jumped left, Berserker right. She moved close to the ground, avoiding a swipe from the Demon Pillar's claw, and rolled back to her feet before striking at its leg with her spear. Gungnir's blade cut into the demon's kneecap, and a trickle of black ichor poured out of the wound. She felt her weapon's exaltation mixed with the seething hatred it felt for Raum's kind.

The Demon Pillar stumbled, its balance broken by the injury. Taking advantage of the opening, Berserker slashed at its flank with Harpe, cutting another gash into its infernal flesh from which more foul blood poured. Rider raised her spear, preparing to strike at a more vital target -

Then she had to dodge as Raum suddenly kicked her with the same leg she had injured. The wounded knee had already regenerated, and the cut Berserker had inflicted was also healing before their eyes. Both Gungnir and Harpe were weapons of legends, and while Berserker's scythe may not be the equal of Odin's legendary spear it was specialized in the killing of immortals, monsters, and immortal monsters. For Raum's healing abilities to overcome them both so quickly was very, very concerning.

"Did you think you could defeat me as easily as Furfur ?" mocked the Demon Pillar. "Your little tricks may be enough to make you strong on this little mud ball, but the universe is much bigger than you could imagine."

Its power is overriding the laws of the World around it, said Rin's voice in her head. Its bringing in the laws of its realm of origin. I'm surprised it can do that without backlash, though …

"The veil is lifting, little witch. Truth leaks in through the cracks in the lies of the World caused by Corswain's successor."

Fuck ! Rin's mental voice shouted in disbelief. It knows we are here !

"Don't worry, Master," replied Rider, twirling Gungnir in her hands. "We won't let it get anywhere near you."

"Oh, they have nothing to fear from me, little huntress. The Black Cardinal has other plans for them. His plans always were … imaginative."

"And they'll be thwarted just like all the rest of his evil schemes," promised Rider before the fight resumed.

It felt strange, to fight something so much more monstrous than she had ever been. To someone like her, who perceived the world around her through senses both mundane and supernatural, the Demon Pillar was an aberration that clashed hideously against its surroundings.

To her shame, Berserker found that a part of her enjoyed the novelty of unquestionably being on the side of righteousness. Unfortunately, as she knew all too well, being on the right side didn't guarantee victory.

Raum's attacks were swift as Aeolus' gales, and more devastating than any but the old god's most powerful winds. She could barely keep up dodging them thanks to Rider's assistance, which forced the Demon Pillar to split its attention between the two Servants. The two of them had B-ranked Agility, and even that was not enough for them to be able to land any significant counter-attacks. Every blow they managed to land healed almost immediately.

Through her occult senses, Berserker understood why : Raum's body wasn't real, not truly. For all its ghoulish appearance, it wasn't made of flesh and blood : it was a construct of energy laid around a physical core, what remained of the human body that had been used for its summoning. All the damage they inflicted on it could be repaired simply by pouring more power to replace the damage part, and Medusa doubted Pretender would be stingy with his power when his familiar was doing so well against them. Only a truly lethal blow would make any difference.

Raum was also strong enough that a single hit would break their limbs – or, in the case of its claw, rip them apart. Despite Rider's insult, it was clear that the Demon Pillar could have forced its way through the underground shelter's door at any time it chose. But instead it had held back, and while Berserker was sure there had been a tactical reason for it (without living hostages to rescue, they might have just obliterated the entire estate), she knew that hadn't been Raum's primary motivation. She could smell the fear of those trapped inside, and she knew the Demon Pillar could as well. It had been playing with its food, taunting them with the certainty of their deaths with deliberate cruelty.

The longer the fight went on like this, the greater the odds that Raum would manage a disabling blow, and things would only go worse from there. Yet they were not without options.

Through their bond, Sakura sensed where her thoughts were going. She called out to her, her mental voice worried :

Berserker, if you do this ...

I'll be fine, she reassured her Master with a confidence she didn't quite feel. As Shirou told me : this life is a chance to do better.

… Very well.