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Chapter Text

It struck like lightning.

A flash of the dark abyss, an arc of pitch-black shadow raced towards his head. In the darkness of the cavern, it might as well have been invisible, and the only way one could properly see the corrupted blade were the lines of crimson running down its edge.

They glowed grotesquely, pulsating angrily like veins of blood. Perhaps it was a manifestation of all the lives that sword had taken, the culmination of all the sins it had committed in its master's name finally staining the once pure and holy sword. The rivers of blood from the mountains of corpses it had created were now brought forth, freely displayed for all to see as they flowed down the magical sword.

CLANG!

The sharp pitch of steel impacting steel echoed throughout the cavern. The blackened blade was stopped. Spiny, murky gauntlets clenched even harder, bringing the weapon down with enough force to shatter mountains. Nevertheless, the twin swords held, trembling and quivering but not wavering despite the indomitable force they were facing. Knees buckled, brought right to the edge of collapse but not breaking. Pale emerald orbs widened the slightest amount, and for a moment, shining amazement flashed through them before that baleful gaze returned.

The ground cracked beneath their feet, a crater forming from the sheer force of the blow. It was a strike meant to end the battle, strong enough to kill a man hundreds of times over. A single slash from the sword could have ended beings that resided at the precipice of power, the realm of the absolute strongest.

She gazed impassively at the figure in front of her. His clothes were tattered, torn to near shreds by the countless injuries he had sustained. Bloody cuts littered his form, streams of crimson fluid dribbling down his limbs. Those very hands were clenched, tight fists holding on to the pair of weapons as if letting go meant death, which it very well might have.

Her scrutiny moved upwards to the boy's head. His eyes were wide open, gigantic orbs of amber shining like lanterns in the darkness, the entirety of their intense light focused solely on her. They followed her like spotlights, not once deviating from her form, observing her vigilantly since the true start of the battle. Not once have they closed since the start of the battle, not missing a single moment. They remained open, their gaze ever-present capturing everything in his field of vision like a camera.

The rest of his face was taut, focused and determined. His mouth was closed in a straight line, short and tight, and his expression gave no indication that he was even processing besides what was in front of him. His focus was centered entirely on her, and despite the fact that this was a battle – a war – his face only showed impassive resolve.

She moved back, one deft step taking her dozens of meters back, and she had just hit the ground when that familiar creak of blades on blades rang throughout the cavern. A moment later, and she braced her sword across her chest, those twin falchions impacting them not even a millisecond after, threatening to carve her open. She skidded a few steps back, the tranquility of the dual blades a mere façade for the strength behind them.

No human could have matched her. It was a simple fact, a way of life. Just as the sky was blue and water was wet, she herself was an existence beyond the grasp of mortals, seated amongst the peaks of absolute power.

It was a wonder, then, just how the boy still stood in front of her. Every time she had increased the tempo of the battle, he had not been far behind. The boy was continually exceeding his limits over and over, following behind her without a hint of regard for rules or impossibility.

But the boy in front of him was not human. He had discarded his humanity long ago, the skin he wore disguising the sheer utter wrongness underneath. Agony and pain clung to his soul, driving him to the abyss of damnation. His gaze was empty, a blank mirror of amber that revealed nothing underneath. A man long past the point of death, a mere husk moving for the sake of moving. Those eyes spoke of an accursed existence, a mere tool of fate, tragedies untold and innumerable littering its painful life.

And yet, why was it that those orbs burned with a fervent fire? The amber depths that laid within his sockets drew her in, pools of gold enchanting her. She dove deeper in his gaze, far past the mirror of nothingness he displayed.

An infinite world of mysteries greeted her, far beyond her comprehension. She could have waded in those eyes for days on end and still be unable to grasp their true breadth.

Acceptance and denial, selfishness and gratitude, salvation and condemnation, grief and happiness, all clashing yet co-existing. An endless sea of contradictions laid in his soul, its waves forever churning and swelling yet only adding to its beauty. He was an impossible paradox, complete understanding of the myriads of twists and turns of his existence laying far beyond her grasp yet somehow sitting right on the tips of her fingers. And yet, maybe that fact made him all the more captivating.

She hated that it was only now that she was able to begrudgingly see that Gilgamesh's words had held some truth to them—those that are unattainable only added to their beauty.

She moved her glance downwards.

Two blades: one as beautiful and captivating as the purest of moonlight, the other as elegant and mysterious as the blackest of nights. Twin existences, yin and yang, the same yet opposite. They were the signature weapons of a red knight long passed, having been passed down to his successor. They were the embodiment of humanity, the very meaning of sacrifice given form, their keen edge having been tempered by the strength of human emotion. Anguish and love, the duality of the human spirit was beheld by the pair of falchions. And perhaps it is that very fact that made its choice of a wielder even more fitting.

Yes, that was it.

The endless struggle for happiness, the perpetual yearning for salvation, the self-destructive and contradicting nature of the light and darkness within the human soul, he was the very embodiment of humanity itself.

He, who was unknown to death nor known to life, who lived the endless cycle of pain and grief, was both the furthest from humanity, and yet was also closest to it. His life was a fake, his ideals a poor mimicry and a mere fleeting hope. Day by day, he existed amongst the masses, emulating but unable to truly masquerade as them. However, in his effort to be real, amidst his futility to live the life that was denied to him, he shone far brighter than the very humans he mirrored.

"Just come back, Saber. Back to us, back to me," he pleaded.

She shook her head, his request impossible. "Sakura wishes this, Shirou, even if it's not what she truly desires. I cannot deny her."

His swords came down on her harder, his spirit growing even more emboldened at her words. "Fine. I'll save you, then I'll save her," he promised. His words were simple, yet the strength they carried felt as if he was carrying the world on his shoulders. She allowed herself to be swept up in the courage and steel in his voice, her heart soaring for a moment before she reigned it back in.

"Not yet."

She flexed her wrist, and their brief clash ended as both combatants jumped back. He immediately dashed to the side, blurring from her vision until he re-appeared in her periphery. His swords were crossed defensively, his counterattack ready for her strike. She peered behind him where the servant of the mount laid, bloodied and injured but alive, nonetheless. Her eyes were closed, and her breaths were shallow and erratic, the poor spirit on the brink of death.

He stood over her, an ever-vigilant guardian, her sworn protector. His eyes glinted even brighter, daring her to attack only to meet his impenetrable defense.

Even in her accursed state, she allowed herself a small smile at the sight. A hero, through and through indeed.

One last test then.

"I see."

She took in a deep inhale. Whatever the result of the night was, it was certain that everything would end here.

What a pity. Even if it wasn't for very long, she had enjoyed her time in this world, with him. Alas, fate had other plans.

Regardless, she had no regrets.

"You've grown so strong, Shirou," she whispered, her words unheard by the man across from her.

This power had always been inside of him, dormant and waiting but present nonetheless. The strength of his will knew no bounds, forever persevering, through tragedy and fate. He would always move forward, the only road left to him now. His capabilities woefully limited yet inexplicably vast, the infinite potential of humanity at his back.

There was nothing that could stop him now.

"It means nothing if you're not there by my side. I'll drag you over here myself if I have to!" Determination flashed in his eyes, a reminder of what had made her fall for him in the first place. Their brilliance ignited the buried feelings deep within her. Her heart stirred, her body begging to return to him, her soul aching to be with him once more.

But she couldn't. Not yet.

"If you believe you can do so—"

Malevolent darkness swirled around her blade, coalescing into a shroud of malicious black. She turned her magical output to its maximum limit, and her eyes blazed with a menacing glow to match his golden light.

"—then step forth, Emiya Shirou. Show me that you have understood the meaning of your journey—the lessons you have learned, the bonds you have forged, the conclusion you have reached. Defeat me. Command me to step aside. Force me to acknowledge your strength. Prove to me you are worthy of the title you bear."

Excalibur rose in front of her face in a duelist's salute, the ominous red glow of the blackened blade illuminating her face in a scarlet tint.

"Sever these twisted threads of fate that enslave and bind us, and re-weave them to create the miracle you so desperately yearn for. Then, and only then, can you truly find the salvation you seek."

She brandished her sword, Excalibur pointed to the challenger in front of it. Amber orbs burned defiantly in response, unyielding determination blazing brightly.

"Come at me, Emiya Shirou! Your justice—show it to me, hero."

BOOM!

Boulders as sharp as spears flew like shrapnel as they soared through the air, a slight tilt of her head barely causing one to miss as it passed by her cheek, leaving behind only a harmless shallow cut that closed as soon as it appeared, her connection to her master allowing her regenerative abilities beyond compare.

CRACK!

BOOM!

The telltale sound of swords and other weapons whipping through the air at breakneck speeds was one she was quickly becoming accustomed to, a dangerous habit to have considering the danger they indicated. One direct hit and even one such as her would not be able to recover from such a blow quickly, and in this battle, one solid opening was all it would take for either side to claim victory.

She bounced off her feet once again, sensing another weapon coming for her. Smoke and dust obscured her vision, and the sound of weapons being traced and sent towards her was slower than the weapons themselves, their speeds far surpassing sound itself. In that case, all she could do was rely on her instincts, a plan that had not failed her so far in her life, but even she was worried that this battle would spell its first and final failure.

She could feel him beyond her vision, waiting for an opportunity to strike. While she used energy and stamina dodging his projections, he was lying in wait away from her eyes like a predator. He was constantly moving, the signature of sword-like magical energy thickly blanketing the area, covering it in thorns and masking the presence of his magecraft. She felt like livestock, being encircled by a pack of wolves and ready to be devoured, though in this case, she had only one enemy to worry about, a fact that did little to comfort her.

She landed, one foot planted onto the ground, but before she could get both limbs firmly underneath her, another explosion rocked the cavern, its tremors causing her footing to weaken ever so slightly. Her eyes widened at the almost imperceptible opening in her defenses, and her arms raised themselves instinctively as her sword was suddenly pressed against her face, twin falchions screeching and grinding against her blade. She looked up at their owner, his eyes shining wrathfully from the passing of the gorgon, but his expression was still determined and focused on taking her down.

However, she could see the weariness in his face, the constant barrage of broken phantasms wreaking havoc on his reserves. He could not keep this up forever; his decisive blow would need to be delivered soon, or else her near infinite endurance would prevail.

She shook him off, pushing him off her and leaping forward to keep him engaged and in front of her, but he deftly twisted his body, Excalibur sliding past him harmlessly. Before she could pursue him, he obscured himself back into the cloud of dust surrounding her, his retreat covered by another shower of weapons that obscured her vision even more.

She batted them aside, the heat from their explosions causing burns on her pale face that were gone in the next moment. A dark humanoid shadow moved through the cloud, and she turned her head towards it only to be met with another flying sword. Her own moved to block it, but the cheap projection exploded in a ball of fire before she could even deflect it, sending her almost a step backwards.

"He timed overloading the broken phantasm?"

She turned to behind her, Excalibur coming down in a downwards chop to slice through the pair of black and white blades that she knew were racing towards her neck. Shards of metal flew between them as the noble phantasms could not hold up against her own. The man did not look the slightest bit surprised that his trickery didn't quite work on her, immediately relinquishing his hold on his swords that had been broken in half before summoning another pair to replace them and hiding once again.

It was a bold strategy. Knowing that a head-on fight with her was not to his advantage, he instead chose to use deceit and surprise to stack the deck as much as possible in his favor. It was not a bad choice. The man was becoming very adept at coordinating his attacks with his projections, the projectiles becoming almost an extension of himself. While her attention was occupied on either him or his swords, the other would quickly come from another direction, a one-man pincer maneuver.

It was quite impressive for him to think of such a strategy in the middle of a fight, especially in his current state of mind.

It was maddening, his style of attack. Where most battles were like a dance, this one was the exact opposite. There was no rhythm to it. At some moments, he would attack like a mad dog, prolonging a melee exchange coupled with a barrage of swords in rapid fashion. Other times, he would bide his time in his cover, peppering her with projectiles while he laid in wait as she slowly was lulled into a false sense of security before striking with a particularly hard and fast blow.

It reminded her of Rider's hit and run tactics. But where the servant of the mount had used her blinding speed to disorient and outmaneuver her enemies, the man she was facing was using guile and trickery, his physical capabilities not quite able to reach those of a servant.

It was genius.

It was also not enough.

While his tactics were commendable, his blades still have not found her neck. He had found a way to stalemate her, yes, but she herself did not need to do anything. Time and energy were against him, and the longer he fought her, the further his objective slipped from his fingers.

There was no need to chase him into his cloud of dust that he was so skilled at navigating inside of and utilizing to his advantage.

Twice now, she had tried to dispel it with a blast of energy from Excalibur, and twice now she found herself back inside of it. She supposed it was ultimately a side effect of his method of attack, complimenting his melee combat with ranged artillery. Invoking Excalibur's name could have worked… if she ever had the opening to use it. The fact that she had considered using her ultimate weapon on him was not lost on her.

"This isn't enough, Shirou!" She called out to him, a plea for both him and herself.

Both of them knew of his quickly dwindling time limit. He needed to act now, and it was for that reason that the pit in her stomach widened.

The end to their battle was coming. She clenched her jaw, a feeling of frustration overcoming her. How strange, why was she mad?

Excalibur shone a malevolent black and red, and she swung the blade in a horizontal arc around her, sending a shockwave of pure destruction outwards. The shroud of dust stood no chance, being blown away in an instant, and now there was no longer a way he could hide his movements from her.

"Ah, there you are."

The last of the cloud was dispelled, revealing the figure of a man who had seen better days. He was panting heavily, his face weary and his disposition haggard. His eyes were sunken and red, the stress from overexerting his body evident from the way he precariously leaned on a longsword like a cane. He was on the verge of collapse, his soul and body on the brink of death.

But nothing could have hidden the golden steel orbs peeking out from underneath a curtain of red. Even now, despite the fatigue and weariness settling in them, they still blazed brightly like a pair of suns, promising her nothing but defeat. Her eyes crinkled in an imperceptible smile before they widened as she saw just what he had been hiding from her.

Swords.

Countless swords.

The smoke had obscured her eyes and scattering his energy throughout the cavern had dulled her ability to sense them.

He had traced them all, hiding them from her vision until this very moment. They were all around her, encircling her like a death trap. Many were nameless blades not even worth a glance, but there were also countless magnificent treasures. Some were beautiful, showcasing near peerless blacksmithing skill as their beauty was almost magnetic. Others were grotesque and disgusting, more fitting stashed away from view than anything else. A few others were generic and bland, barely catching her eye. However, they all had one thing in common: they radiated power. Not merely ordinary weapons but noble phantasms, some low-ranked and others of higher grade, but she could not deny their strength.

It was only now she realized that his tactics were more than just to equalize the gap in strength and speed between them. He had realized that his guerilla strategy amounted to nothing more than annoyance, merely mosquito bites in the face of his opponent. No, his true aim had been for this one moment, a sure-fire strike that would bring him victory, a move that could spell death even for someone of her caliber.

It was a bold strategy, one that would never work twice. But in this moment, where she had foolishly let him fulfill his machinations and was now caught unaware and unprepared, the man in front of her held all the cards in his hands.

"Amazing... To think you still had another level to reach..."

The man's arm rose, and all the swords that littered the cavern from floor to ceiling, their sharp edges shimmering like little constellations in the dark night sky, pointed their deadly tips straight at her. Her hands tightened their grip around Excalibur, and a hint of trepidation swelled within her before she quickly squashed it.

To elicit this kind of reaction from her… he had truly come far.

Excalibur ignited in a black flame of energy, and at the same time, the man's arm fell.

The heavens themselves descended upon the earth, the sky bringing its full weight down upon her as shards of steel rained down in a shower of meteorites.

A wave of her arms destroyed one volley, the dark cavern lighting up in a brilliant show of fireworks. Without missing a beat, she spun on her heels, her arms an invisible blur as she continuously deflected the oncoming stream of steel that came at her from behind.

More explosions rocked the cavern, the man unleashing his entire arsenal to take her down. She jumped as the floor below her shattered, sending giant chunks of stone flying in the air. Her feet landed on one, right before she leaped again as the mid-air perch she was on burst into fine dust as more armaments pierced it from every direction.

She never stood still for staying motionless was death. A moving target is harder to hit, and while his aim was impeccable, her speed troubled even him. In a cave where steel blades occupied every available space, the swordswoman carved out a dome of emptiness around herself with nothing but her raw speed and skill, constantly dodging or slicing apart anything that came her way. Even now, she was still untouched, not a single wound to show for the man's efforts.

She had to endure this onslaught of metal. His magical energy reserves at this point must have been near exhausted. There was no point in saving any energy for the future if he did not get past her, something that would require him giving everything he had into this fight. If she could survive this one last, desperate gambit, then nothing else could stand in her way.

Her eyes narrowed at the realization, her chest tightening as she saw the path of her victory laid out before her. It was a strange feeling; there was no sensation of euphoria or excitement that came with envisioning her triumph. To her, this battle was one that she fought out of necessity, not desire, but her master wished this, so fight she shall.

She flipped through the air, soaring through the cavern at breakneck speeds as her dance continued, evading every attack he aimed at her, her movements merely a slight blur in reality to the human eye. She hopped from boulder to boulder, using the flying debris as momentary pauses of reprieve as the world exploded in rock and fire around her.

Suddenly, the sharp whistle of a distinctive pair of blades reached her ears, and she threw her head to the side as black and white falchions spun past her from behind, the monochrome buzzsaws harmlessly taking off a few millimeters of her hair.

At this point, she knew what to expect, and Excalibur came up in a defensive stance as another pair of weapons slammed into them, and golden eyes peered at her from past his blades.

"You'd fight me head-on?"

"If I'm going to beat you, I need to put everything on the line!"

It was suicide. This kind of straight forward confrontation went entirely against him. This time, there was no cover he could retreat behind, and by going into melee range of her, he risked blowing himself up with his own projectiles. Any wrong move by him could end in him being skewered by his own weapon, but in a battle like this, logic and common sense were long discarded, and such risks had to be taken in order to win.

She sliced at his head, Excalibur plowing through both of his swords as it arced towards his face only to abruptly stop its deadly attack as she dashed backwards, a mundane sword flying in the space where her head had just been. The ordinary steel of the sword bulged and trembled from \ infused magical energy before it promptly exploded, swallowing both of them in a ball of smokey fire.

She exited the obscuring cover at the same time as her adversary, singed hair and burnt patches of skin indicating he had not escaped unscathed from his own attack.

He quickly remade his blades and rushed at her, one sword coming at her from either side. Excalibur blocked one while her armored gauntlet barely managed to stave off the other, the darkened metal creaking but holding on against the white blade. Another whistle, and she had to end their deadlock by jumping backwards as a greatsword lanced through the air where she just was, piercing the ground up to its hilt.

Sensing blood in the water, another volley of blades descended. Several were aimed at her feet, trying to make her landings from the air was difficult as possible. In tandem with the others that were aimed at more lethal areas like her head or chest, it made even the slightest of mistakes possibly her last.

But she wasn't a servant for nothing, and her ability to survive such an attack was one reason why her existence belonged amongst humanity's greatest.

She quickly spun around, Excalibur already blazing black and red as she sent another blast of energy directly in her blind spot. The man quickly dodged out of the way, his surprise attack unsuccessful as the cavern rumbled and shook, threatening to collapse from her strike.

Miniature suns blotted out the darkness as night became day for a brief instant, the destruction of many swords from her missed attack encasing the area in a fiery light.

She side-stepped another shower of swords, quickly racing towards where her opponent was still reeling from the abrupt dodge. He barely managed to bring his own blades up in time before she could cleave him in half. She put the full weight of her strength behind her sword, and in the moment after, his dual falchions were nearly pressed against his face, the weapons screeching and dimly flashing as he rushed to reinforce them as much as possible.

Like clockwork, more projections came from above to interrupt her, ending the clash early as she hopped backwards. And just as expected, she had to start running away from him as the collection of weapons in the ceiling threatened to skewer her.

It was impressive. She was constantly on the backfoot, and any exchange that she initiated with him was always bolstered by his projections, forcing her to block from multiple angles and retreat early before she could press her physical advantage. It was an equalizer in a sort of way, a constant bombardment of steel was constantly driving her into a corner. It didn't feel like she was fighting a person but rather a storm of blades, where an attack could strike her from any direction at any time. In this cavern where they were little she could hide, she was stuck in a dance of dodging and deflecting.

"But you still can't win like this, Shirou," she called out to him amidst the cacophony of blasts, the same words she had said earlier echoing once again.

It was true. At this point, she had adapted to his tactics, and while he had stubbornly and surprisingly survived to this point, she was no closer to being defeated than she was at the start of the night. On the other hand, the man was reaching his limit—no, he had surpassed it long ago. He had pushed his body and soul far beyond what it was capable of, and it was only now he was finally slowing down. His chest heaved as his lungs worked to take in as much precious oxygen as possible, and his bloodshot eyes strained to look at her. His body and soul had already burnt itself out from channeling as much energy as he had up to now.

She had seen similar occurrences in soldiers on a battlefield—men that briefly overcame their limits to go out in a blaze of glory to save themselves and their comrades, but it was the brightest of flames that always burned out the quickest. The man in front of her had trespassed in the realm of impossibility for too long, and now he was paying the price.

He grimaced at her words, clenching his teeth as he sent even more weapons her way, an attack that proved unsuccessful as she casually and almost dainty pirouetted, letting them fly harmlessly past her.

"That should be the last of them." She looked upwards. Darkness greeted her, the stark black of the cavern ceiling showing nothing but emptiness.

Was this it?

Was this all he had to offer?

She had been taken off-guard time and again earlier, his continuously evolving capabilities astonishing her as the gap in their abilities closed with every clash.

But that was all he had done.

Catching up to her, but never truly surpassing her.

He had broken his own limits, but he had to do more than that in order to win.

"It's time."

Excalibur blazed to life, eerie and vile energy coating it once more as she poured mana into the sword.

It would all come down to this.

I had managed to delay this moment with my shrewd tactics, but now my trump card was gone, and my energy had emptied long ago.

I had made a mistake.

I had been unable to eviscerate her, thousands upon thousands upon thousands of swords failing to leave a lasting mark on her. The precipice of my strategy had hinged on that one move. One by one, using the cover of darkness and smoke, I had meticulously traced countless blades, from ones of no notable power to ones crafted by incomprehensible deities and wielded by legendary kings and warriors.

But it had been all for naught; despite blanketing the area with a constant barrage of steel and fire, my opponent now stood in front of me unharmed and unperturbed.

With dreadfully precise movements, she raised her wicked sword in the air, its name dancing on her lips as she announced his coming death. Her eyes were sullen, her visage blank but still conveying the disappointment in her spirit.

"Ex—"

This was it.

I was going to die.

"I'm sorry, Rider. I couldn't…—"

Regret, shame, a myriad of emotions and more filled my heart. I clenched my fist, drawing blood as my earlier words echoed back in my mind, all the promises and oaths that had left my mouth turning out to be nothing more than lies and false bravado.

The image of a bloody and broken body flashed in front of me, Excalibur buried up to its hilt through her stomach and exploding out the woman's back.

"You got it from here."

She had said those words in her final breath, choosing not to curse her enemy but to depart with a sincere smile. That took a great deal of bravery to do—to not have let bitterness and anger be her last moments, instead deciding to let bravery and happiness define her farewell.

My mind lingered on that image before I made my decision.

"Trace, on."

I couldn't think like that. While I still lived and breathed, I had to fight. There was no other choice. Otherwise, everything that had come before—every battle, every wound, every drop of blood, every sacrifice—would have been for nothing.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before fixing my steely gaze upon my corrupted servant once again. Her sword shone brightly in her hands, bathing the cavern with its wicked glow.

It was her strongest weapon, her ultimate attack. Amongst all the combatants in the war, it was nearly unrivaled in destructive power. There was nothing in my arsenal that could match it.

"You are a maker, not a fighter. If you cannot beat something, imagine something that can."

I needed something that could beat it.

My gaze remained forward, looking at my enemy as she prepared to kill me. I see through it, her unbeatable sword.

Be warned: it was a divine artifact, a relic of a civilization far past humanity. Attempting to understand and synthesize it could be disastrous. Most likely, my brain would explode from trying to trace it.

But I was never entirely human in the first place.

I focused on that image, beginning to sift through its composition, its history, its memory. Almost immediately, a searing hot pain stabbed me through the brain as if someone pierced my head with a molten rod. I prepared to move forward, uncaring for the unbearable headache, knowing full well I would die.

Suddenly, I felt a probing in my mind, as if something was calling out to me. It gently prodded inside of my head, kindly reminding me of its existence.

They say your life flashes before your mind in your final moments, but the memory that appeared in my mind wasn't mine. Instead, a distant dream I thought I had forgotten resurfaced once again.

And in that moment, I found my answer.

My hands shot forward, channeling magical energy as I poured everything I had into this projection. No, not a projection—it had to be perfect, without a hint of error. Anything else would be too weak.

Sparks of energy danced in my hands, the weapon in my mind slowly becoming reality. But its image was too weak, too brittle. The form was still shapeless, nothing more than a vague memory.

Midway through unleashing her final attack, the woman in front of her looked on blankly. A trace of unease flashed across her face before it disappeared.

"—ca—"

Those sparks intensified before solidifying into an outline—a sword.

But as the weapon encroached on the barrier to reality, the faint feeling of uneasiness returned to the woman's expression, casting it a glance of familiarity. The joints on her gauntlets creaked and squealed as she held onto her sword tighter, carrying on with her attack.

The dream was of a lonely girl standing on a plain of golden grass, pulling a breathtakingly beautiful sword from stone. But that blessing was a curse, and in accepting the gift and knowing exactly what it would lead to, she had become something inhuman, sacrificing herself for the country she loved so much, intertwining and binding herself to fate forever.

"I promised to free you from that, didn't I?"

Energy became mass, and what was previously just an empty image had transformed into solid steel.

Her eyes widened, and a gasp left her involuntarily as the servant's eyes recognized the brilliant golden steel and striking royal blue in his hands.

It was only fitting that this sword be the one to meet its successor.

I brandished the newly traced weapon, the handle fitting snuggly in my hand almost as if I had been the one to wield it in the past. I held it in a two-handed grip, the sword guiding my movements as I grasped it over my head, my mouth parted open as I uttered its name.

"Ca—"

"—li—"

I gripped it tighter, willing the energy from my body to flow into the sword. My body and soul protested, their capacity having been reached long ago. I pushed past the wall, creating something from nothing, squeezing every drop of energy from an empty vessel.

I let out a cacophony of coughs. My eyes were bloodshot, bulging in their sockets, a moment away from bursting. My pupils grew and shrunk erratically as I forced more power through my body. I stumbled, more coughs almost bringing me to his knees before I caught myself. Chunks of organs and coagulated blood raced up my throat, nearly spitting themselves out before I drove them back down.

The sword in my hands ignited in a burst of sunlight, a pillar of golden flame engulfing the holy blade.

Sweat dripped down my head as my face was flush from exertion.

Across from me, my opponent's eyes were wide in shock, surprise marring her face as she looked at the sword in my hands. Her movement paused, hesitation gripping her for one singular moment before she pushed it down.

"—li—"

She took a step forward, heavy black metal crunching into hard rock below, the black sun braced at her side.

I mirrored her movements, the memories within the sword—her memories—flooding into me and steering my body. The holy star held above me pulsated with power and radiance.

Scorching winds buffeted us, the heat from the weapons in our hands supercharging the air around us.

And finally, the decisive moment.

"—BUR!"

She brought the sword down, like a king passing judgement, sentencing her enemies to death.

Excalibur sang as it flew through the air, releasing a wave of black light towards me. The deadly arc of vile energy tore up the cavern, carving a deep trench into the solid rock as it aimed to destroy everything in its path.

It was her strongest attack, a blow meant to guarantee victory.

Naturally, I had to meet it with my own.

"—BURN!"

I brought my own sword down in an executioner's slice.

Caliburn soared through the air, shining brightly as it let loose its own pillar of majestic light. Holy flames exploded forward, enveloping the cavern in white as it vaporized everything in front of it.

The two lights met at the center of the cavern, contending with each other for supremacy as their clash threatened to destroy the entire cave. The world shook and trembled, and I was nearly thrown off my feet as reality unraveled and tore from the might of the two holy swords. Boulders larger than me fell from the ceiling, and one stray rock was all it took for either of us to lose focus and be turned into nothing but dust.

I planted my feet as firmly as I could into the ground, the force of the blasts nearly blowing me off my feet. I gritted my teeth and pushed, fueling the sword with everything I had to try and overpower my unbeatable opponent.

"… How…?" It was only a whisper, a quiet remark by the black knight.

She was right. Caliburn was not a true sword but rather a symbol of authority representing the king and her glory, her reign and majesty given form. In pure strength, it was weaker than Excalibur.

And, yet despite its inferiority, the dark light could not overwhelm it.

There was something else fueling the weapon.

Maybe that it was battling its replacement.

Maybe that it was facing its corrupted former master.

Or maybe something else entirely…

She grimaced, fire burning within her body as more and more energy coursed through her body, empowering the fabled sword in her hands.

They were at a stalemate, neither weapon backing down as their rays continued colliding in a show of light and fire.

She couldn't keep this up forever. Her limit was quickly approaching.

Despite the gap in weaponry, the battle was still a draw. She knew Excalibur was superior to her old sword, so the only possible explanation was that there was a gap within their abilities as wielders—one that was in his favor.

To think, he was capable of even this. By now, she should have learned to stop being so surprised, but she couldn't help but be amazed every time. A small smile decorated her face, proud of what he had achieved.

"Well done, Shirou."

The beams of light disappeared at the same time, their owners no longer able to sustain them. Without any more energy to fuel them, the clash of lights in the center of the cavern fizzled out into nothingness.

A draw.

That was the result of their clash, the contest between light and dark ending at an impasse.

Neither unrelenting darkness nor unyielding light had triumphed in the end, and with both their strongest moves exhausted, the cavern was bathed in an eerie, unsettling silence.

Molten rock oozed and glowed, the ensuing heat from both holy swords melting and fusing shards of ground together. An immense crater had been carved into the earth in the middle of the cavern as if an angry god had scooped out the ground in a fit of rage, and a long, thick trench was gouged at her feet, the large ditch reaching over to the other side of the cavern where it disappeared in a cloud of dust kicked up from their attacks.

The black knight panted, even someone such as herself needing time to recover the energy expended from her noble phantasm. As she greedily breathed in gulps of air, she stared blankly ahead, her mind racing at the sight she had witnessed.

He had brought out her favored sword, matching her noble phantasm despite Caliburn being more than a decoration rather than a weapon. To think he had been able to bring out its full potential… he was truly extraordinary…

"Close… but not enough."

And yet despite all that, she still lived—

CLANG!

A soft boom echoed in the air, and her arms moved before her mind could comprehend what was happening as a streak of gold and purple lanced towards her. Sparks flew, the black steel of her sword meeting the ferocious weapon head-on. Nevertheless, the beautiful sword continued its trajectory, her feet gouging out the earth as she fought to keep her own weapon in front of it as it pushed her backwards.

"How—?!"

CRACK!

There was the distinctive sound of swords slicing air, and she looked past the almost sentient sword in front of her. She saw the familiar blur of moonlight and darkness fly from the dust cloud, whistling through the air like buzzsaws as they traced a beautiful cross through the air.

She clenched her jaw, and angling her weapon to the side, she swatted away the sword that had been launched at her with incredible speed. Caliburn embedded itself into the ground next to her, buried halfway up its blade.

With fractions of a second to spare, her arms swung in the opposite direction, the shockwave of the parry jarring her skeleton as she batted away the pair of falchions that had been sent towards her neck. They continued soaring through the air somewhere behind her, their trajectory safely diverted away from her, allowing the knight to give her attention to—

"—Fast!"

Her vision was suddenly filled with red hair and golden eyes, and he was upon her, the two-pronged attack giving him the opportunity he needed to close the distance. There was a determined look in his eyes, an almost frantic and maniacal frenzy in his gaze, and for the first time in their battle, she felt the vice grip of death clamp around her throat.

His left arm lashed out towards her, and she noticed the moonlit blade was once again in his hands as he aimed to sever her neck.

Excalibur once again came across her body, reaching over to her right side to deflect his attack. The noble phantasm met the falchion in a resounding clang of steel, stopping it in its tracks. She flexed her arm, and the pristine white sword was marred with hairline fractures as the corrupted blade bit into its edge until with a final twist of her wrist, his weapon exploded in a shower of white shards.

WHOOSH!

She heard that damned sound again, and her instincts screamed at her of a threat of behind. Still in the follow-through of her previous attack, she twisted her body, spinning on her heels with Excalibur held defensively as she barely caught a black falchion from splitting her head open. Magical energy pulsed through her veins, and the weapon shattered into countless pieces.

"—He has more!"

She hastily turned around, her balance precariously holding as one misstep would spell her doom. Her turn was a moment too late, feeling his sword speeding towards her. She imagined where the strike was heading towards, blindly flailing Excalibur on a hurried prediction in hopes of blocking the incoming weapon.

Her intuition proved correct, and she was almost sent reeling back from the force of his blow. Regardless, his attempt proved unsuccessful, and the black light in her hands roared as she pushed through, breaking the other black blade in half and sending its broken metal flying harmlessly to the side.

"Another one—!"

She couldn't breathe. She awkwardly coiled her torso, her arms reaching behind her at an unnatural angle as Excalibur narrowly reached in time to block the final strike aimed at her back. The weapon sawed at Excalibur, its sharp edge threatening to cut through the holy weapon before it finally clattered to the ground, its kinetic energy spent.

Time froze.

The corrupted knight analyzed the situation at hand.

His attack had failed. She had blocked four simultaneous attacks from four blades at once. Three were destroyed entirely, and one was left without its partner.

Her enemy was at his limit. The battle had been drawn out to this stage. From the look in his eyes earlier, he had known that was his final chance. She doubted he could conjure more weapons. Right now, he was unarmed and defenseless.

But she was unable to seize the initiative. She had put everything in her defenses, blocking all four swords at the cost of leaving herself open. The synchronized attacks had taken inhuman reflexes and skill to counter, but now she was left vulnerable and in a precarious position.

It was a draw.

No, it was her victory.

In a second, she will have recovered, and his options will have run dry.

"This is farewell, Shirou."

The words flashed across her mind, and her mouth opened to bid her beloved master goodbye.

Suddenly, there was the sound of steel sliding out from stone.

"From earlier—?!"

Her expression froze. Her blood ran cold.

It was a familiar sound, one that had marked that fateful day when she pulled the sword from the stone, condemning herself and her future for the sake of her country.

It was fitting that this sound would be the one to send her off.

"Saber—!"

He took a step forward, splintering the ground beneath him. In his hands was the sword she had redirected earlier, its keen edge glowing with a dazzling luster as he brought it forward to skewer her heart.

The corrupted knight was still recovering from blocking the final attack from behind her. She contorted her body, turning around to face her opponent. The black sword drew a crimson arc through the air, the woman putting every ounce of strength into bringing it in front of her before she could be impaled.

It was futile.

He knew it.

She knew it.

She would not reach it in time.

She watched as the sword neared her, held straight and true in a stab to pierce her heart. Right before it reached her, she saw it—the ugly reflection of her own visage upon her once sacred blade. It was an unsightly thing, a permanent mark of her darkest betrayal, another stain accumulated onto her already dirty soul.

She closed her eyes, a small smile blossoming on her lips.

And for the first and final time in the battle, the attack from Emiya Shirou landed.

The sword entered her with a nauseating crunch, holy steel piercing the darkened metal of her armor, easily parting it and cutting into the tender flesh underneath. She could feel its steel shredding the flesh inside of her, eviscerating bones and muscles before burying itself inside of her heart. A gasp left her, and the golden blade exploded out her back, crimson rivers tarnishing the beautiful weapon.

"Ah… Ah, haa….—"

How ironic was it that she would be defeated with her own weapon, and her very own blood would be decorating its length?

The strength left her fingers, her arms dangling uselessly at her side as her own weapon clattered to the ground.

"What a splendid technique. To best me with my very own sword… Even now, you continue to surpass your own limits."

They were servants, the very pinnacle of humanity and far beyond it. They were not meant to be beaten by mere mortals. To have mimicked the counter guardian's sure-kill technique, one refined over countless battles, required inhuman ability. Her defeat was the very proof of his extraordinary accomplishment.

"To be struck down by my own sword… Heh, is this fate?"

Caliburn, the Sword of Promised Victory, the very blade that signified her right to rule… It had been broken before when she had betrayed the ideals of chivalry. To have come back now, to be the one impaling her chest in this moment, striking down her corrupted self after she had betrayed herself and her master…

"I… I—... What am I…—What have I…?" His voice was weak, hardly a hair above a whisper. Golden eyes were wide in shock, his pupils darting between the weapon embedded in her chest and his hands soaked in her blood. His face was disbelieving of the situation, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a fish's. His mind tried to formulate the proper words to say, but the only thing coming out of his throat were the choked sounds of pained, barely restrained screams. His hands trembled and shook, his brain unable to reconcile with reality.

"…I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" She could hear the weakness in his hushed speech, the sheer uncomprehending undertones of his words agonizingly obvious. Reality had not quite sunk in yet, so the only thing he could do was repeat himself, incapable of thinking of anything else.

Slowly but surely, the sword was pulled out of her. If it was even possible, his eyes enlarged even further, every centimeter of the blade excruciatingly removed from within her revealing more and more of his sin. The very sight of it was absolute torture, especially to him of all people, who wanted nothing more than to save her.

Finally, she was freed from the sword, and she stood precariously for a moment, her body swaying dangerously and threatening to fall over until a pair of hands planted themselves on her shoulders.

The wound was fatal, even to someone like her. She would not be able to regenerate from such a blow. Not that she would have wanted to. She would be joining Rider early, it seems. It was a tragic turn of events, but she doubted the gorgon had any regrets in her last moments.

Yes, her journey would end here.

She could already feel herself being consumed by the Shadow, its stranglehold on her beckoning her back inside of the grail. But not yet… she would not allow it. This much, she could do.

Those hands pulled her closer to him, her head settling itself on his chest—was it always this broad and firm?

It had been so long since she felt his touch, the warmth and kindness she longed for only presenting itself when she was with him. She wanted nothing more to give in, to surrender her body and soul to the man in front of her, but fate wouldn't allow it. Not yet.

"It… It wasn't… supposed to be… this way…" His knees trembled and weakened as he lowered himself onto her. Her arms rose in response, capturing him in her own embrace as he placed his head in the crook of her neck. He sobbed uncontrollably, shudders racking his body as she felt his tears wet her skin. One of her hands grasped the back of his head, gently caressing the scarlet locks between her fingers as she softly pushed him further into her.

Despite the one with the bloody hole in her chest, living her last moments in this world, she was the one supporting him from collapse.

Servant and master stood in the middle of the cavern, both knocking on death's door but unwilling to give in quite yet. There was so much to say, but words alone could never hope to convey their true feelings. The truth was something that could not be simply said, for human emotion was incomprehensible and vast. And yet, even if it was impossible to encapsulate everything, they still had to try because she would not leave this world without giving the one she loved the closure he needed.

"It's okay, Shirou. Everything happens for a reason... This is simply... the course of fate," she consoled.

The world was a stage, and they were merely actors within it. Their lives were a story, and fate the writer. They all had their roles to play, following the script given to them by forces beyond them.

He chuckled, the echo of his laugh bitter and cynical. "Fate, huh? That's what it all comes down to..."

"Fate is a cruel mistress. It alone stands undefeated," she confirmed.

After all, fate had not saved her kingdom.

"I thought… I could fight it… that I could finally do it…" His voice rose, the man of steel choking on his sobs, anguished screams rumbling in this throat. He was a simple man, someone who wanted nothing more than to save others, even at the expense of himself. To have failed saving the ones that mattered the most to him, to have failed to save her, one who was trapped by fate itself… what had he even accomplished?

The small smile on her face could only be described at bittersweet as a flood of recollections comes upsurging within her: the memories they had forged together, the battles they had fought side by side, their sweat and blood mixing as they spilled them onto the ground, the nights they had shared underneath the calming moonlight as they confided into one another…

He was wrong… so wrong…

She pulled away from him, just enough so she could see his face. Streaks of tears stained his visage, his eyes trying their hardest to imprint her image into the deepest recesses of his mind. Even now, she could see the regret and frustration bubbling in those orbs as he silently cursed at himself and the world.

Her hands, pale and delicate yet the very same ones that had wielded her blade with impunity and were covered with the blood of countless bodies, came up to wipe at his tears. Not once straying away from her touch. Not once had he judged her for her sins.

"Don't cry, Shirou… It's unbecoming of you… Someone like you… So strong… You have nothing to fear…"

Her words came out between painful heaves of air, and the man's countenance tightened in fear as he realized what it meant. Death was approaching, but even it could not stop her from doing this much.

"Strong? Me? How…?" He clenched his eyes shut tightly, his voice faltering and spirit breaking as her words and reality refused to coincide.

"Even now… you do not see it…"

She smiled at his ignorance, the gesture small and fleeting but beautiful nonetheless. He was so focused on others that he could not even see the changes within himself, one of the many endearing traits she enjoyed discovering about him. It was truly a shame that it was coming to an end.

She could see the denial in his eyes. How ironic that those orbs could grasp so much yet still be so blind.

"How could I possibly be strong…? You all keep telling me that I've changed, I'm still the same weak idiot kid from back then. Nothing's changed, Saber! I couldn't do anything then, and I can't do anything now!"

She took in his frustrations, responding by gently shaking her head. "How could you say that? It's sad you can't see how much you've grown... From when I first met you... to now... You've become so strong, Shirou..."

He had managed to carve his own life out of the script written for him. With his own hands, he had taken back his life and made it his own.

Another scornful laugh tinged with resentment escaped from him. "And what has it been for? I'll tell you—it's all been for nothing, Saber!" His voice rose, his frustration and anger at the world and at himself bubbling to the surface at last.

But she kept her calm. Her own voice was weakening by the moment, her final moments approaching. If only she could make him realize the fruits of his labors, that would be her final wish.

"And what… of me? What about Rider and Illya? Sakura and Rin?... You've done so much for us... for me... Are you telling me that it all… meant nothing to you, that we… meant nothing to you...?"

Her words came out between pained, feeble gasps, but it only accentuated their weight, each one hitting him with a force greater than any servant could muster.

"I…—"

He looked away, traces of shame shadowing his face. The mere thought of discarding them, they who he held onto so dearly, left a sickening taste in his mouth and a painful ache in his heart. How could he even think of such a thing, repaying their kindness with indifference? He had been a walking husk until now, nothing more than a robot programmed to repeat its daily functions with no thought or regard for anything else. His heart of glass had only started beating when they had come into his life, the fulfillment he so fervently sought only appearing at the cusp of his fingers when he was with them.

Her lips curled into a knowing smile.

"Of course not… But as for what we mean to you… Only you know…"

In the end, this was all she could do. Words were all she was capable of right now. She had come to terms with her past, finding solace from her failures with him. She no longer wished to rewrite history, content with what she had done. Her success and failures, they were all hers, and only now could she look back upon them with pride instead of shame. He had taught her that, one of many lessons he had imparted into her in their brief time together.

However, if there was anything resembling regret still within her, it would be her and the others inability to truly give him the salvation he craved for. His words had reached them, but they failed to save him. If there was such a thing as a second chance, she would have used it unhesitatingly for him. To genuinely live out the life they had given him… yes, that would have been nice. Unfortunately, it was but a fleeting dream now.

Her legs gave out underneath her, and she crumpled to the ground. Just as she expected, those strong arms caught her once again in his warm embrace, and she internally lamented that this would be the last time she would be able to enjoy it.

He gently lowered her to the ground. Her head was in his lap as he kneeled on the ground, uncaring of his discomfort. She feebly turned her head to the side, gazing at her weapon. Excalibur laid next to her, and a wave of sickness and shame overwhelmed her. She had been bequeathed it by the Fae themselves, forces greater than her entrusting the very weapon of the planet itself to humanity. She had been there when its pristine edge shone with the holiest light as it emerged from the lake, entrancing all who saw it with its captivating light. Not once in battle had it disappointed her, cutting down her enemies without fail.

And yet, in the end, it was her that had disappointed, falling short of the lofty expectations placed upon her. As a result, Excalibur, the will of the planet manifested, was corrupted. The blade next to her now was a disgusting insult to its former glory, a painful reminder of what she had done.

But it was fine.

She would not cry. She would not break. She would not falter.

She refused to die with such regrets.

She would not let such detestable emotions sully this moment.

Even this, she had faith. Faith that he was strong enough to overcome everything that stood in his way. Despite destiny and fate, through tragedy and sorrow, there was a flicker of hope within her chest that she clung on to. Somehow, someway, he would persevere and overcome everything in his path. She may not know much of this cruel world, but that much she was sure about.

She looked up at him, large emerald orbs, diluted and stained but beautiful beyond measure regardless, sparkling far brighter than any gem. His eyes were beyond even her own, and when she peered into their depths, she felt it: the familiar weight of wishes and dreams, infinite and unnumbered, their radiance brilliantly glimmering in his eyes. He carried countless memories, the lives of every single wielder of every weapon within him, and it is through him that those who have passed live on, freely and eternally. Their burden was greater than any human could hope to carry. She knew of its heaviness and its crushing weight, and it had left her a cold and ruthless being.

It spoke of the difference between them that he had managed overcome that burden to now stand before her, the luster of his eyes not fading in the slightest at having lived through lifetime upon lifetime, and it was that fact that finally allowed her to come to terms with everything, her question finally answered, and a singular decision made in her mind.

The dying servant weakly reached out, and her fingers shakily clasped themselves around the familiar yet different handle. She raised her arm, the trivial movement proving immensely difficult for her in her sorry state.

"… But why…?" he questioned as she softly pushed the weapon to his chest.

She coughed, even more blood splattering onto their already bloody forms.

"Be the hero you were meant to be," she insisted, nudging Excalibur further into him.

He looked at the weapon solemnly, realizing what she was asking him to do bluntly hitting him.

He gently pushed it back to her.

"I can't. I don't want it. I want you!" he cried out, his voice laden with desire and desperation.

It was unfair. It was a travesty that this ending was the result they had achieved.

Her weapon found itself back to him, the petite girl summoning whatever strength was left inside of her for this final act. "Please… Shirou. It has to be… this way."

The sword was her legacy, her legend given form. It was the crystallization of her story, salvation given form, the chapter of history that was her life written out. To be willing to entrust it to another meant far more than a simple gift.

But she was more than willing to give him her soul. She would do so gladly.

"I'm not worthy, Saber. Why me of all people?" he questioned, his face twisted in regret and self-loathing.

She smiled at his refusal, seeing through his excuses instantly. "If not you… who else…? Who else could have the right… to wield my sword…? I could think of no one else worthier… than you… Shirou…"

Perhaps the Fae had been a thousand years too early. Regardless, the image of him with her sword just seemed so fitting in her mind. There was no one else she would rather see holding Excalibur.

He was silent, and when he finally answered, it was with a voice just barely a whisper. "Do you know what you're asking me to do?"

She understood his doubt. What she was asking him to do was an impossibility. The sword was summoned as a part of her and would disappear as soon as she was absorbed back into the grail. A mere human could not just wield a noble phantasm, never mind a divine construct of the Fae. It went against the very foundations of magecraft and the rules of the world.

But he was not an ordinary human, and the rules never truly applied to him.

Most of all, for the boy, accepting her sword now was the same as acknowledging she was going to die, the encroaching reality that boy was trying his hardest to deny. To take the sword now meant taking on the burden of carrying on her legacy and the hopes the sword symbolized. For someone such as him, who had lived solely to bear the responsibility of another's wish, who wanted nothing more than a peaceful, mundane life…

Her request was a selfish one, but she would still ask him of it. She sought only his happiness.

"I know you… I know the burden you carry… But I want to save you… just as you…—" she trailed off, not quite trusting her voice.

The dying woman frowned at the sorry figure he cut. He had pushed himself far beyond his limits to match her, his frail human body not meant to house the indomitable power it held within. To practice magecraft was to constantly walk the line between life and death, and he had jumped far past that. At this point, the damage was more than just his physical body; she was no expert, but she would not have been surprised if his very soul was in disrepair at this point. If he strained himself further, it was likely he would be a mindless corpse by the end of the night.

"You still have… something else to do… right…?"

He flinched in realization.

"Sakura… Rin… You have to save them… Shirou… Or else our…" Her words remained unspoken, but both of them knew what she was going to say.

That's right. If Sakura was not saved, then the entire point of this night was moot. In order to not let her and Rider's deaths be in vain, to preserve whatever was left of what he held dear, he had to keep moving forward. Severing the connection between the grail and Sakura and then ending this farce of a war, that was the only way left to salvage the night. And to do so, he needed a weapon of sufficient strength. Projecting one would only lead to a premature death. If there was any hope of saving him, so he could at least enjoy a fraction of the happiness she wished upon him, then she would grasp that chance with everything she had.

She sensed the stubbornness in his eyes waning, and for one final time, she nudged Excalibur into his chest. This time, one of his hands came around to tentatively receive her gift. His fingers shook uncertainly, his doubt evident by his hesitation in gripping the ebony handle. He peered at her, eyes darting between meeting her insistent gaze and her weapon.

Eventually, logic prevailed in his mind, and he firmly reached out. His hand came around hers, a perfect fit made by the heavens themselves as their fingers sat snug against each other. He firmly gripped the weapon still enclosed in her hand, staring at her unwaveringly all the while.

"I'm giving this back to you, no matter what."

She smiled. That was impossible, but she had long abandoned all pretense of knowing what was to come next when it came to him. His words clashed against the logic in her mind, but somehow when he said it, she couldn't help but be swept up in his determination.

"I'm sure you will."

A frigid cold sensation started in her legs, and she looked downwards. A black pool of malice and evil laid beneath her, and her legs slowly fell into the ooze of nothingness.

Ah, her time had arrived. It was time to make her exit. One way or another, the curtains would be closing on this tragedy tonight.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you…" One final apology left his lips, laced with all his regret and lament. In accepting her request, he had allowed himself to say those fateful words.

Such defeatism didn't suit him.

In response, she smiled. It was a beautiful thing, so simple yet undeniably so pure and sweet. In her final moments, she tried to convey to him all the gratitude and joy he had given her, returning to him the very salvation he'd granted her.

She had come into his world uncertain and remorseful, the failures of her past haunting her every waking second. She had intended to use the grail to undo history, to rewrite the fabrics of the world and give her people the king they deserved. And yet, upon her summoning, she had met a boy, one so similar to her that he might as well have been her reflection. The burden they carried had crushed them utterly, but he had lifted that weight from her soul. Through him, she had discovered the folly of her wishes, and a world that once felt so paltry and insignificant, serving only as a torturous reminder of her shortcomings, now held no shortage of new wonders and mysteries to uncover and unravel.

A chuckle escaped her, airily light and carefree, a spark of the freedom and innocence she thought she had long forgotten returning to her at last. Her laugh, sweet and melodious, was a surprise even to her. She had believed that she had abandoned such delightful emotions and sensations, but she supposed it didn't surprise her that he had managed to elicit them from her once again. She looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with that familiar entrancing emerald glow, and as she drew her last breath, she gave him a gentle smile, a glimpse of a miracle they had created together.

"What are you talking about, Shirou? You've already saved me…"

The woman slipped from his arms, escaping his grasp and slowly falling into the black void. All the while, he held her gaze, the woman unconcerned with anything else but peering at him. She was relaxed, a look of serenity gracing her features, as if she was falling onto a bed of flowers. He seared her image into his mind, branding her smile into his soul until at last, she was gone completely, leaving nothing behind except the weapon still in his hand.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there. Perhaps a few minutes. Perhaps an hour or two. Maybe even a day or century or millennia.

It didn't matter to him.

His time had stopped. His mind was numb, and even the feeling of the rough ground painful stabbing into his kneeling form didn't feel real.

Their final moments played in his brain over and over and over again, unable to truly process what had happened but unable to.

The boy let out a sigh before standing back up.

There was something he still needed to do.

"Be the hero you were meant to be," she had commanded.

He would engrave those words into his heart.

Her words were a reminder of his duty, a solemn oath he had sworn himself to when he accepted her sword.

One final wish upon the countless he already bore.

Excalibur was in his hand, steadfastly held in his grip. True to her words, the sword remained anchored in reality, not disappearing alongside its previous owner.

He gazed at the spot where she had once been before averting his eyes, turning them towards the darkness deeper in the cave.

"I can still save the rest," he thought to himself, his tone almost reassuring.

The boy grimaced at how he himself was unable to believe his own words.

How long had I been walking? I lost track of all sense of time since Rider and Saber's departure. My mind was preoccupied, filled with vivid scenes of blood and tears, heartfelt goodbyes and heartbreaking apologies echoing in my ears.

My legs moved on their own, some hidden force driving them forward.

Ahh, that's right. Sakura and Rin, I still had to save them.

Save them…

Like how I saved Rider and Saber?

An image of their bloodied bodies invades my mind, and I fought the urge to vomit then and there. Rider… I didn't even get a chance to say my farewell. My time with the blindfolded women was briefer than the others, but she still had a very special place in my heart. I had at least chance to say my goodbyes to Saber—unwilling or not—but the poor gorgon woman was not even given that much mercy by fate. The gods had wronged her, and her life had been one of struggle and strife, continuously wronged time and again by the world.

I supposed, in some twisted, sickening way, it was not entirely unfitting that she had died in such a manner—outmatched with nothing but a sliver of hope for victory. In the end, her true wish had gone unfulfilled, and the second chance at life she sought had not come to fruition.

Ah, but then again, she had done what she did to save me. I had been too weak; Rider played her part perfectly, but it was me who had been lacking, and in order to have a chance of winning, she had sacrificed herself.

Rider… She did not deserve such an ending.

She knew only suffering, and this war was her only chance to live the life that fate had cruelly ripped away from her clutches. And now…

"You would entrust your dream to me, Rider?"

She had given her life for me, placing her trust in a mere boy. Just like how Saber had done so, she too chose me over themselves. Someone who couldn't live for himself was given the lives of others.

I looked down at the sword in my hand. While its radiant golden edge had been corrupted into a raven-black blade, and its inspiring, soothing aura was twisted into sickening wickedness, the meaning behind the very fact that I now held it was not lost to me.

That familiar feeling came back once again. The suffocating sensation of helplessness as more and more weight piled onto me, the overbearing pressure on my chest to reach these expectations hopelessly out of my reach, it was all coming back.

It was a cycle of hope and despair, of promises made and broken, yet in the end, it all came back to me.

Where does it end?

When would it stop?

Or perhaps… it simply wasn't meant to…

It was like I was drowning, trapped in a bottomless well, slowly sinking to the bottom as I watched the light of the surface fade further and further from me. The darkness rushed inside of me, pulling me under, clinging to my very soul, suffocating me under the weight of the very ideals I had chased for so long. And no matter how much I struggled and swam, I would inevitably sink down and down and down and down and down and down—

The rhythmic sound of my foot coming down on the rocky ground was the only indication that time was passing and the world around me wasn't just a never-ending void of darkness.

One foot in front of another.

That's right. I couldn't afford to lose focus. Not now. I still had people waiting for me.

CRUNCH!

A rock underneath my foot instantly turned to dust beneath my step.

I had to let go of unnecessary emotions. It would only cloud my judgement. There would always be time to grieve later, but the people alive right now took priority.

The advice I was telling myself was sound. It was logical and pragmatic, correct in every sense of the word.

But it didn't unclench my fist or stop my teeth from gnashing together or get rid of this unbearable pain in my chest.

Suddenly, the cavern around me was far brighter than before – or had I simply not noticed it growing brighter? – and I found myself in a room far larger than the arena I had encountered Saber in. It seemed to stretch on forever, but even despite the seemingly boundless space, what really drew my attention was one thing only.

Off in the far distance, I saw it: the Holy Grail. Somehow, the real thing was even more sickening than the Shadow it had spawned. It was a malevolent thing. It was darkness reborn, a black even darker than the corrupted Excalibur or the obsidian tint that stained Saber's armor. It was far more than black, swallowing light itself. Even from here, I see it twisting and distorting reality, space bending around the malignant relic. And that was not even considering the pure aura of wrongness emanating from it. It was a vile feeling, making the pits of my stomach writhe and my skin crawl.

And yet somehow it was a familiar feeling. One that had haunted me for so many nights over the years. To finally see the source of those nightmares in person, to bear witness to what had created me in the first place…

I couldn't deny that a small portion of me was morbidly curious about what it truly was.

I turned my eyes to the figure standing at the crest of the ramp leading to the grail. The light emanating from behind it cast it into a dark silhouette, preventing me from discerning its identity, but I didn't need to see it to know. It was still a ways off from the vessel itself, but there was no doubt in my mind who it was. If Saber had been guarding the entrance of this area, and the grail was off in the distance, then there was only one person that figure could be.

Sakura.

One of three reasons we had delved into this underground hell hole in the first place.

In comparison to the large grotesque thing far behind her, she was quite small, both in size and in presence. It was not nearly as overbearing as I remember.

I walked towards the figure, and the sword in my grasp suddenly became eerily heavy. My hands felt clammy, slick with sweat, and it wasn't until I looked down at them that I realized that the shaking had returned.

One step. Two steps.

As I approached the still figure, it became evident that it was not one person but two.

The crunching of rocks stopped as I was rooted in place by the sight before me. I had found Sakura, just as intended, but in my stupidity, I had forgotten about the other sister who had gone ahead to rescue her.

"… Tohsaka…?"

The red-clad magus was in Sakura's arms, but the horrifyingly large amounts of blood covering her made it difficult to tell it apart from her iconic scarlet sweater. Her body was mutilated to a nauseating degree. Her torso was torn open from large bloody wounds that snaked from her hips all the way up to her shoulders.

They were large enough that I could see hints of organs and the white of her ribcage peeking out from gaps in the flesh. Her arms and legs were broken in several places, bones jutting out from the torn skin like white sharp rocks jutting out from a crimson sea. Her limbs were bent in unnatural angles, much like a marionette with its strings cut. Her head was hanging limply, the half-severed muscles and tendons of her neck barely managing to keep it connected to the rest of her mangled body, and her head had fallen in such a way that it was facing towards me, showing me her face.

She was deathly pale, enough that the veins in her face stood out like sanguine scars on a canvas of unhealthy white. Her eyes, normally shining with untold mischiefs and prodigal intelligence, were glazed over in a blank dead stare, and her lips that had sputtered countless embarrassed deflections and sarcastic insults were slightly agape as if she was speaking to me.

"Why did you not save me?"

I could almost hear her voice leveled at me in accusation, those red lips opening and closing at haunting words of betrayal were launched at me.

She could never do that… but looking at what happened, I couldn't help but wish she was speaking those words to me now. To tell me that I failed. To confirm what I had tried to escape from. To judge my failures. To tell me she couldn't forgive me for being a bad person.

Instead, I only had silence to answer me.

Tohsaka never would have asked for help, the twin-tailed magus far too proud for that, but it had gone unsaid between us that we would be fighting the final battle together. We had entered this cave side-by-side and had every intention of leaving it in the same manner.

"Emiya-kun, I'll leave Saber to you. I don't know what will happen, but I believe in you. You better live up to my expectations. If you want to save Sakura, don't be too late, okay? I'll be waiting."

Before we parted ways, she had left me with that message. Coming from the proud magus, who hated depending on others and lived her life based on her own convictions, such words were not easy to say, a confession of the unshakeable faith and trust she had placed in me. She truly believed that despite all odds and impossibilities, I would weave together a miracle and meet her here where we would overcome the final hurdle together.

I wondered at how long she held onto that hope. Tohsaka was a self-proclaimed realist, but she was more naïve and hopeful than she said she was, a trait I found endearing and admirable.

When her body was torn to shreds and she saw her very innards spilled across the cavern floor, did her trust in me ever falter? When she was impaled over and over by the sister she loved more than her own duty, did she continue clinging onto that fleeting dream? When her body was smashed over and over like a ragdoll until her bones broke, did her faith ever waver, wishing for a miracle that never came?

In her final moments, did she die calling my name in her dying breath, believing in the end of a hero that would rescue her from this cruel world?

That's right, Tohsaka was far more optimistic than she gave herself credit for. She would never have let go of the hope that I would arrive to save her. She wouldn't have felt the slow, growing pit of despair as the crushing weight of the truth slowly dawned on her. She wouldn't have felt the utter anguish in her soul as her eyes widened in agony and her hope turned to ashes in her mouth. I could only hope that Tohsaka was able to die without feeling any of that, never realizing that her hero was merely a delusional fantasy, that she had entrusted her dream to nothing more than a fake.

I had sworn to bring her sister back to her side, but I let her die before she could see it. She had waited here vigilantly for me, but I did not arrive until it was far too late. I had promised to stand by her side for all of eternity, but I abandoned her in the darkness when she needed me the most.

She would never condemn me, but a small part of me wished she did, to free me from the suffocating weight of her lofty expectations, so that I wouldn't have to fail over and over at living up to the ideals she put on me.

I tore my eyes from the magus, diverting my attention to the person below me.

Sakura was just as I remembered, except that overbearing malicious aura I had felt had been reduced to a pathetic whimper. That feeling of utter wrongness had lost its evil bite, a far cry from the menacing figure she had cut earlier. The last time I had seen her, she had been standing over Tohsaka's bloody body in my backyard with the intent of killing her, and the very same girl was laying tenderly in her lap.

The darkened girl was quivering uncontrollably as her chest rose and fell erratically. Her head was bowed with her long hair covering her face, and she held onto Tohsaka in a death grip as her fingers dug the woman.

"… Sakura… what did you do…?"

Hearing my question, Sakura's head snapped up towards me. Her cheeks were marred with dried streaks of tears, and her eyes were unfocused and dilated, quickly darting between me and her sister before they suddenly widened. Realization dawned in her eyes, and right after it, panic and horror, until I saw something snap within her.

Despite the ominous rumbling of the grail behind her, it was almost unnervingly silent in the cavern. Suddenly, Sakura let out a chuckle, slow and unsettling, before letting out another, then another, then another. She threw her head back, her lips spread wide in an unhinged smile as she roared in hearty laughter. The disturbing chortles seemed to stretch on for hours before they slowly morphed into pained grieving, and before long, Sakura was heaving out strangled sobs, her face dry as her tears had long since run out.

"Senpai…"

She lowered her head back down, her face sporting an unreadable expression as she gazed at Tohsaka's corpse. Her head was a storm of inexplicable emotions, and her mind was teetering precariously on the edge of insanity.

"You said you couldn't forgive me if I became a bad person, right, Senpai?"

I slowly nodded, confirming her words.

If Sakura became a bad person, I couldn't forgive her. In fact, it was precisely because I loved her so much that I would rebuke harder than anyone else.

But in my eyes, she was never a bad person, only a victim of fate. She had never asked for any of this. She only wanted simple happiness, surrounded by a loving family that was taken from her and a close circle of friends that she was denied from. The circumstances she had lived under were never her fault to begin with.

Sakura couldn't see that. She had done bad things, but she was never a bad person. She was just any regular girl, pushed to her limits by the cruelty of reality and forced to commit evil.

The Shadow and her were one, an unfortunate result of forces far beyond her control. While I had always separated the two in the past, to deny it now was to deny what was in front of me. Sakura believed the same, the very reason why she didn't want forgiveness in the first place. She longed to be punished. She sought to bear the weight of the sins she had been forced to commit. We were alike in that regard, and it was perhaps that connection that had drawn us to each other in the first place. We both thought of ourselves as sinners, living the unjust lives that were thrust upon us by fate.

Yes, Sakura and the Shadow were one and the same. All the people it had killed had been at her hands despite her best intentions. That was an irrefutable fact. Just as it was my decision to spare her at the church, condemning more people to die for no reason other than the simple fact that I chose the one I loved over them. The blood of innocents stained my hands and hers, and the sins she bore were mine to carry as well.

And that was fine.

Because now…

"The things you've done can never be erased. The people you killed can never be brought back."

I went down to one knee in front of her. One hand came around to wrap around hers that was supporting Tohsaka's head. I gingerly stroked her hand, rejoicing in the feeling of my skin against hers. How much had slipped through these fingers, I wonder. How much had she been forced to let go? What kinds of things had she done with these soft, gentle hands?

The scales of justice would weigh heavily against us both. I'm not sure Sakura could ever forgive herself. I had no intention of forgiving myself. We were both murderers, but Sakura could still find her salvation.

"You'll need to spend the rest of your life atoning for what you've done."

So it made sense for only one of us to bear this burden.

"But for now, just live."

A flash of blue motes of light coalesced in my hand, and a familiar dagger appeared in my right hand.

Rule Breaker, the weapon of the Witch of Colchis, Medea.

The dagger wasn't a true weapon. Its blade was jagged and crooked, the edge blunt and thin. It could hardly be called a weapon. As it was, it could barely kill a regular person. It was more ceremonial than anything else, more suited as a decorative piece at someone's waist. However, one look at the weapon revealed its true value.

There was only one reason on why a witch such as Caster would carry such a weapon around. Its iridescent, ominous edge held a mystifying gleam that displayed its true worth as a Noble Phantasm. For someone who always hid in the shadows and struck in the most indirect ways, Rule Breaker was the perfect weapon for the Witch of Colchis.

My vision flashed white, the world around me blurring for an instant before I snapped back to reality, and I groaned at the feeling of my soul being strained to its utmost limits. I moved past the overwhelming wall of pain lancing through my head as my body screamed at me for overusing my magecraft. I threw all caution to the wind. All that mattered right now was freeing Sakura from her curse.

My hand rose, the wicked dagger in a backhanded grip poised to gently stab Sakura, and I planted its blade into her chest. It dug into her flesh for perhaps a centimeter or two, and for a second, I thought that the weapon our entire plan hinged upon did not work.

The darkness-wreathed girl gasped as her body was covered in a blinding light. The shadow that had consumed her for so long was being swallowed in turn. The light intensified, and I involuntarily shut my eyes closed. One hand remained interlocked with hers, trying my hardest to give her the strength she needed to cast off the Shadow. The other held a vice grip on the dagger, determined to not let go. I had to see this through to the end, no matter the cost. To create a world where she could be happy, I had to be completely sure she was free from any connection to Angra Mainyu.

White light concentrated itself further into the girl, and there was a brief moment of tranquility before the bubble burst, and an eruption of energy exploded out from Sakura.

I braced myself, and the blast of light only lasted for a second before it disappeared as quickly as it came. Whisps of the darkness that had tainted her soul floated in the air before they burned away to nothingness.

As expected, Rule Breaker had done its job. Sakura was still in the same position as before, her mouth agape in surprise at the sudden turn of events before she slowly tilted her head downwards until her gaze landed on the weapon still inside of her.

"… Oh…"

It must have been liberating. The sensation of freedom, of casting off the shackles that had constrained her for so long. The constant nagging at her soul was gone, and from now on, she was free to live her life as she pleased.

Yes, that must be nice.

"You can't give back all the lives you've taken, but it's for their sake that you can't throw away yours either."

She looked at me, confusion clouding her crimson orbs. "You say that… but what about you?"

I was a hypocrite, through and through. The same words I was saying to bring Sakura salvation were the very same ones I cast aside. Archer had accused me of that very hypocrisy, Rin had lectured me on the damning end that path would lead to, and I had listened to their words back then… but they were gone.

"… I'll save you, that's all there is to it. I'll protect you from everything, so just focus on enjoying your life from now on."

It was an unfair thing, atonement.

Sakura had never wanted this. None of this was her fault, but the fact of the matter was that she had committed crimes. Justice demanded that she atone for her sins, but it was borderline blasphemy to judge someone who never truly did anything wrong. I knew the crushing weight on her shoulders, and I didn't want that beautiful smile I cherished so much to wilt into something bitter and jaded.

Forcing her to atone by living for others was a terrible thing, but as long as she lived, she could never truly wash off the stains on her soul. It would be a debt she could never pay back, a never-ending cycle of suffering that would haunt her for the rest of her life. For someone like her who only knew misery, such unfairness was nothing new, but I wanted to change that. That's why I wanted her burden to be mine—so that she could live for herself, savoring a life she was never able to until now, existing without a care in the world for what may come next.

When I chose to let her live just to fulfill my selfish wish, choosing to save the one I loved instead of exacting justice, I had chosen to be a greater evil than she ever was. The blood staining her hands were now on mine instead.

My path was set in stone, and my soul was already forever damned. Every falsehood she had committed, every life she had taken, if it meant her being free, I would embrace it gladly.

Emiya Shirou would endure the weight of the world, if nothing else.

My words took a moment to settle into her mind, and then she slowly placed both of her hands around my right hand, grasping onto the dagger that was still embedded in her chest. Her fingers pensively traced mine, her eyes darkening in contemplation.

I felt something wet drop onto my hand, and it took me a moment to realize it was a teardrop. Another one followed it, then another, and it wasn't long before our hands were drenched with tears as Sakura's sobs filled my ears. After what felt like an eternity, she finally looked back up at me. Tears streamed down her face, conflict written plain as day in her expression. Those once lovely amethyst orbs, now more akin to bloodstained rubies, were clouded in doubt, and I grimaced at the clear agony haunting the eyes of the one I loved.

"Was I the cause of that pain?"

Her hand tightened, and I saw the briefest flash of determination in her eyes before they clenched shut.

"… I'm sorry, Senpai."

The sickening sound of steel entering flesh echoed off the cavern walls as Rule Breaker pierced through Sakura's chest and buried itself inside her heart.

"… Ahhh...—"

The darkened girl in front of me gasped, her body stilling in. Her eyes were wide, and her lips were parted slightly as a small trickle of blood leaked out from her mouth. While she had prepared herself for this outcome, the realization of her actions had not fully set in yet. Her black dress was drenched in red, her blood masking the ruby hilt protruding out from her chest.

Ah, it's happening again.

I cast a pensive gaze onto the hand still wrapped around the weapon. Rivers of blood ran off it and pooled onto the ground below, a waterfall of crimson decorating the scene in front of me. Strangely enough, a sense of calm clouded my mind, and a small part of me, one who was always watching and judging, could not help but feel that this was not a surprising turn of events.

In fact, it might even be fitting. In some perverse, cruel way, such an ending was completely expected from the existence that was Emiya Shirou.

Once is simply how it is.

Twice is coincidence.

Thrice is the machinations of the world.

Four times… is fate.

By now, it felt almost routine, like the world itself was going out of its way to spit upon my life, dumping its collective misery on my being. The uncanny happenings of this night made it almost feel surreal, like a nightmare I was forever trapped in, before I realized that it was simply reality. There was no escape from the cruel machinations of the world.

"Sakura… why…?"

I wanted to know. I've accepted her actions for what they were. It was hard not to with the undeniable truth in front of me.

Sakura wasn't a bad person, but she sought punishment regardless. She never wanted forgiveness or atonement. The weight of her sins, the blood on her hands, she wanted it to be hers and hers alone. I had wanted to release her from the responsibility of crimes that were never hers, but she wanted to bear the weight of an evil that she was never at fault for.

Regardless, I needed to hear it from her. I had to hear the words directly from her lips, if only to sate this craving within me—that I wasn't the hero she envisioned me as, that I never could or would be, merely a poor imitation of an ideal.

"Because…" A hoarse rasp came out from her mouth, her voice reduced to a feeble whisper as she croaked out her words. Blood continued to spill from her lips, and guilt swelled within my chest at what my request was doing to her, but even so… I needed to know. "You… You don't deserve something… so sad… Senpai…"

I… didn't deserve it…?

Suddenly, she fell sideways, snapping me back to reality, and I instinctively caught her, one arm wrapping around to her back as I stopped her from meeting the unforgiving rocky ground.

She gazed up at me, scarlet orbs clouding over as she slowly but surely bled out. She weakly reached up with one hand, the limp slick with warm blood as it almost slipped from my grasp. She turned her head towards me in gratitude at the gesture, and what might have been a near silent plea of thanks instead turned into a mess of heart-wrenching coughs as she choked on her own blood.

"You… you're always trying… to help others… by sacrificing yourself…" The digits of her hand softly tightened around mine, and I could feel the pit widening in my stomach as the warmth of her body seeped away into an unsettling coldness. "You're… a true hero… Senpai… Someone like me… I can't… catch you…"

Hero… the word that left her lips might as well have been a sword through my heart, a blade of turmoil lancing through my body and soul. But it was nothing I already knew, nothing that was already not apparent. Yet, that word only made my body feel cold and numb, and when tears fell from my face onto the dying girl below me, I could not help but feel that the strength I felt before was nothing but a lie.

Her lips curled up into a small, heart-wrenching smile. "Ah… I finally… made you cry… I'm glad… you've changed so much…"

I shook my head, scattering tears off to the side, but Sakura gave no indication of pity or judgement, though I couldn't help but wish she did.

"You're wrong. I haven't changed… Nothing's changed," I finished softly.

Her smile grew at my consternation, and just like the woman before her, her face had the same knowing expression. Were it not for the current circumstances, it might have even been considered smug. She reached up, her arm trembling in the air before it settled on my face, wiping away another tear falling down my cheek.

"Even now… I'm sorry… You've done… so much for me… but I could never… repay you…"

"… Don't say that. You've done more than enough." My hands trembled, my fingers instinctively digging into her body to stop the shaking. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

A second of silence passed, yet the dread in my heart only grew. The ache stung with the agony of a fresh scar, a burning remembrance of what I had already lost.

"You still… can't see it…?" A look of disappointment flashed across her face.

"Both you and Saber see things I don't," I gently rebuked her words.

"Your eyes… they grasp everything around you… so easily… yet you still can't… see what's in front… of you…"

The smile on my face could only be called rueful. "And look at the result."

Her eyes dulled even further, regret brimming in her gaze as she looked past me.

"It's not your fault… Nee-san… she waited for you… but I killed her…" she wheezed out, the words only a feeble whisper. "I… I killed her… she was trying to save me but I…" She trailed off, her words dying in her throat at the memories of her sister.

"It's not your fault, Sakura," I consoled. My voice softened at the thought of what she went through. "It never was."

A look of hurt flashed across her face, and her hand tightened around mine.

"And I suppose… it's yours…?" she questioned almost mockingly, as much as the blood pooling in her throat would allow before she let loose another fit of coughs, more red soaking into my shirt as small chunks of coagulated blood splattered everywhere. "Always… burdening yourself… Always so… heroic… but that's who you are…" Her gaze lost focus again, and I could see the shattered remains of her dream in her eyes. "If I wasn't so… selfish… if I wasn't so… weak… we could have had it all… but I…—"

Her eyes brimmed with tears, choking back sobs of regret as her life flashed before her. My hand snaked around to the back of her head, caressing her violet locks as the lonely girl below me failed to hold back her tears as she quietly cried away her pain.

"Senpai," she started, her voice wavering and uncertain. "Am I… a bad person…?"

"No." My answer was instant—my response firm. "You've done bad things, yes, but you are not a bad person, Sakura."

She took a moment to digest my answer before a regretful smile slowly broke out on her face. "Still… going on about that… You don't know the things… I've done… but you still say that…"

"And I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. I'm not giving up on you."

She paused before a look of resignation crossed her face. "That you still believe in me… after all this time…"

Even if I had failed every promise I made, even if I was left with nothing at the end of it all, even if every choice I made was a mistake, I couldn't find it within myself to regret my love for her. Saving her meant forsaking countless more people, yet I could look past that. I made that choice gladly, and I would do so again if given the chance even if it meant more blood on my hands. Despite the irrefutable truth that it eventually led me nowhere, the happiness and joy I found nothing but a fleeting, ephemeral feeling that left as quickly as it came, the mere fact that someone like me was able to experience the wonders and preciousness of life was a miracle in itself. Just for this short-lived spark of hope… I couldn't find it within me to call it wrong.

"Even if the world turns against you, even if you lose in yourself, I'll always be here, Sakura."

The words came out of my mouth easily, my message one of the few things I still had faith in. It was a foundation of my soul, an unwritten law of the universe. A world where Emiya Shirou turned against her was simply unfathomable; in a reality where the impossible was possible and physics and logic were casually turned on their heads, my loyalty to her was something I could not imagine ever changing. I couldn't even picture her without me at her side, the image in my mind coming as naturally as the sun rose every day.

"I… I'm sorry… I can't…not anymore… I can't—"

Sakura was stunned, her eyes wide in disbelief before she let out a cry of agony. Her eyes swelled with tears before they quickly flooded over, streaming down her face as she started bawling hysterically.

"I'm so sorry Senpai! I couldn't keep a single promise! —Not a single one!" She suddenly lurched up and forwards, burying her face into my chest and clenching my shirt with a strength I didn't know she possessed. "It's always you, never me. You keep saving me, time and again, even when I'm at fault, even when I don't deserve it! You keep saying you'll always be there, but I'm the one that left you and ran away. Do you know how it feels? To be able to feel everyone I've killed, all their memories swimming inside of me when I swallowed them but being told it wasn't my fault?! You say it'll all be okay. You've done so much for me, and I… I—"

Sakura choked and sputtered, her words becoming nothing more than gurgled sobs. That too eventually became too much to bear, and the anguished girl looked up at me and screamed out a strangled cry of defeat and hopelessness.

"—And I. HAVEN'T. DONE. ANYTHING!"

She let her head drop, limply bracing it against me as I felt her tears soak through my shirt. Her shoulders trembled as the raw unbridled emotion coursing through her. My arm rose, and a hand tentatively hovered over her as I contemplated what to do before I threw caution to the wind, letting it rest against the small of her back as I embraced the sobbing girl.

"Even now… you're still with me," she croaked out, her voice a whisper as she kept her head down and away from my eyes. "I dragged you into this mess. I've killed countless people… I corrupted Saber. I killed my sister. The grail is going to destroy the world, but you're still going to tell me none of it is my fault, even though I know it's all just a lie. Despite all that… even if I don't deserve it, I want so badly to believe…"

The fatigue and frustration in her voice was clear; it was the voice of someone who had experienced far too much at an age far too young. Despite everything that I had said and done, Sakura had crumbled under the weight of the world—maybe even long ago, and it was only now that I was seeing the pieces.

Sakura had never wanted salvation. She didn't want forgiveness; just the chance to atone for everything she had done would have been enough. She never wanted absolution for her sins. I had forgotten that. While I never believed she had done anything wrong, ultimately it was up to Sakura to create and face her own judgement, the only one that truly mattered.

In my selfishness, I wanted her to live freely, unencumbered by the chains of fate that weighed her down, just as they had once enslaved me. But Sakura never wanted that; she wanted someone to walk alongside her, living life to its fullest despite sharing the same sinful existence, as if it was a personal outcry against the unfairness of reality. Ultimately, it was my desire to be her hero and save her that alienated her and led to this tragic outcome.

"…It's not fair," Sakura lamented. "Just when I finally got the courage… to confess to you… it all comes crashing down… I wanted to keep living my life with you… Waking you up in the morning… Cooking meals for you… Walking home from school… And even talking to Nee-san again… It was all because of you… I was able to enjoy those things again… and now I'll never be able to do those things again… It's not fair… Why me…? What did I do…? Why I am always the one… that can never be happy…?"

A feeble fist thumped against my chest, more a gesture of weakness than anger. I could feel the smoldering frustration in her voice but also the sheer weight of helplessness that snuffed it out.

"I… I'm sorry…" The words barely left my mouth, my will faltering in the face of the undeniable results of my actions. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you…"

My words echoed what I had said to Saber. This time, I thought I could at least save Sakura, but I was proven wrong yet again.

"You have no idea… how much it hurts me… to hear you say that… Senpai…"

Finally, it came. The last remnants of the strength that Sakura had left were gone as she became slack in my grasp. Something in my chest withered and died, and the freezing, numbing void returned, spreading throughout my body. I ignored all that, giving the girl below me my full attention.

Her eyes wandered to the side, and sensing her intentions, I gently picked her up, carrying her a few feet away before gingerly laying her on the floor next to her sister. Sakura's body was limp, and the only thing she could do was weakly toss her head to the side until she was facing Tohsaka.

Even in death, the dead magus managed to look graceful and serene. Her expression was calm, not troubled like one normally would when they die. Perhaps the fact that it was her own sister who dealt the fatal blow was the reason she was able to accept it so easily.

"Sorry, Nee-san… Looks like I'll be joining you now."

She tilted her head up towards me. I had taken my place near the heads of the two sisters, silently watching Sakura come to terms with the end. My nails dug into my palms, almost deep enough to draw blood, and my jaw clenched to the point of almost breaking teeth. Despite my wavering resolve and waning spirit, my eyes were steady as I kept my gaze trained solely on the scene in front of me. Sakura deserved as much, and since I wasn't there for Tohsaka when she passed, I owed it to her to see this through to the end. No matter how much my spirit waned and ached, I had to etch her final moments into my mind.

I was unable to save her, that much was certain. The only thing I could do now was to keep her memory alive, as a token of the time and experiences we had shared together. Even if my time in this world was quickly expiring, she'll live on within me, and when I finally die, we would do so together.

"It's so… cold… Everything is so… dark…" Sakura said, her voice quivering in fear. I fought back the urge to cover her body with mine, to tell her that everything would be okay. "Senpai… are you still there…?"

"…I'm here, Sakura… I'm here… I've always been here…"

Somehow, I managed to prevent my voice from trembling.

Violet orbs had dulled to pale, dull balls, a far cry from the radiant amethyst that had once shone so brightly even in the darkness that had settled in this city. Her skin was deathly white, and I could see her blood coursing through her veins, the current of vitality slowly but surely coming to a stop.

"I'm… glad… You've always been there… like the sun… so warm… Everyone around you reached out… yearning for you… But I… wanted that light… all for myself… For once… I wanted to be happy…"

Her right arm rose, small and fragile yet nevertheless reaching out towards the sky only to meet the rocky, thorned cavern ceiling. Her hands were open, her fingers slowly trying to stretch them higher.

"… Nothing," Sakura rasped out. "I… achieved… nothing… I forsook my humanity… I destroyed my home…"

Images of Tohsaka and I arriving at the destroyed Emiya household filled my mind, the newly transformed Sakura who had fully accepted the malicious whisperings of the grail into her heart standing amongst the fire and rumble.

"I abandoned my family… I killed her… without a second thought… even when she was already gone, I kept going… all because she chose to save me instead of herself… this whole cave will be our grave… because of me… the only people to ever help me… and this is how I repay it…"

Her hand closed, grasping nothing but air. A bitter smile spread across Sakura's face.

"Is this… what I became a monster for…? Did I kill… all these people… just out of anger… and rage…? And yet… even with sacrificing so much… tossing aside everything… I couldn't achieve anything… Senpai… you told me that you would create a world… where we could all live together… happily… peacefully… but your eyes… I could never see that same world you were seeing… I tore it apart… with my own hands… destroying everything we had built…"

Her arm fell limply by her side.

"You reached out to me that day… You changed our destinies from the moment we touched… You're… the most important person in the world to me. You've changed so much… defying fate… while I was never able to escape it… you're so strong… you told me even the smallest and frailest of us could be happy…"

She peered at me with those soulless purple eyes, dull violet conveying more emotion than her mouth could possibly say.

"Why was I never able to obtain that strength…? Why couldn't I become something more I was…? Why are you and I… so different…?"

One last tear drop trailed down her cheek, its drop to the ground almost deafening in the quiet cavern.

"Why on Earth… was I even born…? Tell me… Shirou…"

One last shuddered breath left her body before Sakura finally stilled. Her eyes were glazed over, eternally gazing straight at me as her final question echoed within my mind.

Once again, time lost all sense of meaning as my body stilled. I couldn't find the strength to avert my eyes from the scene before me, two of the people I had failed laying in front of me, unmoving and unliving.

At last, my body moved. I crouched down, one hand tenderly coming over to stroke Sakura' cheek one last time before I closed her eyelids. She didn't deserve to have died with her final sight being of me, of the nasty reality that had forced this on her.

Standing back up, I walked over to Excalibur, the weapon having been momentarily forgotten but now taking its place in my hand.

I gave one last look at the sisters. It was a cruel irony. In life, they had been separated, unknowingly distancing themselves from each other over their own assumptions. They had nothing more than to be together, but little did they know that the feeling was mutual. It was only in death that they could finally be reunited, another one of life's cruel jokes.

The sight was heartbreaking, a sinking feeling swallowing me from head to toe. But I fought past that, engraving the image of the dead sisters into my brain and all the emotions that came with it.

I focused onto one in particular, the feeling of frustration at my inability of being unable to save the ones I loved. I held onto it like a lifeline, the searing pain that came with it cutting through my conscience like a hot knife. That was fine. Pain was good. Pain reminded me that I was still alive. I couldn't fall just yet. There was time for that later, but I still had something I had to do.

My focus had to be clear, even if it was a lie.

I couldn't save them, but I swore that I would finally put an end to this. That much, I could do.

Was this what you had meant, Archer?

"You're wrong, Sakura." The words left my mouth, even if its intended audience was already gone. "You're strong, far stronger than you believe. Far stronger than me."

It was something we disagreed on, even in the very end. I could only hope that in whatever afterlife awaited us, I would be able to convince her then.

The sound of clapping resonated throughout the cavern, the sharp slap of flesh on flesh almost mocking. It grated on my ears, the gesture of applause contemptuous and taunting.

"Haha—ahh—"

A bloodied and battered man stood in front of the Holy Grail, his tall figure cutting an imposing silhouette on the ruddy glow of the blasphemous artifact. His hands were still together mid-clap, and though his face was hidden by the shadow of the grail, I knew that his lips were curved into a small, unnerving jeer.

"Kotomine Kirei."

I spat out his name from my lips like a slur, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste on my tongue as my face scrunched up in a scowl.

My reaction to his unsightly presence only made his smirk grow.

"Good evening, Emiya Shirou. I must applaud you; that was a splendid performance. It was quite the moving spectacle," he congratulated, his tone genuine but I knew it was anything but.

My anger rose at his nonchalant tone, and my eyes narrowed as I prepared to cut down this final obstacle. "Cut the bullshit. What are you doing here?" I didn't bother reciprocating his pleasantries. It was only a façade after all.

"Oh my, what a scary expression," he mocked. "What's wrong? The conversation has only just started, but you already look like you want me dead. I'm glad I could illicit such a strong reaction from you so quickly."

He ignored my words, a gesture I answered by brandishing the sword in my hands menacingly at him, the threat unspoken yet known.

A deep chuckle emanated from him as his smile continued to enlarge. "You're getting flustered over nothing. It's not like Emiya Shirou to be so emotional. You've changed—" he paused, his eyes narrowing as he found the words he was looking for "—you're getting weak."

"I won't ask twice. What are you doing here?" I responded almost hastily, the truth in his words stinging a bit harder than I anticipated.

He let out one more chuckle before finally deciding to end his games.

"Every hero needs a villain to oppose him. But as for why I'm here," he hummed thoughtfully, "answers, Emiya Shirou. For both you and me."

I scoffed at his words. "Don't lump me in with you. I'm here to destroy the grail. I'm not so lost that I would orchestrate this hell hole just to find answers," I spat out. Was this what Saber, Rider, Rin, and Sakura had died for? All the most important people in my life, for answers?!

His thought process and motivations were completely unknown to me, the man choosing who to fight and who to aid almost whimsically. When I first saw him, his mere presence radiated an aura of wrongness that had sent chills down my spine. I was convinced that he would prove himself an enemy eventually, no matter what Tohsaka had said about him being a firm ally as long as you knew his goals. When he removed the crest worms from Sakura and helped rescue Illya, I had begrudgingly regarded him as a temporary ally. However, he still exuded a sense of distrustfulness, so the fact that he now stood before me was not a surprise in the slightest.

"Oh? Aren't you the slightest bit curious? The truth behind you and me, the reason for our accursed existences, this aching hollowness that resides within us, it all lies within its birth." He remained calm, his voice even and steady, as if this was something he had been anticipating for a long time. Knowing him, it almost certainly was.

I brandished Excalibur at him, its dark edge still tainted even now but an unparalleled weapon nonetheless. However, I didn't have the magical energy to invoke its name and tap into its destructive capabilities. Such a strike would end this fight before it even started, but I didn't have that luxury. Thus, this duel would be decided in close quarters combat. In that scenario, I didn't fancy my chances against him.

I examined the man in front of me. His clothes were tattered and bloodstained, and his chest had a blackened and bloody hole where his heart should be. He was clearly half-dead—not that I was any different—but he still managed to cut a menacing figure. Sensing my resolve to see my mission through, he let his arms fall to his side, procuring a set of Black Keys. His hands clenched around them a vice grip, hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He was a master of combat with those weapons of his, and even if I managed to disarm him, he was still an expert in martial arts. Physically, he was still superhuman, and I lacked the magical energy to properly reinforce myself to the levels that had allowed me to just barely match Saber. Yes, while Kotomine was on the verge of death, he was a dangerous enemy, nonetheless.

The only thing I had going for me was Saber's last gift to me. It was still a noble phantasm; one clean hit would kill Kotomine for sure. And more than that, I could feel her traces in the blade. All swordsmen always left an imprint of themselves in their weapons, and Saber was no different. I could feel the almost sentient pull of Excalibur, its dirtied and sullied edge trying to bury itself into my enemy. It didn't contain Saber's otherworldly skill. It was something far more primal, an instinctual longing left behind by the previous owner of the blade to protect its wielder.

My thumb caressed the hilt tenderly, and I let out a deep breath.

It was one of my last reminders of her. Even now, she was still protecting me. It wasn't much, but for the sake of her memories and everyone else's, it would have to be enough.

Both he and I were dying, that was for a fact. Whichever one of us was closer to death, neither of us knew. However, the priest had the advantage of objectives. He was here to bear witness to the birth of a god, evil incarnate, while I aimed to prematurely kill it. He was on the defensive, and thus he had no reason to attack first. If I let him, he would be content to sit there and let Angra Mainyu be born without lifting a finger. Since our bodies were both falling apart, I couldn't risk being the one to die first, so I had to take the initiative.

"I have no need for logic or reasoning. I thought you of all people would understand that much," I replied.

The fact disgusted me, but it was undeniable that I could sense a kindred spirit within Kotomine Kirei. It was revolting to admit, but he and I were the same. We were both empty and hollow existences, merely wading through life without purpose or direction. However, while he took pleasure in pain and misery, I once fulfilled myself through aiding others. Two sides of the coin now faced each other here at the end of the world, vying for goals that went far beyond their lives.

"When presented with the opportunity to finally glimpse my true self, to finally understand why I am the way I am, how could I possibly refuse? You know it all too well, the void in our lives that grates upon your soul every day. If I can attain the truth that has eluded me for so long, perhaps I may be able to finally transcend this limited existence I was cursed with," Kotomine explained. While on the outside, he remained calm, I could see the cracks in his demeanor. It was a sixth sense born from our mutual understanding of each other, a gift I utterly despised but used nonetheless.

His arms shook slightly, his grip on his weapons constantly changing with every passing second. His stare was firm and tranquil but upon inspection, one could see the minute trembling of his irises. His jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly, and if he had a heartbeat still, I was certain that it would have been erratic.

The priest was nervous. For someone as normally composed as him, every word and every gesture measured and calculated, such behavior was extremely out of character, betraying his frantic excitement.

For Kotomine Kirei, this was very much something he had long been waiting for, and now the lone thing standing between him and his long-awaited salvation was myself.

"Don't lie to yourself, Kotomine. You cannot possibly equate yourself to a god. Your dreams will die here, along with that thing's wretched existence."

He shook his head. "I don't want to be a god. I just want what was denied to me." He pointed a black key at me. "And what of yourself, Emiya Shirou? You, who had vowed to be a Hero of Justice but had thrown it away for a chance to be something more, now stand here before me denying me the same opportunity you had so desperately pursued. You've experienced life's unfairness and injustice. Who are you now to oppose me?" he countered.

"Someone who doesn't want the end of the human race. Your goal will benefit only you. I have no need for answers, and I'm certainly not going to exchange them for the lives of countless people."

He sneered at my words, and his response came at lightning speed. "Oh? And what of Matou Sakura? You saved her, did you not? You allowed her to live, knowing what she was and what she could do. In the end, she killed hundreds of people, hundreds that you voluntarily chose to throw into the abyss in the name of love. The people she killed, they died because you wanted to be more than just a shell. Your hands are no less bloody than mine—far moreso, even. What makes you better than me? What gives you the right to condemn me for wanting something in my life when your crimes are far greater than mine?"

"Don't feed me that bullshit," I growled. "She had no choice. Because of people like you, she had to suffer. Because of this damned world, she could never smile. You? You once had a caring father, a loving wife, mentors and pupils. And yet, you tossed away everything just for this one chance. A chance that you'll never even be able to cherish. You'll die here along with me. You'll achieve nothing, and whatever enlightenment"—I spat out the word like it was poison—"you'll receive will disappear alongside you!"

It was utter insanity. It was illogical to the highest degree, actions made with no regard for what came after. Even if Kotomine fulfilled his desires here, seeing the birth of All the World's Evils through, he would gain nothing in the end.

"You said it yourself. You and I never needed a reason. Logic is something that evades us. What of you, with your hypocritical ideals? You once swore that as long as people were saved, you were content with whatever came after. And yet you turned your back on those words in the end, seeking something greater only to find only ruin. Your journey was for naught, nothing but a circle back to where you started."

He spreads his arms wide, gesturing to everything and anything.

"For people like us, this outcome was inevitable. We were born with nothing, blank and hollow, sinning over and over trying to find something to fill the emptiness, and when our end comes, we depart this world with nothing. Even if we accomplish our goals, the final result is the same. You and I, we were never meant to be truly human. That is why your ideals failed you, bringing you here before me now. There is no logic here. There is no sanity. You're right. There is nothing for either of us to gain. We'll both be dead soon. This battle? Meaningless, nothing but useless folly. Everything we've done, the lives you and I have experienced up to now, all of it has been worthless. But for once in my life, I feel something, a calling of my spirit, a desire that moves my body, and I will chase this feeling to its very end."

He was right. There was no winner here, only participants in a lost battle. He and I would die here, and the consequences of our duel would be beyond either of us. There was no reason for us to fight, but for some inexplicable reason, here we stood.

His words echoed within my head, and I felt a wrathful fire flickering to life within me.

"Meaningless, you say?"

I took a step forward, my first aggressive move since we began exchanging words.

I knew it was foolish to engage in a verbal battle with him, but I couldn't help but take in his message. It annoyed me, and I could feel my lips pulling back in a snarl as I bared my fangs at Kotomine.

"Take. It. Back."

"You know it is the truth, Emiya Shirou. You need only see the results of your journey."

His eyes wandered off to the side, past me and into the far distance. His gaze settled on the Tohsaka sisters, cold and gone.

I instinctively stepped into his line of sight, blocking his view of them. "They were not meaningless, you damned priest."

I took another step forward, Excalibur held out in front of me in an unfamiliar two-handed stance.

"They swore to help, but they failed. You were unable to obtain what you were seeking all along, and now you're back to where you started."

I leapt at him, the action bringing a searing pain on my legs as I jumped into the air at him. His Black Keys came up to block my strike, my sword sliding off his easily.

I planted a foot forward and spun, momentum carrying me into a whirlwind of death as black and crimson came around towards the man once again. His weapons crossed over his chest to block, but his guard was hastily made. Excalibur powered through his defense, and while his own swords prevented it from cutting into him, Excalibur still battered into Kotomine with near superhuman strength.

The blow sent him flying, and I made to chase after him but winced as my legs froze in place. It was not a surprise; my bones and muscles had long been worked past the point of no return. It was a miracle they had lasted this long in the first place.

Kotomine recovered quickly, getting up as if expecting another blow. He wiped at the blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth, the dark crimson staining his fingers. I could tell his body was in no better condition than mine. This duel would be a race against time, a test of who could endure the longest.

He pounced at me, his dual blades coming at me from either side. Excalibur swiped at them from left to right. It spoke of my weakened physique that instead of cutting straight through all eight keys, I only managed to bat them aside.

"Ah—hah—"

False. My swing lost power near the end, and two blades had managed to slice my arm. It was an ugly wound, flesh coming apart like ribbons, but it wasn't fatal.

However, with his retaliating blow, he had overextended himself, and I planted a foot onto his chest, kicking him back several meters where he skidded and fell over. I hissed at the fire racing up my right leg; broken bones stabbed into me from within, but the pain was only temporary. If anything, it helped me to focus.

Kotomine got back up, panting and hurt from the way he cradled his chest. His head was down, and his hair shadowed his eyes, but he looked up just enough to fix me with a half-lidded stare.

"I must confess: I have felt something before."

He fully looked up at me, his face in full view.

"You."

"What are you mumbling about now, priest?"

Before I could get an answer, Kotomine lunged at me once again. He was fast, even in his zombie-like state. Steel flashed on my left, and it was only instincts that saved my face from being shredded. His other hand came up to swipe at me only to meet ebony steel, and I quickly jumped away before his unoccupied limp could retaliate.

He didn't bother following up his attack, content to remain between me and the grail. "From our first meeting, I knew I could sense something within you—or perhaps, it is more accurate to say I sensed the lack of something. After your affirmation to be a Master in the war, I knew that I had found someone who also shared the same curse of hollowness as I did. I had thought that your father was the same, but I was wrong. He valued justice above all else, so much so that his pursuit of it left him empty. You, however, are very much different from him. You never had desires or anything to hold dear. In that respect, we are the same. And yet, we both lived through life, merely existing, knowing everything was wrong but still trying to free ourselves from these chains. "

Two steps forward brought me face to face with him, Excalibur rising in an upwards slash that threatened to bisect him from hip to shoulder. He evaded it casually, and my secondary slice that should have cleaved him in two was merely sidestepped as well.

"I've watched you closely over these past few weeks, partly due to my obligation as overseer, partly because of my status as a competing master, but mostly due to my own personal interest. I wanted to see for myself how someone else who shared my condition lived," he confessed.

Ah, so that is why we ran into Lancer so many times.

"It wasn't quite happiness, but I was… satisfied at what I saw, how you went about life aimlessly, yearning to correct the wrongness we've felt since our birth." His smile turned wicked, the image of pleasure looking wrong on his lips. "I saw how you buried yourself in your hypocritical heroism, at how it failed to quench the hunger within. Despite knowing salvation would never be granted to you, you persevered, believing it was right, not knowing any other way of living."

Kotomine went on the offensive, disappearing from my sight in an instant. Suddenly, a flash of color appeared out of the corner of my eye, and I instinctively brought down Excalibur in an overhead chop.

Church garbs were torn in two, but there was no priest underneath it. My blade passed through the harmless cloth, and I only had the time to barely turn my head in the other direction before I felt a scorching pain in my stomach as Kotomine drove his fist into the tender flesh of my torso.

"Haaaah—guh…!"

Spittle and blood flew from my mouth, the force of his punch enough to momentarily launch me in the air. Lightning struck as Kotomine launched me several meters upwards with a swift kick. My vision spun as I freely flew through the air, and upon reaching the apex of my launch, the world came to a brief pause before I descended back down like a comet.

Kotomine stood below me, and I fell invitingly onto his awaiting knee as I felt my organs burst and rupture into paste. His fist came next, and it was only through the faintest of reactions that I managed to bring up Excalibur in a hasty guard, one hand flat against the blade to help defend. His blow landed, the sheer force behind the strike enough to shatter the bones in my shoulders, but I managed to stop him from caving in my skull.

Regardless, I was still sent backwards away from the grail, landing in a crumpled mess. Despite the quaking of my knees, I planted my foot down to the ground and forced myself back up, anticipating a blow that never came as instead Kotomine remained where he was. It was strange of him to give me this moment of reprieve, but I looked into his eyes, and I could feel the slight sense of smugness and satisfaction from the normally stoic man.

"He's enjoying this…?"

Perhaps for a person like Kotomine, this fight must have been liberating. No pretenses to uphold, no lies to maintain, no facades to hide underneath. Underneath the haunting glow of the grail behind him, the true Kotomine Kirei was finally allowed to surface.

"… I must admit. This feels quite cathartic." He slowly walked forward, the sound of his footsteps emanating a certain weight behind it yet somehow feeling as invisible as air, fitting for the man known as Kotomine Kirei. "I am finally able to relieve all his anger and frustration. This envy in my heart… if the world will not give me what I crave, then it can go burn."

I flexed my arms tentatively, groaning at the excruciating pain. That was fine. As long as my limbs worked, that was all that mattered.

"So this is all because you can't be happy? You sound pathetic."

"Do not forget that a large part of this ending is due to you, Emiya Shirou. Your pursuit of happiness led to the full manifestation of the grail. In the end, you lost the one you sacrificed so many people for. All you can do now is cut your losses and see if you can save the world you tossed aside."

I clenched my sword even harder, his words bearing down on me suffocatingly. No, engaging in verbal debates with Kotomine would do nothing to me. He was smarter, and he had years upon years to build his resolve and determination. Not to mention, he was completely correct.

He continued, "Besides, this is also me taking out my anger on you."

Suddenly, his footsteps quickened for a brief moment—had he been at full strength, there would not have been a warning—and the priest disappeared again.

This time, I was ready, and Black Keys flew out from the darkness at my face only to be batted aside. I spun on my heel, Excalibur lashing out in a deadly arc to my side just in time. Kotomine jumped back, his forearm bloody and cut. In the last second, his punch had been pulled back, and what should have been a lost arm was only a minor wound.

I clicked my tongue, brows furrowed and lips curled back.

Fire raced up my leg as I darted after him, sword poised at my hip to slash him in half. My sense of pain was still very much there, every instance bringing about even greater heights of agony. That was fine though; it meant I was alive, a reminder I still had to do something in this world.

Clattering of steel resounded throughout the cavern. I clenched my teeth and pushed past his guard, and his last pair of Black Keys shattered like glass. The priest had no more weapons to fight with, forced to use solely his fists. From now on, every strike of mine had to be evaded perfectly, or else the battle would end in an instant.

Unfortunately, my opponent was very much capable of that.

His legs crumpled as he ducked below a horizontal cut that would have cleaved him in two. Barely a fraction of a second passed before he was right in front of me, and my eyes widened briefly before my world exploded in white as Kotomine landed a devastating uppercut. I felt a rush of air before a hand harshly gripped my right hand.

"AHHHH!"

Excalibur clanged on the ground as it fell from my grasp. Kotomine held onto my wrist firmly with no intention of letting go. I may have destroyed his Black Keys, but he had retaliated by breaking my hand and wrist, disarming me in a one fluid motion.

I jumped into the air and spun, using my restrained limb as a pivot. My foot lanced towards his head. It was blocked by his free hand, but it allowed my other leg to rise and kick him under the chin.

He reeled back from the blow, and I launched myself at the dropped sword at his feet. He kicked me in the face in return, determined to not let me arm myself.

I got back up, wiping blood that trailed down my chin. Kotomine put a hand to his chin before sharply twisting, loudly cracking his neck.

I assessed the situation. He and I had both lost our weapons, and seeing how he stood over Excalibur, that fact would not be changing any time soon.

That meant this fight would be decided on martial arts. I could only throw a punch using instinct while Kotomine has had decades to refine his technique. He was also stronger and faster than me by a significant margin. Despite wielding a sword, I had been outmatched beforehand. Now, it was bordering on hopelessness.

"For all this time, I thought I had been alone, suffering in solitude. But then I met you and knowing that there was someone else in this world, struggling and fighting alongside me… perhaps it made the emptiness just a fraction more bearable. You can imagine how I felt then when you had succeeded where I had failed. You had found it, that something," he hissed, acid spitting from his lips as his mouth curled into a snarl. His eyes brimmed with hatred and anger, and his fists clenched hard enough to show the whites of his knuckles. "Something to fill in the void, not with malice or evil but with love. Something genuine and beautiful, a wish so radiant and bright that no one could scorn it. I could see the light in your eyes shining brighter by the day while mine remained dull and vacant. Your ears were filled with sincere vows of love and hope while mine could only hear the eternal whispers of evil. I could see your soul dancing jubilantly and triumphantly through your eyes while my heart has never even skipped a beat. It was a betrayal of the highest degree, the betrayal of oneself. To have someone who could finally understand me fly away from my grasp, bestowed a gift that I could never receive, it was utterly heart wrenching. The anger and loathing I felt towards you and myself during the war, I had never felt such emotions in my life."

He walked towards me, and suddenly I was being held up in his grasp by the collar of my shirt. I laid limp, unsure of how to process exactly what I was hearing. He raised me until our eyes were level, where I could see his blackened eyes, tainted by the grail, burrowing into my soul.

He pulled me closer, and our faces were near enough that I could feel his cold, dead breath on my face. It reeked of death, like a decomposing corpse let out in the sun. It was vile, giving off a stench of wrongness.

"To see you, Emiya Shirou, to see you writhing around in agony and misery, to bear witness to your failures, to have been proven right at the very last moment, at last I feel alive. I must thank you. It was only now that I was able to feel such emotions. You betrayed yourself, and fate responded. This is truly the only fitting end for you."

There was a pregnant silence.

Then finally, a chuckle escaped from my lips, a small gesture of amusement.

It was absurd at how events had unfolded; I could hardly believe what was happening. Regardless, this was reality, and I had no choice but to accept it.

"Perhaps I may have misjudged you, Kotomine." I laughed in his face.

"Hmm?"

I placed a hand onto the arm that held me up. Kotomine's grip was iron, his strength beyond mine, but that didn't matter. I ignored the impossibilities of reality. The constant rumbling or falling debris didn't even register in my mind. The thoughts of the grail or what would come after faded away into nothingness in my mind.

Right now, there was only one thing I could do.

Defeating the enemy in front of me would be Emiya Shirou's last remaining purpose.

"I was wrong about you. You're not some evil mastermind."

My left hand rested on his, snaking between his fingers as I slowly pried myself loose from his grip. His other hand threatened to cave in my skull, but my right hand grabbed onto his wrist. It buckled and shook, but it held, and Kotomine gave a brief expression of surprise as I stopped his blow and continued undoing his hold.

"YOU'RE BATSHIT INSANE!"

Before he could kick my head off, I ripped his arm off me before kicking him in the chest. Kotomine skidded back a few meters, astonished by my show of strength. Registering his opponent was just as motivated as him, he stepped into a martial arts stance.

"It seems like you're finally here, Emiya Shirou. Now, let's settle this."

I could feel it: this would be our last exchange.

I braced myself for the onslaught of fists and kicks that would come. Despite managing to free myself, I was still at a disadvantage. A martial arts contest with Kotomine was suicide. He was still stronger and faster than me.

However, I had one final card to play.

We both stepped forward, muscles coiling and exploding as one step brought both of us into melee range of each other. My left hand was stretched forward into a fist, arcing towards Kotomine's face. His own fist met mine in a violent clash of flesh and bone.

My left hand shattered instantly, the excess force racing up to my shoulder to dislocate it from its joint. Kotomine rammed past my broken guard to slam his hand into my face. The entire left side of my face exploded in pain as knuckles as hard as steel drove itself into my eye. My mind turned to mush as my senses were overwhelmed. My ears rang, and the world blurred into white. A sharp jolt ran through my lower torso, and I felt my stomach rupture like a balloon.

It was fine. I could still move.

My left arm came down in a flash, and the arm that Kotomine had just punched with was now pinned between my own and my torso. There was a loud thud as my feet crashed against the cavern floor, and I saw my tattered and broken reflection, a small glint of metal appearing in the air in front of me.

I snatched the broken remnants of Kotomine's Black Key that I kicked up from the ground, ignoring how the sharp edge dug into my skin. Blood ran down my arm as I held up the crude weapon high over my head. I swung it down like a hammer, and I felt the satisfying pop as steel punctured skin.

I pushed downwards, carving Kotomine's flesh from his face as the makeshift shiv traced a jagged bloody line from his cheek towards his neck. Before I could bathe the both of us in an arterial spray of blood, his free arm came over to block me from gouging out his neck, instead letting me sever the muscles and tendons in his forearm, the priest's shrill screams barely registering in my mind as I made my way down into his chest and out his stomach.

Kotomine's face scrunched together in an agonized expression, his mouth open in a hoarse screech. The back of his hand slammed into my face before he thrusted a palm at my throat. My larynx caved in like paper as I dropped like a bag of rocks, letting go of the weapon and spitting out saliva as I choked back a scream that I couldn't let loose. I laid on the ground, coughing and gagging on air as Kotomine grimaced while holding his torn torso together with one arm to stop his organs from spilling out.

I forced my body back up, strings of willpower pulling my torso and limbs up into a pathetic fighting stance. I curled my ruined fingers into fists, hissing as bone fragments stabbed my body from the inside.

Both of us slowly walked towards each other, neither of our bodies capable of running anymore. We could fall apart at any moment now.

My body was at the brink of collapse, but his was too. Truthfully, I didn't know which one of us was going to die first. Still, I had to fight as if I could hold on forever. I couldn't let thoughts of dying get in the way of what I needed to do.

"Gah—!"

"—Gu, fu…!"

We threw our beaten and destroyed bodies at each other. We were like two madmen; there was now scarcely any technique in our strikes. All we could do was drive our fists forward.

"Ah, Ah—!"

"Gu—nu—!"

Blood flew. The sound of bones breaking upon bones and the feeling of them grinding and gnashing against each other in my body was all I could feel. I could barely breathe. I could barely think. Kotomine had beaten all sense of logic and thought out of me.

Why was I even here?

What did I hope to achieve by coming here?

Didn't I say this battle was meaningless earlier?

My fate was already sealed. Both him and I could disappear at any moment.

So why?

Why was I here?

What did I swear to do?

"Be the hero you were meant to be."

Words echoed in my head. Her name had slipped from my fingers, nothing but a vague recollection of whispered words and mumbles. Her image was flickering in my mind, threatening to fade away to nothingness.

Steel hardened. Resolved gathered. Determination blazed.

Her image was fading, but it was still there. I desperately held onto it like a poor man clutches his coins, that fragile lifeline the last thing separating me from insanity. The vision in my mind cut through the pain and despair, giving me strength in this final, desperate battle.

Emerald orbs that saw everything.

Blonde locks that flowed like liquid gold.

Not just her. There were more. I could hear their whispers in my ear, urging me from across time and space.

That's right. I still had a purpose. I couldn't afford to lose here. Not to him. I had a goal, something worth achieving. Kotomine was simply just mindlessly following his way of life. I had a reason to beat him, a reason to win.

I already failed in saving them. All I could do was honor one final request. There was no reason to live after this. This useless body had to at least try. I had to leave every ounce of my being here.

There was a blur of limbs, fists soaring through the air, loud grunts of pain as we both got hit. We tiredly panted, bringing in preciously small pockets of oxygen before we stepped forward again.

No, that wasn't right. My opponent's eyes matched mine, and I could see the dim glow of purpose in his soul. Something was driving his man, and perhaps the answer laid in his long-winded spiel earlier, but I didn't care about that. I had to crush him and extinguish that fire for good.

My head forcedly twisted as I took a punch straight to my jaw. My right arm connected solidly with his chest. Five digits spread out, my fingers pushing into the gaping open wound on his chest. They dug inside, grabbing a hold of the slab of flesh that was his torse and pulled.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

Muscles and skin tore. Kotomine screamed, the sound only encouraging me to continue as I knew that whatever I was doing was killing him.

His hand came around to grip mine, and the priest threw me off him. I landed barely on my feet, panting heavily. My opponent cradled his injured chest, coughing and breathing erratically as he struggled to recover. Finally gathering the necessary strength, he turned his body and tackled me, his shoulder driving into my sternum and knocking the wind out of me. He poised himself, cocking back his rock-hard fists and lightning-fast legs before sending a flurry of blows at me.

"Tell me: what did you think would happen when you came here?!"

One blow and I couldn't see out of my left eye.

"GAH!"

"Did you think everything was going to magically work out?"

Two blows and I coughed up a disgusting mass of organs and blood.

"Bluh—!"

"Did you think you were some superhero from a story?"

Three blows and my ribcage splintered and cracked like a twig.

"—Ugh..!"

"That you were going to come in here—"

Four blows and I spat out teeth and blood.

"Fu—!"

"—rescue everyone, save the world—"

Five blows and my lungs ruptured and collapsed.

"—, Ah…!"

"—and go have your happy little fairy tale ending?!"

Six blows and I could sense my opponent slowing down.

"Ah, Ah, Ah—Ah…!"

"With such weak resolve? This is the height of arrogance, Emiya Shirou!"

The seventh blow was coming.

Kotomine cocked back his arm, putting everything he had left into one final punch at my face.

He was winning so far. I was completely overwhelmed. My blows were either parried or dodged, and whatever strikes were landed were returned twofold onto me. His punches were devasting, and his kicks could blitz lightning.

I was going to lose. It was the unfortunate truth. The inevitability of this night was cruel. He was stronger than me, and despite both of our dying states, that difference in strength wasn't going to change enough to matter.

But if I didn't move, I would die. It was plain fact. I couldn't stand here and take his hits for nothing. If I was going to win, it would have to be through my own hands.

"This is the end, Emiya Shirou!" Kotomine screamed, and his fist flew towards me. If it landed, my head would explode instantly. There was no guard against his attack. Any defense I could put up would have been broken.

My legs weren't working anymore. I couldn't dodge. I had to strike him first before he could kill me…!

My body still moved.

I wouldn't die here.

This was my final chance. There was nothing left if I missed this opportunity. I had to put all my remaining life into this one miraculous hope…!

My right arm moved, my empty hand lancing towards him. But my reach was too short, and his fist would cave in my skull while I would hit nothing but air.

On the brink of death, my mind was barely working. Through the haze in my mind, a name rose to the surface, fighting through my clouded brain before shining brightly at the top, and a word slipped out of my mouth.

"Sa… ber…"

A bullet shot through the air, wind displaced at supersonic speeds as Excalibur rose from the ground, tracing a length of twilight across the cavern to dart towards Kotomine and I.

THUMP!

The familiar hilt of the sword meatily slapped against my palm as my arm continued its fatal sweep without missing a beat.

The sword's razor-sharp edge sliced through Kotomine's shoulder. The fist that should have crushed my head instead sailed through the air along with Kotomine's right arm, spinning end of end and spraying arterial blood like a fountain.

The priest's eyes widened slightly, and he bore through the pain with an agonized expression before launching an attack with his other arm.

Excalibur moved before I could, and the black blade intercepted the blow before it could land. Kotomine's left hand landed on the ground with a sickening squelch, his arm bisected from the elbow down.

"Ah—Impossible…!"

Get lost. Go to hell.

If I failed here, then everything would have been for naught.

How could I face them in the afterlife if I couldn't defeat him here?

It was a selfish wish. Saving the world? A centuries-old wish? No… All I cared about was completing at least one of the things I had ventured into this cavern for.

"Kotomine—"

I roared from the bottom of my obliterated lungs. He took a step backward, and I followed him with my own. I leveled Excalibur straight at his chest, where I knew his black and tainted heart still beat.

"—Kirei!"

I thrusted Excalibur forward. My strike hit true, the edge of darkness biting into Kotomine's chest. I pushed through, piercing through bone and organs and muscle, skewering the priest's corrupted heart before Excalibur exploded out of his back, dripping dark vile blood. I pressed on further, until the sword's hilt was flush with Kotomine's chest. I let the weapon sit inside of him for a brief moment before I stepped back, pulling out Excalibur with a quick flourish, sending an arc of his dirty blood off to the side.

The priest looked down at the hole in his chest, not too dissimilar to the one his servant had given me on the fateful day. His expression had reverted to his usual muted demeanor, his eyes glazed over in boredom and acceptance. To him, there was no use in denying what had just happened. The reality was as clear as day.

"… So this is how it ends. You were a traitor to the end. You were never alone." His eyes panned down to the sword in my hands, his face and eyes blank and void. Despite his words, there was no bite in his voice. "At least I was able to fulfill my role in the very end. It was brief… but I'm not dissatisfied."

He had lost. An unaccounted factor had been his downfall. As the overseer of the war, it was his responsibility to accept what happened and continue on with his duty.

"This is your victory, Emiya Shirou, if it can even be called that. Go. I suggest you hurry. You have preciously little time."

His delivery was monotone. It was the farthest thing from a congratulatory celebration. We both knew we had already lost the moment we had stood against each other earlier. All of this was for the sake of not losing any more.

"Kotomine…"

"You are the last Master. Go to the Holy Grail and fulfill your wish."

The last Master.

Even now, he found a way to make everything bitter. The man truly pissed me off.

He sounded disinterested, just like when he had introduced me to this war that night. That spark of life I had briefly seen in our fight was gone, and he had reverted to his usual self. Or perhaps the priest had died after imparting his final words.

"Whatever. Rot in hell, you damned priest."

I walked past him without another word.

Correction: I dragged my legs towards the grail. My legs no longer functioned properly.

The man didn't so much as lift a finger to stop me. Even if he could, even if he was alive, there was no point.

Before I could completely pass him, I saw his lips curve into a small smirk.

I scoffed.

Bastard.

The crunch of falling rocks and howling of the grail filled the cavern.

Up close, it was even more repulsive than from afar. The feeling of utter wrongness was far more magnified now, an almost primal sensation of unpleasantness hitting my body. Every iota of my being told me to run, to get away from this revolting thing, an instinctual fear engraved in every human.

There was no doubt about it.

This was Angra Mainyu.

The enemy of humanity, malevolence incarnate.

The Zoroastrian God of Evil.

The source of all evil in the world.

I could see the unborn god within the black pillar, its eyes following my every move as I slowly made my way towards it. It was almost magnetic; while I wanted to run away from it, a part of me was attracted to it.

"You too, huh?"

Angra Mainyu was the God of Evil, but before that, it had been just a boy from a village, chosen to bear the evils of humanity for not even his sake, but for the benefit of others. I'm sure he didn't have a choice, never had a say. It was something thrust onto him. He had been chosen for no other reason than because he was there.

It was created to be the greatest evil. The fact that it sought to consume the world, covering it in its sinful grasp, was something I didn't blame it for. It was only fulfilling its duty as humanity's scapegoat, a representation of the darkness they hold deeply in their hearts.

Kotomine had said that it was unfair to assume Angra Mainyu was evil. He had wanted to know the meaning of an unwanted birth, the worth of a worthless life. If it was okay to live despite being different from others, even if one's existence meant destroying and losing everything.

At first, his argument disgusted me, but now… I wasn't so sure.

Was it a crime to live, even if your birth was defective, even if you were unwanted, even if living meant destruction and chaos?

I had pardoned Sakura for her actions, believing in my heart that she never truly wanted any of this, that she was merely suffering from machinations of things beyond her. I had said that she was a good person, one of the purest people I know, and in the end, it was those words that had caused her to take her own life.

But pardoning Sakura and Angra Mainyu meant that I had to pardon Kotomine Kirei as well, the empty man simply doing what he did in order to fill the hole in his heart. Just as Sakura was forced to bear the curse of the Shadow and Angra Mainyu was made to hold to burden of humanity's evils, Kotomine Kirei was an existence that sought only to feel what he could not.

And by extension, what did that make of me as well?

Good.

Evil.

Justice.

Sin.

The terms spiraled around in my head like a jumbled mess. I let them sit on the tip of my tongue, finding their taste all too foreign. What did they even mean? In the past, the answer had seemed so simple but now… it was all so confusing.

But did it even matter?

Good and evil meant nothing to me now.

The justice I believed in disappeared when I decided to save Sakura. The answer I held in my heart vanished when the same person I wanted to save killed herself instead—her own salvation. In the end, Sakura had viewed herself as evil, judging her own worth with her own eyes.

"You were a bad person all along, Sakura." I looked up at the grail, the massive pillar of darkness towering over me. The distorted embryo looks down on me, sensing a change in my resolve. "I shouldn't have said you did nothing wrong. I'm sorry."

I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to agree with those words, but it wasn't my judgement that mattered, only hers.

Excalibur rose, my broken hands holding it in a loose grip. I had no more strength left in my fingers. It was all I could do to hold it up.

"It's okay. I'm a bad person too."

I had committed crimes to follow my own justice. What I thought was my conviction was just an excuse. For once, I wanted to be selfish, to fulfill what my heart longed for. But I already knew that, and I had never exempted myself from my sins, and neither had Sakura from hers. We both judged ourselves guilty but believed the other to be free of such crimes. Ultimately, it was an irreconcilable difference. We were hypocrites, through and through.

I could feel myself slipping away, my consciousness fading in and out. The world around me seemed so faint, colors dimming and lights blurring. I was hanging on by a thread, a fragile strand of sanity that could snap at any moment.

A deep rumble resonated throughout the cavern, no doubt emanating from the blackened catalyst in front of me.

"… It's okay. I'll free you from your burden…"

The Holy Grail must have sensed my resolve and in response, the shaking of the cavern intensified.

Unpleasantness and anger filled my stomach.

The feeling of a thousand insects crawling underneath my skin pervaded my senses.

It was a disgusting thing, a well-intentioned wish twisted into a grotesque shadow. A poor boy forced to carry the burden of all the evils of this world.

The grail continued shaking violently, the tentative calm between us broken. It roared and battered against its vessel, trying to be born into this world.

I would not let it.

How ironic. It craved life despite its sole purpose being to extinguish it.

Its body was not ready yet. It can't come out. By the time it can finish creating a suitable body, I will have already destroyed it.

A cough escaped from my mouth, and the pain sent me down to my knees. From the taste of copper on my lips, I knew that I did not have much longer to live.

My magic circuits had long since been burnt out, the power I had forced through them overpowering their meager capacity.

Tohsaka had once said that to be a magus was to walk with death. Magic beyond my limits would destroy me, she had once reminded. It was a miracle in the first place that I had made it this far.

Nevertheless, I pushed forward.

I was already dead. I had already accepted that fact.

I didn't need to think about what I could or could not do, only what I had to do. Probabilities and impossibilities no longer existed, only a mission and the will to see it through. I had failed earlier and even before that, but here and now… this, I could do.

I moved onward.

I would destroy the grail with every ounce of power remaining in my body. It didn't matter if I was out of energy. Emiya Shirou would simply push beyond his limits to find more strength.

"Are you ready… Saber?"

The true owner of the sword had already passed away. It was just me desperately clinging onto my last memories. Yet through this blade, I could feel just a fraction of her warmth. I let it wash over me, the sensation empowering me in these final moments.

It started out as just a speck of light, barely even perceivable in the darkness. One by one, it multiplied, each dot growing brighter and brighter like fireflies dancing in the night, until the mass of lights swallowed the blade whole.

It was a cozy heat, a fire that didn't burn, exuding a comforting glow that brought forth memories of better times. I could only look at the sword in wonder, confused by the phenomenon before me until my eyes widened at the miracle I was bearing witness to.

The black blade of Excalibur, tainted and corrupted by the Shadow, was slowly losing its ebony edge. Specks of darkness flaked off the weapon before vanishing into air, motes of light slowly but surely purifying the tainted sword.

The shadowy blade was gone, replaced by a length of sunlight illuminating the cavern and piercing the shadow of the grail. Black and scarlet gave way to royal purple and gold, the regal colors adorning the weapon once again.

This was the true Excalibur in all its glory, the favored weapon of the King of Knights, the greatest of all kings. The sword glistened and sparkled in my hands, and I couldn't help the small smile gracing my lips. How could I not? Its light was magnificent, purer than the clearest of waters and more captivating than a thousand sunsets. It was the very same light that blessed the servant of the sword, the woman that I had fallen in love with.

Even from the grave, she was truly extraordinary.

—Let's go.

There was still one final thing for me to do.

I forced my broken fingers tight around the handle, the searing pain of bone knifing into my flesh keeping me grounded into reality. I released the last drops of my magical energy, feeding it into the noble phantasm. At first, it was reluctant, knowing that I would die from it. I poured even more energy into it, my mind set on this method. It finally relented to my insistence, accepting that this was the only way, and drank in my energy, every sip from the blade bringing me closer to death.

Excalibur shone even brighter, its radiant sunlight causing the cavern to quake even harder as Angra Mainyu struggled to break free from the grail.

It was a meager amount. Excalibur could barely be considered charged, the magical energy in it currently merely a drop in the ocean that Saber could have provided. Alas, she was not here, and her weapon would have to make do with me. Regardless, it was sufficient to destroy the evil in front of me.

I took a deep breath.

Names had power. Noble phantasms could only be activated by their owners. Before, I had bypassed that rule, my ability to trace weapons and memories allowing me use invoke their true powers as if I had wielded them originally.

But that was with traced weapons. Excalibur was a divine construct, the most sublime weapon that I have ever held, and it was created not in my mind but handed to me straight from its owner.

And yet somehow, I felt that despite my protests, the sword had accepted me as its wielder, and such a thought would not be an issue.

Its name was on my lips, ready to be called, to put an end to this nightmare.

A slight pause.

I was going to die if I did this, that was a fact. I was going to destroy my mind and soul if I pushed forward.

I didn't mind. It might even be considered a relief.

But would they have wanted me to choose this ending?

The world that I wanted, with everyone here. To save them, I had to save myself as well.

—Impossible.

I had already failed them. There was no saving them, just as there was no saving me.

There was no point in returning from here. I had already lost everything. Whether or not I lived or died was of little consequence.

There was no other way.

"EX—"

I called upon the sword, victory bitter but for certain.

"—CA—"

Golden light swallowed the cavern.

"—LI—"

"I'll be seeing you guys now."

"You're not dying here, Shirou. I'll be the one who shuts down the gate."

Time froze.

Mechanically, arms still poised to strike, and my feet firmly entrenched into the ground, I twisted my torso to look behind me.

She was a fairy. No other words could describe the sight. Her small stature was only highlighted by the snow-white dress she had donned, the elegant cloth hugging her petite frame. In the light of Angra Mainyu behind me, she seemed to glow, her flowing silver hair trailing behind her like a ghost, looking every bit as ethereal as the mysterious little girl I first met in that park playground.

It was an impossibility, a glitch in the world.

"…. Illya?"

The name pierces through the haziness in my mind, her name finding its familiar home on my lips.

Illyasviel should not—could not—be here.

She should have been at home, safe, away from this chaos and destruction. She was perhaps the sole thing I had managed to protect in my life, one success amongst a mountain of failures. I had left her behind to ease my worries, and if all else failed, I at the very least knew that she was safe. In the chaos of the night, she had slipped entirely from my mind, and it was now that she was making her return.

If she was here…

"Illya… what are you doing here?"

She looked at me bewilderedly, a puzzled expression crossing her fair face. "What does it look like? I'm here to save you," she said. Her nonchalant reply only served to widen the growing pit in my stomach even further.

My eyes widened at her words, and I frantically shook my head in disbelief. "No… no… you can't…"

"Because you'll die."

The words go unspoken, the silent message clear between the two siblings.

"And I suppose you can?" Pools of crimson drilled into me, peering and scrutinizing, trying to burrow into the depths of my soul.

"You don't understand. The others… they're gone. I was too weak, and they died because of it. If I don't do this, what can I do?!" I inadvertently roared, immediately regretting my tone at raising my tone towards someone who didn't do anything wrong.

Illyasviel took it in stride, not bothering by my scream, her face as blank as ever.

—No, wait, there was a hint of hurt in those crimson pools, but not at my voice. At something else.

"So the others are gone, then," Illya stated evenly as if she was reciting the morning news.

"Rider saved me against Saber. She threw herself in front of me because I was too slow, too weak. And then Saber… I…—" My voice faltered, words failing me as I recalled the vivid memories prior.

Illya remained stone-faced, her expression unmoved.

"I thew away Rider's sacrifice for nothing… I didn't even save my own servant… and Tohsaka... she was waiting for me that whole time. By the time I got to her… her body was mutilated. I could barely recognize her corpse… But her eyes… I can still see them, telling me how much I failed!"

My knees wobbled before my legs collapsed entirely. I braced my arms, propping my torso up but not finding the will to stand back up. My fingers clenched, my nails digging miniature trenches into the ground as they bled.

"Sakura… I managed to cut off her connection to the grail… but she chose to kill herself anyway… in the end, I couldn't do a single thing!" My fist slammed into the dirt, sharp rock stabbing into my hands and cutting my body further open. "And now you're telling me to let you die too!"

Dainty footsteps became louder, the crunching of rock almost deafening until it stopped in front of me.

"Get up, Shirou."

Her words were blunt, not a trace of emotion within her command. But the harsh response jolted my body, and my legs straightened on their own as I rose from the ground. I stood back up, my back slouched and my head down, but I was standing regardless. I towered over the girl in front of me, but her presence dwarfed mine as her red gaze pinned me underneath those eyes.

"Pull yourself together. Don't cry over this. Don't disrespect their memories like that."

Her words hurt. They were like barbed arrows biting into my flesh. I could feel them cutting my spirit into pieces, but while my heart remained heavy, my body moved of its own volition.

"There's time to grieve later. You still have a mission to complete."

I could barely trust my voice, my response weak and pathetic. "… That's why I'm going to be the one to close the grail."

My one task. I couldn't save anyone, so I might as well have made myself useful.

Illyasviel shook her head.

"Did you forget the promise you made to us? The promise you made to me?"

It was a distant memory, a promise made what felt like an eternity ago. The words were jumbled in my head, the oath scattered to the winds of the Earth as they faded into nothingness. But the feelings in my heart, they were buried deep down. Like faint pinpricks in the back of my mind, distant but present, stirred awake by the one who had made them.

"Do you remember? You had sworn to save us all. You can't save us if you are dead. You have to live, for our sakes and yours."

A pang of hurt lanced through my chest as I recalled what had happened earlier.

Rider's sweet smile that showed not an ounce of regret of her sacrifice, only that we could not have spent more time together.

Saber's eyes of gratitude thanking me for everything I had done as she was swallowed by the darkness.

Tohsaka's face twisted in betrayal as the one she waited for never came.

Sakura's cries of lament as she bled out in my arms, questioning why everything had fallen apart.

"Everyone else is gone. There's no one to save, and you're still telling me that I have to save myself…"

It took everything I had to get to this moment. I had carried their memories to this point, not letting myself forget the feelings they had implanted inside of me. The weight of their hopes and dreams had been crushing, but I had persevered. Still, I could feel myself suffocating, slowly but surely being crushed.

Illya looked up at me, a sad, pitying smile on her face as her eyes peered into mine. "It's a selfish wish, I know, but you can't die here, Shirou. Not yet. You said everyone was dead? Did you forget about me? As long as I live and breathe, you can't die yet. Don't go throwing away your life while I'm still here."

She turned around, putting her back to me as she looked forward at the grail. Her silhouette contrasted against its eerie glow, the shadow of her petite stature seemingly larger than the expanse of the cavern itself.

"But you'll die here, so what's the point? I'll just die right after you. This way, I can at least save you," I argued.

My body was battered and broken. Blood poured out of open wounds, and my mind was slowly breaking down. My magical circuits were overloaded and burnt out. My very soul was damaged beyond repair. At least this one, I could save one important person to me.

Illyasviel turned her head half-way towards me, those crimson orbs coolly gazing at me in their periphery. "Like I said, you won't die here. I'll shut down the grail. As for what comes after, well, I'm not too sure—" Illya closed her eyes, her resolve wavering just the slightest bit before they opened once again, newfound determination present in her irises "—but I'm sure you'll find a way."

I smiled a sad smile. "You hope for too much."

Illyasviel shook her head. "If anyone can bring about a miracle, it would be you, Shirou. This world favors you, you know. All of us, we've always been awestruck at how you made things so easy, the impossible possible, bringing about change everywhere you go as if you commanded the winds of fate itself. You're dying, yes. Your soul damaged, yes. But you won't die. Somehow, some way, I can feel it in my heart. You'll pull through."

"… This world… favors me? After all this?"

She didn't make any sense. Just like Saber. Just like Sakura. She was going on about things that time and again were proven wrong to me.

"Do you believe in miracles, Shirou?"

It was a rhetorical question, one she followed up immediately.

"I do. Even with everything I've endured, all the misery I embraced, all the pain I shouldered, all of it was worth it because I met you Shirou."

Her words reached me somehow, yet I was unable to reply.

"I came to Japan to kill you, you know. And now, I'm leaving it to save you. What else could such a funny twist of fate be called?" She let out a melancholic sigh as memories of the past poured into her mind. "All of us, we're destiny's slaves. But you? You're different. You're a slave to nothing. You're free. If it's you, you can reach the end of your story in your own way. That's what I like so much about you."

She smiled and looked at the glowing weapon in my hands. "The miracle you gave me, Shirou—the miracle Saber entrusted to you—perhaps you can be saved as well."

Illya fully turned her body towards me, and I felt miniscule before the weight of her presence. Those scarlet pools peered at me, and in that instant, I knew that she completely believed everything she was saying. There was not an iota of deceit in her eyes, every word itself coming straight from the song of her truth.

"You failed before, but that has nothing to do with anything. Shirou, you resolved to be a Hero of Justice for us, so you must be a hero. You have to live no matter what, for us. No matter what it takes or what you have to sacrifice, this is the only way you can reach that happy ending you yearn for."

She made to speak again, but her words failed to come out of her mouth. Her hands trembled and shook, her fingers clenched in a fist as she recalled memories of times best left forgotten. Her eyes quivered, crimson orbs brimming with tear drops on the cusp of falling before she quickly wiped them away.

"Don't betray me, Shirou. Everyone in my life was a liar and a traitor. Everywhere I turned, it was all liars and fakes. People who wanted to exploit me for their own goals. I was surrounded by enemies. I had no one I could call an ally or friend. At least, until I met you."

Her words echoed clearly in the cavern despite the cacophony of buffeting winds and falling rocks in the cavern. She didn't raise her voice; the air itself carried her message straight to my ears. I could sense the hurt and hatred in her voice as she remembered her powerlessness, the feeling of the world bearing down suffocatingly.

"You changed that. I came here to kill you, but what I found wasn't some traitorous bastard child, but an empty person just trying to live. I pitied you, and I thought to myself, 'There's no way this is who I was abandoned for'. Then you started to learn how to be human, and I could finally see if maybe then you would reveal yourself to me."

Her voice softened, her expression vulnerable and delicate. I made to raise a hand, to stop her—if it hurt so much, then there was no need—but I could see traces of a small smile on her face, and my arm dropped.

Illyasviel… she needed this. Both for me and for her.

"I didn't know if I could trust you at first. I tried to let down my guard around you, to see if you would take advantage of me just like everyone before you, but you never did. You never saw me as an enemy or a tool or anything. You never really saw me as Illyasviel von Einzbern, master of the Holy Grail War. Only Illya, just a girl you met at a park. And it was after realizing that fact that I fell apart. You shattered me, tainting me with your song of miracles, showing me visions of truth and worlds of impossibilities. Just like Saber and Rin and Sakura and Rider, you broke me, bit by bit over time, until I couldn't help but be swayed by your tune. That's how I feel, and that's how everyone else felt too."

Illya steeled herself, shaking away the chaotic emotions in her heart. "So no, you can't die here. Don't make me an idiot for putting my faith in another person. I trust you with all my heart. Please don't go breaking it. This is your blessing as well as your curse."

She looked back at me, sorrow shimmering on the surface of her eyes before they hardened over in determination. Firm and resolute. Orbs of scarlet that would not budge. I would know; I had seen those same eyes before on myself. I knew there was no convincing her out of her decision. But every fiber of my being protested her choice, my very soul screaming out to stop her.

"… You know I can't just let you toss your life away, right?"

She smiled, anticipating my words. "I wouldn't expect anything else. But you don't seem to understand: my life was already forfeit. I'm going to die anyway. I might as well die on my own terms, saving the one I love."

Wait, what—

"You're going to… die…?" The words slipped out of my mouth, my brain unable to comprehend what I had uttered. The sound of something hitting the ground filled the silence before I realized it was the sound of my legs collapsing and my knees crashing on rock.

She gave me a smile tinged with sadness. "The Einzberns wanted the ultimate master. One that would win for certain. One that would not disobey them. They changed me, making me suffer, all for the sake of the grail. At best, I would have a year or two from now to live. But the time would be spent without you, so it would not be a life worth anything. Just mere empty experiences, no memories of worth. If that's the case, I'd rather die here."

My heart throbbed at her confession, and I clenched a fist, waves of anger and betrayal running through my body. "And why did you never tell me this? If you were going to die anyway…"

Then she never could have been saved.

The realization hurt. I had failed before I had even begun. There was no future where I could have saved everyone. All this time, my efforts had been in futility, and the dream I wanted to reach so desperately had always been out of my reach.

"I didn't want you to pity me. I just wanted you to treat me like a normal girl. Whatever was between us, I wanted it to be genuine. I didn't want any deceit, but I guess it was me who messed it up at the start," she admitted. "Well, it's fine. You forgot about me and our promise earlier. I guess we're bound to hurt each other one way or another. That's just the way things are, I suppose. Even still, I want to save you Shirou."

Her words echoed within me, resonating with the wish I held closest to my heart. But it was the exact reason that she and I couldn't ever agree on this matter. I could hear the slow, rhythmic sound of her walking away,

"… Wait…" My voice came out like a feeble whisper. I braced myself, planting one foot in front of me. My knee buckled and shuddered, but I managed to keep my balance. I stabbed Excalibur into the ground, using it as a cane to prop myself up. My other arm rose weakly, reaching out to stop the girl.

The pitter patter of her footsteps stopped, and my heart rose that maybe she had come to her senses. But then her hands balled into fists, her shoulders trembling in silent frustration. She twisted around, and I felt a void open in my chest at her expression. Her pale albino face was flushed red, and a rainfall of tears spilled free from her crimson orbs, her repressed emotions finally flooding out.

"Shirou, do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want to die? Do you think I want to throw my life away?"

My eyes widened in surprise at her barely restrained anger, and my words died in my throat. What came out instead was feeble and hesitant. "Then don't…. You have a choice, Illya… Don't do this."

"Choice," she hissed. Baleful red eyes glared at me, and I paused at the maelstrom of emotions radiating from the small girl. "Don't talk to me about choice. I never had a choice. I never had the chance to do something I wanted. I never had my choice matter."

Just like before. My selfish intentions were hurting the ones I loved. Just like with Sakura, and now with Illyasviel. But I pressed on nonetheless. "I've giving you a choice now. Just run away and leave this to me."

"Do you even hear yourself?! How could I possibly do that?!" Her lips curled back in a snarl, and her magical output increased as blades of wind viciously swirled around her. "How could you tell me to leave you here, after everything you've done for me?! After everything we've been through?! You would have me leave you here to die when I can finally do something?!"

Her anger rose with each word, her fury evident with each scathing remark. Her long flowing white hair whipped around her, and the ground around her splintered and cracked as tendrils of prana lashed out. Sharp winds buffeted me, and small shards of rock sliced my body with shallow cuts. I involuntarily stepped back, only realizing my mistake after the fact and made to walk towards her.

It was reminiscent of my first encounter with Sakura's darkened self. She had been as silent as a ghost, almost a glitch in the fabric of reality, but her mere presence had sent shivers down my spine.

Waves of palpable suffocating rage radiated from the small girl, twisting the air around her into a miniature maelstrom, the girl in its center looking every bit the image of an enraged witch. Just as I feared she would unleash her pent-up energy, the violent storm of energy around her dissipated, and Illyasviel's body went slack as her anger subsided as quickly as it had appeared. She looked down, a long curtain of white obscuring her face, but her voice reached me nonetheless, a quiet whisper amidst the howls of the grail.

"I… I finally have a choice. I finally have the chance to do something that matters. It's a terrible choice, yes. I want nothing more than to stay here with you, replacing all these painful memories of loneliness and suffering with happy ones of you. But sometimes we have to choose the better of two bad decisions, and sometimes a choice isn't really a choice. Even though I'm a homunculus, this is a choice I'm making purely out of my own free will. Not as a tool for others. Not as a toy to play with, but as a human being, as Illya." Her eyes lingered on mine, each moment agonizingly stretched out to infinity, before finally drawing away, and Illya turned and resumed her walk.

It was no use. Illya wanted this. Her resolve was greater than mine. Neither of us ever had anything in our hands up to now in our lives.

The rumbling of the cavern increased. Boulders the size of men fell all around us, each one more than capable of crushing me into paste. The shaking of the cavern was like an earthquake, and I fell to the ground as the ground shook and rumbled. The aura of evil was at its peak now, and my chest tightened at the sheer wrongness that exuded from the grail.

Angra Mainyu was coming.

A particularly strong shake destroyed my balance, knocking me off my feet and sending my pathetically sprawling on the ground. I got onto my knees, and another earthquake brought to back to meet the sharp, rocky floor. Excalibur fell from my grasp, fingers weakly grasping at the weapon out of my reach.

Illya looked like she barely noticed, remaining standing and giving the large black prison a blank stare out of the corner of her eye, regarding it impassively with a hint of annoyance as if it was a minor nuisance. "I suppose it's time. The grail isn't going to wait much longer. I guess—" she hesitated "—this is our goodbye."

She looked like she had more to say, but she bit her tongue, her eyes holding my gaze for a few more lengthy moments before she pulled away. She spun on her heels, her dress fluttering behind her like the cape of a superhero. Her stance was rigid and strong, unwavering and unfaltering despite the monumental task ahead of her—to sacrifice her own life and defeat a god. The quaking of the grail and the maleficent aura radiating from it didn't deter her at all, and in that moment, I knew who was the stronger one between us.

I paused.

Everything made sense.

Illya said she was going to die. There was a slim chance I could still survive. Logically, it made sense for her to be the sacrifice.

I hated it.

It elicited an ugly feeling in my soul, a sense of hopelessness that I've felt over and over and over.

Another person I loved was going to die.

It made me seethe in frustration and anger.

—I paused.

Why did I come here?

Just to sit around and watch?

To watch as the last person I hold dear toss her life away for me?

No, that couldn't be it.

Shirou Emiya would not idly sit by when there was something he could do – even there if there was nothing he could do.

I came here to save the ones I loved.

A simple, dying wish, one that I still held on to.

—Then there was no reason to think about it anymore.

My body forced itself back onto its feet, like a marionette pulled up by its strings. Legs broken over a dozen times over creaked and screamed at its joints harshly grated upon itself, broken bones and torn ligaments roughly sliding against each other to move the dead body. Bloody fingers reached for the blade beside it, stabbing the weapon into the ground and using the blackened holy sword as a crutch. An ugly sound came from my body as I pushed myself fully onto my feet, groaning in agony as I slowly chased after the girl in front of me.

Illya turned back around, her eyes displaying not a single iota of surprise, instead showing equal parts sadness and acceptance tinged with another emotion I could not decipher. She reached up into her hair, dainty fingers plucking out two delicate strands of white. They floated through the air, slowly descending until Illya muttered a spell, and suddenly they morphed into her favored wireframe birds. A few strands of magical wire shot out, wrapping themselves around my wrists and ensnaring my arms. The magical wire dug into my skin, not cutting into the flesh as I knew they could but serving only to imprison the one they were attached to. They flew backwards, pulling me towards them, and it was all I could do to resist them, effectively immobilizing and keeping me in place.

"Damn it!" I pulled and tugged, but in my weakened state, I couldn't manage to free myself from Illya's trap. I barely managed to keep Excalibur in my grip, and I whipped my head towards Illya, my eyes wide in panic and frustration. "You'd go this far?!"

"Sorry, but this is for the best. The world is cruel, making me do this, but this is the only way to save you," she said sadly.

"Save me?! You're going to die! Doesn't that mean anything to you?! Don't you want to live?!"

Illya shook her head. "Living without you would simply not be worth it. This is just the logical course of action. And besides, I'm not really going to die. Not in the way that truly matters, at least. I was saved in the end. This is just my way of repaying that."

My hand clenched around Excalibur. I brought its sharp edge closer to the strings, my arms trembling as I excruciatingly came closer and closer to cutting the infuriating trap.

Suddenly, the unbearably small distance between the sword and string widened, and I sharply gasped in surprise as I felt an immense force pulling back against my right arm, one even greater than the magical constructs I was fighting against. My right arm was spread wide, and it took a moment to realize just where the new resistance was coming from.

"… Saber… you would…?"

Red eyes closed in finality as the result was decided at last.

"Thank you, Saber. I'll do my part as well."

My vision was filled with Illya's turned back, the final battle between us ending in her victory as she walked away. She held out her hands, a ball of light appearing in her grasp, a shining star in the pitch-black darkness.

"The point of living is to not leave behind any regrets. Even if it's all meaningless, even if you achieve nothing. As long as you love being alive, that's all that matters. And yet, people are like moths, eternally chasing the flame of gods and deities, unknowing that true salvation comes from within, but this light I hold in my hands is my very own." The star grew bigger, its harsh blinding light almost engulfing the girl.

I screamed myself hoarse out in anger.

Anger at the unfairness of it all.

Anger at the world.

Anger at myself.

I kept screaming, but my voice had already failed, nothing coming out of my mouth except for pathetic croaks.

"Hey Shirou, why do people live?" Illyasviel asked. "In the depths of that castle, that question was something that I constantly thought of. What did I do wrong? Why did I bear all this pain? What was the point of anything? Why not just end it all? I thought I knew the truth, and I let something evil and sinister be my answer—" her eyes darkened in regret and shame before they shone once again "—but you showed me the way. The reason why people cherish their lives and the ones around them with smiles on their faces—I forgot it was for something so simple."

I didn't care. All I wanted was to save her.

"Shirou, do you know what you have been entrusted with?"

The weight in my hands felt heavier at her words.

"You don't have to answer right now, but until you can find your answer, never stop moving. Agonize and think. That's your duty as a hero—to reach the end of your story in your own way."

What? What the hell was she talking about? What bullshit was she saying? What was more important than the present? Why couldn't she let me save her?

Illyasviel sighed wistfully. "It wasn't so bad after all. I'm glad I met you and everyone else. I wished it could have been for longer, but that's just the way things are."

"If that's how you feel, then don't do, idiot."

But my thoughts remained unspoken, and all I could do was watch helplessly.

"You said you'd protect me because the older brother protects his younger sister. But I'm the older sister, so I have to protect my younger brother."

I raged against my chains, a rainfall of tears flooding my eyes despite having thought of them empty and dried.

"It's just a fleeting hope… but maybe since we're family, I can create my own miracles as well."

And there, finally, amidst the light, I saw it: the flutter of her white hair as she looked over her shoulder for one final time, showing me the last smile of a girl free of regret.

"Hey Shirou, in your next life, remember us, remember me, would you? I hope you finally find your own happiness. But for now, this is goodbye. Thank you… for everything,"

Illya smiled goodbye.

"I love you, Shirou."

And light consumed the world.

In that moment, there existed two wishes.

One wanted to live happily in a world with the one she loved most.

The other wanted a world in which the one she loved most lived happily.

But the world was cruel, and destiny was as harsh as it was immutable.

However, the wishes were not made by any two ordinary girls.

The first wish was heard by the world, a plea to rewrite history so her savior could be saved. She sought to make the impossible possible, to change the course of fate in order to create the ending she desired. But her request was too much, and the wheels of fate she wanted to overthrow continued to turn unhampered. In the face of destiny, her powers were but a cog, unable to change anything.

It was a sad thing, an unfulfilled wish.

But through space and time, a similar hope was shared.

She wanted a world where her hero could attain the happiness that had always eluded him. Uncaring for anything else or even her own desires, she poured her heartfelt plea into that one wish.

She knew it was a fleeting hope, and she knew that she was praying for an impossible miracle, but she had to try.

The blood of magi ran in her veins, and the essence of magic sat at her fingertips, but despite all her gifts, the one who made such a desperate request was not the supernatural magician she was known as, but a simple, ordinary girl—a sister who wanted nothing more than her brother's happiness.

And despite all odds, she kept her promise. Even though they were family only by name, she too was able to weave together a miracle.

Illyasviel made a wish, and the grail answered.

Even though it was corrupted, the holy grail was still a wish-granting device. Despite the presence of the spirit inside of it, it could not deny its nature—to fulfill the desires of those around it. While it may realize those wishes indirectly, the end result is still the actualization of the wish.

Reality unraveled and twisted.

Space and time warped and bent.

And through it all, a singular, lonely existence made its way through the rift.

A single spark could ignite a firestorm.

A single wish could move the world.

And a single soul could change fate itself.

Like a raindrop falling into the ocean, Emiya Shirou joined the sea of souls of a world unknown to him.

The flap of a butterfly's wings, so small and menial in nature, could eventually become a storm that swallows the world.

History has always been dictated by the small actions of the many culminating into an upsurge of change that could alter the course of destiny itself.

But Emiya Shirou had always been an exception, and the addition of his existence to the world was akin to a meteor landing onto an ocean.

The sea of destiny quaked and raged in stormy turmoil and chaos as the giant waves made by his birth swallowed anything and everything. The threads of fate that governed the world and its people were severed and twisted, uprooting the foundations of reality itself. The story of a world whose history was gradually shifted over time by the mere addition of one man was blotted out and overwritten.

For better or worse, the birth of Emiya Shirou upset the fragile balance of the world that had been so delicately maintained.

"ILLYA!"

Previously closed eye lids snapped open, revealing the distressed amber orbs that laid beneath only to immediately close. I tentatively opened them again, fighting back a wince as an abrupt influx of light blinded my vision.

"—Where?"

I looked around for the white-haired girl, trying to stop her before it was too late.

Or rather, I tried to look around.

My head felt abnormally heavy, and my neck struggled to pivot the hefty weight. Through my partially obscured eyes, I could see I was no longer in the depths of the cavern that held the grail but in some sort of room, looking up at a rather plain-looking ceiling.

I placed my arm on the ground, pushing myself upright, but my efforts were in vain. In a split second, my strength failed me, and my back met some sort of cushion. I tried to swing my legs beneath me to spring myself upwards, but my body felt far too sluggish for such a maneuver. All I could manage was uselessly flailing my legs in the air.

It felt almost like paralysis. I couldn't really move except for minor movements of my extremities.

"Look! Paul, he's already talking!"

"He's quite a feisty one too. Not even crying. You can definitely tell he's my son."

Voices pervaded the air, though they were slightly jumbled. Blurred colored shapes were at the edges of my vision, going in and out of my periphery. I had to actively focus on the words in order to comprehend what they were saying. Now that I thought about it, my outcry earlier had also sounded strange, almost as if my vocal cords were unable to produce the sounds I wanted.

The light finally subsided as my eyes adjusted, and by almost throwing my head to the side, I could finally see what was going on.

Above me were two people. One was a well-built man with brown hair and green eyes. His hair was cut short, but a long ponytail was draped over his shoulders. He wore a white tunic that displayed a hint of the muscular chest underneath. He had an awkward yet gentle smile that showed his joy, but his physique and unmistakable glint in his eyes betrayed his character – he was a warrior, an experienced one at that.

However, I was far more interested in the figure next to him. She was a young woman, and her beauty was obvious at even the slightest of glances. Rich blonde hair framed her angelic face, complete with a bun, and deep blue eyes made sure any man kept their gazes firmly on her. Like the man next to her, she wore an old-fashioned top – a red tunic beneath a white corset.

However, her beauty was not the reason I was so focused on her. The resemblance was only in passing – any somewhat close inspection bellied the truth, especially the eye color – yet with her blonde hair, bun, and ahoge, she looked just similar enough to Saber that I had to look once again.

Saber.

Yet another reminder of my failures.

"Paul, he talked again! Oh, my baby boy is so smart!

Strange, did I accidentally say that aloud?

In sharp contrast with my angsty thoughts, the woman was particularly enthused by my words.

Wait, baby?

I brought my hands to my face, and two small pudgy hands connected to equally chubby arms greeted me. I tried to crane my head downward to see my legs, but like before, it would not obey me. If I was truly a baby, then it made sense – my neck would be too weak to be able to support the movement of my head. Thinking a bit deeper, I could tell I was in the woman's arms, wrapped up in some cloth, and my head was being supported by what felt like her hand.

"He's already so curious. I think that's a sign that he's going to be a smart boy, I heard."

The woman hummed in approval and started to gently rock me. Normally, the motion would be enough to lull any ordinary baby to sleep, but no amount of rocking could possibly quell the sheer number of thoughts going through my mind.

"Come on, say 'Dadda'!"

"No! Say 'Momma' first!"

I took a deep breath, and I could notice my heartbeat steadying as my panic died down.

Rin always said I needed to use my head more. Like a machine, as she had so kindly put several times before.

I had to approach this situation carefully.

First, it seemed that I was reborn. Specifically, I was a baby. Aside from the woman's words, who I assumed to be my mother judging from the way she held and talked to me, my poor motor control and mental capacity could be attributed to my undeveloped body and mind. Even analyzing the facts in this manner took far more concentration and effort than it should have.

My second conclusion was even more far-fetched: I either traveled back in time or was in another world. The man and woman's clothing were old, more befitting of medieval Europe than modern-day Japan. In addition, the mana in the air was thick, far more plentiful than Fuyuki. Thick and different as well, enough so that even a third-rate magus such as me could notice the difference. Either we were in a time period such as the Age of the Gods, or we were in another world where magic had not deteriorated significantly.

My head already hurt from thinking so much, but I persevered. If either of those two ideas were true, then I had left Fuyuki behind.

More specifically, I had left Illya behind.

The memories were still fresh in my mind.

Her long lustrous white hair billowing in the wind. Her determined march towards the grail. Her admittance of being my older sister. Her final warm smile as the light of the grail swallowed us both.

The scenes left a bitter taste in my mouth, and what felt like bile rose up my throat before I swallowed it back down. I let my head drop, the fresh feeling of defeat and failure sapping all energy out of me.

I failed.

It was an indisputable, immutable, undeniable fact.

Weak.

That's what I was.

We had a plan, one that carefully hinged upon perfect execution between Tohsaka, Rider, and I. Go in, defeat Saber, use Rule Breaker to sever the connection between her and Sakura, do the same to isolate Sakura from the grail, and destroy the damned artifact once and for all. Truthfully, we had all anticipated the battle between Saber and us to the precipice upon which the results of the night depended on. When Tohsaka had gone ahead to Sakura, trusting me to meet her later, I was hesitant but acquiesced nonetheless.

No, that wasn't it. I simply failed to live up to her expectations. It had been my honeyed words and soothing promises that caused this mess in the first place. It was me who had deceived and betrayed her.

I had been unable to defeat Saber by myself, forcing Rider to sacrifice herself to create an opening.

I couldn't beat Saber without killing her.

Tohsaka had been left waiting for too long for my arrival and was killed.

Sakura's grief had consumed her, perhaps long before that night.

Illya had been the one to shut down the grail in the end, paying for it with her life.

All people I had promised to protect and save. All people who died for my uselessness.

I lifted an arm, flexing my pudgy fingers, reaching for… something.

What was the point of saving me? There was nothing left for Emiya Shirou. Illya had said that a life without me was meaningless, but the opposite was true for me: a life without her—without them—was not a life at all.

Just mere existence, nothing but a machine.

But regardless, she had given me another chance, as useless as it was.

"What have you been entrusted with?

My thoughts lingered on her last words to me.

Going against my wishes at the cost of her life, she had manifested a miracle with her own two hands. This life of mine was hers as it was mine. It wasn't mine to simply throw away. It would have made her sacrifice meaningless.

No—their sacrifices.

That's right. They had died for me. I owed them everything, soul and all.

"Remember us. Remember me."

Their memories shone like gold within me. They were my greatest treasure, the only thing I had been allowed to keep in this new life. It was a precious thing, so fragile and ephemeral yet the weight of its presence was the only thing that felt real.

They had passed away, yet I could still feel them by my side.

Alone but together.

As long as I lived, as long as I carried their dreams and wishes within me, in a way, they were never truly gone.

But the pain of their absence and the ache of longing still hurt all the same.

"Reach the end of your story in your own way."

Illya wanted me to find my own answer—to scrutinize and agonize over my ideals. Is that why I was in a brand-new world—so I could start over from the beginning?

To be a Hero of Justice.

The ideals I had thrown away once again resurfaced within me.

I had discarded them at one point, believing that I had found my answer—of what is meant to be a true hero—but that path led to nothing but tragedy.

Now here I was, alone with nothing except for a world of memories.

"Be the hero you were meant to be."

I recalled Saber's parting message to me. She had entrusted me with her sword, knowing the burden I already carried yet still trusting such a treasure to me. In her final moments, she wanted nothing more than for me to be a hero.

Had she known all along that things would turn out this way?

Is that why she did what she did? Is this what she wanted for me?

Regardless, it didn't matter.

In the end, there was no running from destiny. Fate would simply not allow it.

I was supposed to have forsaken my ideals, and yet they seemed to have found their way back to me. The most beautiful of lies but a lie no less.

"I'll do it. I'll be a hero."

They had given me one last chance to make things right. If that was truly what I had entrusted with, then there was no other choice left for me.

I've been entrusted with a dream, the dream of many others. I thought it would only last one lifetime, but it seemed I would have to carry this weight in this new life as well. I had to see it through, all the way to the end, wherever it might be.

One way or another, in this life or the next, Emiya Shirou would become a sword.

And when I do, when I finally reach the end of this path… would I finally be free?

Chapter Text

Was it strange that I accepted my current circumstances so easily?

Most people would've been unaccepting, frustrated, confused, shell-shocked, or some combination of all those feelings. After all, for most people, sudden reincarnation was something not remotely in the realm of possibility, a magic among magics even to the denizens of the moonlit world. The chance to start over anew, in a world completely different than the last… it was an interesting prospect.

For most, they would have been plotting on a way to return home. I couldn't blame them; the chance to start from a blank slate was a both blessing and a curse. Friends, family, material possessions, status and fame, all that and more would have been lost in a new life. It would have been horrifying, having everything taken away from you. It would not have been easy to toss away how many years of life, with all its highs and lows, just to start afresh in unfamiliar circumstances.

Then there was the other group, the people who savored a second chance. The potential to start anew also brought with it a wave of new possibilities. No longer would they be constrained to the chains of the past nor have their present haunted by previous crimes or mistakes. As people say, where one door closes, another opens, and these people who would have gladly run through that opening and into the light. Sometimes, a second chance was all someone needed, the most stubborn of seeds germinating into the most beautiful flowers in new soil.

If that was the case, then where did that leave me?

Someone who had nothing left to lose in their previous life but had no need for a second chance. As always, I was always the exception, something that had been time and again been drilled into me. Admittedly, leaving Fuyuki behind left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth. Issei was a valued friend, and many were the lunch periods we spent together, chatting amicably and running around the school fulfilling repair requests. Taiga was also someone I held dear. Her childish personality was only a façade for the caring, responsible woman that laid underneath. In the wake of Kiritsugu's death, she had taken it upon herself to be my guardian, and those years of care and company were a debt I could never hope to repay.

Not that I could now anyway.

There was a slight ache, yes. But that was all it was, a minor nagging in the back of my mind. To put it in simple terms, a world without them was a world I had no need to live in. Some might say it was a bit dramatic, forgoing any opportunity to find another spark to ignite the flames within my heart. However, for 17 years, I had lived hollow and empty, each day passing on the same was the one before—the life of a machine, endlessly repeating its programmed function over and over. It was only on that fateful day, when I gazed up to orbs of emerald shimmering in the moonlight, that my life truly started. While there was no way I could disregard Issei and Taiga's effects on me – doing so would be spitting upon their memory – it didn't quite feel right to go back. Perhaps I was hiding out of shame, regret at what had happened and what I had done, but then again, I scarcely knew what anything was nowadays.

However, just because I had no desire to return to Earth didn't mean I was glad to have been given this new life either. That's the thing with second chances—they gave one the hope to try something new, to be better.

But I already had my second chance. It turned into nothing but ashes in the wind in that cavern alongside my third, fourth, fifth, and sixth chances. What right did I have to ask for another? No, even before that—did I even want one? When I already knew what awaited me down that path?

Maybe that's why I was content to play my role for now. Or perhaps "accepting" was the correct word—after all, to be content implied satisfaction, something that was not true. And if I played my part diligently enough in this new life, then perhaps there was a sliver of a chance that I could meet them again in whatever afterlife awaited us. And if the only thing waiting for me was the cold, endless expanse of death? So be it—it wouldn't have been much different than a life without them anyway. Someone needed to play the role of a hero anyway, and the world had a tendency to audition me as its sole candidate, my choice not a factor in the machinations of destiny.

Or maybe I was still being melodramatic. The unfortunate thing about reincarnation was that I was reborn as a baby. A fresh, newborn baby, complete with all its quirks and limitations. I was an adult mind in a child's body; I was simply unable to do anything. No training or anything to mold this body into one that could be of use later on. All that left me was meditation. With meditation came time. Plenty of it. Time to synthesize all the memories and experiences I had stored within me. Time to reflect upon the past. And that was the mistake. Sifting through my memories, reliving every precious moment we had shared together, it was a wonderful experience. But reminiscing about the past brought along with it the ache of not having them by my side. It was a vicious cycle, one that fed into itself and exacerbated my sorrows. People said that time healed all wounds, but that was merely an excuse to forget—something I would absolutely never do.

Still, for better or worse, it's been quite some time now. It was hard to tell time in my current state as well as the lack of time-telling devices around me. The home I was in seemed to be fairly basic. Well-furnished but spartan otherwise. There were no signs of technology on the level I was accustomed to; there were no clocks or calendars from what I could see. I mainly used the position of the sun to tell the time. From what I could tell, the day-night cycle of this world seems to be fairly similar, if not identical, to the 24-hour cycle back home.

"Shirou, say, 'Ahhh!'"

I wordlessly opened my mouth, and the woman named Zenith placed the wooden spoon in my mouth, beckoning me to swallow. Of course, since I was actually an adult and not an actual baby, I silently obliged.

The food seemed to be some form of porridge. It made sense: I doubt they had baby formula in these times. However, the taste was fairly lackluster, though I couldn't help but wonder if that was my fault.

"Ahhh, he's so obedient!" the woman in front of me exclaimed. "Though he doesn't seem to like the food…." Zenith trailed off with a somewhat gloomy expression.

The woman in front of me was my mother, though I had a hard time calling her that. I wasn't used to calling someone "mother", and if anyone in my life were to be called my mother, it would be Fuji-nee, though it didn't quite fit. The word simply didn't come out of my mouth nor my mind. Well, it's not as if she was actually my mother—you couldn't give birth to what was already dead, after all, though maybe it would be beneficial of me in the future to refer to her as such, just to play the part of the child I was given. The other part of it was that Zenith was a fairly expressive person, providing much of the warmth and liveliness in the household I was in. While I didn't agree with it, I could recognize her efforts and affection, the constant love she showered me with as radiant as gemstones and far more genuine than anything I deserved.

As she dipped her spoon into the bowl and brought it back out again, I lunged forward with all my might – which didn't amount to much – and closed my mouth around the spoon.

My actions surprised Zenith, causing her to flinch backwards in shock. Unfortunately, her hand followed her arm, and the spoon it held was jerked backwards as well, taking my still-attached head with it.

The result was me toppling over from the sitting position I was being fed from, and my body's poor muscle development could not stop my head from falling downwards, taking my body with it as I fell from the chair, slamming my head against the hard wooden floor.

"Shirou!" Zenith exclaimed.

Perhaps my calculated gesture wasn't so calculated after all.

Truthfully, it wasn't much to worry about. While infants' heads were fairly heavy compared to the rest of the body, making looking around slightly difficult, they were also decently sturdy depending on the area. Thankfully, I had hit myself firmly on the forehead, so any damage would be negligible.

"Oh, Shirou, I'm so sorry!"

Apparently, Zenith didn't think so. She propped me up on a table and held a hand to the wound. Now that our heads were level, I ended up peering into her eyes as she examined the wound. Ocean blue orbs had lost a bit of the luster they once held, and as she inspected the damage, I could see her pupils darting back and forth frantically, the woman being overly paranoid for something so minor. The bruise wasn't particularly bad, so I truly thought it wasn't a concern. Nevertheless, she looked at the ugly purple mark with blatant anxiety.

"Don't worry, I'll fix this."

If anything, the fault was mine. I would've told her so if I could, but in my current state, the best I could do was make a vaguely disapproving noise.

"Let this divine power be as satisfying nourishment, giving one who has lost their strength the strength to rise again – Healing!"

A soft light covered her hand before she placed it on my forehead. My eyes widened as I felt a distinct tingling sensation on my head—Zenith's magical energy flooding my body. It was a strange feeling, someone else's magical energy entering my body. It was a foreign entity, and as such its sudden presence was immediately noticeable. It was an intimate sensation, one that brought with it a flood of memories I would've preferred not remembering. The only thing stopping me from pulling away was the sheer abruptness of it all.

Everyone's magical energy had its own unique magical signature. Tohsaka's had been like a stream of cool, pleasant water, befitting the logical and pragmatic magus. In contrast, Zenith's was like warm, liquid sunlight, and it was that warmth that was now permeating every corner of my body.

Because her energy was melding with my body, I became aware of everything it was touching. Skin, muscles, tendons, bones, nerves, blood vessels—every part of my body suddenly became known to my conscience. It was that awareness that allowed me to gain insight into what Zenith's spell was doing. Muscles and skin—the miniscule amount that was lost or damaged—reknit themselves until it was as if nothing had ever happened. Zenith pulled away her hand, smiling at a job well done as she looked at my unblemished head.

It was a curious thing, her magic. Matter could only be transferred, never created or destroyed, a fact that magic usually followed. Zenith's spell seemed to operate under the same principles, using her magical energy to accelerate the healing process as opposed to outright replacing what had been lost. That made sense: magecraft on Earth had only been able to replicate what science was capable of. Anything else was in the realm of the magics.

"There, all fixed! But you have to be more careful, Shirou," she lightly admonished while patting my head. She smiled, obviously relieved but I could still tell there was something bothering her from the way her shoulders remained tensed. Regardless, my thoughts were more occupied by what had just transpired

It was a good spell but a bit inefficient, if I was being honest. The activation aria was lengthy, and casting the spell in combat could be troublesome. Assuming her aria was for the purposes of self-hypnosis to actualize her magic, it should be shortened to be more usable in any strenuous circumstances. Even more than that, the efficiency of her technique was lacking even with an aria. The flow of magical energy felt… unfocused. I had no doubts Zenith was a skilled healer, but there was a large amount of potential she held that was currently untapped. With some proper guidance and a bit of luck…

Still, the confirmation of magic in this world was good to have. I only had a suspicions and second-hand information to work with up to this point. The mana in the air was plentiful, and a singular glimpse of the sword that Paul carried around with him religiously and delving into the ocean of memories it withheld—careful not to overstep and dive into the man's personal history —revealed that this world had its own system of magic. Surprisingly, or maybe not so, Paul was quite the seasoned adventurer, and he had experienced almost the full breadth of the mysteries of this new world.

It was similar yet different compared to the one I was used to. On the surface level, they seemed almost the same—magicians chanted words to invoke spells to control the elements; warriors bolstered their physical capabilities to achieve superhuman strength and speed; magical creatures and twisted abominations roamed the depths of every corner of the planet.

Well, I wasn't entirely surprised. It was not that I was expecting it, but after my abrupt introduction to the moonlit world that fateful night, the line between fantasy and reality had blurred to the point of nonexistence.

"What happened?" Paul asked from the window. He was leaning against the windowsill from the outside and judging from the thin film of sweat covering him, he was training.

Zenith's smile turned into a small frown. "Shirou fell down from the chair and hit his head."

"Oh, that's it?" Paul's gaze traveled from Zenith to me, and I didn't miss the slight wince in his eyes. "Eh, he's fine," Paul flippantly dismissed with a wave of his hands. "Though he might just be my child if he can keep going after that. But wasn't it your fault, Zenith?"

Zenith's shoulders slumped as she knew she would be stepping into another tiring argument. "Well maybe if you helped me for a change, this wouldn't have happened. Besides, how was I supposed to know he would bite the spoon like that?" she denied with a roll of her eyes.

"You're supposed to be watching him. What happens to him is your responsibility." He propped up his head in his hand, looking boredly at the scene before him. "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway. You can just keep healing him."

"That's not the point, Paul." Paul may not have been able to see it, but I could clearly notice the woman's nails digging into the palm of her hand as she clenched her jaw in frustration, a sharp contrast with Paul's dismissive, almost contemptuous, demeanor.

"It's fine. Maybe he'll grow stronger because of it." With that, the man turned around and walked away from the window to continue his training.

These types of back and forths were fairly typical for them. They reminded me much of the dynamic between Tohsaka and I, though those were far more playful and teasing than what I was currently witnessing. It would have been hard to miss the blatant disrespect laced in Paul's every word or the fatigued frustration dripping from Zenith's responses.

It was a bit unusual. Usually, Zenith was a bit more willing to acquiesce victory in these verbal fights to Paul, the kind woman usually dismissing his words with a drained sigh and mature turn of her cheek, but she was stubbornly holding her ground this time. Maybe it was my injury? Motherly instincts definitely could have provided Zenith with the anger she needed to throw Paul's snark back at him. The bond between parent and child was something not to be underestimated. However, she's been doing this more often lately.

There was something else there, something far uglier and unsightly. It was faint, but its presence was undeniable. The words to describe it escaped me, the answer lying on the tip of my tongue before slipping away from me.

A vision flashed in front of me.

Red and black, the wave of a familiar red cloak, steel orbs judging me from the crest of a desolate hill littered with swords.

Ah, that's what it was.

It was a feeling I was all too familiar with.

When every fiber of your being screamed at you to deny what was in front of you. The need to prove your words right. The almost sinking feeling that maybe you were wrong, that what you believed in was all a lie, but you keep greedily clutching at your answer like a drowning man gulps in the water that eventually kills him.

Zenith wasn't quite there, but I could sense its growth was well under way. The real question was what exactly she was thinking of when she argued with Paul. Without that, I would have no way of helping.

It was my fault, really. I hadn't realized it at first, but I was in a younger version of my old body. One time, I had looked at myself in a mirror while being carried around the house only for golden-brown orbs and hints of auburn hair to greet me. After several months, my hair grew out to a crown of my familiar crimson hair.

However, the issue lied precisely with my resemblance to my past self. Not myself from the grail war but before then, before I met them. The eyes were far duller now, looking less like shining emeralds and more like orbs of copper. The expression looking back at me was blank and empty, not quite looking as innocent as a baby should.

Still, differences aside, one look at myself next to my parents, and the issue was obvious: I looked nothing like them. I had inherited neither Zenith's lustrous blonde nor Paul's rugged brown hair. The pure scarlet strands on my head bellied the genetics of neither parent, so I looked more like one of my parents' distant nephews than their own son. The eyes were another issue: Zenith had striking ocean-blue orbs while Paul sported cool, soothing green eyes. I supposed that my eye color wasn't completely different from Paul's – depending on the lighting, they could even appear the same – but it was distinct enough to raise several questions. In tandem with the hair, and those questions turned into hushed suspicions.

My unique appearance had thrown off my parents. At first, they were willing to overlook it, but as the blatant difference became more and more obvious, what was once easy to deny became a rather heated topic in the household. Some arguments were kept hushed behind closed doors, and some were a bit more… passionate. There were several nights in their bedroom where Paul would angrily yell what Zenith trying so fervently to deny, and I was afraid that I would have to step in at some point for her safety, something I was glad hasn't happened yet.

On the occasions where discussions between the two were as civil and calm as they could be, Paul and Zenith tried their hardest to find a reasonable explanation for why their son looked nothing like his parents, and while reaching for an answer, Paul had ignited the spark that was currently engulfing the poor family: he had accused Zenith of cheating on him.

I couldn't really blame him. After all, it was the woman who carried and birthed the baby. In this situation, only Zenith knew the truth, and Paul, by his choice or otherwise, could only simply hope and give his wife her trust. However, humans are fragile, both emotionally and physically, and relationships are built on honesty and trust. That trust had been worn down little by little over time until it utterly collapsed in that moment. For Paul to accuse his wife of cheating on him is tantamount to him belittling her integrity as a person and the quality of her character. Such an accusation could easily spell the end of any relationship, and the mere fact that they were still together, even if it was only by technicality, was a miracle in itself.

Had Paul really thought it through, he would have realized that his allegation bore no fruit. First, there weren't any people nearby who had my distinctive features. According to Zenith, nobody in the village or from their past adventuring experiences shared the combination of my hair and eyes. As Zenith had pointed out to him, even Paul's distant relatives only had red hair through his cousin's wife, so obviously that didn't work.

Even disregarding who Zenith could have an affair with, there was also the question of when. As Zenith's primary concern, I could attest to this; Zenith didn't really leave the village, and most of her time was spent around or inside of the house. Zenith was a typical housewife, and as such mainly handled the normal wifely duties of cooking and clean alongside the house maid Lilia. Her only free time was spent tending to her garden outside, especially her tree in the yard. It was these points that Lilia brought up when the discussion got a bit too heated for her taste, a rebuttal that Paul couldn't find a response to.

Naturally, the accusation hurt Zenith. Apparently, she was a devout follower of her religion and was fairly conservative, including her views of monogamy. The allegation spat on everything she believed in, calling into question her character, something that trampled upon and spat on the face of their marriage. It was at that moment that Zenith had replied in kind to her husband, attacking him with the same fervor he had, bringing up his womanizing nature and that unlike her, he had plenty of opportunities to have an affair with the frequency of his patrols while she sat at home, taking care of the household he had abandoned.

It was only then by revealing the trust she placed in him despite his questionable past that their argument finally started dying down, and their earlier anger becoming only a mild simmer. There were still small outbursts, especially with Zenith's disrespect towards Paul's occupation as the town knight. Being accused of infidelity when he was risking his life to protect the village from the horde of monsters that plagued the world was an insult to his honor—what little he had.

Regardless, Paul was arguing for the sake of saving face at that point. The night ended with Paul reluctantly apologizing, though I could tell he still harbored doubts. Still, the damage was already done. No amount of apologies could take back the words that were thrown at each other, and no amount of reconciliation could ever completely repair the bond between the two. They could glue the pieces back all they liked, but it would never be the same. For those two, there was no going back—only forward.

After that day, the tension between the two was palpable enough to cut it with a knife. Despite the earlier apologies, their relationship was still on thin ice, and any more pressure could permanently shatter it to pieces. In addition, Paul was also far chillier with me than before. Gone were the times when he would spend minutes on end making silly faces at me. I had made sure to curl my lips upwards in a smile, but I never did laugh – something that probably contributed to the idea that I wasn't his child. His treatment towards me was never harsh, but it didn't exude the warm and caring touch he had before.

His behavior was in stark contrast with Zenith. The poor woman continued raising the child that had caused this split in the first place without a single complaint, affectionately doting on me at every passing moment. It was a testament to her resolve and willpower that she was determined to try and give me as normal a childhood as possible despite the strenuous circumstances in the household. Perhaps it was for that reason that she chose to stay with Paul, prioritizing the stability of a strained marriage over trying to start over from scratch with a freshly born child, even if it meant fulfilling the duties of two parents by herself.

It was a pity that her efforts were ultimately in vain, but I could appreciate her tenacity. It was for that reason that I tried my best to repay her, the earlier display of childish clumsiness being an example of that.

It felt slightly wrong to mislead the woman like this, but ultimately such meaningless gestures were just that—meaningless. If it gave Zenith just a bit more happiness without a cost to me, then the decision seemed logical enough.

Still, there will come a time when I would have to shatter her illusions of me. When that time comes, I wasn't entirely sure how our relationship would proceed. From my perspective, the current arrangement was temporary—something that would eventually have to discard when I embark on the path I committed myself to—and while her endeavor to act as my mother was admirable and heartfelt, in the end, it was unnecessary.

"When did my life become like this?" Zenith sighed, burying her hand in her arms as she slumped over the table in clear exhaustion. I frowned at the effect the domestic quarrel was having on the woman. I wasn't sure how long Zenith could last under this pressure. The woman was strong, yes, but there was only so much someone could take before they fell apart. I doubted I could be of any assistance—current body aside—I just didn't understand her enough to help.

Perhaps Lilia would be able to help. With Zenith and Paul's relationship in disarray, they needed someone to facilitate their reconciliation. I was in no state to do so, physically or mentally, so the responsibility regrettably fell upon Lilia. It bothered me to hope for her intervention for a problem I caused, but that's the way things were.

Pulling herself together, the woman put on a mask of happiness and smiled warmly at me. "Alright Shirou, last one." Zenith placed the last spoonful of food in front of my mouth, which I quickly ate. She wore a pleased expression, but it wasn't quite all there, the woman looking at the empty spoon in her hand with an expression of sadness.

Well, I wasn't sure what was bothering her, but I could still help in certain ways. Hopefully, the lack of difficulty she had in taking care of me could help alleviate some of her stress. Thankfully for her, I was completely aware of myself. The normal difficulties that plagued new mothers should be absent with me. There were no lost nights of sleep due to incessant whining or crying. I ate my food diligently and quickly with no complaint. Ridding myself of bodily waste was easy enough, and by this point I could navigate the house and wash myself with little issue. Understanding the local language and speaking it came naturally as well, so her attempts at teaching me how to speak were actually needless, not that I would tell her that. I assumed it was due to whatever force brought me here in the first place. When my body further develops, I planned on helping out around the household as well in order to further ease Zenith's burdens. Her responsibilities doubled with Paul's absentee behavior, so doing what I could to assist her seemed like a logical choice. I intended for my upbringing to be as easy and straight forward as possible. It was almost transactional—she gave birth to me, as unwanted and unnecessary as it was, and in return I could skip the entire long and painful nurturing phase of a child for her. I couldn't do much about the issues my appearance caused, but I could affect how my behavior affected those around me, which was hopefully only positive.

The only true difficulty I faced as a child was breastfeeding. The nutrients in the milk were essential for the growth of infants. Unfortunately for Zenith, she wasn't feeding a baby who instinctively sought to suck on her breasts, but a young adult. The first time she tried to feed me, I was aghast at what she was doing. It made sense, of course, but it still felt extremely improper to do and was taking advantage of my current appearance. Zenith and I were locked in some kind of showdown with neither of us willing to back down. The confrontation only ended due to Paul's intervention, who forcefully shoved my head onto Zenith while making snide remarks about my sexuality.

"I need to get outside," Zenith admitted with a fatigued sigh. "I'm going to look after the garden for a bit… I won't be gone soon, Shirou." She bent down until her head was almost in line with mine, and I could see her baby blue eyes murky with doubt and resentment. Now that I was this close to her, I could see the skin beneath her eyes drooping and darkening, but I couldn't blame her for having issues sleeping.

The woman's hand came forward before it paused suddenly, her eyes darkening as the appendage hovering tentatively over my head before it finally came down to slowly stroke my hair. The image of self-loathing vanished in an instant, and the distressed woman gave me a hasty kiss on the forehead before turning to the other person in the room. "Lilia, please keep an eye on him."

"Of course, Lady Zenith." Lilia acknowledged, bowing curtly.

With one last glance at me, Zenith left the room, leaving me along with our resident maid.

I glanced at the woman, the gesture immediately causing her to stiffen. I could see her heightened sense of nervousness—the formation of sweat droplets on her brow and dilation of her pupils. The woman was not very subtly looking around the room, eyeing the front door that lead to the outside where Zenith had just exited from like it was an oasis in the desert.

I internally sighed and looked away from the woman. Almost immediately, Lilia relaxed, resuming her professional demeanor and blankly watching me from the corner of the room.

Seriously? This was a bit much.

The woman was normally quite uptight, oozing professionalism and politeness at every single instance of the day. Her interactions with the Greyrats were curt, always showing respect to Zenith and Paul and deferring to them in any possible situations that their authority was required. It wasn't particularly surprising; while she did live with the family and develop some kind of chemistry with the two adults, their relationship was ultimately one of beneficiaries: Lilia worked for money in exchange for her services. Not to say that a friendship was impossible to cultivate between them, but the line between employee and employer is something to carefully tread around. A false move could send one's personal and professional life to the gutters.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. I didn't need to delve into their memories to see the obvious tension between her and Paul. It was plain as day, and it was clear that there was previous history between them. The details of what exactly transpired between the two were unknown to me, due to the lack of a strong bond between the two and myself as well as the lack of a strong enough connection from Paul to his sword.

The other instances of Lilia breaking character seemed to come mainly when she interacted with me. The blatant discomfort earlier was just one example. It wasn't quite fear—the woman was originally hesitant to come near me but had become more amenable to the idea over time—but I could not deny how unnerved she became in my presence. More specifically, it was only when I decided to meet her gaze. Any other time, such as now as she watched over me from her pocket of supposed safety, and she proved to be a capable and reliable aid.

It was slightly irritating. I was trying my best to come off as forgettable as possible, a mere footnote in their lives that could vanish at any moment without being missed. My current behavioral patterns were calculated to reach that end, sculpting the image of a quiet and ordinary child that posed no issues.

Maybe she was more sensitive to my true nature than most. If this world was as magical as I suspected, then it wouldn't be out of the question that she could innately sense the difference between everyone else and I. Alas, that was only conjecture. The two magi that could give a significantly better hypothesis weren't around any longer.

Ah, so many problems. My integration into this new world wasn't nearly as smooth as fiction had made it seem. Perhaps the solution was simply to run away. I was the source of the problem, so naturally, removing me from the household would fix Zenith and Paul's marriage. It was simple mathematics—introducing a new factor only imbalanced the equation, so the proper solution was to remove it. Of course, human emotions didn't work like that. It might take some time, but hopefully, they would have a new child, one they could be proud to call their own, and they would forget all about me.

"Master Shirou, please refrain from going up the stairs. I cannot supervise you up there while continuing my other duties," the maid said. Ah, I was hoping that her discomfort would prevent her from speaking up, but it seemed that the woman was far too professional for that. It was unfortunate; I was hoping to be able to experiment, but with Lilia around, maybe those endeavors would be better suited for another time. "I'll be informing Lady Zenith about this matter as well."

I grimaced at the thought. While I appreciated her sentiments, Zenith was slightly suffocating. Having her watch over me as unnecessary and restrictive, even if her intentions were nothing but pure.

It was also slightly worrying that Lilia was speaking to me as if I was supposed to understand her.

"Ahhh…"

Lilia raised an eyebrow at the guttural noises escaping my mouth, seemingly not convinced at my poor attempt at mimicking typical baby noises.

Perhaps I was not suited to be an actor in this life either, the mask I wore not quite concealing what hid underneath. In any case, it didn't matter too much. As long as I made life as easy as I could for the Greyrats, showing a few signs of intelligence and coordination far beyond my physical age was fine. I couldn't hide it forever, so it was better to control what I would show to the others instead of completely donning the disguise of an ordinary child. With a bit of luck, they might even see me as some sort of prodigious talent, giving me the perfect excuse for my behavior. Whatever they decided, it didn't matter too much. I wasn't going to stick around forever, and as long as I could make the time I did spend here as easy for them as I could, they could rationalize me however they wanted. As long as it was ultimately their decision, that was all that mattered.

So far, Lilia seemed to be the only one that truly harbored suspicions on my true nature. Paul was more doubtful about my familial origins than anything else, and Zenith was too busy blanketing me with motherly affection to notice—no mother in their right mind would accept their child being taken over by another soul, after all.

Seeing that my attempt at escape would be unsuccessful and any further endeavors would only bring more trouble later—trouble in the form on an overbearing woman—I opted to instead focus on my thoughts.

The window Paul had peeked through earlier was still left often, the sounds of steel striking wood and stone a cacophony in the quiet peace of the village. I could sense his sword being swung around in various forms. The man might have been of questionable character, but the skill housed within that sword he held was undeniable. Paul Greyrat was indeed a prodigy, a true genius with the blade. He could only be classified as a generational talent, someone who was born and destined to wield a blade, and despite his questionable work ethic and personality, he was still head and shoulders above even those could be called "elite".

Zenith was on the other side of the house, tending to the garden she had taken to caring for. Perhaps she was looking to let out her motherly instincts on the flora, not finding me sufficient enough to satisfy the maternal desire within her.

Amber eyes snapped open.

Almost immediately, a hand reached out to the side, fingers splayed on the wall next to me.

"Trace, on."

Magical energy coursed through me, channeling through my body to permeate the entire structure of the house I resided in. I filtered out the extraneous information provided to me. I didn't need any history or memories, just the physical components of the building and everything inside of it. With those parameters in mind, I focused on specifying the range of my magecraft to the rooms of the other occupants of the Greyrat household.

"There."

There were three distinct depressions within the beds of the rooms. Two were on the same bed, albeit rather far apart, in the master bedroom across from mine, and the third was in the room further down the hall.

Excellent.

I couldn't sense them directly, but their bodies left enough of a trace that my magecraft told me what I couldn't physically see.

My feet gently plopped onto the floor as silently as a ghost, structural grasp enabling me to find the wooden planks on the floor that wouldn't creak. I nudged the door ajar, exiting my room without a second thought or confirmation. I quickly reached the staircase, my light weight not making the slightest of noises against the squeaky boards, though I made sure to skip the sixth step. Paul never did get around to repairing it, something Zenith had held over him as just another example of his laziness.

The adults upstairs were none the wiser as I reached the bottom and glided the rest of the way to the front door. The heavy, solid wooden door was something no ordinary baby should have been able to move, and yet with only a slight application of magecraft, the large slab of lumber silently pivoted open on its hinges, which I had reinforced to make sure they wouldn't squeak.

I stepped outside, the cold wind of the night biting at my exposed skin. The lightweight tunic I was dressed in was soft and breathable, perfect for sleep attire but providing little protection against the elements. With the distinct chilliness of the air, I could assume it was the autumn season, and that winter would be coming within the next few months. I didn't see anything strange regarding the seasonal cycles from Paul, so the movement of the planets and stars seemed to be similar as to that of Earth's.

I walked down to the other side of the house, eyeing the edge of the forest far in the distance.

"Trace, on."

Twenty-seven magic circuits ignited. I don't know what magic had repaired them, but I was grateful. In a previous life, they had deteriorated due to lack of use. That would not be the case here.

Golden lines briefly flashed on my legs before they disappeared. I bounced on my toes tentatively, feeling my enhanced body in this new life for the first time. I felt lighter, as if I was a leaf that could be blown away in an instant by a stray gust of wind. It was partly due to my infantile body, but also because I was only really able to fully utilize my abilities by the end of the war, years of bad practices and habits fully corrected with the help of Illyasviel and Tohsaka. With their teachings, I was now able to start my training with the correct foundation. Unfortunately, there weren't here any longer, so any new breakthroughs in my abilities would have to come from my own understanding. That was fine—I was content with only regaining my previous skills.

BOOM!

My body exploded forward, the world becoming a blur around me as I ran into the forest far beyond normal human speeds. It wasn't as fast as I had been before, but that would come with time. As the efficiency of my magecraft increased due to experience, it was only my body that would be holding me back in the future. Attaining my previous level of strength was only in inevitability at this point.

I stopped in an instant, wind rushing past me as my feet burrowed shallow channels into the ground. I looked around at the forest around me, the tall trees towering over my short stature. The green canopy of the forest had started turning into a beautiful blend of colors, and leaves had already started falling off the branches.

My stopping point was a small clearing in the dense forest surrounding the village. It was far enough from any prying eyes that could be awake at this hour, so I could exercise my abilities without worry.

I closed my eyes, looking inwards and searching within myself. My soul had transmigrated to this new world, so the blade works housed within it was still present. I could sense the chaos and disorder within the reality marble, the answer I had grasped that allowed me to realize the taboo thaumaturgy having been disturbed and modified. Without actualizing the blade works itself, I couldn't be certain of what had been changed, but as long as it still produced blades, that was good enough for now.

I closed my eyes, reaching within my soul for a specific set of swords. By now, the action was akin to breathing, consuming no real time or effort. I needed only the slightest tug, and they rose to the surface immediately.

Kanshou and Bakuya shimmered into existence, twin lengths of blue light coalescing into solid steel. The familiar falchions shot down from the sky, embedding themselves into the ground in front of me. They were each significantly more than half my height, rendering them unfit to be wielded. I doubt I could pick them without reinforcing myself, and they were far too large to be held in these small hands.

With a single glance, it was clear to anyone that these swords were far from ordinary. Aside from their striking appearance and exotic form, the sheer weight of their existence had an entrancing gravity. What laid in front of me was far more than the imperfect traced versions that Archer had wielded. The ones I traced were a perfect replica of the artifacts that had received the acknowledgement of the gods themselves, an exact mimicry of the weapons Kanshou had painstakingly forged.

I reached out, laying my hand on the cool steel of Bakuya. Short fingers tenderly traced the edge of the blade, the matte white sheen of the sword softly glowing in the rays of moonlight that bathed the clearing.

Unlike a regular sword, Bakuya did not have the typical shine of polished steel. Instead, it was decorated in a murky white, almost akin to the haze of a cloud, reflecting its history perfectly. According to its memories, this sword represented Kanshou's wife, who had thrown herself into the fires of his forge in order to create weapons bolstered by human sacrifice. In his grief, Kanshou had indeed forged weapons that reached the realm of the gods, but they were created with no true purpose in mind, more of a question to the meaning of their existence than anything else.

For someone like me, it was a match made by fate. Just as Kanshou had forged this pair of blades as a question to the world, staining Bakuya in a cloud of white that bellied his uncertainty, I wielded them in search of purpose and direction.

The red knight had stumbled upon them in his journey, captivated by their beauty and craftsmanship, and he had used them as a symbol for his eternal journey as a Counter Guardian. And now they resided within my hands, their previous two owners never having found the answer to the eternal question the blades posed.

White and black.

Light and dark.

Ying and yang.

Loss and gain.

The meaning behind the twin swords was not lost to me. Perhaps this was the Counter Guardian's last wish, to find the answer behind the existence that was Emiya Shirou. Just as Illyasviel had left me with those final words, the crimson knight had departed with one final task for me to complete.

Stepping away from the blades, I channeled more mana to create another projection. Another length of metal flew from the sky, except its edge was only a few inches of double-sided steel. It was fastened to a long piece of solid oak stained by years of countless battles. It was an ordinary spear, completely spartan and conventional in every single way. However, its wielder was a practiced spearman, and he had skewered many foes at the end of its haft. Still, in comparison to the infinite treasures housed within my blade works, it wasn't even a footnote.

More mana coursed through my circuits, and the spear started to shrink and shorten until it looked proportionally correct to my current body. Letting out a slight hum of satisfaction, I grabbed onto it with stubby little fingers, the smaller shaft fitting in my hand.

It might have been a mundane weapon, but even regular arms had their uses. With such an insignificant existence and weight behind the weapon, altering its properties was far easier and less energy-consuming.

I gave the weapon an experimental twirl as wood and steel distorted in a sphere around me. Blades of grass whipped around me as I spun the weapon in my hand, cutting the ground as the steel head flew through the air fast enough to create small gusts of wind.

For all intents and purposes, it was an excellent weapon. It didn't draw much attention, perfect for hiding by more potent abilities.

I let out a burst of mana, imbuing the spear with energy. The weapon launched itself across the clearing like a bullet, impaling a tree on the far side of the glade. I watched as it punched a fist-sized hole in the trunk of the tree, completely passing through the entire diameter of lumber before continuing its flight through the forest. The completely standard spear managed to destroy another three trees before it embedded itself halfway up its shaft on the final obstacle, leaves shook free as the tree wobbled precariously.

I let out a hum of satisfaction at the substantial carnage caused by such a mundane weapon. It seemed that all aspects of my magecraft were working as intended. Tracing and reinforcement, along with their various applications, had not decreased in effectiveness with my reincarnation. If my understanding of thaumaturgy was correct, then my energy capacity and output should also be the same due to having the same soul as in my previous life.

According to Illyasviel, the soul shapes the body. Perhaps that is why my body was the same as before; my soul overrode the physical properties of the body I was born in. It explained the impossible genetics I had inherited instead of the Greyrats. It also meant that I would have a different bodily magical structure than the denizens of this world.

No, that was incorrect. I could feel something within me, something that was not present in my previous life. It was almost like there was another reservoir of mana within me. I couldn't sense it before because I was unaware of it, but now that I captured the sensation, it was hard to ignore. It was like discovering another muscle in your body, something that wasn't there just magically becoming known. Maybe it was a feature of the people here, something that my soul couldn't overwrite.

I frowned.

That explanation wasn't right either. There was something else within me, but I could not figure out what it was.

Oh well, I didn't have time to dwell on this. Not like I could change anything anyway.

One last test then.

I took a deep breath, feeling the cool night air enter my nose before I exhaled it back out. Amber eyes closed, and I furrowed my brows in concentration as I reached within my soul for a specific weapon.

I could sense it. Everything about it was known to me, from its creation to every battle it had bloodied itself in to the memories of Irish warrior who had wielded it in the past. There was not a single aspect of the weapon I could not see through. The depth of my sight was as all-encompassing as it always as.

"I am the bone of my s—ugh…!"

My world exploded in a flash of white. Pain burst through my brain, a piercing headache briefly flaring through my head. My mouth was agape, unable to let out a sound as the sensation of shock paralyzed my body. Eyes trembled and hands shook, and then as soon as the sudden pain erupted, it vanished.

I greedily inhaled, heavily panting as my features were twisted in an expression of panic. I placed a hand on my chest, feeling a residual burning sensation in my heart before that too eventually receded.

No wait—not my heart.

"My soul…?"

I frowned at the conclusion, thoughts and theories racing through my head. Suddenly, my eyes widened as I looked at what had landed on the ground in front of me.

Caladbolg II, the modified version that Archer and I employed in our unique fighting styles, was stabbed firmly into the ground. I reached out to tentatively touch it, tracing its curved spiral blade with a finger. The frown turned into a grimace, and I narrowed my eyes as realization dawned on me.

It was imperfect. Unlike the pair of falchions I projected earlier, the spiral sword didn't contain the deeper memories and experiences that my blades normally were imbued with. It was still far above regular projections, the summation of its traced history making the weapon a near-faithful recreation of the original. However, the projected blade stopped there, the manufacturing process having been interrupted.

To utilize gradation air, the user needed to replicate the collective total of the weapon's story. Unlimited Blade Works automated that aspect of the technique for me. For Emiya Shirou, all that was required was awareness of the reality marble in the first place, bringing forth the weapon from the internalized factory as opposed to projecting it normally. That portion of my tracing was still in working order. However, to take my magecraft a step further, greater understanding of the weapon and its wielder was required.

That is why this Caladbolg was not on par with what I would have been able to create in the past. The image in my head and degree of insight were not sufficient to construct weapons of that level. Considering the constraints for this brand of thaumaturgy were purely mental, then the explanation was obvious.

"My resolve is that weak, huh?"

It didn't fully explain why Kanshou and Bakuya were able to be traced correctly. Perhaps the answer laid in the fact that my soul resonated more with the yin and yang sword, the deeper bond to the pair of blades presenting a clearer image in my mind. But it was all conjecture; my powers were always uncertain before, and the most knowledgeable people I knew were no longer here to provide answers.

I sighed, dismissing the drill-like sword with a wave of my hand and watched as it disappeared in motes of blue light.

With the current restriction in mind, the potential scope of my abilities was massively reduced. Traditional tracing was still available, but I wouldn't be fighting any servant-level threats any time soon, especially with my lack of physical prowess in mind. That was an issue; the world waited for no one, and I couldn't afford to be idle while any possible enemies I might encounter grew stronger. I had to train my body, mind, and soul immediately. Rest was not a luxury that could be afforded to me, and even if it drew attention to me, that result was preferable to being complacent.

"Ahh…"

I let out an involuntary yawn, and the brief pause in my thoughts quickly brought to attention just how tired my body was. My eyes were half-lidded, heavily drooping as my body swayed unsteadily. My stomach rumbled as the onset of hunger began to set in at this hour. I grimaced, sleep threatening to overtake me and bring the night to a close. I furrowed my brows, clenching my teeth in frustration as I huffed at the brazen limitations of my infant body.

"Trace, on."

Mana flooded my body once again, filling in the deepest cracks and openings with magical energy. The concept of my body was reinforced to the maximum of what I was currently capable of, strengthening all physical aspects.

Dull copper orbs snapped open, and I could feel my sense of alertness heighten. The earlier drowsiness was pushed back, temporarily withheld for the time being. The need for sustenance was also delayed, my magecraft allowing me to forgo such necessities for now.

Excellent, all tasks at hand had now been cleared.

In my last life, my weakness led to the deaths of everyone I held dear. Despite my rapid improvement over the course of the war, I was unable to save everyone. I had spent the previous 17 years doing nothing, throwing away precious time as I meandered through life. This time around, I would not make that same mistake.

Strength.

I needed strength. Strength to reach out in search of what I truly sought. Strength to fulfill the ending I desired. Even if Emiya Shirou didn't quite know what he wanted, even if my resolve crumbled to dust, even if my pursuit for power led to nowhere, even if answers were scarce and fleeting.

The only thing I was certain of was one memory in my mind, of a group of special people in my heart all gathered around a table, enjoying the normalcy of life, even if was only for the briefest of moments. It was a rather mundane memory, but sometimes the things humans desired the most was what was taken from them.

But I couldn't be there with them yet. For the sake of their final wishes, I had to embark on another journey.

They wanted me to find my answer. I had believed that it had been them. Now, all that was left for me to cling onto was a false ideal—a beautiful, painful lie.

I absentmindedly gazed forward. The night was pitch dark, the only source of light being a sliver of moonlight illuminating the pair of blades in front of me. A gust of chilled air blew by, and I could feel the ominous tension of fate within the wind, an omen for what was to come. I frowned at the warning, and I looked up, the blank night sky betraying nothing. Nothing except for the faintest of lights in the expanse of black, a cluster of five stars dimly shining above me.

I smiled, the taste in my mouth bittersweet.

No, there was something else I could hope for.

Saber.

Rin.

Sakura.

Illya.

Rider.

"Wait for me."

Chapter Text

The rhythmic sound of steel on wood echoed within the empty room. The hands that meticulously and methodically moved up and down on the cutting board had a mind of their own, the body they were attached to not being truly present. My thoughts were elsewhere, as they always tended to be nowadays.

Cooking had been one of my more favorable past times at one point. It was a basic necessity of life, preparing food for consumption, but I had found that doing it for others brought about a small sense of satisfaction, one that helped satiate the constant emptiness within me.

Of course, that enjoyment had turned into nothing but bitterness on my lips in this new world. It had nothing to do with cooking itself; most activities had lost what little flavor they previously held. I was simply going through the motions right now, mindlessly and robotically following the procedures within my mind.

I didn't enjoy cooking, not in the slightest anymore, but even unsatisfactory actions had their use. I had once sworn to help out around the household, a small repayment to the Greyrats for having taken care of me all these years. The food they gave me, the clothes that covered me, and the roof that sheltered me were all theirs, and even if the exchange was still unwholly unequal, these small gestures helped to tip the scales. Thankfully, my skills were still up to par.

By taking care of such menial and mundane tasks, I hoped to help alleviate some of the stress and burden off Lilia and Zenith. It was mainly for Zenith's benefit admittedly, the poor woman showing more and more signs of being overwhelmed. Whatever demons she was battling in her mind, she was clearly losing her fight. The dark bags underneath her eyes and unkempt, frizzy hair were now near-permanent features marring her once lovely countenance. She was staying up later as well, my training sessions having been delayed more often due to being able to sense her pacing erratically around the house, patrolling the first floor like a restless dog. Inevitably, she would return back to her room, or on the rare occasion, pass out slumped on a chair she dragged over to the window, her position indicating she had been stargazing before slumber had overtaken her.

It was a concerning issue at this point. I wasn't sure how much longer she could endure the unforgiving circumstances thrust upon her. Having to parent a child all by her lonesome was an impossible task, one that she had taken on regardless. It was an admirable effort, but ultimately, she was only human, and without the man she had sworn herself to, she was only one half of a whole.

Paul's absence wasn't the true cause of this dilemma either. For all his faults, and there were definitely plenty of them, I couldn't condemn his actions. Zenith had the benefit of having carried me for her pregnancy, and that physical bond was one of the foundations for her motherly relationship with me. It wasn't something that could be easily described or replicated. Paul didn't have the luxury of motherly instincts to guide his feelings, so my alienating appearance wasn't something he could easily overlook.

And perhaps that was the most tragic aspect of this issue. There was no villain here, no evil doer to pin the blame on. The Greyrats were simply humans following what they believed was right, and their actions made logical and emotional sense from their perspectives. I couldn't judge them for anything, the two parents just trying to navigate an unprecedented and unsolvable problem.

I held up my right hand, the kitchen knife looking oversized in my four-year-old hands. Calloused fingers turned the knife over until the flat of the blade was directed towards me, my reflection shining in the sharpened steel of the tool.

My appearance was becoming more and more pronounced, my soul shaping this body to a near mirror image of my previous one. The tufts of auburn hair that had created a divide within the household had grown out a few inches over the years, and now a crown of crimson strands sat on top of my head.

This form was the cause of so much unnecessary trouble. Even by doing nothing, I managed to make matters worse, throwing the entire order of things into disarray. In another time, I'm sure Paul and Zenith were happily living out their lives with a normal son, but fate had decided to curse them in this life.

Fingers twirled, and the knife blurred in a spin until its end was now pointed squarely at me, the sharp edge resting dangerously against my neck. One quick flick and it would be all over. The neck held all sorts of veins and arteries; even the slightest of movements could end up severing any one of the vital lifelines and cutting this reincarnation short. It was an alarmingly tempting prospect. One troublesome life ended for me, and one problematic child removed for the Greyrats. It was a fair exchange, a rare situation with both sides greatly benefiting from the exchange.

I sighed, putting my hand down and stabbing the knife into the cutting board.

I couldn't do that. I still had answers to find and a journey to complete. If Illya and I reunited prematurely, I'm confident that she would kick me back down to the land of the living under the pretense of "cheating".

Realizing that lamenting my current circumstances would lead to nowhere, I turned my attention back to the task at hand. An array of meats and vegetables were sorted into various plates and bowls in front of me. Thankfully, most of this new world's flora and fauna were the same or had similar equivalents, so the sudden transition didn't impede my ability to prepare meals.

The large spread of food in front of me was an unusual sight for most of the world. Apparently, arable farmland for crops and farm animals was a quickly diminishing resource in the world due to the large number of monsters running around. Finding and stabilizing an area long enough to grow food stretched the available manpower and resources dangerously thin. Luxuries such as meat required even more space and the food necessary to feed them, so those options only truly existed for the powerful and wealthy. The exception to these trying times seemed to be the humble village I was raised in, which had miraculously stayed monster-free. The hunters in the village were all able to find amble food in the surrounding forest, and the vast expanses of farmland in the village were always filled with fresh crops in the warmer months. I had learned this from Zenith, who, ever the magnanimous soul, had let slip a few details when she complained about how hard it was to send food and supplies to other neighboring villages due to the danger of monster attacks along the main travel routes. That along with some occasional gossip I heard from the Greyrats or the other village residents, and it wasn't hard to piece together an image of the outside world.

"Master Shirou."

Measured steps clacked against the wooden floor, and Lilia entered the kitchen with grace befitting the diligent maid. She took a look at the arrangement of food on the kitchen table, and I could see the struggle between gratitude and resignation in her eyes before the woman decided that some things came first and walked over to me.

"Master Shirou, I do recall Lady Zenith requesting for you to stop helping around the house so much."

"Sorry," I apologized, "but I just wanted to take care of some chores for you two. I know how hard it can be, so I wanted to chip in a bit."

Lilia's face twisted into a grimace. "That might be true…" The woman picked up a bowl of stew, her eyes widening in pleasant surprise as the aroma of the dish wafted throughout the room before she quickly reined herself in and walked back to the dining room to set it upon the table. "But regardless, Lady Zenith has expressed her dissatisfaction towards your assistance. As—" she took another plate and swooned at the smell" —helpful as you might be, Zenith is still my employer and the head of the household."

I raised an eyebrow at her statement. "Isn't that Paul?"

She smirked. "That's what he wants you to believe," she answered curtly. "In any case, Zenith has indicated that she has sorely missed being in the kitchen. It's an almost primal need for young mothers to nurture their young. Nature has perpetuated this cycle since time immemorial and will continue to do so for eternity." She paused, cocking her head to the side, putting a finger to her chin. "Besides, shouldn't a child such as yourself be more inclined to pursue other matters? I'm sure there's plenty of other children for you to play with in the village."

No thanks. It was hard enough to interact with these adults. There was simply no way I could naturally mingle with kids more than half my age. It would be the same as a child trying to talk to adults. I would stick out like a sore thumb.

"I'd much rather stay in the house. I'd like to make yours and Zenith's life as easy as possible. I have to earn my keep, you know?"

Lilia put another plate down on the table before twisting her head and gazing at me out of the corner of her vision. "That's admirable, but still…" She sighed, enough lethargy infused in her breath to put infants to sleep. "I'm sure Paul and Zenith aren't going to charge their son rent, " she said, holding a hand to her head.

It was a scripted conversation. We've had similar disagreements in the past, both Zenith and Lilia regarding my need to help them. I've always stubbornly held my ground, and this debate was no exception.

"Are you going to stop calling me 'Master'?"

"Of course not. You are the son to the lord and lady of the household, and thus you deserve the respect that comes with such a title."

The title she gave me left a bitter taste in my mouth, even more so with the clear respect in her voice when it left her lips.

"Then you have your answer."

Lilia let out another sigh, another defeat in her attempts to stop me from assimilating part of her maidly duties. Recognizing I was stalwart in my decision, she placed the rest of the prepared food on the table, the myriad of plates and bowls covering the entirety of the large dining table.

It was a sight that would have left the mouths of the less fortunate drooling with desire and their eyes darkening in resentment and envy. I could not blame them; the food on the table was merely breakfast for the Greyrat household, but it would have been enough to feed a small family for a day in the more monster-stricken areas of the world, I presumed. It wasn't just quickly prepared proteins and vegetables either. It was a full meal cooked over the span of a few hours, complete with carefully chosen ingredients and spices in order to balance and complement flavors. Most people did not have the luxury of being able to choose what they wanted to eat, forced to use whatever was available to them.

Lilia took a spoon and dipped it into one of the small bowls of soup I made for the Greyrats. Wiping a strand of hair from her face, she placed the sample into her mouth.

"How refreshing," she noted, a small smile blossoming on her lips. "Light and flavorful, but not overpoweringly so. A slight acidity to enhance the other tones, and not enough fattiness to feel heavy after the meal. I must say: your skills are truly exceptional. Have you given thought to becoming a chef in the royal courts? The people there are a bit unsavory, but I have no doubt that they would compensate you handsomely for such delicacies."

I laughed off her praise. "You think too highly of me. I only am just copying what you and Zenith do."

Lilia raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further, taking the time to instead scoop another spoonful of soup into her mouth, a quiet moan rumbling in her throat. She put down the spoon finally, but from her face, I could tell she did so with immense reluctance.

Well, as overly rehearsed as the previous disagreement was, I'm glad it wasn't outwardly caustic or explosive. Nothing like Zenith and Paul's previous arguments. Lilia was as stiff as ever, but over the past few years, she loosened up slightly. I can still tell there's a bit of hesitation in her eyes, but now I could actually hold her gaze for a while until she breaks away in obvious discomfort. Perhaps the constant exposure to my presence forced her to acclimate to whatever she was feeling before, but it still didn't really explain her respectful and polite demeanor towards me. A part of that was her professionality, but interacting with me more than what was strictly required wasn't in her job description. There was a certain warmth to her, not like Zenith's, but I still couldn't explain it. Perhaps she was a tsundere after all, but she was a bit different from the one I was used to.

The sound of the stairs creaking grabbed both of our attention. Apparently, our discussion was loud enough to reach the master bedroom upstairs, as Zenith made her way down. The woman was obviously tired; her shoulders were slumped, and the slouch she carried made her seem even smaller and more shrunken than usual. Her eyes were sullen and sunken, the dark bags underneath them contrasting sharply against her pale skin. Her hair was in a lazy, half-done bun, stray strands falling down onto her face.

Evidently, last night was not kind to her, nor any of the previous ones for the past few years. In fact, it might have been getting worse.

To her credit, the jovial woman immediately bounced back, though the mask she put on did little to deceive me, or Lilia for that matter judging from the pitying look she casted at her employer. "Oh, did Shirou cook again?" Her smile was a bit crooked, but she did well to hide the exhaustion. She took a spoonful of the same soup Lilia had sampled earlier, peering deeply into the liquid as if she was trying to find life's answers from her reflection before she put the spoon into the mouth. "Ah, it's much better than mine. I didn't even know you could make these kinds of flavors. My pride as a woman, broken by a child…" The smile enlarged, but her eyes remained the same.

"I learned from the best," I explained.

"You're talented," she corrected. "There's only so much you can learn from just watching Lilia and I." She gestured to the table full of food. "There's learning from watching, and then there's this."

I nodded once, acquiescing the point to her but choosing to not follow up on it. "I made some food for Paul as well for later in the day. It's boxed and bagged in the kitchen." Paul may have been questionable, but I don't think he was truly all bad. Besides, helping the Greyrats included him as well. I've been cooking for all of them for a while now, so it wasn't out of the ordinary.

Zenith sighed, looking at the prepared lunch from across the room. "I swear, that man will make a big fuss about it as he always does, but he'll still eat it in the end. Why can't he just be honest about things?" She tilted her head in thought, pondering about something before she sighed again. "Whatever, I never know what's going on in that head of his anyway.

She stopped herself from saying anything more before panning over to Lilia, who was not so discretely trying to avoid her sight. "Lilia, I thought you were supposed to be making breakfast today?"

"I apologize, Lady Zenith. Master Shirou woke up earlier than I anticipated."

"Earlier than you?" She turned around back to me confusedly. "Shirou, are you… are you sure you're getting enough sleep? " Her voice was hesitant, trembling slightly as anxiety crept over her face again.

Ah, that was a slight oversight. When was the last time I had even slept? A few days ago? Maybe even a week? I had taken to the habit of using reinforcement to forgo sleep altogether to make more time for training. After my training session last night had extended into this morning, I had decided to jump straight into making breakfast for the household. I forgot to consider that most children my age slept long hours as their bodies were still in the developmental stages.

"Of course I do. I sleep enough," I answered. I wasn't sure how long I could go without sleeping, but so far, there have been no noticeable side effects.

Zenith blinked once at me, judging the veracity of my words before speaking again, "I see. Well… just take care of yourself, okay?"

I internally raised an eyebrow.

Have I been doing something she deemed dangerous? Knowing her, Zenith was just being a concerned mother.

"Of course."

Zenith hummed thoughtfully before sighing and sitting down at the dining table.

"Well, come on, with so much food here, it's going to get cold if we don't start now." Zenith scanned the table, looking for the most appealing dish to eat. Idly picking at some meat and eggs, she instead turned towards some fried rice before finding that unappetizing as well.

Lilia wordlessly rolled her eyes, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye before walking towards the woman before picking up her still empty plate. With speed and efficiency befitting a servant more than a human, she picked up a utensil and placed a healthy sample of multiple dishes onto Zenith's plate. Her arm blurred at comically fast speeds as Zenith could watch blankly as the empty wooden plate was now topped with a varied mix of portions from multiple dishes. As diligent as ever, Lilia made sure that the plate was loaded with a nutritionally balanced array of food.

"Lady Zenith, your son has thoughtfully prepared an extravagant feast for you. Please do not let his efforts be in vain," she admonished gently.

I was surprised. I did not figure Lilia to be the type to cross the line of professionality between the two. The woman tended to be curt and polite, focusing on her duties above all else. Or perhaps she had been encroaching further and further over that line, and I had never noticed until such a blatant display was shown right in front of me.

Zenith flushed, her pale cheeks a rosy red. "Sorry, I wasn't as hungry as I thought." She looked over to me, keeping me a small, apologetic smile.

Lilia gave her a look. "Regardless, you still need to eat. You've been eating less recently. I can see you've been losing weight." Now that I looked a bit closer, Zenith did seem more malnourished as of late. Her petite body was even smaller than before, and those thin arms looked more akin to twigs of bone than limbs. Her face was more defined, but only because there was little muscle or fat to soften the harsh lines of bone underneath the skin. If what Lilia said was true, then Zenith not eating properly would certainly lead to such a sorry state. "Please, this household depends on you. It is your duty to take care of yourself."

A smile tinged with bitterness spread across Zenith's lips. "Duty, huh?" She tentatively picked up a spoon, dipping it into the same bowl of soup that Lilia had sampled earlier before giving it a small taste. "It's good," she noted. Her face was unsurprised, as expected since she's already tried my cooking many times before. However, there wasn't any pleasantness to be found in her facial features, as if she was simply commenting on the weather. "It's far better than mine if I'm being honest."

"I disagree." My memories of it were faded and vague, but the feelings I felt when I had Zenith's cooking were not fully forgotten. In comparison to mine, and it was obvious what my cooking still lacked.

"Well, I suppose I can't complain," Zenith admitted, ignoring my statement. "Shirou cooks. Shirou cleans. All without complaint too. I barely have to do anything."

The wonders of having lived alone for most of my life. Self-sufficiency was a necessary skill.

"It leaves plenty of time to relax, I imagine," I hinted, not so subtlety steering the woman towards that direction.

"I suppose," she answered simply. "Anyway, where's Paul? Isn't today his turn to patrol? He needs to eat soon or else he's going to starve and die to a pack of assault dogs."

"Lord Paul is still resting. Don't worry, I will remain here to reheat food for when he wakes. I'll be sure to give him his afternoon meal as well." Lilia nodded towards me, a gesture I reciprocated. Curt and professional, a stellar combination.

The fact that Zenith still held some worry for Paul was a good sign. Progress was still a bit slow, considering they are largely ignoring each other during the time I'm with them. I'm not sure what happened when I wasn't around, but it couldn't have been all bad if matters hadn't completely broken down between the two.

I mentally sighed. I was woefully unsuited for this type of problem solving. The challenges I knew how to overcome involved me stabbing many bladed objects until whatever was causing the issue disappeared. Mediating domestic matters was unfortunately far out of my area of expertise. Nevertheless, I caused this problem, so it was my obligation to fix it. Zenith and Paul were a perfectly normal couple before my birth here. Had I been another child, I doubt something like this would have happened. This drift between them occurred because of me, so the burden of resolving it was on my shoulders.

"Please go easier on Paul. I'm sure he doesn't have it easy," I said.

Possible scum he might be, but Paul did not exactly lead an easy life. Complications of raising a reincarnated human aside, Paul was still the guardian of this village and regularly went out on patrols. Even if the area was mostly safe, he still risked his life almost daily. I wonder what Zenith's reaction would be if Paul came back heavily injured from an encounter with a monster. Or worse—if he didn't come back at all.

Perhaps an incident such as that might finally be able to pierce through the cloudiness within her mind and give her the answers she sought. Humans often find their resolve in the most strenuous of circumstances, and seeing her husband in such a state could give her the awakening she needed.

Zenith hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe, but it's more complicated than that."

I'm sure it was, but they needed to start somewhere. Zenith and Paul were both acting indignant, but they clearly still held enough feelings for each other. It was awfully tempting to see if I could lock them in a room until they made up.

Silence reigned over the room as the conversation died out. Zenith returned to prodding at her food, slowly picking at the pile on her plate before she intermittently took small bites out of it. It seemed that she was content to be lost in her thoughts. That was fine; there was no use in forcing anything. Matters such as this had to be fixed naturally or else the opposite effect could happen.

Lilia stared pointedly at Zenith before walking to the other side of the table across from Zenith. She gathered her own fair share of food onto her plate, looking at it once questioningly before committing herself to the act and diving in. It was baffling how she managed to remain so refined while stuffing her face. It reminded me almost of how Saber had gorged down enough food to feed a dozen men in a single night while miraculously retaining her dignity as a king in the process. Almost—the King of Knights was on another level entirely since she had to eat copious amounts of food to regain her depleted mana reserves.

Lilia noticed me looking at her, and I could see the urge to flinch away in her eyes before she pushed it away. The maid rigidly nodded her head—a gesture of acknowledge and thanks, I presumed—then proceeded to continue finishing her meal.

A small sensation of amusement rose within me. Honestly, this family was quite bewildering. All that was missing was Paul coming down to try his best to ignore me. As was the case since I was born, everyone seemed to be on eggshells, and there was definitely something lurking beneath the surface on all these interactions. As for what, I couldn't decipher, but I couldn't let my lack of knowledge stop me. Helping out with these gestures such as cooking them food was the only thing I could really do, so it stood to reason I had to be firm about it regardless of their insistence.

I walked around to my own spot on the table, the seat at the far end closest to the door implicitly reserved for me. Sitting down on the boosted seat, I gathered a modest serving of the food I had cooked. I took a small sip of the soup Lilia and Zenith had tasted before, bringing the hot broth to my mouth and giving it a quick sip.

How bland. It was nothing special in my eyes; flavor had lost all meaning to me, no matter how skillfully the dishes were prepared. It was ironic that despite being told I was a masterful chef, I was the only one not privy to the fruits of my labors. Still, despite food being mainly used for its nutritional value, only a few minor adjustments in preparation yielded something that made others happy, so that was enough for me.

I looked straight across to the seat on the other end of the table. It was empty, its typical occupant still asleep upstairs. He's been staying in later more often lately. Perhaps his patrols were increasing in intensity? Or maybe the issue lay on the other end of the spectrum, and it was his thoughts keeping him awake? Regardless, the man tended to avoid everyone else in the household anyway, so his absence wasn't a surprise.

The next pair of seats were Zenith and Lilia's, the two women of the house sitting across from each other. They were still closer to Paul's end of the table, leaving my half of the table and its last remaining pair of chairs empty. Speaking of which, Zenith and Lilia seemed to be engaged in a staring contest of sorts. Shades of blue clashed in the silent room, the clattering of utensils against wood having stopped some time ago. From the look of things, Lilia definitely had the decisive edge; Zenith's blue orbs buckled and trembled as her face morphed into one of doubt and indecision. Finally, after a few tense moments, the tired woman folded and yielded entirely, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh.

"Shirou."

Her voice pierced through the silence of the room, but despite the commanding tone, just that singular word seemed to have aged her a decade. Still, it was assertive enough that I was immediately wary of her next words. There were a few times I had heard my name being uttered in a similar manner, and the proceeding conversation had never been entirely pleasant.

"Yes?"

"We… we need to talk." Her eyes quickly flickered to the side, catching Lilia's gaze for a moment before returning them towards me. "It's about all this." Zenith gestured to the table of food in front of us, a meal the less fortunate parts of the world would have killed to have. "You said you wanted to help, right?"

"Correct." As meager as it was, this was the only way I knew how to do things.

Zenith looked down, her hands clenching into fists in her lap. "You… you don't need to do that. Not anymore."

"Is the food not to your liking?"

"No, not that. It's… it's wonderful, really. But... didn't I say you should be leaving these kinds of things to Lilia and me…?" She was hesitant, almost frightened, as if she was carefully defusing a bomb that could explode at any moment. Every word that came out of her mouth was said with no small amount of consideration, and I could tell this conversation was something she had been thinking about for a while now.

"You did, yes." Just like Lilia had done so before, Zenith had brought up her concerns about my habits. However, just like Lilia, I had mostly brushed her off. It wasn't out of disrespect, of course, but their reservations stemmed out of concern for me. I couldn't fault them for it; in their eyes, I was only a child, and adults tended to have a natural instinct to protect the young. Still, I couldn't abide by that kind of logic. I didn't need their concern. It was a bit callous, but I was far from a child. Gently rebuking them would suffice for now, and hopefully over time, they would learn that this was something I would not budge on. And in addition to that… "I just want to help. You've been more tired lately. I thought I could make you feel better by doing more around the house. If I cook and clean more, maybe it could help with your stress, right?" I looked up at Zenith, my eyes digging into hers as I evenly explained my logic.

She broke my gaze, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as a storm of emotions clouded over blue orbs. "You're… not wrong, but still—I can't accept that. You're… you're just a child still. You should just be enjoying your childhood, nothing else—not all this." The strength behind her eyes wavered but held, her resolve adding credence to her words.

I frowned internally. She was certainly being more persistent than usual. I had to give her credit—her words were genuine, and if only for a slight moment, I could feel the fluttering of something within my chest before I stamped it out. Yet, as moving as they were, it was nothing I hadn't heard before. I didn't change my answer then, and I wouldn't change it now.

"It's not wrong to help others." To repay their kindness, to not be a burden, to start doing something with my life, I was willing to stand out this much.

"You're right," Zenith conceded with a nod. "Being kind is a good thing. I appreciate the help, and Lilia won't admit it, but she does too."

"Then where's the problem?"

"You're four, Shirou! You should be more like a kid. You should enjoy life, not cooping yourself up in this house. I get that you want to help, but there are things I have to do myself, you know?"

I flinched, the last words of a bloodstained girl echoing in my head.

Zenith got up, her legs wobbling as she walked over to me before kneeling next to me. I craned my head, surprised that she was willing to confront me so brazenly when the woman had been content to leave things as they were before. With my small stature, her head was level with mine, and mirrors of azure reflected my own dull bronze orbs back at me.

"The world, it's a terrible place, Shirou," Zenith said somberly. "That's why we want you to be a child with a normal childhood, nothing like what Paul and I experienced when we were growing up."

The pressure to carve out your own happiness in a world of strife and misery… I could respect that wish. I looked away from her. The pressure of those ocean blue eyes was soul-crushing, and I fought to keep my breathing even as pangs of guilt stabbed me over and over.

Zenith took my silence as a sign of acquiescence.

"Paul and I, we didn't have you so you could so something for us. We had you so we could do something for you."

I didn't know how to reply to that. Her words sucked the air out of my lungs, taking all the fight out of me. My eyes widened in surprise, and I was speechless at the meaning behind her words.

Slowly, Zenith's arms rose until her hands were resting on my shoulders. Once again, she fixed me in place with pools of blue, and no matter how much I willed it, my head would not turn away from her gaze. She took a breath, steadying herself, a small reprieve I was grateful for so I could reestablish myself.

And then Zenith smiled, and I involuntarily gasped as my heart skipped a beat. It was as if the angels themselves blessed her existence at that very moment. There was no shred of disingenuity I could find, not a single iota of falsehood on her face. It was the smile of someone with no regrets, made with every ounce of feeling within herself, not of love for herself, but for the person she was looking at.

It was confusing. I had done nothing to warrant her affection. She had nothing to be grateful for.

I knew that smile. I had seen it before on a husk of a man. I inadvertently closed my eyes, and before I could stop it, my mind flashed back all those years ago to that fateful night.

Fire as far as the eye could see. A sky of blood red blanketing the area. Corpses littering the ground, bent in gruesome positions as their last moments approached.

It was hell.

There was no salvation to be had.

And yet, despite it all, there was a singular ray of hope. A shining light amidst the sea of despair. A star sparkling in the darkness, as golden as the light he held in his hands. It was the smile of a man above me, clutching onto my raised arm as if his very life depended on it. Rivers of tears ran down his face as he breathlessly thanked me over and over for merely existing.

It was the gratitude of a man who had nothing, pursuing an ambition that betrayed him time and again. He had lost everything, his ideal turning to ashes in the very fire he had created and coming apart in his grasp. In the end, the only thing he could save was the broken boy he had found amidst the ruins of his dream.

"I'm guessing you're mulling over it?"

The sudden words snapped me out of my reverie. Fire and blood faded away to reveal the familiar kitchen I was standing in, as well as the source of my musing.

Kiritsugu's smile had been one born out of salvation from tragedy. Zenith's felt… similar, yet not quite the same. Not in a bad way, just ever so slightly different.

Even looking at it right now, it was hard to decipher. Her smile made something in my chest stir in a way that brought back memories of times far behind me. It was both pleasant but uncomfortable, an inexplicable amalgamation of emotions covering my heart. Every time I looked at her, her image was buried under flashes of Kiritsugu's face and promises of heroism, the very oath I had failed to uphold.

It was an ironic twist of fate, a laughable development in the script I was given. During that night all those years ago, it had been me who had made that request to Kiritsugu. He never wanted me to be a hero of justice, but to repay the man who had saved me, to be granted a sliver of the salvation he had uncovered, I willingly chose to take up the mantle he had carried before.

To be here now, to be requested to revoke the vow I undertook back then, to be nothing more than myself… my soul fluttered at the thought. It was oh so alluring, the seductive call of temptation—the almost irresistible pull to take the hand that reached out to me. It was an offer so enticing that it could coax the strongest of men, an invitation tantalizing enough to make angels fall from the high heavens and paint their wings black.

But I couldn't be selfish. Even if this was the last chance I would ever get. I couldn't afford to falter here.

"I don't promise anything."

Perhaps, in another time, in another life, in another world, with them. Redemption had been possible for me once, but it had slipped away. These hands were destined to never hold anything.

Hurt and disappointment flashed across her eyes. "Well, just think on it, okay?" Zenith seemed to accept my answer and walked back to her spot on the dining table. The strength she had mustered before was gone, and she was noticeably deflated.

"Well, even so, I would like for you to get a head start. I believe the weather is quite nice today. Go enjoy yourself out there. We'll take care of things here."

I looked off to the side towards Lilia. In my earlier surprise, I didn't even get the chance to see her reaction. It was fading now, but I could still see the remnants of surprise in her expression. Surprise, but there was no small amount of pride mixed in as well.

Ah, so that's how it was. It seemed that my earlier hopes had been fulfilled right underneath my nose. In any case, I was glad that Zenith had found someone to lean on. With that in mind, I wasn't needed here any longer. It was time to make my exit.

"Okay, I'll go outside and explore around for a bit."

This was a good chance to learn the lay of the land as well. Before, I had been tied up next to Zenith, but this opportunity of unrestricted freedom was too good to pass by.

"You… will…?"

Both Lilia and Zenith looked dumbstruck at my response. Their eyebrows must have disappeared somewhere in their hair, and Lilia's mouth was even agape slightly, an unsightly gesture by the normally refined maid. Had she maintained it for any longer, I was worried a fly or two might have flown inside. The spoon Zenith had been holding onto clattered against the wooden bowl as her fingers slackened unexpectedly, letting the utensil fall and sending a few stray bits of food onto her person.

"Did… you not want me to…?" I asked inquisitively.

Zenith immediately waved her hands in a vaguely placating manner.

"No, no, no—I am completely fine with that! Yes, yes, please do!" She punctuated her point by nodding up and down rapidly, and I looked at the woman as if she had sprouted a second head. Eventually, I sighed, giving up my attempts to fathom her strange behavior. Women, despite being constantly surrounded by them, I was no closer in reaching any sort of understanding.

I ate a few more bites of the food I had made, not finding it appetizing enough to finish the plate. It was fine; I had more than enough nutrients to sustain me. It's not like I was expecting much to happen anyway.

I got off the chair and walked towards the door, opening it before looking back at the two women still at the table.

"Well, I'll be off now. I'll be back sometime later."

I didn't know how long this excursion would take. It was best to be vague about these sorts of things.

Realizing I was about to leave, both Lilia and Zenith jumped out of their chairs to stand by the door, as if they were cutting off my escape and corralling me outside.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine. Oh, and don't go around being a busy body around the village! Go have fun and explore, or whatever it is kids these days do. As long as it's not here."

Well, I didn't have any intentions of running errands for people anyway.

"Oh… and um… Take care!" Zenith shouted, waving goodbye as I stepped outside. I looked back at her, giving her a curt nod before closing the door behind me.

"Are you sure it was wise of you to send him out?"

The casual question cut through the silence between the two women, who had previously been content to wordlessly continue with their meal.

Zenith gave the woman a sideways glance. "What do you mean?" she asked, though she gave the conversation a half-hearted effort as she continued chopping various ingredients.

"You've never sent him out like that before," Lilia said. She took another spoonful of the soup Shirou had made, savoring the unique flavor before giving it an approving hum. "It was his idea in the first place, yes, but now you will have no idea what he'll be doing."

Zenith grimaced at the thought but held firmly. "It's fine. Not much happens around here anyway. I don't think he'll be running into any monsters or bandits as long as he stays nearby."

"You think a child will know such logic?"

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. "I think you and I both know he's far too smart for his own good."

Lilia nodded her head at that. That child was truly a confusing one.

Still, that was not what she had been referring to. If Zenith would not be entirely forthcoming with her, then it seemed that she would have to cut directly to the heart of the matter. As lovely as the soup was, she was beginning to tire of it, and so she put it off to the side. The maid felt slightly regretful discarding the boy's hard work, but she appreciated the sentiment behind the gesture at the very least.

Lilia leaned forward, fully looking at her employer and friend—though that last title was still a bit new for Lilia to comfortably use.

"Before now, you've made sure to always keep him at your side. Whenever you go visit the other villagers, you drag him along with you, even for the most menial reasons. He has rarely been out of your sight in the entirety of his life. You coddled him to an unnatural degree. Some people would call you overbearing and suffocating," she said, cocking her head to the side. "I would not disagree with that assessment."

From the woman's face, she knew Lilia was not wrong, but she would not fold so easily. "Okay, and? What's your point?"

"It's a bit of a change of pace from the norm, no? Had I known these were your intentions from the start, I would have worded my previous advice differently."

"What wrong with what I did?" The woman looked a bit miffed at her words, and Lilia was becoming all too aware of the line between them that she swore not to cross. Still…

"I would not say it was wrong. Rather, I feel that another approach may yield better results."

Zenith shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "That… might be true, but I…—" she let out a groan of frustration, burying her head in her hands "—You know how long I've been thinking about this. I couldn't pass up the chance to maybe make things right." The woman refused to meet Lilia's eyes, and perhaps that was a sign that the lady of the household was still withholding secrets.

Of course, Zenith was in no way obligated to reveal anything to her. First and foremost, she was Lilia's employer. Their fundamental relationship was still professional at its core. While they had grown closer over the past few years, Lilia still had to respect certain boundaries, lest her source of income suddenly vanish.

Still, perhaps it bothered her ever so slightly that things were still being hidden from her. She shouldn't be feeling even the slightest bit upset, but Lilia could not deny the ugliness in her heart. In Zenith, she had found someone who could relate to the strangeness occurring within this household, someone else who noticed the things she had, felt the same inexplicable sensations that had made her skin crawl. Before then, Lilia had been silent about the whole ordeal, keeping such opinions to herself lest she anger the ones who fed and housed her. To find someone else who shared her experiences, she felt relieved.

"That's true. Regardless of anything else, you did splendidly to confront him at last. How did it feel?"

Zenith relaxed in her chair, the tenseness of her body slowly ebbing away. "I… I don't know. I'm glad he listened to me, but still…"

Lilia could somewhat understand what she was feeling. In the end, despite successfully getting the boy out of the house and having some semblance of normalcy, Zenith did not achieve her true objective in that conversation.

"I don't promise anything."

Having mustered up the courage to come face to face with him, only to be given a subtle rejection, the maid could understand the woman's frustration.

"Well, what now? You've partially completed what you wanted to do. Shirou is outside right now. What's next for you?"

In truth, Lilia only really knew about Zenith's struggles with trying to talk to the boy about her reservations with his actions. As for everything else, sending her child away from his mother's side included, Lilia was not privy to those details.

"I… I don't know. I didn't even think I would make it to this point. I… I don't even know if what I'm doing will make any difference."

"But you will still try," Lilia completed for her.

Zenith paused, then nodded. "Yes, I… —I still have to try."

Lilia agreed with her thoughts. Admittedly, she also thought that trying to change the boy's behavior in such a way would be a fruitless effort. He was quite stubborn, a characteristic present in both Paul and Zenith. If nothing else, there was that small detail to cling onto. Humans had to hope—otherwise there was no reason to exist.

"I would not give up so hastily. Children are easily impressionable. As… well-learned as Shirou might be, even he might be susceptible to external factors that you might not expect."

"You—you think he'll get into trouble?"

Worry flashed across Zenith's eyes as they widened in shocking realization. Lilia held back a sigh as she deduced the root cause of the mother's anxiety. Honestly, if she would just be blatant and upfront with her son, then this problem would be a lot easier to navigate and solve. It felt a lot like the initial drama between Paul and Zenith—just one giant mess of hidden truths and unresolved worries with her caught in the thick of it. Despite everything, this family couldn't have been more fitting for each other if they tried. It was truly a match made by forces beyond her, though it came with its share of headaches. At this point, Lilia was tempted to lock them all in a room and force them to talk until they resolved their differences.

Still, she couldn't just say it outright. These kinds of situations required a bit more tact, and forcefully shoving an answer onto Zenith wouldn't solve anything. Whatever resolution she sought would have to come from herself and no one else.

However, that didn't mean she couldn't gently guide her… friend towards the answer. Sometimes, all someone needs are a firm hand on the shoulder—metaphorically, of course-and some timely words.

Well, Lilia couldn't begrudge Zenith in the slightest. After all, the predicament that she had found herself in was not an easy one to solve. It was a tiring mess of feelings and truths, and that was barely scratching the surface. The fact that she was constantly surrounded by both subjects of her confusion and frustration was not helping in the slightest. It left little time for contemplation and reflection, not when she had to deal with the proverbial fires every day.

So yes, Lilia did not think any less of the woman. Truth be told, Lilia had only just recently traversed her own feelings on the matter. Well, her feelings on one Paul Greyrat were already resolved quite some time ago—the reason why she had been confident on taking this job in the first place. No, it was his son that had thrown the maid into quite a spiral over the past few years.

Anomaly.

In a word, that was what she would use to describe Shirou Greyrat. It was a bit harsh since he was only a child, but her rather critical judgement was made with good reason. Simply put, the child was not a child.

Often, Lilia had to remind herself that he was four years old. At his tender age, most children were blabbering and incoherent piles of flesh held together by the vaguest links of sentience. They were crawling around, crying incessantly and constantly badgering their parents for food when they weren't soiling themselves. However, it was more apparent each passing day that no one had bothered to tell Shirou that.

The boy was, admittedly, exceptional. He showed physical and mental capabilities far beyond his age. He was largely self-sufficient, learning all the steps to growing up as if he were reading them straight out of a textbook. No, rather, it was more accurate to say he had been born with all the necessary knowledge in his head. There was not a single aspect to life that he had to be taught.

For example, as someone who had experience in helping to raise children, Lilia was used to the laborious process of fostering that instinctual urge to walk. She had helped them remain upright and balance their top-heavy bodies as unused legs muscles acclimated to bearing the load of a human body. It was a lengthy affair, and one she was prepared to undertake once again when she was hired as a maid for the Greyrats.

In the end, it was entirely unnecessary. Shirou had taken to walking like a fish to water, displaying coordination and balance more in line with a seasoned adventurer or soldier than a toddler. He wasn't infallible; he didn't immediately start running and jumping out of his crib. In fact, he was clumsy in the beginning, trying to stand and walk when his body simply wasn't ready for it. However, it was more as if he already knew how to do so, and the only challenge was simply adapting to the short, stubby legs of a baby. Regardless, the sheer rate of his progression was astounding. It only took perhaps a week or two for him to overcome his physical deficiencies. And if her eyes were not deceiving her, even his body would not be his limiting factor in the future because the boy was slowly losing his baby fat in exchange for muscle—not much, he was still a toddler, but he was a better physical specimen than his age would indicate.

His sudden dexterity translated to other areas as well. His skills in the kitchen were commendable. Originally, Zenith had panicked when Shirou had started using the kitchen without any supervision or knowledge. She was worried that he would chop of his fingers or burn himself or some other incident the paranoid woman conjured in her head, but the boy had shown her that her concerns were trivial. Frankly, in terms of pure mechanical expertise with a blade, Shirou was superior to her and Zenith, a frightening idea should he decide to utilize his skills in other fields.

It was scarily remarkable how the boy made his knifework an art. His speed was impressive, almost bordering on recklessly dangerous if not for the fact that he tempered it with almost inhuman accuracy and precision, resulting in exact cuts at large volume. And if he could learn and experience the various cuisines of the regions of the world and combine them with his eye-popping efficiency? He would truly be a culinary master.

In Lilia's eyes, there was no doubt he would achieve that in the future. Her earlier words to him had been no lie; if he wished, he would not be out of place in the lofty halls of a royal palace as a chef. However, while Shirou's physical development was astounding, it was still second to his most remarkable trait: his mind.

She had noticed, on occasion, that he was observing everything around him. He wasn't particularly discrete about it either. And when she said everything, she meant everything. Even something as mundane as the walls of the house. From the way he peered at them, it was like he was seeing no one else could. She had initially chalked it up to typical toddler eccentricities, but as his intelligence became more noticeable, that particular theory became harder and harder to believe.

Something that frequently held his interest was Paul's training regimen. She often found him in the upstairs storage room watching him intently in the yard. As a former guard and an… acquaintance of his, she knew first-hand that Paul was very skilled, enough so that his movements could be seen as mesmerizing. It was no surprise that it held a child's attention. And yet, when Shirou watched him, she didn't get the sense of wonder and admiration that she would have expected. His gaze was far more... analytical, silently judging and critiquing the forms and motions of someone who, for all intents and purposes, should have been beyond his ability to comprehend. Still, she could feel those eyes follow his father flawlessly and then that hidden intellect that always lingered just below the surface of his gaze processing every minute detail, dissecting each iota of information down to its most basic level and then absorbing it.

Most people who have called her ridiculous for complaining about a child learning, but they did not see what she saw. How, despite only seeing his father go through the motions once, Shirou had, with a kitchen knife in hand, had mimicked his movements almost flawlessly with the same empty look he always had.

And perhaps that was the crux of the matter. She should've been happy that her employer's—friend's? —child was so gifted. However, whenever she looked into those bronze eyes, ones that should have full of life and joy, she saw… nothing. His gaze was a dull amber that held the same void she had sensed from the very beginning. He was always polite and soft-spoken, seldomly deviating from the same dull tone of voice. He spoke with the eloquence of a scribe, his speech even and clear, more fitting on a researcher delivering his results than on a young boy. And his smile… on the rare occasions she saw it, it never quite reached his eyes, as if he was merely curling his lips upwards than any genuine attempt at the gesture.

He was born like this, she knew. She had been there for his birth. When Zenith first held Shirou in her arms, they were all concerned. His eyes were shut, and he was silent. Just before Lilia made to go over and spank him to force him to breathe, Shirou had woken up.

Those amber orbs had snapped open, and Lilia had immediately sensed a foreboding aura coming from the boy. She had been so shocked that she had been rooted in place, every cell within her body warning her not to approach any closer. She had been lucky that he had not seen her; if she had been sucked into that stare at that moment, Lilia was not sure if she could have kept herself together.

Even stranger, the boy had awoken not with wailing as she had expected, but with a cry of something. It sounded like a name, but Lilia couldn't be sure because his vocal cords weren't developed enough to create refined sounds yet. Nevertheless, he had said it once, looked around the room, said what vaguely sounded like another name, and then silently observed them for the rest of the evening, but she could tell that his attention was barely on them, his true gaze lying somewhere else.

And for the years afterwards, he had maintained that disposition. He was often aloof, almost detached from the world around him. It was hard to describe—it wasn't that he didn't care, more that he was… out of place, a sense of otherworldliness emanating from him.

She had grown overly curious one day, and upon seeing him alone in a room, she had purposefully tried to peer past the surface of those mystifying eyes, to search for a sign of something—anything —to assuage her concerns.

Lilia had found something, though she sorely wished she hadn't.

Fire and death.

It clung him to like a parasite, unwilling to release him. A miasma of death and grief so nauseating she had almost vomited on the spot permeated his existence.

That was the last time she dared to try and find it again.

It was unnatural. No one should have been like that, never mind a four year-old that Lilia had watched over since birth. She had seen soldiers fresh from battle, victims of ambushes as the sole survivors, and even watched over the dying as their last moments approached, and yet the look they had given her in their final moments could not compare to the haunted gaze that had captured her in that moment.

What did it say when the aura of the dying was magnitudes lesser than his? That their wide-eyed terror attacks were preferable to his inhuman emptiness. That their broken minds were preferable a to a boy whose blank and broken soul might as well have been nailed back together and then covered by a blanket called humanity.

Lilia was a woman of superstition. Every fiber in her being told her that she should not associate herself with him. Every instinct she had told her to run away without a second thought.

And yet, here she remained in the very household he resided in.

It had been almost two years since that event, and in that time that had transpired, Lilia had thought long and hard. About herself, about him, and her final decision. In the end, she finally came to a conclusion, clinging onto it with all she had. It was a simple reason, but sometimes humans had a tendency to forget about things right under their noses.

Shirou was not a bad person.

Frightening, yes. Unsettling, for certain. But in all her years serving the Greyrats, not once had she sensed a single iota of malevolent intent towards anyone from the boy. Ultimately, her judgement was made from that one sole fact, but it was enough.

Despite his frightening adaptability and unnerving emptiness, there was no sense of maliciousness. That discomforting glimmer of intelligence in his eyes lacked the evil glint of a boy who desired to use his abilities to do harm. He did not manipulate the people around him—blatant attempts to help Zenith aside though perhaps that only helped his case.

He was a model child, always speaking with respect and never making trouble for anyone. He constantly offered his hand for anything, even somewhat excessively. Lilia could not recall a child who would do cleaning or cooking before Shirou, who would gladly suggest his assistance with a—fake—smile on his face.

So, she would put up with his behavior for now.

It had taken her all this time to make up her mind, and she had only decided a few months ago to stop with her icy attitude and try to treat the boy as the child he should be. His current tumultuous familial circumstances were not helping in the slightest in that regard.

But that was only her perspective. The one that really mattered was the one from the person in front of her.

As merely an observer and occasional caretaker, Lilia was very worried by Shirou's mannerisms to say the least.

As his mother, his own flesh and blood, Zenith's distress was far worse.

"The world is a troubling place nowadays. Sending such a young child alone to its crutches may prove unwise." Lilia paused, letting her words sink in. "Thankfully this village is quite peaceful. Trouble has not found us yet."

Zenith's tense face only tightened further, and her eyebrows furrowed as she sensed that Lilia was not done yet.

"But…?"

The maid sighed. "It's only a feeling, nothing more than a premonition." She turned her head to the side, towards the windows that faced the front of the house, looking into the distance where Shirou had disappeared to. "I fear that things are changing once again, Zenith. This world is destined for greater chaos."

It was just a feeling, but Lilia trusted her intuition above all else. She had sense that foreboding wind in the air all those years ago, and her soul screamed at her that something was on the horizon once again. "I know you still care for him, but I'm not sure if you can protect him from what is to come."

Zenith grimaced, avoiding her eyes once more.

Lilia noticed the bowl of soup she had cast to the side. Feeling slightly braver than before, she dipped her spoon into it, bringing it to her lips. The liquid raced down her throat, and she let out a deep hum as its flavor marinated on her tongue.

And just as before, she no longer felt the urge to sample it any further. It was difficult to consume, though not for reasons one would normally think of.

"You taste it too, huh?" The woman in front of her was more observant than she gave her credit for, Lilia acquiesced. The maid nodded at the words, frowning slightly as she brought the sensation of the flavors to the forefront of her mind.

Every masterful crafter left behind a piece of themselves in their creations, and for Shirou, it was no different. The boy must have been numb and blind to not have noticed what he had created.

Loneliness, tinged with pangs of regret. It was a bitter thing, his food. Not because of the combination of ingredients used or any fault in the cooking process, but the emotions left behind tainted anything that he created. Of course, one had to be particularly sensitive to these sorts of things; Lilia had no doubt that no ordinary person would not be able to pick up on these sorts of intricacies. She was surprised that Zenith had noticed, but the woman used to be around magicians and used magic herself, so perhaps the explanation laid there.

For her, his food was exceptional, but as soon as it went down her throat, all that was left on her tongue were the despondent sentiments he had left behind.

"So lonely…" the blonde woman said. "But there's something else in there, you know." Zenith took her a spoonful of her own soup, closing her eyes as she gulped it down, letting the sensations wash over her. "There's love here, Lilia. So much of it. I can feel it, his longing." The woman opened her eyes, and Lilia could see the start of tears pooling in those azure orbs. "But none of it is for me." She shut them closed, and a single tear trailed down her cheek.

Out of respect, Lilia chose not to comment on it, instead sitting in silence as she let the woman wipe her face.

"It's strange. I've been his mother all these years," she said, glancing towards the front door where the subject of the conversation had left from, "and yet I never did quite feel like one."

Lilia did not like where this was going.

"Zenith, you—"

"I feel like a skipped a few steps. I never got to do the things any parent would be expected to do."

She needed this, Lilia thought. All this time, she had kept all these feelings inside, never letting anyone, even her, know of them. And yet, Lilia was afraid of what conclusions Zenith might reach.

"I didn't have to teach him how to walk. One day he was crawling and before I knew it, he might as well have been a horse running around! I didn't have to teach him how to talk either. He's already more well-spoken than most people I know. Hell, he can even cook for himself now. I don't even have to feed him anymore. Just another thing to cross off the list, I guess."

Lilia kept silent, letting Zenith finish venting her frustrations. When the woman trailed off into silence, she opened her mouth to speak but found the words stuck in her throat.

What would she know? She was not a mother, someone who had given birth to another human being. She was only a caretaker, but that was different from giving birth to another human being that had been sitting inside of her for almost a year. She had no experience in this field. The most she could offer Zenith was her ear and her sympathy. Hell, Lilia herself could barely sort out her own feelings on the matter.

An uncomfortable pause, one far too long for her liking, followed. Zenith's expression turned unreadable before twisting into an ugly mix of emotions. She turned away, closing her eyes and carefully pondering her next words. In turn, Lilia kept her silence, unwilling to interrupt.

"You were right earlier, Lilia. I can't protect him if he's out there. I can't stop him, not anymore."

Wait, what did she mean by that—

"He doesn't need me. He never needed me. If that's the case," Zenith finally opened her eyes, doubt and insecurity clouding over her irises, "then what's the point of me even being here? Am I… am I even needed?"

Oh.

Zenith looked at her, and it was only now Lilia could see just how broken the woman was.

"Lilia, was I even his mother in the first place?"

Oh.

Considering the time period and my location, I wasn't surprised that Buena Village was fairly agricultural. In fact, it was almost entirely farmland. The land around me was a veritable sea of green dotted by a few modest houses. Fields of wheat and other vegetation dominated the landscape as they gentle swayed with the morning wind. Whatever areas wasn't used for farming was undeveloped land covered by golden grass and tall trees with a few buildings dotting the horizon.

It had its charm, I supposed. As a native of Fuyuki, the rural setting I was born in was a definite change of pace. Fuyuki was a fairly urban area, and seeing such luscious vegetation and wildlife close by was not a typical sight unless I wanted to take a train trip to the countryside. People were also far less common here than back at home, partly due to the lower population but also due to the lower density of houses. Not to say people were rare—they could commonly be found attending to the crops or other chores in the fields—but there weren't large groups of people clustering together like in Fuyuki.

I certainly didn't mind the time alone. It left me with a lot of time to think.

"Ah, Shirou, good morning!"

The villager in front of me was the first person I've seen traversing this path since I've left the house. He was riding a horse-drawn cart filled with bales of hay, no doubt freshly harvested from the fields.

"Good morning, Mister Taguchi," I greeted with a nod. He stopped his cart and curiously peered down at me.

"Oh, Zenith isn't with you today?"

"She is not," I shook my head. "I was told to go have fun and explore." I explained.

"Strange. Usually, she's circling you like a mother hen. Well, I suppose maybe this is for the best. That woman won't let you out of her sight. Somebody needs to tell her that kids need to be kids," he laughed. His boisterous chuckles continued for another second or two before he stopped in realization. "Oh, that reminds me! Thank you for the other day, Shirou." He gestured downwards towards the front axle of the cart. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't helped me repair the cart. It's all thanks to you I can haul all this around," he jerked his thumb to the bundles of hay in the back.

"It was no issue. If there's anything else I can help with, please let me know."

A flash of fear flickered the man's face. "Ah, thank you for the offer, but I can't. Zenith explicitly told me to stop relying on children for tasks a man should be able to do." The man sighed in exhaustion at recalling the conversation with the woman. "As helpful as you are, I don't need her busting down my door and yelling at me. No doubt my wife would join in." He grimaced at the thought.

"I see. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me." I said. It was unfortunate, but there wasn't much I could do. Looks like my original plan of exploration was the best way to make use of this weird day. "Mister Taguchi, do you know any interesting places nearby? I've never really left the house much."

I only ventured out to the same area of the forest during my training sessions. If there were any places of interest nearby, I was unaware of them.

"Oh, looking for somewhere to play?" The man stroked his chin in thought. "Not off the top of my head, but if you head there—"he pointed at a hill in the distance near the forest surrounding the village"—you might be able to see something from up there."

Advice for a child, I thought dryly. "That makes sense. Thank you."

"There's lots of small areas that are quiet for a kid like you. Though if you ask me, you need to go need some of the village children. I'm sure that you'd prefer talking to kids your age than having Zenith keeping you next to her, right?"

I gave him a sheepish look. "Ah, I'm a bit shy. I don't do too well with other people."

He heartily laughed again. "Hah, you're nothing like your parents. Paul would've taken the chance to brag about his skills in front of people, and Zenith might shrivel up and die if she had no one to talk to. I guess the apple fell far from the tree, huh." He chuckled a bit more to himself. "Well, I gotta get going. I need to drop off this hay. Take care, Shirou." He gave me a friendly wave before spurring the horse forward but then suddenly stopped. "Oh, just remember to stay close to the village! Lots of monsters are around here. Rumor has it that they've been especially vicious lately, so don't go wandering off, okay?"

"I'll keep that in mind," I nodded.

"Okay, just making sure since if something happens to you and Zenith finds out I gave you ideas…" The man shivered as his imagination got the better of him. "Anyway, see ya!"

"Goodbye, Mister Taguchi." I waved back before looking at the hill he pointed out. Admittedly, it looked like a good vantage point to scout from. It looked to be about a kilometer or two from my current position, so the walk would take a while. No matter, it gave me time to sort out my thoughts anyway.

It was a rare opportunity to let my mind wander without all the antics occurring in the Greyrat household. With each passing day, the difference between them and I grew larger and larger. As I became more independent, it became all the more obvious that I didn't belong here as part of their family. The earlier conversation with Taguchi served only to prove my point. Not only did I look like some bastard child, but my demeanor didn't match either of my parents. The lie of being their son was quickly become harder and harder to keep up. At this rate, running away was looking like a more tempting option.

"We didn't have you so you could so something for us. We had you so we could do something for you."

I swore to stop the people around me from crying. If I did abandon this life, Paul probably wouldn't mind, but Zenith definitely would break down.

But what if it was for their own good? That my presence was clearly only causing them pain?

Kiritsugu would have left. Archer too. Those two were pragmatic and logical, but they were undeniably heroes. Neither of them would have been keen on playing house when they could be so much more, especially if they brought only pain and misery with them.

A memory flashed across my mind, of a genuine smile made by a woman who sought nothing but a small slice of happiness in a reality that contained none of it. The thought of that smile twisting with sadness, of tears of grief flooding those azure blue eyes created an uncomfortable feeling in my chest.

I wondered where this path I was walking would lead me. It felt wrong, strange, a betrayal of the foundations that encompassed my ideals. But the fork in the road was long past me, a rocky trail already ventured that led to nothing but a cliff of sorrow.

Decisions, decisions.

Once again, the thought of the women in my previous life filled my head. They would've provided some insight on this dilemma. They were smart like that, far more than I. But alas, just like the past few years, I would need to navigate this issue on my own, for better or worse. Whatever the consequences might be, there were solely mine to bear.

"You really can see a lot from up here." In the midst of my musing, I had arrived at the hill Taguchi had pointed. It was an excellent vantage point, providing an excellent view of the entirety of Buena Village as well as the surrounding area. From up here, it was easy to see the how the land was divided into areas for different crops. Some squares of land were entirely exposed soil as the crops previously grown there were harvested for the season. It reminded me a lot of the agricultural provinces in Japan. Though unlike on Earth, the lack of mechanization and human exploitation added a certain element of mystique that I didn't mind.

I turned to the side to look at the vegetation around the path. The flora was certainly beautiful, coming in a plethora of vibrant colors that could only be matched by the most exotic of locations in Earth. They contrasted nicely with the golden canopy of the forest. The wildlife was quite exquisite as well. Butterflies of equally vivid colors congregated towards flowers while birds chirped their morning songs to greet the coming day.

The forest felt alive, teeming with all sorts of life that I knew no idea about. It certainly was far livelier than the forest around the Einzbern manor, which felt stagnant and deathly, not to mention the many horrific memories made there.

I continued walking. The scenery was almost hypnotic, letting me forget Zenith's earlier actions.

Of course, where one door closed, another opened. Letting my wander was perhaps a mistake, as I couldn't help but feel a longing in my heart. Despite the years that have passed, the memories were as fresh as ever. How could I forget? The Holy Grail War is something that engraves itself into the mind, forever a parasite. I looked to my side, and if I squinted just right, the colors of the scenery morphed into a familiar shape: the blonde King of Knights, garbed in her signature silver armor over her royal blue dress. But I blink, and the image fades entirely, replaced only by a deep pang in my chest.

Back then, it had been just her and I against what seemed like the world. While I gained allies later in the war, she had been my partner since the very beginning. This casual stroll through the woods reminded me much of our evening patrols, when the world seemingly stood still, and the silence of the night made it seem like we were the only ones in the world. Of course, I wasn't currently looking out for the supernatural in the evening, but the isolation of the forest reminded me of those memories, nonetheless.

"You would've loved this, Saber," I said wistfully, taking in the breadth of the nature around me. "We never did get to go on that date you promised…."

"She's running away! Get her!"

"Come back here, demon!"

"P-P-Please stop!"

Frantic footsteps raced towards me before abruptly stopping, and I heard the sound of a body hitting the ground. The voices were coming from deeper in the path, past the crest of the hill I was on.

"Ahhh!"

As if they had a mind of their own, my legs were already moving, the magecraft-enhanced limbs moving my body towards the other side of the hill. The forest canopy parted to reveal the blinding white light of the afternoon sun. I instinctively covered my eyes, trying to will my eyes to adjust faster to the sudden sunlight.

"Nice! You got her face!"

"You think I got it in her eyes again?"

"Nah but looks like you got some in her mouth though."

The world of white subsided, revealing a familiar scene.

A girl laid on the ground, her white cloak heavily caked in mud. She was sprawled on her back, supporting herself with one arm while the other futilely tried to shield her face. Her front was similarly smeared with mud; her white shirt was stained brown, and her face bore even more splotches of dirt.

"Hey, I got a big one here!"

Across from her were three boys, all of which seemed significantly older than her. Their legs and arms were covered in mud as well, though it was done willingly. One of the boys, the largest of the three, bent over to the side, picking up a sizeable rock. Tossing it up and down to test its weight, the boy cocked back his arm, aiming for the girl's head.

"Take this!"

The large stone flew the air. With its mass and momentum, the projectile would easily cause severe damage, especially with the girl's frail frame, if not outright death by caving in her skull.

Too bad it never reached its target.

With a practiced mental command and a flash of blue light, a nondescript dagger appeared over my shoulder and disappeared just as quickly, the weapon imperceptibly soaring through the air at supersonic speeds in a deadly straight line.

Sparks flew as steel met rock, intercepting each other's course. The stone harmlessly dropped like a fly to the side, landing in a puddle of mud and splashing its thrower. The dagger spun through the air until it embedded itself into the ground point-first before dissipating into motes of light.

"W-Wait what?" The group looked around in confusion, wondering what had happened in that brief second, until one of them spotted me slowly walking down the hill towards them.

"Hey! Who are you?!"

"Yeah! Get outta here!"

I calmly continued walking forwards, uncaring for their warnings. Reaching the girl, who looked up at me bewilderingly with a single green eye—the other covered by stained hair stuck against her face—I extended a hand towards her invitingly.

"Are you okay?"

She numbly nodded, looking at my outstretched hand with hesitation. I didn't pressure her into taking it, only calmly holding out the limb and nothing else to show I had no intention of hurting her. She was like a cornered animal, and forcing her into anything might just have its opposite effect.

Thankfully after a few heavy moments, she placed her hand in mind. Nodding at her choice, I hefted her up onto her feet.

"O-Ow!"

Her left leg wobbled, and she immediately collapsed, sending her flying backwards. Fortunately, I was still holding onto her, so getting down onto one knee, I gently lowered her onto the ground in a sitting position.

"Your left ankle is sprained," I noticed, looking at the ugly purple discoloration on the joint. "You must not have noticed it because of the adrenaline."

"Adrenaline?" she asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

"Hey, don't ignore us!"

I shot an apologetic expression at her.

"Sorry, this will just take a second." Standing up, I turned around and took a few steps forwards to face the three bullies. They all looked livid, clenching their teeth in frustration and glaring holes at me.

"Did you guys want something?"

"Why are you helping her?! She's a demon!"

I raised an eyebrow. Demon?

I looked back at the girl behind me. Her eyes widened in fear, and she started trembling, bringing her arms towards herself and shying away from me.

I peered closer at her. There were no ram horns sprouting from her green hair, nor did were bat wings sprouting from her back. Neither did she look like a certain executor priest.

Hooves maybe? I looked down.

Nope.

It was a far cry from trying to drag me through fire and brimstone to the depths of hell.

Judging from her tearful expression, she was afraid of what I was going to do next. I knew that look all too well, the face of someone who had been betrayed and hurt over and over. She was scared that I would betray and abandon her after learning of what she was.

"Demon? I don't see a demon," I answered, looking back at the boys. "You shouldn't be throwing around such words so nonchalantly."

They looked flabbergasted. "What do you mean she's not a demon?! Look at her!" one of them said, angrily pointing his finger at the girl behind me.

"I don't see a demon," I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "In any case, I believe you three have overstayed your welcome. Please leave."

"Pffft!" Almost immediately, laughter erupted among them as their angry expressions morphed into a mix of incredulity and amusement. One of them bent over his waist, loudly laughing as he slapped his thigh repeatedly. In contrast, I continued standing across from them with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh man, that's good. You're like, what, four?" He gestured to my small stature. "Look, if you wanna stay with that demon, then you're no better than her!"

I sighed in exasperation. "Why does it always turn out this way?" I lamented.

"The girl can't run anymore! Just beat him, and we can see how long she can hold her breath underwater," one of them called out. The three boys fanned out, surrounding me in a semicircle. They were significantly larger than me, tall enough to almost blot out the sun from my perspective. However, I could tell they were inexperienced—they were children, after all. For all their bravado earlier, none of them moved closer to me. They looked at each other uncertainly, seeing which one of them was brave enough to start a fight. In contrast, I merely stood between them, unfazed at their little display.

After half a minute of standing, it was the boy on the right that started the fight who mustered up the courage to step forward. He ran towards me, right arm cocked back. Before reaching me, he planted his left foot into the ground, extending his fist towards my face.

Even if he hadn't telegraphed the strike so obviously, its insultingly slow speed would have made it all too easy to evade. The punch had little force behind it too, using only his chest and arm muscles as opposed to the entirely of his body by putting his entire weight behind the strike. With his undeveloped frame, it wouldn't have taken much to stop him. Not to mention he didn't even punch straight, curling his arm to the side as if he was avoiding my nonexistent guard. By angling his fist, he subconsciously leaned to the side, shifting this weight almost entirely on one foot.

I pivoted to the side, letting the arm glide past me. Grasping onto the overextended limb with both hands, I used his own momentum and lack of balance against him, spinning him around and gently pushing on the back and launching him towards the space between the two other boys.

The other two remained standing still in the initial positions, unable to register what just happened as their friend stumbled past them before he finally lost his balance and fell onto his stomach.

They feebly looked at each other before coming to some sort of silent agreement before slowly advancing on me with measured steps.

In response, I did nothing, perfectly content to let them come to me.

With a cry of exertion, the one on the left quickly charged at me, planting on one step and twisting his body as his other leg rose towards me. I ducked underneath it, my small stature coming in useful as I felt the hairs on my head graze his leg. However, just before it could completely pass over me, I grabbed his foot. The boy awkwardly shuffled around on the sole foot on the ground, hopping around as he desperately tried not to fall down. With almost contemptuous ease, I spun him back around and pushed him softly as I did with the first boy, sending him straight into the first boy, who had just recovered from my counterattack. Not expecting his friend to barrel into him, both of them ended up in a tangle of limbs as they both fell over into the mud puddle.

I looked at the last boy, who was suddenly looking a lot less confident.

"Uh, whatever, let's just go guys!" he said to the boys behind him.

"Hell no! We at least tried. Get in there!"

"Yeah man, you totally got this!"

Cringing at the responses, he looked back at me, then back at his friends, then back to me. Muttering some sounded like some kind of prayer, he slowly moved towards me, eyeing my movements—or lack thereof –carefully.

Closing the distance, he stepped forward and threw a punch—at least this one was straight—but just like the previous time, I pivoted and let it go past me. Before I could grab it, he quickly retracted the limb and cocked back his other arm, sending another strike. Almost like I was seeing it in slow motion, I lazily raised my own arm to parry his limb, slapping it to the side. Before he could recover, I casually butted my foot against his own, the light blow robbing him of his foot. I watched him fall down to one knee in front of me, and kneeling down so we were eye-level, I looked at him evenly in the eyes with nothing more than a blank yet disapproving look on my face.

At the same time, I saw a familiar rock heading towards me from my periphery, the same one that I had blocked earlier. Quickly looking, I saw one of the bullies in a throwing position, having just launched the stone at me. The mud-caked projectile flew towards me, threatening to split my head open.

Catching it like a baseball, I slowly brought the rock forwards so the boy in front of me could clearly see it. With a flex of reinforced fingers, the offending stone shattered in a shower of dust and pebbles. All the while, my face remained empty, not a hint of emotion leaking from the mask.

The boy's eyes trembled in fear, and tears started to pool in his sockets. Sensing that he did not need any more convincing, I stood back up, turning my head towards the other two children.

"Well?"

They quickly got the message, and all three hastily started to run back towards the direction of the village. Seeing them disappear over the crest of the hill, I gave my full attention to the girl behind me, who was looking at me with a fearful expression.

My lips curl upwards to defuse her anxiety. "Sorry, I had to make sure they wouldn't bother you again. Don't worry, I won't hurt you." That statement would have been far more believable before the unfortunate encounter. "I'm guessing you can't walk?" asked, gesturing towards her sprained ankle.

"Y-Y-Yes…" she said, meekly nodding.

"I see."

This situation was an unfortunate predicament. I didn't really know any medical magecraft or any healing magic of this world. My skillset was a bit more… specific.

"I know a healer who can probably fix your ankle. If you would like, I can take you to her." I distinctly recall Zenith's healing magic she used on me when I was younger. I know she said not to be a busybody helping others, but surely she would take exception to this, right?

"U-Uh… um…" I could see hesitation and wariness flashing in spades across her face. If she truly wished it, I would have left her alone, but seeing as she was physically injured, I wanted to help as much as I could.

"Don't worry, she's very nice. She's the husband to the knight of this village. She's the most skilled healer I know." I curled my lips upwards once again to try and soothe her worries.

The statement wasn't necessarily a lie. Zenith was the most skilled healer I knew in this world. She was also the only healer I knew, so the candidates for that title weren't plenty.

"E-er… okay…"

Not much of a talker, huh? She almost reminded me of Sakura.

"Hmm, you can't walk, so would you be comfortable with me carrying you?"

A heavy blush adorned her small pale cheeks.

"C-C-Carry me?!" she stammered out. "I-I-I-I'm not s-s-s-sure…"

"Well, I can't really leave you here while I go get help." I pointed out. "It might take some time, but I can build a cart of some sorts. I just need to gather some wood in the forest," I suggested. Making a rudimentary hand-pulled cart shouldn't be difficult. I could change the shape of any sticks I find using alteration and patch them together with reinforcement.

"U-Um… that might be too hard…" she denied.

"Hmm, then we're at an impasse." What else could I use? The thought of conjuring Vimana crossed my mind, the absurd thought giving me a mental laugh as I continued deliberating. Did I have a flying sword I recorded somewhere? Hmm, this would require some meditation.

"Um… it's fine… You can just leave me…"

I glanced down at the girl. Was she so scared of me that she would rather sit here immobilized than accept my help? Well… I couldn't really blame her. However, for something as trivial as this, even a fake such as I would suffice.

"Sorry, but your injury will only get worse if you attempt to walk on it, and it could get dark before your parents come here and get you help. You'd most likely be seeing the woman I was talking about anyway." As far as I knew, Zenith was the only healer in this area, so any medical services were assigned to her automatically.

Well, this left me quite stumped. For once, I wished Berserker were here. Illya did say he could turn into a car, and while I thought she was joking, it was always hard to tell with her…

"Um," she started, suddenly finding the ground next to her far more interesting. "You… you can carry me..."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I don't want to pressure you." I could always sprint to her parents' house and inform them of the situation. With some reinforcement, it wouldn't take long in the slightest. The issue is that this girl might question how I got to her house so fast.

"It's… It's fine. Just please be gentle..."

"Of course," I answered. I knelt, facing my back towards her. She leaned forward, tentatively placing her hands onto my shoulders. I slowly stood up, making sure not to startle her, though I still felt her grip tighten almost painfully. I hooked each of my arms underneath her thighs and slouched forwards. "You okay?"

"I'm... I'm fine… Are… are you sure you can carry me all the way?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just let me know if you need a break." I nodded towards the path I came from. "There's a stream on the way there. We can take a short break to clean you." The girl was positively filthy, and from the way mud was caked onto her skin and in her hair, they had been harassing her long enough for the dirt to have dried and hardened.

We were the same height, so carrying her was a bit awkward. Normally I wouldn't have the strength or stamina to do so in this body, but I could discretely reinforce my body slightly to take most of the strain. This could serve as good practice for my magecraft anyway. "Ready?"

She nodded, and I slowly started marching back towards my house.

The walk back was completely silent. I wasn't much of a talker in the first place, and from what I can gather, this girl wasn't very social either. From my initial impressions, she was quite shy and quiet, and that stutter of hers made her lack of talking skills apparent.

Still, I didn't mind. It was only an issue if she found it so.

"U-Um… what's your… name…?"

Apparently she did.

"Shirou," I answered. "Emi—Actually, just Shirou is fine."

"S-Shirou…" she said, testing the word on her tongue. She nodded after a while before suddenly seizing up. From our proximity, I could feel her shivers of fright against my back.

"You don't need to tell me your name," I deduced. The comparison to Sakura was an apt one; her constant anxiety in our interactions made me all the sadder at what had transpired in the past that made her like so.

It was a sad thing. Children should be children, and giving an innocent girl such deep scars early in her life was an unforgivable crime.

Her hand gripped my shoulder harder. "It… fine… I'm… Sylphiette," she quietly said. I had to applaud her bravery. I knew people who were afraid to confront their fears, and this girl was out doing them at her tender age.

"A pleasure to meet you, Sylphiette, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

Unfortunately, the conversation died at that, and the awkward silence returned, the rift between us remaining present. Unfortunately for Sylphiette, I didn't have the skills to maintain an amicable conversation between us the entire way back.

"Um Shirou, why… why did you help me?" Ah, it seemed that I wouldn't need to take the initiative after all.

I let her words linger in my mind. The answer was on the tip of my tongue, words that I had recited so easily in the past. In fact, I had said them to Zenith earlier. It was only now, when I was forced to confront the results of my actions, with memories of my past life and where it had ended up flashing through my head, that I paused, reconsidering my answer and what it truly meant.

"You needed help. There is nothing more to it than that. There is nothing wrong with helping others."

In the end, I gave her the same words I had spouted so freely before. There was no lie in what I had said. Even if the foundations of my resolve were cracked and broken, the truth they upheld was still absolute.

"Even… even someone like me?"

I glanced at her questioningly.

"What do you mean? What's wrong with you?" There didn't seem to be anything wrong with her from my perspective. Maybe a bit shy and timid, but there was nothing wrong with that. Oh god, was she actually going to drag me to hell?

"That… that I'm a demon…" She subconsciously clenched harder onto my shoulders. M-my dad is half-elf… but they call him a demon… and I'm his daughter, so I'm a demon too…!" I felt tear drops fall onto my back, and Sylphiette's words slowed down until she was nearly forcing them out by the end. Just as before, I didn't comment on it, letting her have her dignity as I processed what she had said.

I hadn't noticed earlier, but the girl on my back was indeed an elf, or at least partly so. Her large, pointed ears and pale skin was definitely typical of the elvish race in typical fantasy. Of course, I couldn't look back to confirm my thoughts, lest I embarrass her further.

It also brought into question why her father was being called a demon. From what she was saying, it seemed that she was using demon to refer to a race of beings rather than something evil. In that case, referring to an elf as a demon seemed fairly contrarian. I was no expert in the supernatural, but elves and demons were almost always distinguished from each other, and in some respects, were on nearly opposite ends of the spectrum. Well, I was ultimately an outsider, so these specific nuances to the history of the world and its politics were unknown to me. Still, from Sylphiette's distress, it was obvious that being a demon was looked down upon here, and even if it wasn't in the correct sense of the word, I can't imagine that being called a demon as a child did wonders for her either.

"And what about you? What do you think?" I rebutted.

"I… I don't k-know… It's hard for my parents… E-everyone looks at them weird… but my d-dad… he hasn't done anything wrong…!" Ah, the crime of being born. It was a topic I was all too familiar with.

"He sounds like a good man."

"H-H-He is!" Ah, that her excited. "He's a-always nice to me… He treats me and my mom well… He's s-super s-strong too but he always p-plays with me still…"

"It's a man's duty to shoulder the burdens of the world. As long as you and your mother are there at his side, I'm sure your father would bear it gladly." People were fragile creatures. Their bodies were soft and easily broken. Their resolve and determination could be undermined with nothing more than a single word. Elves, demons, humans, it didn't matter. All living creatures fell under that rule. And yet, people persevered all this time, simply because they were never alone. I'm sure Sylphiette's father must have struggled to endure the constant scrutiny and judgement of those around him, just as I'm sure that when he came home to his smiling wife and daughter, the hefty weight on his shoulders vanished into nothingness.

"B-but… that's… that's so sad…" Her head drooped down until it rested on the base of my neck, and I could feel the wetness of her face against my bare skin. I clenched my teeth, chiding myself for making a young girl like Sylphiette cry. She didn't need to hear any of this. All she needed were some comforting words and a promise that everything would work out.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. You shouldn't have to learn this so early."

I felt Sylphiette raise an arm to wipe away the tears on her face. "It's… okay… So as long as I love Papa… he'll be okay…?"

I nodded, staring at the distant horizon as I struggled to control the flood of emotions threatening to drown me. "He's strong because of you, Sylphiette. Don't cut yourself short. Any decent father values his children, and I'm sure a father like him loves you with all his heart."

Sniffles rang out from behind me, and Sylphiette's voice hitched in her throat as she quietly sobbed on my back.

"Even… e-even if I'm different from Momma and Papa…?

"Good parents love their children no matter what. Do you have bad parents, Sylphiette?"

"No!" she protested, the outburst the loudest I've heard the girl since I met her. "They're… t-they're the best!"

I almost smiled at the immediate response. This girl truly treasured her family. I could respect such strong feelings.

"Then you have your answer."

Her weeping intensified, and before long Sylphiette was crying uncontrollably. The entirety of my back became damp as she planted her face into it, smearing mucus and tears all over it. Her bawls were muffled due to her pressing her mouth against my shirt, but her wails reached my heart, nonetheless. I didn't even realize I had subconsciously started digging my fingers into her thighs, holding the poor girl closer to me.

Eventually, Sylphiette started to calm down, but she still let out the occasional sniffle. "My ears are longer than Papa's… and my hair… it's different from my parents," she started. "People say it's the color of e-evil, but Momma and Papa said there's nothing wrong with it."

Evil? This little girl? I couldn't even begin to imagine how that particular rumor came about.

"You're not evil, Sylphiette. And don't worry about your hair being different. Your parents gave birth to you out of love. You, as you are, flaws and all, are a result of that love. They wouldn't want you thinking of yourself like that." I craned my head backwards, looking at her for the first time since I started escorting her back home. Her face was covered in dried snot and tears, and her eyes were puffy and red from her crying. I pushed her further up my back, letting me carry her with one arm. Her head was closer to mine, and with my free limb, I reached backwards, bringing my hand to her forehead. Sylphiette looked confused at what I was doing, warily looking at it. My fingers flashed forward, and the serious look Sylphiette was sporting crumbled like dust as I gentle flicked her forehead. She brought her hands up, eyes shut closed until she opened them after a moment, realizing that she wasn't hurt. Sylphiette was stunned, unsure what to make of the gesture. In response, I continued staring at her evenly. "You're special because you're their daughter. Never forget that."

My message stunned her, and her eyes widened as the struggled to process my words. Satisfied, I turned away from her. Perhaps it was a bit of a convoluted method, but I had to brighten her spirits somehow. Even if she didn't understand now, she eventually would in the future. But for now, this was enough. Someone like her shouldn't have that kind of look on her face. It was depressingly unfitting.

"I… I see… Thank you…" The shocked Sylphiette finally recovered, uttering only a few quiet words. However, I could tell from her tone that the worries that plagued her were gone for now. It was to be expected; people didn't change off a single conversation. She would need to be reminded time and again until the lesson was engraved onto her brain. Perhaps this trip to her home could serve another purpose as well.

I flinched in surprise when I felt a sudden weight on my shoulder, and I looked to the side only for my vision to be filled tufts of verdant green and pools of emerald. Sylphiette's eyes pierced mine, my own widening in shock, and my feet involuntarily stopped moving as my breath caught in my throat. I opened my mouth to say something only to realize no words would come out, and I wondered at how much a little girl managed to root me in place.

She slowly blinked, drowsily shutting her eyes closed before resting her head in the crook of my neck, letting out a purr as satisfaction as she nuzzled her head against mine.

"So… warm…"

This girl… we only met half an hour ago!

Well, I guess it couldn't be helped. The afternoon sun was right above our heads, and Sylphiette must have been tired from trying to escape those boys earlier. At the very least, if she trusted me enough to take a nap while on my back, then my goal of helping alleviate her anxieties was complete.

The walk continued in silence, mostly due to my sole companion being fast asleep as I carried her back to the village. Eventually, we managed to reach the small river that cut through the village. It was the primary water source here, and I've accompanied Zenith to it many times to fetch water for the house. This particular bend of the stream was further out than what I was familiar with, so it would be up to Sylphiette to guide us from here.

"Hey, you awake?" I asked gently. I softly nudged her awake with my head, watching as Sylphiette lifted her head up and slowly opened her eyes. She wiped her face, groggily panning her head from left to right. I could feel the gears turning in her mind as an expression of puzzlement crossed over her youthful face as she processed the unfamiliar environment around her. Then her eyes landed on mine, our faces barely a few centimeters from each other, and the pale skin beneath the patches of dirt on her face began to turn a brilliant shade of crimson.

"S-S-S-S-Shirou…!"

She started squirming on my back, and I sighed as I kept a firm hold on the girl, not wanting her to fall down and hurt herself further.

"Yes, that's my name."

Careful to make sure I didn't stumble and drop the panicking girl, I slowly walked over to the river shore. I knelt down, dropping her onto a sitting position. Sylphiette didn't protest, the blush on her cheeks still in full effect as she avoided eye contact with me.

"Wait here."

I stepped away from her, I went into the nearby bushes, disappearing from her sight. I wordlessly held out a hand, blue light coalescing into a small shape above my palm. Half a second later, and I was carrying a wooden bowl back to Sylphiette.

"Looks like someone forget this. How convenient."

The girl looked confused, and I was worried she didn't believe me. Oh well, it was a minor thing; she would probably forget anyway.

I dipped the bowl into the stream before bringing it over to Sylphiette. I held it up over her head, and she recoiled as the cold liquid dripped down onto her head. Already, the dried mud that blemished her hair was beginning to dissolve and break away, revealing more of the crown of green tresses underneath.

"That's most of it. Here, you can clean the rest of your hair. I'll make a rag for your face."

I handed her the bowl of water, and she started washing her hair by herself. Meanwhile, I gripped my pants, holding a portion of the fabric near the opening for the leg. With a sharp pull, the cloth tore easily, catching Sylphiette's attention.

"Shirou?"

I grunted again, and a small portion of the clothing came off my leg as a strip of fabric.

Destroying clothing—perhaps I was a rebellious child all along.

"You didn't have to do that… Won't your parents get m-mad?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm sure they'll understand."

By now, Sylphiette had finished washing her hair. I plunged the makeshift rag into the stream, bringing it back to the girl and holding it out to her.

"Sorry that this is the best I can do," I said apologetically, giving her a sheepish expression.

"T-thank you…" Sylphiette took my offering, pressing the wet cloth against herself. Her face, marred with splotches of grime and mud, noticeable brightened—figuratively and literally—as the elvish girl continued wiping herself. I was content to just sit next to her, leaving her to her own efforts as I blankly took in the surrounding area.

It was… peaceful. Not surprising considering very little of little actually occurred in this world. Admittedly, most of my trips outside of the house had a specific intent, whether it was to train or to help Zenith. Going outside of my accord like this, with only a vague idea of what to do… it wasn't entirely unpleasant. One part of me felt like this excursion was a waste of time, that I could have been doing something else. Helping Sylphiette was good, yes, but she was ultimately only one person. Perhaps in some way, there was another group of people I could have encountered that needed me more, or maybe even if I spent time focusing on improving my abilities right now instead of accompanying her, the fruit of my labors could help me save even more people in the future.

It was not an incorrect assumption. It was also a dangerous line of thinking. Archer had fallen into that trap once, and he had made me swear not to fall into it as he had.

For now, this current situation was fine. Helping others with these menial problems was simply one aspect of being a hero.

Of course, this was only the calm before the storm. Sooner or later, I would be called to fulfill my duty, and the climax of my journey would begin in earnest.

"S-Shirou?"

The soft-spoken girl next to me prodded my shoulder, jolting me out of my reverie. Sylphiette looked like she had been looking at me for quite some time, her head cocked to the side in confusion. I coughed awkwardly, embarrassed at losing myself in my thoughts at a time like this.

"Sorry, I was thinking of something else. You're all done?"

"Um, yes. I feel a lot better now. T-Thank you!"

"You're welcome, though I didn't do much. It was you who did all the cleaning. All I did was carry you." Actually, now that I looked at her more, she missed a spot.

I grabbed the piece of cloth from her hand, bringing myself closer to her. Ignoring her cries of "S-S-S-Shirou?!", I tenderly cleaned a stray patch of dirt near her eye. I backed away, standing back up and circling the sitting girl as I checked her head for any missed areas.

"Looks like you're all clean. Feel any better?"

"Y-Y-Y-Yes!"

Oh dear, her stuttering was getting worse.

"I'm afraid you'll need to clean your clothing back at your house or maybe even Zenith will even wash them for you?"

"Zenith?"

"The healer I'm taking you to." Once again, Sylphiette's face twisted into a strange expression, looking at me oddly before nodding in acceptance.

"Zenith…" Her countenance was scrunched in thought as she pondered. "She's a healer… But Papa said the only healer around here is…" Her face lit up as realization struck her like a lightning bolt. "You're talking about Zenith Greyrat! You're Sir P-Paul's son!"

I wryly grinned at her excitement. "Correct. Good deduction," I praised.

"It's n-nothing. I'm just remember what Papa told me from before."

"Your father knows about Paul and Zenith?" I questioned.

Like clockwork, she gave me an odd look.

"Papa goes on patrols with Sir Paul sometimes… They talk to each other about stuff, and P-Papa talks about his day when he gets h-home…" Ah yes, I remembered Paul bringing up his patrols some time ago. What a coincidence that I would meet the daughter of the man he fought alongside with. Hopefully he didn't say anything about me, but knowing Paul, he probably vented his frustrations to his fellow man, and naturally Sylphiette's father would tell his family what Paul had said. Unfortunately, his stories probably painted me in a negative light, and now that Sylphiette's discovered my identity, her impression of me would now be twisted.

It was unfortunate, but that was life.

"I see. Perhaps it will be your turn to tell him a story when you return to him later."

"Ah, I was going over to him earlier… Mama told me to give him his lunch…"

"Before those boys chased you, right?"

She nodded. "I dropped Papa's food…" Sylphiette seemed genuinely disheartened at the prospect of her father going a day without lunch. I raised a hand, the temptation to reach over and pat her head flooding my mind, words of comfort to tell her everything will be fine on my lips. At the last second, I reigned myself back in, deciding only to give her an apologetic look.

"There might be some left over food. Perhaps if you're fast enough, you might be able to bring him back some before he comes back home."

Her eyes widened, stars replacing her pupils as she excitedly smiled at me. "R-Really?! You mean it?!"

I coughed awkwardly, unsure what to make of the timid girl's sudden burst of enthusiasm. "Yes, really."

Her smile was dazzling, the curve of her lips bright enough to outshine the sun above our heads. My heart almost skipped a beat at the genuine happiness she exuded, and I couldn't help but feel glad that the despondent little girl from earlier was nowhere to be seen. Of all the people I've ever met, Sylphiette was a nice breath of fresh air, her naivete and innocence sparking a welcoming flame inside of my chest.

"Well, like I said, we still have to be quick about it. Now then, shall we get going?"

She nodded twice. "Yes, yes!"

I turned around, crouching and letting the injured girl climb onto me. I wordlessly looked back at her, the unspoken question on my lips. Sylphiette simply smiled, nodding her head to show she was ready. We set off without another word, a comfortable silence settling between us as we started the journey back to the Greyrat household.

It was a familiar sight.

"The first time you leave the house on your own, and you already get into trouble."

I suppose that my life wouldn't be complete without a bunch of people, usually women, being outright pissed as me.

"Master Shirou has always been exceptionally stubborn and is prone to ignoring suggestions, at the cost of himself even."

Really, who could have foreseen this?

"…You're all overreacting. Somal is fine. Shirou didn't do anything wrong."

It must have been a cold day in hell if Paul of all people was defending me.

"He got into a fight, Paul. Take this seriously."

From Zenith of all people. Now I really don't understand what's going on with him.

"Eh, they'll be fine. Boys get into fights all the time."

"He still shouldn't have been in a fight! He could've gotten hurt!"

It wasn't really a fight.

"But was it really a fight? Shirou doesn't have a scratch on him, and those boys aren't hurt either. Trust me, they're just embarrassed they got roughed around by a kid barely half their size. Not like they haven't been getting a little rowdy lately anyway."

"Ugh, you're still missing the point."

"Or maybe you need to accept things and move on."

When I had arrived with Sylphiette in tow, the three residents of the house were standing shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the entrance to the house, barring my entry and forcing me to confront them.

Unsurprisingly, the group was on the verge of imploding. Zenith's face was set in an angry scowl, and her arms were crossed, only accentuated by the rapid tapping of her foot against the ground. Her eyes were on Paul, blue eyes simmering with annoyance and frustration at her husband. Paul, in contrast, was nonchalantly leaning against the guardrail of the porch. His cool, unconcerned demeanor wasn't deterred in the slightest from Zenith's fiery words and attitude. His eyes panned over to me, then to the girl on my back, and I could see something click in his brain. He didn't frown at my presence, choosing only to remain impassive as he endured the brunt of his wife's verbal assault.

As always, Lilia was on Zenith's other side, her expression stoic as always. I nodded to her, a gesture the maid returned. I pitied her current position, but from the way Zenith turned back to me, I'm sure she would be sharing similar sentiments very soon.

"So, when I said to go explore and have fun, did you think fighting the local children was what I meant by that?" Disappointed and resignation were heavily laced in her words, and I knew that the upcoming argument would not be pleasant.

I firmly returned her gaze, stopping just in front of the porch as I took in the sight in front of me. All three members of the Greyrat household had gathered in this spot to wait for my arrival. Zenith obviously was leading the mob, though I was more curious about the other two. Lilia held a curious expression on her face, eager to find out just what had happened. Apparently, news spread fast in the small village.

Paul was trying his best to hide it, but he was almost interested in the events of the afternoon. The man was as dishonest as ever.

"You should hear him out first," Lilia advised.

Zenith looked at her, sighing as she realized the wisdom in the maid's words before returning those spotlights back at me. Her scrutiny paused for a slight moment on the passenger on my back, and her eyes quickly narrowed at the injury to her foot. Considering her adventuring experience, I had no doubt that she had already assessed Sylphiette's sprained ankle and decided it wasn't anything to be worried about. She placed her hands on her hips instead, and I couldn't help but be reminded of Saber doing that exact pose in exasperation during her lectures.

"Well? Shirou, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Somehow, a part of me would've preferred that instead.

Chapter Text

"She needed help."

I motioned with my head towards the girl on my back, who was trying her best to hide from the formidable woman by pressing herself against me as much as possible. Cold azure blue darted over to Sylphiette, and turning into the subject of Zenith's focus only caused the shy girl to shrink even further, only her eyes and crown of jade peeking out from behind my shoulder. Due to our close proximity, I could feel her shivering in fear, and I frowned at the effect the livid woman was having on the elf girl.

"Please don't be like that. It couldn't be helped. Sylphiette was being bullied by those boys." From my current understanding, it seemed like the parents of those boys had approached the Greyrats after the incident. Naturally, no one besides Sylphiette or I had the full picture, so I had to clear whatever skewed assumptions Paul and Zenith currently held.

Hardened blue eyes softened at the revelation as Zenith gave Sylphiette a look of sympathy. She subtly clenched her teeth, and the woman's fists tightened as she fidgeted in place, unsure of what to do now.

Suddenly, she sighed, giving the child on my back a small nod. "I know what it's like. Don't worry, I'll heal you later." A part of me was surprised and curious what she really meant by those words. Zenith was a strong woman; I didn't know much about her, but I would've thought that her headstrong personality would've deterred others from bullying her. Still, everyone had to start somewhere, and I supposed that I had much to learn about the people that called themselves my family in this new world. Off to the side, Paul gave his wife a sideways knowing glance at her words, and the subtle gesture drove home just how in the dark I was about the people I lived with every day.

Out of respect, I never intruded on their deepest thoughts and memories. Any insight would have to come from conversing with them.

"She needs a bath too. They were throwing mud at her." Maybe appealing to her motherly instincts could have some merit.

Understanding the implication, Lilia silently walked back into the house, presumably to get a basin and draw water from the stream nearby. That's what I liked about the maid—always so diligent and dutiful.

"When did this happen?" Zenith asked.

"A bit after I left the house. I came across her running away from the boys. It's been a few hours since then. I went back here to ask for your help," I explained.

I could see a flicker of happiness glint inside of Zenith's eyes, the abrupt flame extinguished as soon as it sparked.

"Her parents don't know then," a masculine voice interjected. Paul gave me an even stare, his face carved from stone as he stated the fact.

"Correct."

He gave me a pensive look, thoughts running wild in his head as decided on his next words. "Good on you to make sure this little lady was alright first." Paul 's face relaxed as he gave Sylphiette a friendly smile, a gesture that still spooked her as she went back to hiding behind me. "You carried her all the way over here?"

"… Yes." Shit, I forgot to consider that normal children weren't supposed to be able to carry other kids over a few kilometers.

"Huh…" Paul's mouth was a tight line as he bowed his head in contemplation. Funnily enough, this conversation was the most amicable Paul has been with me for years now. His usual frosty demeanor wasn't anywhere to be found, giving me only rather lukewarm indifference—though his praise of my actions was rather unexpected.

Seeing the interaction between us with narrowed eyes, Zenith coughed to get our attention. "Anyway, don't think you're off the hook just yet, Shirou." She crossed her arms in indignation, looking every bit of an unhappy mother scolding her child for not listening to her.

"Are you mad that I helped Sylphiette?" I asked, my voice flat.

The question instantly knocked the wind out of Zenith's sails. Before, Zenith had said she didn't want me trying to act like a hero, but with the girl I had helped right in front of her, trying to undermine my actions was the same as undermining the girl she had emphasized with.

"I'm not mad…"

"I'm sorry for going against your wishes, but there was someone who needed help." Emiya Shirou would never sit back and watch as misfortune unfolded on the innocent. It was a simple rule, as immutable as the never-ending march of time and as certain as the rise and fall of the sun. In the end, I simply couldn't stay away.

Bright blue and blunted bronze boldly battled, eyes locked in a fierce duel. Unfortunately for Zenith, this was one fight I had far more experience in this regard than her, the words I threw at her the same ones I had used in the past against the people I love. In my periphery, Paul was growing increasingly worried, darting his eye rapidly between Zenith and me. His face betrayed his indecision, unsure of when to step in or for who.

I could feel her resolve weaken, the weight of my words threatening to bury her under foot. The woman had my respect, but even I could see the fragility of her strength, the determination she displayed nothing more than glass. Had my words been more pointed with barbs of derision and ridicule, the poor woman could have been broken entirely in that moment, but that was not who I was. Regardless, the temptation was there, the fact that such a malicious parasite had planted itself in my mind a scary prospect to think about.

Archer would have shattered her illusions with no hesitation. Kiritsugu would have too. Once again, those two came to the forefront of my mind, their words invading my head before I shook them away.

Finally, the woman relented, her shoulders drooping as she started mumbling. "This isn't working…" She took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I just… never mind. I guess this is just the way things are." She started walking back inside, looking over her shoulder towards me. "Let's take this inside. We can heal your friend, and then you can tell us more about what happened."

Her exit left me along in the front yard with only Paul and Sylphiette. Not sparing him a glance, I walked up to the porch, a hand on the door to open it.

"Wait."

It seemed that Paul wasn't content to let me leave quietly. I craned my head to the side at the person I had just walked past, dull brown orbs staring blankly upwards at the man.

This was the first time in a while I had stood so closely to him. He was at least several heads taller than I, yet from an outsider's perspective, it would look like I was the one looking down on him. Judging from the small beads of sweat trailing down his forehead, the slightest of trembling of his knees, and the way his right hand kept emptily grasping air—no doubt he was instinctively reaching for a weapon in times of discomfort—the sheer difference in our physical statures meant little to Paul.

I cocked my head to the side, staring at him as I waited for the unexpected development to unfold.

Paul inhaled a large gulp of air, stilling himself before allowing himself to speak again.

"Zenith… is not normally like this. You noticed it, right?" To his credit, his voice only seemed slightly shaken.

"We've had… similar discussions before," I confessed, recalling our earlier conversation, "but this is the first time she's been so direct."

The woman was normally fairly docile and gentle, but I supposed that everyone had their limits. Still, I never expected the woman to show her displeasure so openly.

"Yeah, I figured. Normally, she's glued to you. Overprotective too," Paul said.

I nodded once, not disagreeing with his words. The conversation slowly trailed off there as Paul's initial reason for talking was resolved. Satisfied, I turned back to the house.

"Wait."

The voice interrupted me again, freezing me in my tracks. Paul walked over to me, but the subject of curiosity was not me this time, but person on my back.

"… Ahh…" Sylphiette leaned back apprehensively, but it didn't deter Paul's advances at all. He gave her a thorough once over, experienced eyes roaming over Sylphiette and peering at her form. It didn't seem particularly malicious, so I wasn't too worried, but the same could not be said about the girl in question, who already had one terrifying encounter with a Greyrat parent.

Giving her one last look-over, Paul stepped back, giving Sylphiette some much needed space.

"You're saying you just rescued her?"

"I did."

Humming contemplatively, Paul took in the image in front of him, casting a thoughtful gaze over us.

"Well, you're certainly starting earlier than most…" he mumbled to himself while stroking his shaven chin. "Can't say I blame a man for helping out a girl?"

I raised an eyebrow in question.

Starting what?

Sylphiette squeaked behind me, burying her face into my back.

"No wait, that makes sense actually...If he's really my… Of course, he wouldn't… couldn't control himself." His mumbling deteriorated into incoherent phrases that I couldn't quite make out. He nodded to himself as if he realized some important detail and started back towards the house.

"At least you know how to pick 'em," he said, giving me a chop on my head as he walked past.

Strange, Paul was never quite this talkative or friendly before. This recent development alongside Zenith's change in behavior… it seemed like things were progressing underneath my nose all this time.

The question was whether it was for the better.

"You two are finally back," the authoritative voice greeted us as soon as we stepped through the door. "What did you two even do out there?"

"Things, nothing important," Paul answered. Zenith gave him a half-lidded stare at his purposefully vague answer, and Paul sighed in defeat. "You know, just your typical father-and-son talk. Had to make sure he won against those boys." Paul smirked, walking into the dining room. Zenith was already seated, taking her place next to Paul with Lilia across from her.

Picking up the hint, I strode over and gingerly deposited Sylphiette into an empty seat next to mine before taking my spot at the other end of the table. Now that I looked at it, this was another first time occurrence in a long time, with all members of the household being seated at the dining table. Usually, Paul would abstain from joining us but with our current arrangement, there was only one seat empty now, though I doubt it would be filled any time soon.

"Your son getting into fights isn't a good thing, Paul," Zenith rebuked.

"But if he's going to fight, he gotta win at least," he shot back.

Both Lilia and Zenith rolled their eyes in unison, letting out exasperated sighs at his reasoning.

"Men will be men, Lady Zenith," Lilia consoled the annoyance wife.

Zenith breathed wistfully. "Some things never change."

"Hey, hey! There are things you just gotta do as a man! What did you want him to do, tell a girl get bullied?" Paul slammed his fist onto the table, sending a large shockwave throughout the room.

Sylphiette jumped in shock, trembling as she fearfully looked at Paul before twisting her head to look at me. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and I glared at Paul for his overly aggressive conduct. To his credit, Paul did look embarrassed, only able to guiltily scratch the back of his head and muttering a quiet apology.

"Paul, you're scaring her. You know you're a knight, right? Act like one," Zenith reprimanded.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm just surprised that you're so against this, considering it's basically what happened with you."

"PAUL!"

He tilted his head to the side. "Aren't I right?"

"It's not the same!" Zenith snarled.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Now I know this is about something else."

"And what do you know?"

"That he did nothing wrong. If their fathers want to come here expecting an apology, I'll be the first one to tell them to fuck off." He glanced over to me, his eyes shimmered with… something I couldn't quite recognize before he gave an almost imperceptible nod—almost a nod of praise of a job well done.

I guess Paul must have been very glad I helped out Sylphiette for him to break character this much.

"They're not usually like this," I whispered to the little girl next to me. She gave me a disbelieving look before silently staring at her hands balled on top of her lap again.

Damn, I wasn't able to deceive a child. How tragic.

"Whatever. You wouldn't understand," Zenith tiredly conceded.

"Try me."

The two of them continued bickering at each other for a few more minutes, looking the spit and image of an old and weary married couple. Off to the side, Lilia's face was practically screaming that she wanted to be anywhere but by their side. Truth be told, even I was getting some second-hand embarrassment from watching them squabbling so blatantly in front of Sylphiette. Speaking of which, the girl wasn't fairing much better than before, loud yelling and harsh words proving too much to handle for the brittle girl.

Getting tired of this debacle, I explicitly made eye contact with Lilia, giving her a small nod. The maid picked up on my intentions and coughed to get their attention.

"May I remind you two that we have a guest?" She waved over towards the elf hybrid. "It might behoove you two to delay your quarrel until after we have taken care of her."

The two Greyrats gave one last glance at each other before turning away, realizing the wisdom of saving their dispute for later. Zenith moved her seat closer to Sylphiette, who meekly shied away from her.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you," Zenith cajoled, giving her a disarming smile.

Sylphiette hesitated before nodding, turning to the woman and weakly raising her leg. Her ankle was in worse shape than before due to the lack of treatment, having swollen to the size of a baseball and taking on an unhealthy purple hue.

Zenith tenderly reached out, extending a hand down towards Sylphiette's leg. Five feminine fingers, dainty in size yet containing callouses from her adventuring days that did not detract from their beauty but added to it, slowly curled themselves around the injured ankle. She tentatively raised the limb, immediately stopping when her patient flinched in pain. Zenith carefully examined various portions of the leg, starting with the foot and making her way up to the calf. She gingerly prodded and caressed the enlarged areas, letting out a hum each time Sylphiette would wince at her ministrations. After a few minutes, she leaned back, ready to give her diagnosis.

"Multiple ankle sprains. They don't seem too severe, but you definitely put weight on them. It's a lot worse than it should be. I'm guessing you kept running after you fell?"

A meek nod was her answer.

"It makes sense. I doubt they gave you much of a choice. You probably didn't notice it while you were running." She pointed towards a spot higher up. The main sprain is here near the calf, and there's another sprain here actually, on the lower end." She indicated a smaller swell near the base of the ankle. "Your body put more force on the other parts of your leg to make up for the first sprain, but it gave out eventually, so now there's two," she explained.

True to her skill level, Zenith immediately analyzed the injury as well as further damage that I didn't realize, not to mention explaining the cause to Sylphiette in an easy-to-understand manner. Again, I had to remind myself that Zenith was a seasoned adventurer at one point, and I have no doubt she had seen her fair share of injuries.

"… Y-Yes… That's what happened…" Sylphiette looked stunned at Zenith figuring out what happened to her with only a cursory glance, surprise and amazement alight in her eyes.

"Thankfully you didn't put any more weight on it after Shirou found you. He carried you all the way over here, right?"

"Y-yes…"

Zenith hummed. "Well good thing he did. Your body was already stressed enough. Don't worry, I'll heal you like nothing happened."

"R-Really?!"

Zenith gave her a genuine smile. "Really." Once again, she took hold of Sylphiette's ankle, cradling it in her hand as she closed her eyes.

"Let this divine power be as satisfying nourishment, giving one who has lost their strength the strength to rise again—Healing!"

With a familiar cry of magic, an inviting green glow enveloped the appendage, the same as that had mended me when I was even younger. I had the opportunity to experience her magic up close but seeing it from an outsider's perspective was helpful as well.

I could only raise an eyebrow as the ugly purple bruises and inflamed tissue that had plagued Sylphiette's foot slowly disappeared until healthy, pale skin was all that was left, leaving not a single remnant of the injury in sight. Zenith examined the ankle once, turning it over and flexing it every which way to ensure everything had healed properly. With one last glance, she gently dropped the limb.

"Congratulations! You'll make a full recovery!"

"It was just a sprained ankle…" Paul interjected.

His wife didn't care to comment on it—probably for the best—and Sylphiette seemed to not have heard the comment as she got up from her chair and smiled in gratitude at the woman across from her. The small girl walked around the room, gently moving her leg every which way to see if there was anything Zenith missed. Before long, she was bouncing up and down on her heels in happiness as she looked at her doctor gratefully.

"T-Thank you, Miss G-Greyrat! Do I… need to pay you back?" she finished shyly.

Zenith smiled in understanding at the girl. She stood up, her tall size dwarfing the child in front of her. "I didn't do it for any kind of payment. I did it because I wanted to. Believe it or not, I used to be an adventurer, you know?"

"Really?" Sylphiette perked up

"Yup. I was part of a pretty good adventuring team with that oaf over there." Zenith jerked her head towards Paul, who rolled his eyes and sighed. "We went on many adventures, traveled everywhere, and met lots of people. We were S-rank too, but we retired when we had Shirou." Zenith shrugged her shoulders.

"W-Wow…" Sylphiette trailed off in amazement. "A-Adventuring sounds like a lot of fun!"

Zenith's eyes glimmered in amusement as the girl's fascination. "Does it? Here, we can't have you going back to your parents so dirty. Let's take a bath upstairs and get all this dirt off you," Zenith waved a hand over Sylphiette's still dirt-caked clothing. "We'll get you a spare change of clothes. Lilia, I believe some of Shirou's clothing should fit her."

"I will procure them at once, milady." With a graceful bow, she disappeared upstairs.

"I-I-I'll be wearing S-S-Shirou's c-c-clothes?" Sylphiette stammered out, her face doing its best impersonation of a tomato.

"Yup! We have some clothing your size since you and Shirou are about the same size. Now come on, we'll take a bath, and I'll tell you all about the adventures I went on." The promise of being regaled more stories seemed to snap Sylphiette out of her thoughts, and taking Zenith's hand, both went up the stairs to the bathroom.

With the exit of both women and Sylphiette, silence took over the dining room as Paul and I were left alone. Admittedly, I didn't really know how to approach the situation. We've had such little interactions over the years that being face to face with him now was proving to be a challenge. It seemed like he's warmed up to me as of today, though as for the reason for his change in demeanor, I wasn't sure.

It was perplexing. To him, my existence was a mistake, a symbol of the end of his happiness. I represented Zenith's supposed infidelity, and while Paul did apologize, how much of his apology was genuine was something only he knew. Zenith wasn't a type of person to cheat, but no one is perfect. People make mistakes, and even if Paul trusted Zenith, there would always be that parasite in his mind, a voice in the back of his head telling him, "But what if?"

To him, I was surely that voice, a constant reminder that there was always a smallest possibility, an iota of chance, that his happy marriage had already ended, and everything he believed in was a lie. It was to that end that he almost ignored my existence.

Until now.

"Shirou."

Realizing there was nothing more to be done in the house, I had started to make my way towards the front door to go venture outside, but Paul's voice gave me pause. Like clockwork, my foot stopped just shy of the ground, body leaning forward midway through the door and just a few inches short of exiting the house. In a motion I was quickly getting familiar with, my neck twisted, and amber eyes cast a blank gaze on the still-seated man.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Paul stood up. The harsh screech of the wooden chair scraping against the floorboards was almost a blessing as it dispelled the stiff silence of the room.

"You… you've been training, haven't you?" he started unsurely. I blinked owlishly at his question and raised an eyebrow in return, neither confirming nor denying his statement. At my vague response, he said, "Your hands… Zenith may be an experienced adventurer, but she doesn't quite have the same eye for these sorts of things as I do. You've been training, haven't you?" What started as a poor mimicry of Sylphiette became far more confident as he continued, and the question he repeated was less of a question and more of a statement made with the certainty granted by over a decade of wisdom and experience.

I looked down at my hands, and true to his words, calluses were beginning to form on my palms and fingers where they had gripped the hilts of my traced weapons for several hours at a time during my secret training sessions. I curiously stroked them, one part proud that I was achieving results for my efforts yet one part disappointed that I had forgotten about such an obvious sign of my clandestine activities.

Pathetic, really. Not even five years before I was found out. For shame.

Paul strode over to me, his large frame easily crossing the previously seemingly large distance between us in a few large strides. Before I knew it, he was kneeling right in front of me, and he took my hands in his, my toddler-sized appendages easily swallowed by ones over twice their size. Cautiously yet assuredly, Paul turned them over, inspecting both sides of each hand with a trained eye. He ran a thumb over one particular patch of hardened skin, humming almost appreciatively at the feeling.

I couldn't help but compare the sight before me with the scene that had just taken place a few minutes prior with Sylphiette and Zenith. The similarities were quite striking.

"I… have been training, yes."

With the damning evidence presented to me, there was little point in denying it. Internally, I braced myself. Paul wasn't particularly fond of me in the first place and judging from the shallow memories in his sword and what I knew of him, Paul was impulsive and emotional. There was no way he would take finding out that I have been sneaking behind his back well.

"There's no mistaking it. These aren't a boy's hands. These are a man's hands."

I internally braced myself for his inevitable fit of rage. From his position, there were a number of things he could do. He could quickly grasp my hands to ensure I couldn't escape, with almost nonchalant flexes of his wrist, break both of my arms using his superior strength and watch me squirm on the ground before he finally takes pity of me and caves in my skull into a bloody mess of tissue and bone with a stomp of his boot. He could just as easily not bother with that at all and just end it with an empowered kick or punch. I could survive one if the first hit doesn't liberate my head from my neck, but with the fragility of my body, a second strike would surely be my last. Or worse, drag me upstairs, shove the undeniable truth in Zenith's face, and lock me in the door with the fearsome beast that would awaken.

"Let me help you."

With so many options, I was surprised he chose none of them.

"What?" The question left my mouth before I could even think of what to say, and I stared questioningly at the man in front of me who had donned a determined expression.

It didn't make sense, though I suppose that nothing these days did.

"If you're going to train, then do it right," he explained, but I mentally rolled my eyes at the answer. It didn't answer the question I was truly asking, and from the slight wavering of his eyes, Paul knew it too.

Still, I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I wasn't aware I was doing something wrong."

"I don't know for sure if you're doing something wrong, but I'm going to make sure you're doing it right," Paul clarified. Suddenly, he smirked and pointed a thumb at himself in a cocky display of confidence. "I know it doesn't look like it, but your pops is a certified badass. I'm advanced in not one, not two, but all three styles of swordsmanship. And, not to brag or anything, but I could've gone further if I really wanted to, probably even Saint-tier. I wasn't too serious about it. Just imagine what I could do if I had even put just a bit more effort. Alas, things came up. You know, wife and kids and all. Gotta settle down eventually, you know?" Paul shrugged his shoulders, as if he was saying, "What can you do?"

I… wasn't too sure how to respond to his little spiel. It wasn't entirely necessary, considering I already knew about Paul's large wealth of experience and talent, though I suppose that he didn't know that. As for his training… well I already had all the knowledge I needed inside of my head.

"Sure."

Then again, maybe this opportunity wasn't one I should turn down.

Unheard to him, he continued his long-winded boasting. "See, I know Zenith mentioned it earlier, but we used to be in an adventuring party. We were pretty good, S-rank good in fact. See, unlike other people you might learn from, your man's got the theory of all schools of swordplay, and the experience to be able to actually apply it to the field." He was suddenly much closer now, close enough that I could feel the hairs of his freshly shaven chin tickling against my cheek, and he spoke with a breathless whisper as if he was telling me some profound secret. "People learn all these stupid moves in their stupid dojos and think they're the shit. They go out into the real world, become adventurers, realize that whatever they learned doesn't actually mean anything, and die. Horribly, probably," Paul finished, his derisive words not quite matching his blithe tone.

Words caught in my throat as I struggled to formulate a proper response.

He stood back up, towering over me as that arrogant smirk found its way back onto his face once again. "But if you're with me, you don't have to worry about that. My techniques are tried and tested." I swear that his canine flashed a bright light to punctuate his point. "So, with that in mind, what do you say?" He extended a hand out cordially, lips curled in a friendly grin.

His… pitch was questionable, but he wasn't wrong. Paul's vast experience was a boon for most people, but I wasn't most people. Still…

"Is your arm okay?"

The question stumped Paul as he looked confusedly as me, arm still extended in offering.

"It... is?"

"I was just concerned, that's all, in case you broke it from patting yourself on the back."

My words took the wind out of Paul's sails as he doubled over, the metaphorical punch to his gut knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Cheeky brat… You're a lot sassier than I thought. Maybe you got it from Zenith..." he trailed off, groaning at my lack of amusement at his antics.

Thankfully, the man stood back up and composed himself. Paul gazed sternly at me, ridding himself of the lopsided smile he donned earlier in exchange for setting his lips in a straight, neutral line. The nonsensical shine in his eyes disappeared, and what was left staring back at me was the determined look of a man on a mission.

"But seriously, take my training. I promise it will be good for you," he suggested.

I sighed.

"I already said I would. You just ignored me."

Paul blinked incredulously at me.

"Seriously? Damn, I guess I'm not very good at this." He slapped a hand over his face, dragging it downwards to wipe the shame off himself.

"It can't be helped. You don't have a lot of practice," I offered as a meager consolation.

He turned towards me, and through the gap between his fingers, verdant orbs narrowed as a more mellow, genuine smirk took hold upon his face again.

"I guess I don't. Oh well, gotta learn eventually."

The hand removed itself from his face and extended outwards, his finger pointed outside.

"Let's go to the back. Who knows, maybe Sylphiette will be watching, eh?" he said, suggestively raising his eyebrows repeatedly. To add to his point, he crouched down and started repeatedly gently nudging me in the ribs with his elbow.

Well, I suppose that he and Zenith wouldn't have gotten married if they weren't similar in some respects. I could do without the Fuji-nee-esque teasing though.

"I doubt Sylphiette would be interested in this kind of thing."

Paul gave a doubtful hum.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that." Somehow, his smirk widened, almost mocking me as if he knew something I didn't. "Anyway, you wait there. I'll grab our practice swords. I'll be back in a bit," he said while walking back inside the house and waving his hand over his shoulder.

When Paul returned outside, he was carrying two wooden swords of different lengths, one in each hand.

"Catch."

With an underhanded throw, Paul tossed the shorter of the two towards me. I raised an eyebrow at the practice blade whirling end over end through the air like a wooden buzzsaw.

Honestly, he really needed better awareness. If I was an actual toddler, the sword was going fast enough to give me a concussion if I failed to catch it correctly.

With a quick and deft movement of my arm, I snatched it from the air, wincing slightly as hard hilt audibly slapped against my palm as it came to a stop in my hand. Holding it in front of me, I inspected the sword.

It was maybe seventy centimeters long, just a bit unwieldy for someone my size, but perfect within a year or two. I tossed it to my other hand and back again and then gave it a few experimental twirls of my wrist to test the weight of the blade. I let out a pensive hum. The weight of the blade was uniform throughout, befitting a practice weapon. There was no use in creating a sense of personalization in a sparring sword when its purpose was to find it in the first place.

Instinctively, I channeled some magical energy and focused, putting my entire attention onto the sword in my hands. The tree it was crafted from was an old one, grown in one of the northern regions of the continent. Due to its age, the wood harvested from it was strong and hardy, and its quality reflected well upon the end product. The sword was sturdy and well-made, no doubt able to take countless blows before it breaks.

Speaking of craftsmanship, the two swords Paul brought out seemed to be especially made for this occasion. They were created fairly recently, perhaps within a month or two from now. With travel and communication time factored into it, I wouldn't be surprised if the entire commissioning process took place over the past few months.

"You like it?" Paul asked from across the field.

"It'll do. Thank you."

"Always so polite, huh?" Paul gave an exasperated sigh, but from the small smile he had, there wasn't any real annoyance in it. "Well, you're welcome. I just dug these up from storage from my younger days in case I ever needed them. They should still be good to go though." Paul gave his sword a few spins of his own, familiarizing himself with the weight. Satisfied, the wooden sword stopped tracing circles in the air, coming to a stop so that the substantially longer blade was pointed directly at me.

"Since I know you've been practicing. It's better if I get a sense of where you're at before we train for real."

Hmmm, how to approach this? On one hand, I could go at him with the full extent of my non-magecraft abilities. It would definitely show my seriousness and by pushing myself to my limit, I could surpass it sooner. On the other hand, I could just completely throw the fight and come at him like some overconfident kid. I trained, yes, but for all he knew, I could've just been idiotically swinging my sword around. It would certainly make sense for a child to be completely unskilled and stop any possible questions about where I learned my skills from. Of course, keeping up the façade was the hard part.

Deciding the latter to be the best course of action, I took hold of the grip of the sword with both hands and kept both feet at shoulder width, brandishing the weapon in front of me in response to Paul's challenge. He gave a crooked grin in response at my stance.

"Not bad."

Sensing the match was about to start, Paul took a stance of his own, mimicking the basic one I was in.

"Begin."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that Paul took the initiative, dashing forwards with a push of his feet that left a large dust cloud in his wake.

Ten meters separated us, just enough to react to his movements but not enough to actually move anywhere before he reached me.

With two lengthy strides, he was upon me, right arm extended and practice sword arcing down to club me to submission. My own blade rose to meet his, clashing mere centimeters before my face in a clash of wood.

WHAT THE HELL?!

The force from the strike traveled throughout my body, dispersing the immense power into my undeveloped bones and tissue. I was forced to one knee, my feet carving trenches in the ground as I pushed against the overpowering blow. My wrists groaned from the exertion, threatening to break if the stalemate continued.

Seriously, was Paul trying to kill me?

In comparison to my struggling self, Paul was having a grand time.

Between our crossed swords, I could see him looking down on me, green eyes blank as he gave an even stare at the one-sided display in front of him. I could see him thinking, analyzing, dissecting every one of my movements. He didn't even look to be putting the slightest bit of effort in maintaining the sword pushing closer and closer to my face, holding it with one hand as the other lay limp by his side.

A test, huh? Well, that certainly made things more complicated.

Realizing I had no hope of retaliating against his superior force, I leaned away from Paul and jumped back. Expectedly, without any footing, Paul's sword broke through my guard, sending me sailing through the air with considerable speed. Spinning uncontrollably, I audibly gasped as I hit the ground, the impact driving the air from my lungs. Going along with my current momentum, I continued tumbling onto the ground until I was able to reach out an arm, righting myself back onto my knees as my legs and hand dug into the soil and slowed myself to a stop.

I gave an annoyed glare to the man who was rushing towards me, barely giving me time to recover. Honestly, all this for a four-year-old? At the very least, I didn't need to downplay myself defensively considering it was taking all my effort to not get punted across the field like a ball. Throwing the fight in a nonobvious fashion was difficult considering Paul's experience would allow him to decipher any minute hesitant movements that could hint at my true abilities.

Paul lazily swung from the side and as with the same result as last time, my hastily made guard nearly caved in, my sword nearly pressed against my face as I could barely block his strike. Whether the distinct creaking in the fight was from the strain in my joints or from the wooden sword I was holding, I wasn't sure.

Thankfully, Paul wasn't too eager to sit there any longer, following through with the swing of his sword and pushing me away as I skidded across the ground. The ensuing dust clouds obscured my vision, and I rapidly blinked out the dirt causing tears to gather in my eyes.

Paul wasn't above using cheap tricks and cunning tactics in his swordplay, as he should; there was no shame in doing everything you could to win a fight. If honor existed on the battlefield, it'd only be a poor excuse for the act of murder.

True to that adage, the dust cloud suddenly parted, revealing a long, adult leg with a burly, sizeable boot attached to the end.

A boot that I quickly became acquainted with as I tilted my sword to the side, letting the limb ram itself straight onto my face.

The kick wasn't too hard, to my gratitude, or else my injury would've paled in comparison to what Zenith would do to Paul if she had to heal a broken nose and concussion.

I went flying a few meters back, landing undignifiedly in a heap on the ground on my stomach. I groaned in pain as I pushed myself back up, using the sword as a crutch to support myself as I looked at the slowly approaching man across of me.

"Honestly, this is kinda therapeutic."

"Glad I can be of service," I shot back.

"Appreciate it," he said, smiling mockingly all the while. "Your guard's not bad, I'll give you that much."

"Satisfied?"

"Not quite." He gave me an apologetic grin, but I could tell it wasn't entirely truthful.

I suppressed a sigh at the impending future of more beatings.

"Your defense is fine, but now let's see you take the initiative." He stopped shy of three meters from me, arms spread open invitingly to an attack. Still, I wasn't fooled by the arrogant gesture. Proper defensive stance or not, Paul's physical prowess was more than enough to block any possible strikes from me, even if I was going all out.

Stepping forward, I held my sword up in a two-handed grip and charged, bringing it down with all my strength to slash across his torso. With a flick of his wrist, Paul blocked my diagonal strike, quickly sending me back with a burst of strength and returning us to our initial positions.

I came at him again, this time with a heavy lateral chop that could've maybe given him a bruise. Of course, such a telegraphed move was easily countered, and Paul's sword came up once again to block it. This time, he let his weapon come up at an angle to use my strength against me. With the amount of power I put into it, my sword very quickly slid against the blunt edge of his blade until it produced sharp ping of wood on wood as it met the cross guard. However, I ended up dangerously overextended, and my overcommitment to the move left me with little recourse at his guard.

Once again, my breath was driven from my lungs as Paul's leg lashed out in a kick that blew me back a few meters. I was sent tumbling away, gathering dirt all over my clothes as I rolled on the ground. With a herculean effort, I brought myself up on a single knee, failing to hide my flinch of pain as I instinctively brought a hand to my ribs. Several of them were bruised despite Paul's weak efforts mainly due to my poor constitution. Fortunately, none were broken, so my movement was still relatively unimpeded. Trembling fingers curled themselves around the wooden handle of the sword laying at my feet, and my erratic breaths steadied into an even rhythm.

I irritatingly glared at my impromptu sparring partner, who was patiently waiting for my recovery. That oh-so annoying voice in my mind was back again, telling me to give Paul what he really wanted, to end this farce of a fight. But it was quickly squashed, the suggestion all but forgotten and the voice receding into nothingness—not for the last time, I was sure.

I charged forward again and like clockwork, Paul met my advances.

A stab to the gut was easily batted aside.

A diagonal slash from his shoulder to hip was redirected with contemptuous ease.

A horizontal strike that could've bisected a man in two with a real blade was stopped before it gathered enough force.

The dull thumps of our weapons clashing against each other echoed throughout the field. My every attempt, however false they may be, failed to pierce through Paul's defense. Throughout the tedious affair, Paul's expressions remained even and indifferent, neither boasting about the one-sided match as I expected him to nor offering words of advice as an instructor should. He was noticeably quiet after his first few snide remarks, placing his full attention on judging my performance, his face not betraying any of his true thoughts.

It was only after one particularly harsh counter that sent me stumbling backwards did he finally break his silence.

"Alright, I've seen enough." Paul held up a hand to stop the fight, and my sword dropped from twitching fingers as my body finally got the much needed rest it sorely needed. Haphazard pants brought in precious oxygen to overworked muscles, and with every breath, I could feel the constant soreness that pervaded every crevice of my body slowly diminish. Paul had the decency to at least give me a break, opting instead to mutedly look at me as I recovered from my current pathetic state. I could feel that brain of his working, breaking down every moment of our "fight" though at this point, whatever he was thinking past that was beyond me. Whether or not he got what he wanted, I wasn't sure, but at the very least, I had given the impression of an eager brat that thought a sword was a baseball bat. And while I was mildly annoyed at being treated like a pinata, I could appreciate the extra training at the very least. Forcing my body to work beyond its limits, deprived of air and energy, would bode very well in the future when my enemies would not be willing me even the briefest of reprieves.

When I finally had my breathing under control, I gave Paul an even glare.

"Happy?"

Paul shook his head. "Not really."

Honestly, this guy….

"Was my performance that lackluster? I apologize," I retorted, with just a hint of snark.

"You're four-years-old. It wasn't bad by any means. The fact that you can even swing that sword with any amount of strength is more than what most people your age can do," Paul said. His expression then morphed into a face of disappointment. "It's just that…. Well, I was expecting more."

I raised an eyebrow.

"What were you expecting?"

He was the one that had asked for this training session for some reason, after all. I wanted to know what he could have expected from the display I put on.

His face twisted into a complicated expression, and he averted his eyes away from mine. From the creases on his forehead, he was putting a lot of thought into what he wanted to say next. I wasn't surprised. Just like me, Paul wasn't good with words if his current relationship with Zenith was any indication.

I sat down on a patch of ground next to me, feeling the blades of grass tickle my legs. Paul can take this time thinking of his words; I was content to wait since I really had nothing else to do today. Perhaps I could even get an explanation for the abrupt change in his behavior. Even though he was perhaps a bit rougher than necessary, none of his strikes had any real malice behind them, so taking out his anger on me under the pretense of an instructional training session wasn't his motive. Perhaps he was coming around to me? No, that didn't make sense. I haven't done anything towards that particular end.

"Damn it." Contrast to my calmness, Paul was almost throwing a fit. His fingers were buried in his brown locks, handfuls of which were grasped in his hands in frustration. "Shit, whatever. Fuck it, I was never any good at this." Coming to a decision with a throw of his arms into the air, Paul turned to face me.

Seeing his seriousness, I stood back up and looked at him squarely in the eyes, waiting for his grand reveal.

"I know that you've been training. And no, I know you've been training for real, not whatever that god forsaken show was," he quickly added.

I furrowed my eyebrows at his words. He knew that I've been training in secret for the past few years? I clicked my tongue in irritation. Damn, my plans to run away may have been decided for me already. At the very least, the fact that he came forward with this information was a promising sign. It meant that he was willing to talk things out.

"What do you mean?" There was no use in folding yet. I would let him talk and figure out the rest from there. Depending on what he believed, I didn't need to reveal everything quite yet.

"I've seen you train at night. Saw you walking towards the forest one night and decided to follow you."

So that's how it was, huh? To have been found out by something so trivial. I completely forgot to keep my surroundings in mind. Well, Archer did have E-rank luck…

"Wait, why were you even awake? I made sure to practice at the dead of night."

"Forgive me if the current house situation isn't very good for easy sleeping," Paul shrugged.

I begrudgingly acquiesced the point to him.

"I see. How long have you known?"

"Several months now."

He knew for so long? Well, since he hasn't seemed to have told anyone and was willing to let me interrogate him, he looked to be tentatively on my side at least.

"Why now? Why haven't you told anyone? Why go through all of this?" I waved a hand towards the field we were in and the swords we were holding.

A tired sigh escaped his lips, and his shoulders drooped in exhaustion.

"That's a good question. Why didn't I do something about it?" He looked upwards, as if asking the heavens themselves for an answer. But the skies remained silent at his prayers, knowing that only Paul himself could answer his own question.

As much as we try to prove otherwise, human are beings of emotion. Intelligence and wisdom may have what separated us from animals, but passion and sentiments are the root of our souls. The ability to think and believe are our greatest gifts, with all the weaknesses that come with it. That which blesses us also curses us all the same. Matters of the heart are fickle and seldom listen to reason, as Paul was quickly learning.

The winds of the afternoon breeze caressed my skin, my body indulging in the cool air in the wake of the tiring spar.

A part of me was eager for Paul's response. I had already come to my own conclusion, but my mindset and circumstances were unique. What answer would someone like Paul reach, I wonder.

An eternity passes by in an instant, and Paul found the confidence to speak once again.

"I hated you, you know."

Hated? Well, I wasn't surprised.

"Honestly, can you blame me? Imagine being me, meeting the hottest woman on this side of the Central Continent, and she tells me that I can't mess around with other people!" I gave him an unimpressed quirk of my eyebrow as he jokingly complained. "Well, it wasn't a bad deal. After all, why would I need to be with other women if I got her?"

Paul twisted his head to the side, eyes pointed at the closed window on the upper floor where the room with the basin for bathing was. His eyes were forlorn, looking fondly at the woman he loved even if his gaze didn't reach her. A melancholic sigh escaped his lips before he continued.

"We settled down after that. We quit adventuring and used the money from our travels to buy this nice little house. It's not much—it's no nobleman's castle—but for us, it was perfect."

He turned back to me, but I could tell he wasn't quite there, eyes cast off in the distance, perusing through pages of the past. It was a look I was familiar with, for I probably wore it as well when I knew no one was looking. Regret flashed across his face, another emotion I was all too familiar with.

"You now, I was quite the brat when I was young. I hated my dad since he was so strict, lecturing me about his stupid rules and honor. Looking back on it, he was right. Never giving a damn about other people. Thinking I was better than them. Fooling around, chasing skirts. That's the kind of person I was. Pathetic, right?"

I took in his confession with blank face, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but Paul didn't need my answer regardless. He knew very well the kind of person he was in the past, but at least he had the courage to admit it and face the mistakes of his youth. In the end, while the Paul in front of me was no saint, he's a far cry from the one that plagued his memories.

"When I bought this house and moved in with this beautiful woman, with a child on the way, I honestly thought I was dreaming. I mean, imagine it—"he spread his arms wide, a self-deprecating smile on his face"—a bastard like me living the dream!" He laughed, a twisted bitter chuckle devoid joy or happiness filling the silent field. "Ironic, isn't it? That even someone like me could find happiness."

His eyebrows furrowed together, the regret intensifying tenfold.

"What would my dad think, I wonder. That I was going to be a father, of all things! That his pathetic excuse of a son finally found some place he belonged."

The words reach my ears, and before I knew it, a wellspring of memories flooded my mind, reminding me of the past that forever haunted me.

"But I guess it was wishful thinking. The world is cruel, you know. One day, you're the happiest man in the world, and the next, everything's gone to shit. I should've known that when Lilia showed up that it was beginning of the end, that I would finally wake up from this dream."

Paul's eyes finally focused, and they were directed squarely on me. A cold fury smoldered in the depths of his gaze, but whether or not it was towards me or himself, I couldn't tell.

"I was so excited to be a father, to get the missing piece to this dream, to start this thing called family everyone seemed to gush over. My own family wasn't anything special, considering I ran away from them and all that. I'd finally get a chance to try it out: do all things that my father couldn't, be all the things my father couldn't be, and teach him the lessons I was too stubborn to listen to. A wife. Kids. A house. What more could I want?"

It was a good life. I was not surprised Paul clung to that dream as a drowning man would clutch onto a raft. This world is cruel, and happiness is scarce.

"And then I had you, and everything went to hell."

I smirked at his brutal honesty. Judging from his own grin, Paul wasn't entirely serious.

"Red hair and golden eyes. I'm no expert in family lineages and all that, but something didn't quite add up. Being the idiot I was, I lashed out at you and Zenith. I thought you weren't my son, and I thought Zenith went and cheated on me. Zenith! Can you believe it?!"

I thought for a moment, pondering the honest and kind woman breaking her vows, and discarded the notion as the very heights of ridiculousness.

"And especially after she was like, 'You can sleep with me, but only if you never touch any other woman again', only for her to cheat on me. Honestly, the thought is so stupid that I have trouble remembering how I convinced myself it was the truth."

"But you eventually figured it out," I said, speaking for the first time since Paul started revealing his true thoughts.

Paul nodded. "I did. Zenith eventually forgave me, god bless, but it didn't do anything about how I felt towards you."

I nodded, accepting the anger and indignance he felt towards me. Paul was perfectly right to feel that my existence was a mistake.

"I ignored you, pretending you didn't exist, that this carefully crafted life I built from nothing wasn't a lie, teetering on the edge of collapse. If this house was made of glass, you were the rock that broke it all down, and I was the madman deluding myself that I wasn't the one that threw the rock in the first place."

Paul grimaced at himself, self-loathing piling more and more into itself.

"Zenith didn't forgive me for that. Ignoring you, wishing you didn't exist. As a mother, she knew the truth, and even if I wasn't the father, she would have defended you all the same. That's just the kind of person she is."

"Zenith is far too kind," I agreed. Such kindness could be a weakness others would exploit.

Paul smiled knowingly. "She is, isn't she?" he said, a wistful curve of his lips on his face. "That's what she was truly mad about, you know. I never acknowledged you as my son, so to her, I was not only insulting her, but you as well. My family, my pride and joy. And since I was being a neglectful piece of shit, Zenith had to do the work of two parents."

I swallowed down the bile that had risen up my throat, and my chest felt heavy with guilt. To think that people like this existed in the world, only for me to come and ruin their lives. Paul was right all along.

"So, what changed?"

Verdant orbs shimmered in reminiscence, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Your training. I said you've been training for real, but you've been doing more than that. I watched you train every few nights, swinging that sword around for hours. You could hardly be called a toddler with that skill. Your movements were too clean, too refined. While the speed and strength aren't there yet, technique-wise, you could be an intermediate-level swordsman with ease. No, I'd say if you weren't a child, you could definitely be an advanced-level swordsman."

I appreciated the praise, but none of those skills were mine. I was just recalling the motions of various sword owners and incorporating them into my fundamental sword technique. I had no doubt that a true swordmaster could best me in a fight.

"You were impressed by my skills?"

Paul shook his head, smiling all the while. "No, it wasn't that. I was young and amazing too, you know. No, it wasn't your talent that made me change my mind. Well, not directly at least." He raised his sword, the wooden weapon pointed straight at me in challenge. "You've been watching me train, haven't you?"

A brief pause settled between us before a tentative nod gave Paul his answer. He wasn't wrong. I did watch him train, mainly because his skills and experience were a valuable resource to learn from. While I was couped up in the house under Zenith's watchful eye, committing Paul's swordsmanship to memory allowed me to pass the time in a productive manner. And in the dead of night during my training, the memories from his sword were just one of many that I called upon to sharpen my technique.

In the wake of my thoughts, Paul started walking towards me, slowly but surely, every step sound and measured. His wooden sword was held firmly in his hand, brandished out to the side like a knight stepping forth for an execution. I eyed the weapon but made no move to avoid it. Whatever judgement Paul administered, whether or not he decided to remove the disturbance from his life, I would accept it all the same.

"It shows. I thought I saw a few of my moves in you. I mainly use the Sword God style, but I throw in some stuff from the Water and North God styles too. I'd like to think my personal brand of swordplay is complex enough that you can't just copy it at first glance."

I didn't have the heart to tell him I could.

"I've studied you extensively."

Paul gave me a small smile of satisfaction. He stopped in front of me, just barely within my arms' reach. At this distance, his figure was imposing, casting a large shadow that dwarfed my body.

"When I was watching you, I guess I realized something. Watching you train, doing the same things I do, the sight seemed so familiar. A lonely boy practicing by himself, wielding the one thing he had in this world. Then it all just... clicked in my head." He kneeled, bringing his face level with mine, and this close to him, I could see the bright glimmer in his eyes, my own visage reflected in his emerald orbs.

"You… reminded me of myself." The sword was dropped to the ground, the fingers holding it losing strength. The same hand rose, carefully, slowly, until it hovered just above my shoulder, trembling all the while. A pensive look flashed on Paul's face, contemplative, as if asking if it was really alright to do this, but the one he was asking was not me but himself.

The hand hovered, still and unsure. Then, after a poignant pause, it slowly descended, the motion laden with uncertainty and fear until it came to a rest on my shoulder.

Paul's hands were large, easily wrapping five long, calloused fingers on my shoulder with room to spare. While I could feel his trepidation at the gesture, the warmth exuding from him could not be denied.

His other hand followed, snaking itself hesitatingly around my back. Before I knew it, I stumbled forward as Paul gently pulled me towards him into an embrace. His head settled on my other shoulder, his freshly shaven beard tickling the bare skin of my cheek and neck.

"I'm sorry that it's taken me all this time."

I was at a loss for words, my control of the situation completely uprooted and destroyed. What had started as a calculated show of incompetency had turned into an emotional confession by Paul, one that I was wholly unprepared for. I was ready for his hatred, his wrath, his scorn, to spurn me as his son and let loose the years of contempt he had felt towards me. Handling his rage would have been a far easier affair.

I wanted to push him away, to reject his notion of family and show him the divide between us that could never be crossed. Kiritsugu was the one that had saved me, instilling a purpose, upon that dying corpse of a child. He had raised me as his own son, and while his last wish had damned me for eternity, my gratitude towards him had never faded.

That's right. Kiritsugu was my true father, and Paul was only a caretaker, merely providing a body for the soul of Emiya Shirou to occupy. I could not accept his desire to be his son because I already had a father to call my own. I could not return his genuine feelings with the same affection he felt towards me. I was not his real son, and his dream of a family could not be achieved as long as I was a part of it.

My arms came up, bracing themselves against his chest to push him off me and make my stance on the matter clear, that his wishes could only remain a distant ideal if I was here. My hands clawed at him, his shirt gripped in bunches between my fingers.

"Is this what you want?"

His voice spoke up again, the question ringing in my mind.

Pragmatism necessitated that I push Paul away, here and now. I was not a part of the family he so desperately yearned for.

And yet I did nothing to refuse him, that perhaps turning my back on him would be a mistake.

Conflict brewed in my heart, and my body froze in indecision as emotions I had thought long been buried resurfaced.

The life of a machine.

That was what I had promised to live as when I reincarnated to this world, the path beyond it only a fleeting dream.

To pursue that singular wish with everything I had, uncaring for everything else.

To be a puppet of fate, to be a hero of justice.

To that end, I knew I would have to leave this house eventually.

And yet, why did I stay here all this time?

I don't want to see anyone cry.

The wish I had so fervently pursued, the ideal I swore to uphold. Even if it hurt me in the end, causing me endless pain as I try to follow it.

My hands left Paul's chest, and then with the same unsure motion as the ones that had come before it, two small arms came to wrap themselves across Paul's broad back.

Paul flinched, surprised at me returning his gesture before he relaxed in acceptance at what was happening. I could not blame him; my own actions surprised me.

Time stilled as we remained in that position, two lost souls rejoicing in each other's company. While the wish Paul chased was different from mine, it was no less a beautiful ideal, one worth fulfilling. I had once seen a glimpse of the dream he sought, when that large and empty household was suddenly filled with laughter and joy, an unlikely congregation of people crowding around a table far too small yet felt just right.

Yes, it was a beautiful dream indeed.

Suddenly, I could feel a tremor, and it took only a moment to find the source to be the one in my embrace. Despite his large frame, in my arms, Paul never felt any smaller than he did right now.

"It's a sad day for rain, isn't it?"

I looked up, the shining rays of the afternoon sun greeting me. The sky was crystal clear blue with not a cloud in sight.

I felt a wet sensation on my cheek, and I didn't bother looking to the side, knowing that Paul did not want to be seen in this state. His tears stained my shirt wet, but I found that I didn't mind.

"It is," I agreed.

Another poignant pause followed before Paul found it within himself to speak again.

"Thank you—"he choked back a sob, his words catching in his throat"—Thank you… for forgiving me."

To me, there was nothing to forgive. However, I chose to remain silent, letting the waves of my actions wash over me.

While Paul made mistakes, I certainly didn't do much to alleviate the hole he found himself in. While I had a hint of the suffering I had unintentionally caused, I carried on with my life, letting his feelings fester. In the end, it was Paul who pulled himself out of his hell. My own efforts were nonexistent, amounting to nothing. No, Paul should not have been thanking me. It was through his own will that he had found his answer while I was stumbling for mine. Between the two of us, Paul was far stronger.

"When I had you, I had made a promise: to treat you with the respect that you deserve. My own father had never given me my fair shake, and I vowed to never be like that. But I ended up breaking that promise and became the very thing I swore not to be."

Broken promises hurt. They cut through your soul, the unfulfilled wish leaving behind a wound that could never heal. Each time you break a promise, you lose a piece of yourself in the process, a fragment of the spirit forever gone. And the greater the promise that was made, the harsher the pain that follows.

I had committed that sin once before. In that god-forsaken church, with the weight of countless lives weighing on my shoulders, the fate of the woman I loved on the tip of my tongue, I had sworn to save her at any cost, even at the expense of unnamed people I vowed to save. I had turned my back on the very thing that had kept me alive to that point. I had betrayed the world.

No, Emiya Shirou had betrayed himself, and that is the worst betrayal of all.

And I would do so again and again, over and over again. In that, I had no regrets.

However, in the end, my retribution came at last, and now I was here.

In a sense, I had a hint of the burden that Paul felt. He agonized for his traitorous self, cursing it with every fiber of his being, and only now could he atone for it.

"But you ended up coming through in the end," I consoled.

"I did… but only because of you. You reminded me of what I forgot."

"I'm only four, Paul. You did it all by yourself."

He scoffed, clearly not taking my words to heart.

"You're so stubborn, you know that?" He paused. "Wait, you're my son. Of course you're stubborn. Just like me and my father before me."

I didn't bother replying, content to let Paul believe whatever he wished. A comfortable silence settled between us, and only when I thought of finally letting go did Paul move, placing both hands on my shoulders and pulling away until we were face to face. His once green orbs were red and puffy, and rivers of tears still flowed down his cheeks from the unshed teardrops still pooling in his eyes.

"Shirou, thank you, for giving me another chance."

Paul's lips curved upwards in a grateful smile, and whether it was the bright rays of the sun or the beauty of Paul's smile that briefly blinded me, I wasn't sure. However, through squinted eyes, perhaps it was just my imagination, but an image briefly flashed. It was a familiar image, one of a black-haired man looking down at me, smiling with all the joy in the world as if the boy before him was the salvation he had long sought for.

For the briefest of moments, both men, despite never having met and having lived completely different lives, wore the same smile, one of pure happiness at a boy that deserved none of it. And then I blinked, and the image disappeared, the fleeting memory fading as quickly as it appeared.

I had no doubt that this choice would come back to haunt me, destiny and fate intervening to set me back on the path of the sword. And yet, looking at Paul's face, his heartfelt smile radiating that familiar warmth I felt so long ago, I could not help but feel that this choice wasn't so wrong after all.

"Sorry about that. I didn't meet to make things so dramatic." Paul awkwardly laughed off the tense atmosphere, scratching the back of his head. After the ratheremotional conversation, Paul had finally pulled away, letting me go after gathering his thoughts and communicating what he wanted to say all this time. Now, we stood across from each other, swords in hand just like how we started. Paul's tears were finally spent, the man having exhausted months of pent-up anxiety and stress, releasing it in a period of a few minutes.

"It's fine."

"God, Zenith is going to give me hell later if she hears about this," Paul grimaced at the thought of giving his wife more insult material.

"You two are on speaking terms now?" They didn't seem so friendly earlier. I doubt that Zenith would joke good-naturedly with Paul about his break in composure.

"Not really, but one step at a time, Shirou."

I nodded, agreeing that these sorts of things took time, and human relations are especially hard to mend.

"Anyway, enough of this feel-good bullshit. I might vomit at this rate. Last I checked, we're men, not little girls."

I rolled my eyes. It didn't surprise me Paul would try and save face when he was emotionally breaking down.

"Speaking of being a man, good job on saving Sylphiette. No matter how much Zenith says otherwise, I think you did well. It's a man's job to protect his woman. Never forget that."

I smiled wryly at him, amused at how close his words struck home.

"And your idea of lightening the mood… is this?" I asked, waving my sword towards him to punctuate my point. "I hardly think that you give me even more bruises is the best note to end this day off on." Contrary to his words afterwards, Paul certainly didn't transmit the same gentle tone with his sword. In fact, some of those strikes were certainly slightly harder than necessary.

"Ah, sorry again about that. I…got caught up in the moment," Paul admitted sheepishly, eliciting a sigh from me. "But that's why we're doing this. Clearly, I'm not exactly the best with words. Or feelings, for that matter. This—"he waved the wooden sword in his hand"—is the best way for me to get my feelings across. I'm a man of action, and nothing screams action like father-son sword duel."

That… was certainly one way to interpret things.

"They say great swordsmen can talk not with just their mouth but also with their blades. For those who are especially skilled, clashes of steel can convey far more than words can," Paul explained.

I internally scoffed. Not the best with words, he said.

I readied myself in a stance, one far more practical than the one I used earlier. My right leg was set back while I shifted my left leg forwards, tensed with anticipation and ready to spring forth with reinforced strength. I held the sword in a tight two-hand grip, bringing it down to my right hip. If Saber was here, she would have been proud that her teaching finally amounted to something.

Sensing my determination, Paul poised himself for a fight as well.

The idea of underselling myself crossed my mind as well before I discarded it. Paul wanted a genuine fight; for someone like him, who stumbled over his words and thoughts, the only place he was ever truly honest was on the battlefield. As someone who wasn't very good at expressing himself, I could relate to him on that front. While there may be questions I would have to answer later, I didn't want to trample upon Paul's sincere wishes.

Of course, I wouldn't go all out, but if Paul wanted a good fight, then I would oblige.

We circled around each other, two pairs of eyes analyzing, probing for an opening in the other's defenses. Almost coming to an unspoken agreement, we both launched forward, leaving behind only dust clouds in our wake as our blades met, a loud bang echoing in the field as wood bit into wood.

While Paul wasn't trying his absolute best—that would leave me with no chance at victory—he was definitely taking this far more seriously than our first fight. Unlike before, he was not content to stand back and parry my attacks or throw half-hearted strikes into my guard. Instead, he fought with all the technique he would usually use, only weakening the force of his blows to equalize the physical differences between us. Still, that did little to comfort me. The murderous gleam in his eyes told me Paul had no intention of letting me win. I was fine with that result. I only aimed to give him a good fight.

I quickly broke away from him, not eager to waste precious energy on a contest of strength I had no way of winning. Refusing to let me recover, death rushed straight at me, cold and silent, sword cocked back and ready to take my head off.

I dashed forward, feeling the dull blade taking hairs off my head as I ducked underneath. From the slight widening of his eyes, Paul clearly didn't expect me to dodge into him, and his surprise gave me the opening I needed as my own weapon rose, slashing diagonally upwards to cleave Paul from hip to shoulder.

Unfortunately, the strike failed to end the spar then and there as Paul instantly jumped backwards. However, the sudden change in momentum was not without its consequences as with an audible thump of wood on bone, my sword hit Paul's right arm during his retreat. He looked at the offending limb, eyes brimming with bewilderment as if the greatest puzzle in the universe was presented in front of me. With a smirk, he tossed his sword to his left hand and placed his right arm behind his back. If it was possible, the intensity in his expression increased even further.

If that's how he wanted to play it, I wasn't going to complain.

With my small stature and smaller weapon, I naturally had to get closer to him in order to effectively fight. However, the sheer difference in our bodies granted me an unexpected boon. As long as I could minimize the distance between us, hitting me with my speed was far more difficult for Paul, with his wide reach and longer sword, than it was for me. Unfortunately, it also exposed me to the danger of Paul using kicks to deter me from getting close, but it was still by far the best card I could play. With the use of Paul right arm disabled, the decrease in his fighting abilities just might have swung the fight into my favor.

I came at him again, sword raised in an overhead chop. He responded with a horizontal slash just before my sword could gather sufficient force on its way down. The impact almost jarred the weapon from my fingers, but I endured the sheer force of Paul's strike, focusing through the pain to crouch and continue moving towards Paul. The blunt edges screeched as my blade slid against his, my attack only serving only as a misdirection for my true goal. I had only put the barest of energy into the block, letting Paul's overpowering force misdirect his weapon on his own as I had changed the angle of my sword at the last second. With him overextended, I raised my sword above me in earnest, bringing it down onto Paul.

To his credit, he was prepared for my counter. Using the momentum from his swing, he pivoted on one leg, the other whipping around at breakneck speed to bludgeon my face with his foot.

Fully expecting for him to use his legs as a last resort defense, I ducked underneath, letting the limb pass above me harmlessly. While Paul's leg was still extended in the air, having just barely missed me, I sensed an opportunity to put the nail in the coffin. I crouched even lower and swept his other leg out from underneath him with my own. The large man lost his balance, tumbling down and crashing onto the ground.

I rushed forward, sword arcing downwards to take advantage of his vulnerability. To his credit, Paul kept calm and collected, barely even disoriented from the fall. He rolled away from me and in an instant, he was back on his feet, slightly panting but otherwise unscathed and unaffected by the losing exchange.

I grumbled at the poor result. Twice now, I had gained the upper hand, and twice, I had failed to land a winning blow. At this rate, Paul was bound to catch onto my tricks and skills, and it would only be a matter of time before my poor stamina gave out on me.

I heaved in a lungful of air, trying to calm my breathing, but the exhaustion from the earlier fight still lingered, and my magical reserves were still lacking. I couldn't afford to cede the initiative to Paul and waste energy being on the defensive. I had to move decisively soon, or else it would be my loss.

I pumped even more magical energy into my legs, crossing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. Paul coolly met my charge with indifference, unconcernedly parrying my sword to the side. With both of our blades briefly out of the fight, the space between us was completely clear, and I only realized my mistake on his foot came up once again, planting itself against my chest. I was blown back, launched several meters away into an undignified heap on the ground.

I didn't have time to think about my next move as instincts screamed at me to move, and not a moment after I pushed myself away from the spot where I landed did Paul's sword come crashing down where my head was a quarter-second earlier. He followed the almost deadly blow with a series of attacks from several directions that left my wrist and arms screaming in agony.

A downward slash almost shook the blade in my hands as I had barely managed to block it in time.

The follow-up thrust was dodged at the expense of my balance, the overwhelming force and speed of the blow forcing me to throw my body rashly to the side.

His sword arced towards me in a lateral slash across my chest, one I managed to guard against as I placed left hand on the flat of the sword to stop myself from being pushed back.

With both hands occupied, I was at the mercy of Paul's next move, and while the attack was expected, it did little to alleviate the pain as Paul once again propelled his boot into my gut.

Spittle flew from my mouth as the air left my lungs, leaving me a gasping mess as I sailed through the air. More habit than anything, I managed to keep myself on my feet, but with my stamina spent blocking his ferocious blows, I had little recourse. In one great stride, Paul reduced the distance between us to zero, sword coming at me with blinding speed.

In one final attempt to win, I whipped my sword at him, the motion producing a sharp crack as the blade rushed towards him like a speed bullet. His guard hastily blocked the projectile, the sword spinning end over end as Paul had deflected it upwards instinctively. By the time Paul's eyes moved back towards me, I was dashing in front of him, both of my hands grasping on his sword hand to disarm him. Ode flooded my muscle, magical energy filling in every single crack and hole in the molecular structure of the tissue in order to give me the burst of speed and strength necessary for my maneuver.

One hand gripped the pommel of his sword, the other on the cross guard. With a flare of power far beyond what this body was capable of and aided by surprise, I spun his sword with enough force to wrench it out of his hand, the blade whirling momentarily in the air for a brief moment before my own hand came to replace his. Returning the favor, I drove the wooden hilt into his stomach, perhaps taking in just a little bit of pleasure as Paul stumbled back, having not expected his own unpreparedness and weapon used against him. My hand rose, the sword rushing towards him to deliver the deciding blow.

In an impressive display of skill, Paul recovered, reaching upwards into the sky. My own blade landed straight into his open hand, the wood meeting his palm with a meaty thump. Breaking his own self-imposed limitations, he gracefully deflected my attack with a two-handed parry, gently turning it aside as the sword in my hand jittered painfully my grasp. It was a counter I recognized, one of the many techniques he had learned in life, and as such, I knew of the punishing counterstrike that would follow. Overextended and outmaneuvered, I had no defense against it, content to helplessly watch as the blade—

—arced towards me, the dark corrupted edge of the holy blade flashing an ominous red as it sought to end my life. My own sword was raised high above my head, but the slightest moment of doubt, the most minute of pauses, as her eyes morphed back to the warm familiar emerald green I loved so much and her angelic voice whispered my name had cost me the smallest fractions of a second, and in a battle between beings such as her, that hesitation was the ultimate deciding factor.

She swung, the faintest traces of her previous form gone and scattered into the void and suddenly, my life flashed before my eyes, every moment, every decision, every mistake leading up to this moment. My own sword descended, but it was a foregone conclusion; it would not reach her in time, not before her blade could slice me in two. I closed my eyes, accepting the inevitable, cursing myself for my weakness.

Blood splattered, the darkened sword finding its target, severing flesh from bone and parting soul from body. But I felt no pain, and as I opened my eyes, I felt crimson droplets dripping from my forehead where it had landed on me.

In front of me, Rider stood, not by her own strength but by the black-stained sword embedded deep within her chest. Rivers of crimson flowed from the gaping wound, decorating the weapon an even darker red. She was facing me, and what greeted me was not frustration nor disappointment towards me. Instead, her lilac eyes were open in acceptance, having long known that this battle was not one they were guaranteed to survive. There was no regret in her gaze, and as she faded away into motes of light, those lovely orbs closed for a final time, a grateful smile adorning her usual stoic face.

Uncomprehending, acting purely on instinct with no thought, the elegant form of Bakuya grew, enlarging until it became twice its original length. Feather-like growths appeared on its blade, like the wings of a bird flying towards the freedom of the sky, and then that snow white edge accelerated—

—upwards, a crescent slash poised to remove Paul's head from his shoulders. The wooden blade was filled to its utmost limit with magical energy, reinforcement magecraft making it as hard as steel. The arm was a blur, strength from a moment long passed surging within it, and golden orbs were looking towards Paul but were fixated far past him at an enemy long gone.

Green eyes widened in shock at the abrupt surge in power, confident that his deflection had prevented any possible counter. His sword changed direction to block, knowing that his sword would not reach its target first, and the blades clashed against each other for the final time this match. Paul's sword screeched at it met its match, buckling under the sheer pressure of the strike.

One moment passed, and the wooden blade began to splinter from the strain of blocking.

Another moment passed, and the sword was bisected entirely, having provided only the paltriest of resistances in the face of the attack.

With nothing stopping it, the sword continued on its original path, and it was only Paul's vast experience that allowed him to escape the deadly arc towards his neck. He jumped back, accepting the current circumstances and adapting to them on the fly. However, the hardened edge found its mark still, colliding firmly with Paul's chest. While the weapon was blunted, it was still brimming with enough magical energy to turn it to steel.

Something caved in, a cringe-inducing crack resonating throughout the field, and then Paul was sent backwards, landing haphazardly several meters away.

Several seconds passed, and then the unmoving body on the ground finally got back up, a groan of pain escaping Paul as his eyes surveyed his surroundings, years of fighting preparing him for any possible threats. However, the only other person near him had not moved at all.

I blink, snapping back to reality, and I saw Paul on his knees, his breathing choppy as he looked at me with confusion and apprehension. I glance at my sword, the wooden blade far more like an iron rod under the reinforcement applied to it, and I noticed the broken remnants of Paul's sword lying off to the side. Comprehension dawned on me, and I took a deep breath to process it all.

Paul spoke, his voice raspy as pained gasps interlaid his words. "Shirou, what… was—"

He slumped over, his eyes closing as his consciousness slipped away from reality.

Chapter Text

The normally lively Greyrat house sat in silence, an ominous aura engulfing the household. There had always been a sort of strain within the family due to Zenith and Paul's refusal to meet eye to eye regarding certain matters, but it had slowly simmered down to a mild and more bearable weight that constantly burdened the two parents. However, this particular brand of unease was far more palpable, and the tension was thick enough that even I could notice it. Off to my side, Sylphiette was anxiously fidgeting, her feet shuffling in place and her hands clenching and unclenching air. I couldn't really blame her; the sort of atmosphere in the house right now was no place for a young girl like her. Especially since she had done nothing wrong, and she was, quite frankly, just collateral in this turn of events.

And the cause for such a disruption in the Greyrat household? None other than myself, of course. Fate wouldn't have it any other way.

Sylphiette and I were standing in the hallway of the second floor of the house. She was freshly washed and garbed in some old clothes I had lying around. At the time of the incident, she had just finished her bath and was getting ready to join us outside.

To my other side was the door to the master bedroom, the smooth and unassuming wood not betraying the chaos and tension on the other side. It has been closed for the past hour, not once opening since then, but from the clattering of bowls, splashes of water, and quiet hum of Zenith's healing magic, I could imagine what was going on inside.

After my unexpected trauma-induced breakdown, Paul had quickly fallen unconscious, succumbing to his injuries and slumping to a heap on the ground. His collapse had broken me out of my shock and spurred me to action, and after much difficulty and liberal application of reinforcement, I was able to drag the large man to the house.

Zenith's scream of panic was forever carved into my mind, Paul's name escaping out of her mouth in a sharp shrill. To her credit, Zenith's terror didn't last very long, and surprise had given way to years of veteran adventuring experience, muscle memory taking over while her mind worked in overdrive. She had quickly slung his other shoulder over hers, and we had hoisted him up the stairs together and placed him onto their bed. Lilia had not been idle during the process, swiftly cleaning the broken plates Zenith had dropped before gathering a bowl of water and rags. By the time we had set Paul down, she was waiting for us at the side of the bed and a wet cloth to clean the blood that flowed from Paul's mouth and nose.

After that, Zenith had gone to work, muttering a quick incantation before those familiar glowing hand settled on Paul's chest. She was trying her best to keep herself together, but one look at her trembling eyes and unsteady hands revealed she was anything but. Unsure of what to do next, both in terms of helping the recovery process and explaining exactly what had happened, I had hastily excused myself from the room before meeting a panic-stricken Sylphiette. She had bombarded me with questions, and I kept my responses short and vague, not exactly lying but not being completely truthful either, a moral loophole that Archer would have been proud of me exercising. Sylphiette had picked up on my reluctance to answer and stayed by my side in silence the entire time. Meanwhile, my brows were furrowed in thinking, trying to pick and claw through my brain for answer on what had happened.

Had my mental distortion reached even greater levels? Was I becoming a threat to the people around me? Would offing myself be a good idea?

Alas, I had many questions but far too little answers, and in the end, I had decided to meditate and ponder more later. For now, the topic of Paul's health and the upcoming discussion were more pressing matters, and it was those subjects that currently plagued my mind.

There was no way around it. I was no expert, but in my opinion, the tentative balance in the household was too broken to be repaired—at least, completely. Between my rather unique and erratic behavior, Zenith's dwindling sanity, and now this incident, one way or another, Zenith and Paul would need to decide for themselves: to continue working through this mess of emotions and hardship or cut their losses and separate altogether.

I let out an exasperated huff, annoyed that things were crashing down so quickly. Turmoil followed me everywhere I go, though I wasn't surprised by this point.

I focused my hearing and heard nothing through the door. Hopefully Paul had stabilized by now and would make a quick recovery. I didn't know much about the extent of Zenith's healing abilities, so this injury would be a good baseline to assess it. I didn't diagnose Paul's injury, but just from what I remember, the feeling of bone and tissue breaking underneath my sword, wooden or not, as well as the amount of force I put on the follow-through, I would guess at least a few ribs broken and several more bruised, a broken sternum, and damage to most of the internal organs in the torso. While this body was small, I had not held back in that strike, and my body was reinforced to the very brim in that moment. Had my sword been real, and the wooden blade held an edge of steel instead, I don't doubt that I would have sliced straight through Paul.

I stepped in front of the door, one hand forward and extended, clasping the doorknob in my fingers but not actually opening the door.

Hesitation gripped me, and not for the first time since arriving in this world, I questioned whether or not I should really be here.

Was it even right for me to show up? I was the one who put Paul in this condition in the first place, and while I never explained it to Zenith, I'm sure she can come to her own conclusions.

How would she react, I wonder, once she saw me? Zenith had always been favorable towards me, standing by me when no one else would. Would those eyes, which had been brimming with love and affection, burn with betrayal and grief at having the fragile balance of her life broken in such a violent manner? Or would they freeze over with apathy and indifference, the burden and stress of the world proving too much for her as her heart numbs itself to protect her? Or maybe the correct choice was to not even enter the room in the first place, recognizing that this incident has lost me my right to be in this house and abandon them, leaving Paul and Zenith to reconcile and heal without my troublesome self.

So many choices but not nearly enough wisdom to choose the correct one.

In the end, I chose to face the issue head-on, and mustering a great deal of willpower, I twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

Frigid blue eyes zeroed on me immediately, their owner's head whipping around at breakneck speeds at the source of the disturbance. I instinctively flinched, my hand clutching onto the doorknob just a little too hard for my liking. My other hand went to my chest as my heart skipped a beat from the familiar suffocating feeling of danger.

I wasn't even the least bit surprised from the accusatory gaze cast upon me. I deserved it after all.

It was a stark contrast from earlier, the doubt in her eyes far more prominent than before and yet paradoxically so, there was a certain degree of clarity in them as well, as if she had received an answer to a long-awaited question. I let out a silent, regretful sigh before tearing my eyes away from hers, unwilling to peer into that ocean of ice any longer than I had to.

Off to the side, I had noticed Lilia giving me a glance earlier, though hers was more questioning and curious compared to Zenith's, but I could still sense a hint of trepidation. I couldn't fault her though; I knew she was always a bit wary around me, though she always seemed to support me in the end, and I doubt me bringing in an injured Paul, who was no slouch of a warrior himself, helped her viewpoint of me.

A basin of water was sitting on the end table, half-full and discolored in red with blood as Lilia repeatedly wringed a rag over the container before dipping it back in. She gingerly wiped at the small trinkles of blood near Paul's mouth, carefully dabbing at the ribbons of crimson adorning his face. Her expression was tense yet calm, perhaps showing her employer a degree of warmth beyond mere professionalism.

On Paul's other side, Zenith was seated on a chair, her hands alight with the green mystical glow of healing magic as they hovered over Paul's chest. The rise and fall of his chest were much calmer now, no longer heaving and jerking unhealthily. In comparison to when I first dragged him into the house, he looked significantly better, all thanks to his faithful wife that had vigilantly nursed him back to good health. It spoke significantly of Zenith's character that it had taken only a glance for her to cross over to Paul with more urgency and speed than I had ever seen the woman with, barreling with no hesitation towards the man that had pushed her away. How would Paul react, I wonder, that the same woman he had accused of cheating on him all those years ago is the same one at his side now, working fervently to support him when he needed it the most?

Silence permeated the room, the heavy atmosphere bearing down upon the inhabitants of the Greyrat household, save for the light humming of healing magic as Zenith's palms were pressed against Paul's chest.

There were no words exchanged, yet despite the lack of talking, I already knew what was going through the heads of the two women in front of me. Not that talking would have done me much good anyway. I was never a good communicator, and misunderstandings were plentiful in my past life, and that's before the issue that I had no idea what to say in the first place. There was no defense I could put up, not that I wanted one anyway. Their suspicions go back much further than today, and this incident was merely the cherry on top of a large pile of inexplicabilities.

Ahhh, I've really screwed this up, haven't I?

I turned my attention to Paul, watching the peaceful rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest as my brows furrowed together in remorse and regret. Whether or not Zenith and Lilia—Paul too when he wakes up—could be persuaded that I wasn't a psychopathic killer, I wasn't sure. Still, while the injury itself didn't faze me at all—moreso the implication of my actions—perhaps now was the time to put the mask of a proper four-year-old and show that while I'm abnormal, I didn't mean them harm.

However, that fact didn't help mitigate at Zenith's scathing glare at all, somehow both scalding hot and unbearably cold at the same time, and even now I could sense her gaze out of the corner of my eye, trying its best to burn a hole through me before she ceded and turn her attention back to her patient. Lilia noticed the interaction between us and gave me an apologetic smile, though even that gesture was unsurprisingly tinged with uncertainty and hesitation.

That's fine. They seemed content to just silently accept what happened. It was befitting considering the mountain of mistakes I had already made. After all, in the face of the mountain of crimes I had committed in the past, what was one more?

"He'll make a full recovery. The damage was mostly internal, and the amount of blunt trauma was severe, but I was able to repair most of the damage." Her tone was distant, and I wasn't sure who exactly she was talking to. I looked at her to respond, but she had already turned back to Paul, focusing on healing him.

I let out an appreciative hum; to be able to heal Paul's injuries like that, Zenith must have been very skilled. Of course, it paled in comparison to the healing I was used to, Avalon outclassing the healing magecraft Zenith used, but the Divine Mystery of the Fae wasn't exactly something that could be taught or passed down easily. To be honest, I wasn't even sure if it even worked at this point, my connection to Saber and my previous world gone. With that in mind, learning some healing spells wouldn't be a terrible idea, provided I was even able to in the first place.

"Is there any lasting damage?" Lilia asked.

Zenith continued gazing down and away from me.

"I'm not skilled enough to heal all the damage, but with some time, Paul should be fine."

Her voice was quiet and subdued, her tone fatigued and face resigned, but whether it was from the strain of healing Paul or processing what had happened, I wasn't sure.

I nodded, unsure what else I could really say. Do I explain what happened now? Or would I talk myself into a corner? But if they themselves don't bring it up and I remain quiet, would this incident hang over our heads and burden their minds until it was resolved? I had already ruined this family just by existing; do I dare risk worsening the situation in an attempt to fix it?

I wouldn't put it past Zenith to pressuring me into talking. In fact, I expected it; when Sylphiette and I arrived at the house, it had been her to make me talk. It had been the first thing that came out of her mouth as soon as I got back.

So why wasn't she doing anything besides idly healing Paul? She was so… muted, a far cry from the enthusiastic and energetic woman I knew. Was the stress of the situation sapping away at her energy? Ah, I supposed that not everyone was as… numb to these types of circumstances as much as me. But Zenith was a seasoned adventurer… surely something like this wasn't enough to faze her, right? Or maybe I was giving her too much credit, and she wasn't as strong as I thought.

No, that wasn't fair to her, especially since the cause of her weakness is none other than me.

"Shirou, if I may ask, can you please explain what happened?"

In the end, it was neither Zenith nor I who brought up the topic, but instead the ever-helpful maid. Her tone was polite and neutral, bearing no hint of accusation at what may have happened to Paul. When I shifted my eyes to her, Lilia's gaze was instead lingering on Zenith's troubled and hesitant expression. I'm sure she had a better idea of what was going on inside the woman's head than I did, and no doubt she had asked me the unspoken question that we were all thinking of in Zenith's place.

I froze slightly at her question. Should I be honest? I doubt I could lie. Not only was I not very good at it, but Paul could easily refute any lies I say once he wakes up.

"I… I lost control. Paul and I were sparring, and I went too far. I'm sorry…" The regret in my voice was sincere, and hopefully they could look past their possible notions of me and see that.

"You lost control?" Lilia questioned my words. Off to the side, Zenith was listening intently to our conversation, looking at me out of the corner of her eye as she focused on Paul.

"Yes… I felt a sudden rush power near the end of my duel with Paul, and I wasn't able to contain it properly. The result of what happened is as you can see," I explained, gesturing to the incapacitated man on the bed.

I wasn't quite lying nor was I being entirely truthful. Yes, I did experience a burst of energy at the end of the fight, but I hid the fact that it originated from the upswelling of emotions from buried memories that decided to resurface in that moment. I couldn't hide the fact that something abnormal happened, but at least this way, they wouldn't know the part that exposed me as a reincarnated dimension-hopping alien. Since magecraft was already present in this world, they would hopefully come to their own conclusions and see this incident as a release of my latent magical energy. While I would have preferred keeping my abilities hidden for longer, this bit of trickery was far better than the alternative.

The fact that I was doing this made me sick. Navigating conversations like this was something Archer would do. Half-truths to absolve myself the guilt of lying was a common tactic Archer employed to hide his knowledge during the war, not just from me but also from Tohsaka as well. As always, the idea that I was becoming more like him left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"A burst of power?" Lilia cocked her head in thought.

"Yes. I struck Paul with far more power and speed than I thought was possible. I'm not sure how else to explain it."

"Hmm, I'm not too knowledgeable in these matters; Paul would be a far better resource. However, I have heard that exceptional warriors are able to harness mana to strengthen themselves. Perhaps that is what caused this?" Lilia suggested.

I jumped on the opportunity.

"Maybe. All I felt was a rush of power—"

"No, I don't think that's it."

I slammed my mouth shut at Zenith's interruption, and the docile woman turned towards me as I internally panicked. Her eyes bore into mine, and as much as I wanted to look away, those blue orbs commanded I return her gaze. We locked eyes, and I could feel her prying into my mind, scrutinizing every fiber of my being. Whether she was successful or not, I couldn't say as her face remained neutral throughout the entire time, and it unnerved me to no end what she could possibly be thinking.

"Does she know?"

"Paul's mentioned it to me, I believe. The hidden power that Lilia's referring to. I've seen him use it myself, after all. It's certainly possible that Shirou and Paul could share whatever it is," she conceded.

She paused, letting her words in the air for a moment.

"But I can't say for certain. We can ask Paul for more information when he wakes up. I'm sure he knows more about this than we do."

Lilia nodded in confirmation.

"I agree. Shirou is a special boy, and you can never be too sure with him…" Lilia trailed off, letting the rather mild accusation hang in the air.

I contemplated their words. If they thought I was a prodigy, that would be fine – it was bound to happen eventually – but I had to make sure that's all they suspected. If they figured out I was actually an adult in a child's body, they might just abandon me while calling me demon-spawn.

"Wait, isn't that what I want?"

I mean, I certainly wouldn't blame them for forsaking me in that situation, and it would solve their issues with their rather troublesome son if I was to just, hypothetically, disappear.

"Shirou, thank you, for giving me another chance."

Ah, but Paul wouldn't very happy. Even now, his genuine smile filled me with guilt, and I purged the image from my mind before it could make me doubt myself further.

"… He is," Zenith agreed simply, and I sighed at the deeper meaning behind their words.

"I'm standing right here, you know."

I couldn't quite tell the atmosphere in the room right now. Lilia's words were fairly lighthearted, and while she accepted that there were some extenuating circumstances right now surrounding me, it seemed her fears had abated. As for Zenith…

The woman's lips were drawn in a tight line, and her brows were furrowed as she continued contemplating the situation. She had turned back away from me, content to just look at Paul as she resumed her healing efforts.

I truly didn't know what to make of anything that was happening right now. All this manipulation and hiding was far above me, and at the rate I was going at, it was going to crumble soon, if they hadn't seen through it already.

Lilia smiled apologetically at me. "Ah, sorry, Shirou. It was a bit rude. No doubt you're shaken up from this ordeal as well." An ordinary child would certainly be confused and scared in my current circumstances. An unknown and uncontrollable power that is capable of harming people close to you? It was a recipe for disaster, and Lilia was right to make her concerns known. However, while I wasn't completely sure, I knew far more about what happened than they did, so I wasn't quite as shook as she made me out to be. But then again, she's already hinted she knew more than she let on, so perhaps her words weren't as genuine as they sounded like.

Still, I wasn't going to let the chance she gave me go to waste.

"Yes. I need to think about what happened. And I'll let Paul heal in peace. When he wakes up, please let me know as soon as possible." I was concerned, of course, but I also wanted to be there when he first wakes up, so I can know what he says when he is inevitably interrogated by Zenith and Lilia. Call it callous, but it was for the best.

"Of course. You're no doubt scared and confused. Don't worry, Paul will be fine," Lilia smiled reassuredly. "And as for you, it's okay. You're not in any trouble."

Lilia's eyes flickered to Zenith, fast enough to make me doubt it happened it all, before returning her sights onto me. Meanwhile, Zenith remained silent and kept her eyes away from us, focusing on her work.

Lilia saw where my gaze landed.

"Accidents happen, Shirou. Now, I believe that it's getting late. Why don't you take this opportunity to escort Sylphiette back home?"

Lilia gestured to the little girl who clung to the back of my shirt like her life depended on it. She was being her usual shy and timid self, and she had kept behind me throughout the entire time, afraid to enter the room. Well, perhaps the fact that she was able to stay so close to me was a good sign she still trusted me.

"Um, I want to be there when Paul wakes up," I protest half-heartedly, though it sounded weak even to my ears.

"Paul will be fine. By the time you get back, he'll probably have awoken, so you have something to look forward to. Well—" she glanced behind me meaningfully "—if the opportunity to be all alone with Miss Sylphiette isn't enough already," she teased, her eyes shimmering mirthfully.

"Eep!" Sylphiette squealed and pressed herself further into my back. I let out an awkward laugh and then looked at Lilia admonishingly.

"Please don't tease Sylphiette. She's a bit… fragile."

If anything, I just put more fuel into the fire.

"Oh? Coming to her defense?" she further ribbed.

I huffed at her words.

"Funny. Let's go, Sylphiette." I turned around and out of the room, content to leave the conversation where it ended. I inhaled a particularly deep breath, relieved that I was free from the suffocating tension in the room. Between my concern for Paul, Zenith's strange behavior, and my own worries about my future, there was too much going on for me to process and think about. Thankfully, Lilia seemed content to play mediator and act as a buffer between myself and Zenith.

Well, whatever happens in there while I'm gone is out of my hands. I would just need to roll with the punches. Meanwhile, I had other things to take care of.

"I'm sorry about what happened. This was an unusual day," I said, turning towards Sylphiette and curling my lips upwards to alleviate her anxiety. If what had occurred was enough to affect me, an innocent soul like Sylphiette would surely have been rattled to some extent. "They're just worried for Paul."

"I-I hope Mr. Paul will be okay…"

I ruffled her hair.

"He will be. Zenith is a skilled healer, and she says Paul will make a full recovery. Trust her. I assume your foot is feeling much better?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. Zenith wasn't the kind of person to cut corners.

She nodded demurely. "M-Miss Z-Zenith is very good…"

I nodded in affirmation.

"Alright, let's go."

"O-Okay."

I nodded at her and led her back down the stairs. While there were some unexpected developments, Sylphiette was healed, so my primary reason for bringing her to my house was completed. As for everything else… well, it didn't concern her, so there was no need to drag her into my problems. For now, I just needed to return Sylphiette to her family. In the chaos of the incident, Sylphiette had stayed a bit longer than I anticipated. Her parents must be worried sick about her.

We stepped outside of the house, and the cool evening breeze greeted us. It was a nice surprise after all that just happened. The sunset had just begun, so the sun was still peeking out over the horizon, bathing the world in a warm orange light.

I turned to the person behind me.

"Well, shall we get going, Sylphiette?"

I apparently took her by surprise—strange, considering that she had been staring at me before I turned around to look at her—and she lets out another squeal.

"Um, I-I-I don't know…w-where my house is…"

I raised an eyebrow. To be fair, I did just drag her to the outskirts of the village to the Greyrat household with no prior warning.

"Do you remember where I helped you? If we know where your house is from there, we can just return to that spot and then go to your house from there," I suggested.

"Um… sure…" She took a bit of time to process my words, but my reasoning made sense to her.

"Alright, let's go."

I started my way down the hill the house was situated on. Sylphiette was right behind me, though she was fairly lost in her thoughts, judging from the way her head was down and eyes were glazed over. She clearly was not actually present in the moment. It wouldn't be an issue though; there was plenty of time for contemplation since it would take a while for us to get to our original meeting spot. By the time she would get back to her house, it would be well into the evening, and I would return to the Greyrats by nightfall.

Well, I was fairly used to the night anyway. I've discretely trained—not discretely enough, apparently—at night for a while now, and my body has had some time to adjust to it. I wasn't sure whether this strange routine I have come to be a mistake later in life, but I didn't have the desire nor luxury of thinking about long-term ramifications of my health. If it turns out to be a debilitating issue in the future, I could only hope I got some use out of this body before then.

I also already had a taste of constant exhaustion and midnight activities since the majority of the grail war took place at night to prevent as many possible witnesses as possible. It didn't quite work out for me, but at least some of the participants tried to keep the war as secret as possible. Alas, someone like Tohsaka believed in that rule a bit too much, costing her and us a few times. Her faith in the other masters led to some unfortunate events. Honestly, maybe having Archer as her servant was actually a blessing in disguise.

Ugh, am I seriously giving him credit?

Well, it was undeniable that Tohsaka, for all her talent and capabilities, suffered from some naivete. She needed someone like Archer, who had no qualms with shattering any notions of idealism with the cold heartbreaking truth, to help her stay grounded with reality in order to use her prodigious abilities to full use. Had Tohsaka been more cold-hearted and pragmatic, combined with Archer's wide array of deadly abilities, I could easily envision a war with them as the victors. Illyasviel was too emotional to make full use of Berserker, and I would have been unwilling to fight her. Caster and Lancer would've been significant threats, but the true test would have been Sakura. My Tohsaka had once said she was willing to kill Sakura for the sake of the greater good, but considering how her life ended, that statement was more bravado than anything else.

Truthfully, the prospect of Tohsaka killing Sakura was simply incomprehensible to me, an image I simply couldn't create in my head. Perhaps Tohsaka was just incapable to being that cruel and soulless, and anything else would not be Tohsaka. Had she been more of a magus, then maybe we wouldn't have gotten along as well as we did, and we wouldn't have fallen for each other like we had.

"If only…"

"Ah… we're here, S-Shirou…"

Sylphiette's voice snapped me out of my reverie, and I quickly took in my surroundings with a whirl of my head. In my reminiscing, I had completely lost track of time and my bearings, and I had mindlessly retraced my steps from earlier. I could still see remnants from the encounter I had with those bullies; the grass was still flattened, and the soil was fairly disturbed from the playground scuffles I had with those kids. Looking around me now, we were a bit past where I first met Sylphiette. Had she not reminded me, I probably would have kept walking on until I eventually realized my error, at which point I might have gotten lost.

"I see. I apologize for my carelessness," I said. She gave me a funny look before nodding in affirmation and pointing towards the village.

"My h-house is over there…"

I hummed in contemplation.

"Hmm, well let's get going then," I said.

Judging from the direction of her finger, her house was on the other side of the village from the Greyrats, meaning we still had some time until we arrived. I would be arriving back at the house very late at this rate, though considering the atmosphere and developments since I was last there, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. This trip would give me plenty of time to step back and assess my options. There was so much to think about, and I was never the best at these things.

For an idiot like me, I needed to go through all my possible actions, both in the past and in the future, as carefully and thoroughly as possible. By not being there when Paul wakes up, I was essentially ceding any possibility of me warping the truth to my favor. I would need to work around what Paul would say to them, and without me there, he could say as much as he wants as truthfully as he wants.

Could I trust him? All my possible options from here on out all depended on him. Would Paul give me away, banishing me as a freak child? From his earlier words and actions, I'd like to think not. But then again, I did bash in his chest, and nothing can change a man's mind like putting him in a state of near death, so I couldn't count on his protection.

Ah, I was thinking a few steps ahead. I haven't even considered how Paul would even interpret what had happened. He believed that my skills are due to his genetics and me observing him a few times. While the truth was a bit… further than he thought, it did explain my prodigious skills, at least enough to satisfy someone like Paul.

"Uh, S-Shirou… are you… okay…?"

I turned to the source of the voice, which turned out to be Sylphiette. During the course of our trip, she apparently had found my immediate side to be more comfortable than behind me, and now we were walking side by side, our hips a hair's breadth from touching each other. I mentally questioned the appropriateness of the closeness between us, but truthfully, I didn't mind all that much, and since Sylphiette herself was the one to initiate it, then it's fair to assume she was comfortable with it as well. If it made her happy, then there was no real reason to begrudge her for it. I could tell it took a lot of strength for her to move even this much out of her shell. In some ways, it reminded me of Sakura, who had taken a lot of time to get her to open up once again.

But then again, that hadn't ended particularly well either.

"I'm okay. Why, does it seem like something's wrong?" I said eagerly, not wanting to dwell on my current thoughts any longer.

"Uhh… you weren't talking… is all… I thought you… didn't like me…" she said dejectedly.

I silently berated myself.

"No, it's nothing like that Sylphiette," I softly assured, giving her a gentle upwards curve of my lips before taking a moment to find my next words. "You're great and wonderful to be around. I'm just thinking about what happened with Paul. He'll be fine, but I'm not certain about things moving forward."

I didn't expect her to know what I meant, but it was the truth, nonetheless. As long as Sylphiette understood it wasn't her that was the issue, then that's all that mattered. For someone as fragile as her, I needed to make sure I didn't do anything to possibly compromise her mindset. I've been mostly silent during the entire time we've been walking, and while it was due to me being preoccupied with my thoughts, Sylphiette didn't know that. From her perspective, there was a chance I was actively avoiding talking to her, which was most definitely not the case.

"B-B-But you're family…" she trailed off, deeming the short statement a sufficient explanation.

Her words lingered in my mind, biting at my conscience like a mosquito. Perhaps my silence after her words was an answer in itself, and from the way Sylphiette's shoulders drooped in disappointment and her sudden downcast expression, she wasn't exactly happy.

"… F-Family is supposed to s-stick together…" She may have stuttered, her speech childish and words simple, but her message was no lesser because of it. In fact, her blunt and straightforward mindset strengthened it, the irrefutable logic forcing me to acknowledge her words.

I mentally sighed, firm in the belief that things couldn't be as frank as Sylphiette made it out to be yet not able to quite shake off the feeling that I was still missing something.

The issue was just another ramification of hiding who I truly was. I was not some blank slate that Zenith and Paul had raised from birth. My memories of my past life still clung to me, and I could hardly ignore them—or even worse: cast them away. I wasn't keen on throwing away what had defined me up to this point.

No, when I heard Sylphiette talk of family, my mind didn't shift to returning back to the Greyrat household. Instead, an upsurge of painful images flooded my mind, of times long since passed. A large, traditional Japanese household, once empty but not filled with residents brought together by the most unlikely of circumstances. The thought of King Arthur, Medusa, and three prodigious magi gathering around a table to feast upon my own personal cooking was amusing to me now when previously, the idea was so preposterous that it bordered on incomprehensibility. And that said meetings were rudely interrupted by an overly immature guardian like it was a cartoon cliché was perhaps even more bewildering, yet no less true.

The Greyrats housed me, yes. Zenith had given birth to me, true. But this life of mine didn't belong to them.

"Then leave them."

I should. My thoughts drifted to the image of a man, his tall frame standing over me, his broad shoulders facing me and covering my entire vision. Crimson cloth fluttered in the wind, the buffeting breeze enough to force me to cover my eyes. His head turned towards me, steel-grey peering at me out of the corner of eyes, silently judging and regarding me. His mouth moved, but his words were lost to the wind.

The vision ended, and I frowned as even in a new life, I couldn't escape my mind being plagued by him.

Being the hero fate wanted meant that one day, I would need to match him, throwing away everything so I could stand by his side. There was no use defying myself. I was destined to take his place, to be another cog in the wheel of fate.

I was still a far cry from reaching my peak. I was still weak, and my resolve was as fragile as a heart of glass. I had slipped up earlier with Paul, allowing myself to succumb to my emotions. I said it myself. Even if it meant living the life of a machine, to be a hero of justice, I had to crush such weakness. I couldn't afford to be selfish, not anymore.

Yet inexplicably, I felt that I was somehow betraying myself even further.

"I don't know much…" Sylphiette admitted, "b-but Mommy and Papa always told me that n-no one can replace family…"

I let her words simmer in my mind before nodding.

"That's right, Sylphiette. I couldn't agree more."

She blinked owlishly, bemused at my abrupt acceptance, accepting my silence as a refusal to elaborate on my words.

We continued in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. The sounds of a village getting ready for its slumber filled the air as its inhabitants prepared their last chores and for the start of a new day tomorrow. Tools were put away, animals herded back to their pens, and the crops were being checked on for the last time. Sylphiette slowly grew more confident in her surroundings, having taken the lead and walked slightly in front of me.

Right as the sun was just about to finish setting, only the dimmest of rays peeking out over the horizon, we arrived at Sylphiette's house. The bustling of the village had slowly faded as we neared the end of our journey, bathing us in silence by the time we had arrived.

Her house was, quite frankly, average. It was completely plain looking, just a standard two-story dwelling. It was exactly how I imagined a medieval European house to look like, and it was built from the same cookie-cutter template as the rest of the houses in the village. It was smaller than the Greyrat's household, which made sense since Paul was the village's knight, so he was able to afford more luxurious accommodations. Nevertheless, it was still a humble and cozy house, befitting someone like Sylphiette.

"U-U-Umm, t-t-thank you for w-w-walking me back. Y-You can go b-back n-now-S-S-SHIROU?!"

I knocked twice on the front door, my knuckles making deep thumps on the wood. In a split second, the door swung open so fast that I feared for the safety of the hinges.

"SYLPHIETTE?! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

An Elvish man greeted me. Long blonde bangs framed his face—a substantially different color compared to Sylphiette's. He was tall and slim, not skinny but definitely not as built as Paul. His hands held clear evidence of his training, many callouses and small scars littering palm, meaning he was some kind of soldier or a field laborer at the very least. His face was rugged, but not rough, and if it wasn't for his frantic and paranoid expression, he could even be considered handsome. Said expression had settled on me for a split second before they focused on Sylphiette, who was meekly hiding behind me while giving the man an embarrassed smile.

"Ah, hello…Papa..."

"Sylphiette, do you know what time it is?! I've been worried sick!" the now-identified man exclaimed.

I stepped forward slightly, making sure to cover Sylphiette with my body as I subtlety held an arm out to make sure she stayed behind me.

"Good evening, Mister. I was just escorting Sylphiette back to her house. I presume you are her father?" I asked.

His eyes rounded on me, and a familiar tingle was sent up my spine.

"Oh? And who are you, brat?" he questioned, blatantly looking me up and down. From his scoff, he didn't seem too impressed with what he found.

"Shirou… Shirou Greyrat…"

"Greyrat?" He tilted his head in thought before widening his eyes in realization. "Oh, you're Paul's kid…" he trailed off, unsure how to approach me. His fiery attitude had been doused abruptly, and I was left with a significantly quieter and timid man. At the very least, I knew where Sylphiette got her demeanor from.

"Correct. I've been with Sylphiette all day. She was in some trouble when I encountered her. I apologize for having taken her without notifying you previously. I've taken the liberty of escorting her back to her home and ensuring her safety," I explained.

Law blinked owlishly at me, unknowingly repeating the same gesture Sylphiette did earlier, and I mentally smirked at the likeliness.

"Wow, I guess he wasn't kidding…"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Who wasn't kidding?"

The man had the decency to at least look extremely embarrassed.

"Uh, don't worry about it!" He said hastily, laughing waving off my question.

I gave him an unimpressed stare.

"I see. Well, as I promised to her, I've returned her to you." I said, stepping aside. Laws broke out into a wide smile at seeing his daughter in full view, letting out a cry of joy as he walked towards her with his arms outstretched. Sylphiette's cheeks were flush with embarrassment as she abashedly shuffled towards her father, returning his embrace and finally allowing herself to sink into the man's arms.

Father and daughter stood there in the for a few more moments, basking in the dying light of the setting sun that bathed the village in an ethereal orange glow. A gust of cool autumn wind blew by, and the resulting chill only encouraged the pair to dig into each other further, savoring the warmth of their bodies. It was almost like everything came to a standstill, reality letting them have this sole moment all to themselves as even the world itself acknowledged the serenity of this fragment of time.

It was a moving scene, a happy ending to a day full of stress and anxiety for Sylphiette. I gave them a silent goodbye, giving a little girl joyfully buried in the man's chest a wordless prayer as well. With my job done, I turned on my heels, content to let the two have this happy reunion to themselves. Neither of them noticed as I quietly made my exit, walking the road back to the Greyrats.

Of course, that meant back to Paul and Zenith. Unfortunately, I still had no definite answer to what I should do. The thought of revealing everything was certainly a possibility, but that temptation only lasted for a brief second. With the current atmosphere of the household, disclosing my status as an alien only served to invite more trouble than it solved. As strong as familiar bonds were, they only applied to the ones who were deemed as family. There was no guarantee that they would see me as such after exposing myself. In all likelihood, there would be no more room for Emiya Shirou in that house should I follow through with that plan.

Which really left me with only one other option, one that I tended to exercise very often: improvisation. Strategic plans were best left to Tohsaka or Illya, but unfortunately, neither of them were here. I was far from a manipulator or schemer, so in this case, the best I could do was pray for the best.

With the reluctant course of action in mind, I let out a sigh, continuing my way down the road—

"Hey, wait!"

I looked back, peering at the crest of the hill I had just crossed. The elven man I had just met was wildly running towards me while flailing his hands, trying his best to get my attention. Feeling the beginning of a migraine, I stopped my walk and let Sylphiette's father make his way towards me. By the time he reached me, the man was heavily panting and flushed red with exertion, propping his torso on his knees using his arms as he greedily inhaled large gulps of air.

"There… there you are! I can't—" he laboriously heaved in more breaths of air "—believe you're all the way over here!" He looked up at me, his face slick with sweat as his hair clung to his skin. "What kind of training regimen did Paul put you through?!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Was there something else I could help you with?"

"Laws. The name is Laws. You left before I got a chance to introduce myself!" With his message delivered, the man gave up on all pretenses of pride and masculinity and collapsed into a heap like a sack of potatoes.

Huh, this man reminded me a lot of Paul when I was just born. Perhaps this was the kind of person Paul would have been had I not existed.

I didn't know much about the man in front of me at all, but I didn't need to pry into his soul to see the sincere love he had for his daughter. The affection and ardor he showered Sylphiette with, feelings which the girl reciprocated without hesitation, could be considered the genuine article. I would know because I've seen similar displays of love firsthand, even to the point of experiencing them myself. Those tender smiles they graced each other with and the heartfelt sobs they choked back were familiar echoes that were seared into my soul, branding themselves into my memories.

Without a doubt, Laws had achieved the ever-distant dream that Paul had so fervently pursued all this time.

"Sorry, I just felt like I was intruding on something."

The man stood back up and gave me a sheepish smile. "Yeah, sorry about that kiddo. Didn't mean to make things so awkward. But still, how the hell did you get so far? I looked away for like 30 seconds and you were gone—" his eyes widened as he slapped a hand over his mouth "—shit, I swore in front of a kid!—" Laws's face scrunched up in a grimace "—FUCK!" Sylphiette's father stomped his foot onto the ground in frustration. I cocked my head to the side, amazed at how a fully-grown adult managed to act like such a child. Maybe my earlier assessment was slightly incorrect, and this man was actually the reincarnation of Taiga. He seemed less violent, but the large discrepancy between their physical and mental ages was a familiar feeling.

"It's alright—"

"Oh no, Alice is going to kill me!" he interrupted. The epiphany struck terror into the man, and his body started shivering in fright at the woman's name. Meanwhile, I resisted the urge to slap a hand over my face, content merely to observe the man's gradual progression into full-blown panic.

After a few more seconds passed with no end in sight, I changed my mind. "Not to interrupt your…" I struggled to find a word to describe what I had just witnessed, "…thoughts, but was there something you wanted? Otherwise, I should be making my way back."

His face lit up. "Ah yes, I wanted to invite you over to our house for a bit. You said you helped Sylphiette, yes? It would be rude to have you walk her all the way over here and not give you something back. Come on, we should have some food ready, and I'm sure Alice would love to meet you."

I curtly shook my head. "There's no need. I didn't do this for any sort of thanks. Rest assured, Sylphiette's safety is the only reward I need—"

He knelt, bringing his head in front of mine before peering into my eyes. His irises focused directly on me, and it was only after fractions of a second that he broke the connection, looking nervously at somewhere on my face before letting out a few uneasy chuckles. "Ah, but I insist!"

I frowned slightly at his words, my blank stare conveying that I was not moved by his request. "Paul and Zenith aren't expecting me to stay any longer than necessary." The sun was setting, and it would only be a few more hours until it would be dark.

"Ah geez. Man, hearing it from Paul and actually seeing it are way different," Laws said abashedly. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before once again staring at me straight on. "How about this: I'm just a concerned father that's spent the entire afternoon and evening worried sick for my daughter. You'll have to forgive me if I have some questions, both about what happened to her and about the boy who brought her in," he explained bluntly.

Ah, so that's what it was. Well, I couldn't fault a father for caring about his child. I could respect that much.

I looked backwards at the sky, judging at how long it would take me to return to the Greyrat household. At the leisurely pace Sylphiette and I traveled, it had taken us a few hours to get from there to here. If I did the same on the way back, it would be well into the night by the time I returned.

Well, I didn't particularly fancy the idea of going back to the large emotionally-charged mess waiting for me. I wasn't running away from the problem, per se, but sometimes people needed time and separation to properly process their emotions, which I was all too happy to give them.

But there was also the possibility of them getting angry over me doing something unexpected again. Much like what happened earlier, exercising my independence from the Greyrats wasn't necessarily the smartest idea, but maybe this outcome was the natural course of things.

"In that case, I can spare some time." In the end, I decided that as long as I didn't take too long, a minor detour wasn't out of the question.

Laws smiled at his honest approach succeeding. "Good. Now Paul won't kill me for treating his son badly after he's helped my daughter." I didn't have the heart to tell him about Paul's current condition. "Besides, I'm sure Sylphiette would be happy to continue seeing you as well."

I gave him a wry look and rolled my eyes. "You assume too much."

His grin only widened. "I don't think so. I've known my daughter far longer than you have. Trust me, she wouldn't be walking side by side with someone she didn't trust."

"Trust and happiness are two entirely different things."

"They are," Laws agreed with a nod, "but for children like her, they are one and the same. I'm surprised you already know about one of life's cruel lessons."

I chose not to respond, giving him a noncommittal shrug of my shoulders before walking past and back towards Sylphiette's house. The man followed, walking by my side as we slowly trudged back.

After a few minutes, the house was back in sight. Sylphiette was nowhere to be seen, presumably back inside where she was no doubt being questioned by her mother.

Laws and I stood outside of the front door. He stepped in front of me, his hand on the knob, but before he opened the door, he turned back to me.

"Before I let you inside, I have to ask: what are your intentions with my daughter?"

Ah, a concerned father indeed.

"I have no intentions. Like I said, I helped her because she needed help, nothing more."

Laws shook his head. "That was then. I'm asking about now."

I raised an eyebrow. "Now?"

He nodded. "Sylphiette sees you as a friend now." He raised a hand to stop me from interrupting. "Regardless of what you think, I know I'm right. Paul says you're a good kid. Paul is a lot of things, but he's not a liar." The elven man fully turned towards me, his face grim and resolute. "Still, I have to make absolutely sure. A lot of people look down on us demons, especially in the past few years. My daughter has a hard time talking to anyone. This isn't the first time she's run into trouble before, and it certainly won't be the last."

I hummed thoughtfully. It seemed that despite being in a new world, people were still willing to discriminate against each other for such trivial reasons. Being willing to shun out an innocent girl for an innocuous pair of ears and harmless strands of hair… it was disgusting. Being judged from birth for things she never asked for was a terrible thing. Sylphiette had told me her story on our walk back to the Greyrat household, and I had sympathized with her, but hearing it now from her father and that she's endured this treatment in the past brought forth an ugly swell of emotions in my chest. Sylphiette had committed no crime, but she bore the punishment for one, nonetheless.

The meaning of justice may have eluded me, the answer obscured in fog and mystery, but I knew that this unfair judgement certainly could not be called anything else but a farce of righteousness.

Memories of a violet-haired girl flashed through my mind, and the comparison was sickeningly apt. The similarities were there, and familiar pangs of angst blossomed in my chest as I clenched my fist.

And then flashes of a bloodied priest invaded my mind, the image of his empty smile worming into my brain like a parasite, and the fist tightened even further.

"You're angry," Laws noted, his eyes fixed down below. A pleased grin spread upon his face. "Good, that means you care."

"How could I not?"

"You'd be surprised. Many people are content to play the hero, but the responsibility that comes with it lasts a lifetime."

My lips curved upwards knowingly, a bitter aftertaste on in my mouth. "I'm aware."

He nodded, his face sporting a mask of approval. "Well, if you understand that much, then I'm fine with letting this continue." He turned away from me, preparing to open the door in his house. "I just don't want my daughter to be hurt anymore," Laws finished, his voice unwaveringly even as he left me with the warning. The man opened the door and disappeared inside, the door left slightly ajar and leaving me alone as I contemplated his last words.

My feet moved forwards, my hand resting on the closed door. A part of me considered just turning around and avoiding this situation entirely. Admittedly, the temptation lasted longer than I was comfortable with.

In the end, I decided that this was the more preferable of my current options, and with a sigh, I entered the house.

True to my earlier observation, the interior of the house wasn't extravagant by any means. It was definitely a bit more compact and spartan compared to the Greyrat's, but the overall theme and design was the same. To my right was the kitchen, where I could see Sylphiette enduring the frantic fretting of a woman around Zenith's age. She was busying herself by worriedly examining every part of Sylphiette's body, scrutinizing her for any sort of injuries. Thankfully, the only substantial one Sylphiette received had been her ankle sprain, something that Zenith had remedied quite quickly. The small, stray scratches and bruises she sustained from those bullies must have been healed by Zenith as well earlier.

The woman, who was perhaps around half a head's height shorter than Sylphiette's father, noticed me walking through the door and turned around, and just a passing glance at her face made it obvious she was Sylphiette's mother. She wasn't an elf, and unless there were other races of people I was unaware of, she seemed human. She had long hair that was tied up in a high ponytail, falling over onto her back in a curtain of warm, inviting brown. Her face shared a number of similarities to Sylphiette's, from her small, petite nose, soothing hazel eyes, and demure lips. In fact, Sylphiette definitely seemed to share her mother's face moreso than her father's.

She looked startled, a gasp escaping her before she reigned herself in and gave me a gentle smile, one charming enough to melt the hearts of the vast majority of men.

"Oh my? I didn't know Sylphiette was bringing home such cuties already." She brought up her hand to cover her scandalous smile, but I could see glimpses of it tugging at her lips. Mischief danced in her eyes, clearly very amused by the current situation, and just from my past experience with females, I knew that this woman was going to be the cause of many headaches.

"Hello. I am… Shirou Greyrat. It's a pleasure to meet you." I gave her a court nod. If anything, that shine in her eyes grew even brighter, and from the widening pit in my stomach, I knew that I had made a mistake.

"Aww, aren't you just the most adorable thing." She immediately stopped fussing over Sylphiette and stood up, and in the blink of an eye, my vision was completely obscured by brown as I was hoisted upwards. My breathing came to a stop as she proceeded to stuff me in her rather—ahem—bountiful chest, suffocating me in a valley of flesh and fat. She shook herself—and by extension, me—rapidly from side to side, her hand on the back of my head applying even more pressure as if she was trying to forcefully assimilate my body with hers in some grotesque horrific fashion.

"Uhh, Alice, I think you're killing him…?" I heard from behind me.

"Oh lord, Laws, can we keep him? Please? Pwetty pwease?" Oh god, she was doing baby talk now. I tried to escape my confines, but somehow this woman had the strength to keep me completely immobile. It was a perplexing phenomenon considering what happened with Paul earlier.

Laws sighed, one so lethargic that it almost inspired me to jump off the nearest rooftop. It seemed that he was somewhat used to this behavior from her, though I guessed that she still found new ways to surprise him.

"We can't just kidnap Paul's child, Alice," he chided, but it seemed like a half-hearted effort considering he knew his words were going in through one ear and out the other.

"We can't?"

Laws nodded gravely. "We can't."

Alice made some strange guttural noise of disappointment, though I took notice that she made no attempt to put me down and let me go. Not for the lack of trying on my part, of course, considering my arms were futilely trying to push myself away from her.

"Well, I'm sure I can arrange something with the Greyrats. His mother is Zenith, right? How dare she, keeping this charming little child all to herself?" Thankfully, she freed me from my prison, but my freedom was quickly taken from me as I was put under assault. Alice raised me up to her face then started affectionately rubbing her cheek against mine like I was some overgrown puppy.

Since my head was forcefully turned to the side, I could see Laws out of the corner of my eye. His expression was one of immense pity, but there was a hint of thankfulness to it, almost as if he was glad it was me suffering under Alice's attention rather than him. Since I wasn't exactly pleased with my current inhumane treatment, I couldn't really fault him for his choice. Regardless, I gave him a deadpan look, one that conveyed the lamentations of a man who had lost all hope for the future.

"Kill me," I silently mouthed to him, begging for him to spare me from this torture. Releasing me from this pain was worth any price, my life included—not that I valued it very much. Unfortunately, Laws gave me a frantic shake of his head, scared that should he let me escape, the sadistic vixen would target him in my stead. I gave him a betrayed look, and my eyes burned with vengeance, promising that should I survive, I would remember his refusal to aid me and return my pain onto him tenfold—

"Cwan yjou pweese staahp?" I pleaded with all my might, mustering every bit of childish cuteness inside of myself and throwing away any dignity or pride I could have had. Alas, my efforts were in vain in the face of my enemy, and she carried, now having moved onto pulling on my cheeks like it was some sort of clay for her to play with.

"Nope!" she denied cheerfully.

"M-M-Mom!" I couldn't see anything, but I could hear the distinct pitter patter of footsteps coming closer before Sylphiette's voice rang out again. "Please don't do that!"

"Oh don't worry, I won't break your little friend here." If anything, Sylphiette's disapproval only made the woman's embrace tighter.

"Don't kill my new friend!" That only seemed to motivate Sylphiette even further, and I could hear her resorting to banging her tiny fists against her mother's arms. With a melodious laugh, light entered my eyes, showing me the mother's kind expressions as Alice put me down gently, making a show of wiping off any dirt and dust that may have somehow gotten onto me.

"Okay, okay. There, I let your little boyfriend go. See? Not a scratch on him," Alice said with an appeasing and amused smile.

"H-He's just a friend…!" Sylphiette stammered out, her face flushed red in embarrassment.

Alice raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her words.

"And I'm sure you're wearing his old clothing just because, huh?" Alice ignored Sylphiette's mortified cry of "Mom!" before overdramatically scrutinizing her daughter's face. "I know you have my charming face and smile, but with great power comes great responsibility!" she lectured cheerfully, finishing her words with a wink.

"That's right! You can't be dating yet," Laws chimed in. All of a sudden, his face darkened, becoming the frightening visage of an overprotective father. "In fact, you will never date…"

Sylphiette made some weird groaning sound at her parent's antics, resorting to burying her face in her hands, the sharp shrill of her screams thankfully muffled.

Alice's eyes widened, and she covered her open mouth with a hand. "Or maybe, Sylphiette took on more from your mother than we thought, dear," she scandalously whispered across the room.

Laws rolled his eyes. "Don't even joke about that."

With a giggle, she let go of the matter and turned towards me. "Well dear, we were just about to have dinner. Would you like to join us? I'm sure I can explain to Zenith why you're taking so long to drop off my daughter, and you can take your time regaling us about your escapades with my daughter, hmm?"

I let her offer sit in my mind for a bit before mentally kicking myself. I already made up my mind, didn't I? There was no reason to hesitate.

Of course, even with all that said,

"Well, if you insist. It would be rude to decline such a generous offer. Don't worry about Zenith and Paul. I'll be sure to explain the situation to them as well." Hopefully they wouldn't be too mad, but better to ask for forgiveness than permission, as they say.

Alice and Laws looked at me, blinking once before turning to each other. There must have been some secret marriage telepathy technique since I've seen Paul and Zenith do the exact same thing.

Now that I think about it, they did act similar to the Greyrats. At least, similar to the Greyrats before everything fell apart. Perhaps my earlier hunch was correct, and this family was a vision of the Greyrats in a world in which I never existed.

"Good to hear!" Alice burst out happily. "Dinner will be ready soon. Sylphiette, would you like to show Shirou around the house? Who knows, maybe he'll be seeing more of it in the future?" she finished with a sly smile.

Sylphiette let out a distressed whine before meekly turning to me. "Um, d-do you want to look around…?"

I nodded, and Sylphiette pulled on my shirt, leading me out of the living room and deeper into the first floor. Truthfully, there wasn't much to see. While the house was a bit barer and smaller than the Greyrats, the layout and looks of it were the same. The rooms all had a bed and a few dressers. Their storage area was a bunch of dusty shelves with spiders hiding in their webs in the corners. I guess there wasn't much room for luxuries or personalization in a remote and poor area like Buena Village. Such privileges were only afforded to the rich and powerful, which meant the nobility of this world if I had to guess. Well, I knew Paul had some connections to that facet of the world, so maybe it would only be a matter of time before I encountered that side of society.

Sylphiette took me outside, showing me her mother's garden. It contained a few common vegetables and spices, exactly what I would expect from a farmland region. Aside from that, the outside area of the house was fairly nondescript, a few trees scattered about the yard but nothing else. I questioned where exactly the property lines of these houses began and ended, then I realized that these people were probably too busy trying to make ends meet before entertaining the idea of expanding their real estate.

"W-Well? What… do you think?" the shy girl asked me after she was done giving her tour of her house.

"It's humble," I answered. "A cozy place suitable for a family." I searched my mind for another word. "It's very… welcoming." There was a certain… feel to the house, one that I hadn't noticed immediately. Compared to the Greyrats' house, the air of the place was substantially different, lacking the tension that I had grown accustomed to. Admittedly, this place was a breath of fresh air compared to that.

"Really?" Sylphiette looked surprised by that, and she gazed at me with doe-like eyes.

Poor girl. This was probably her first time showing off her house and family to someone her age. No doubt that she was anxious about my opinion about everything.

"Really," I confirmed.

She lit up at my answer, and I could see the struggle to restrain herself in her eyes, glimpses of it showing as she lightly bounced on her heels. The celebration was cut short as Sylphiette realized something.

"Oh, Momma and Papa are probably done cooking." She looked at me expectantly, and I picked up on the implication, walking with her back inside the house.

Inside, Laws and Alice were in the kitchen talking in hushed whispers, but upon noticing us, they quickly stopped their gossiping and turned to us.

"Welcome back," Alice greeted warmly. "Dinner is ready, so come take a seat."

We quickly all took a seat at the table, with the heads of the household on opposite ends while Sylphiette and I ended up facing each other on the sides. Alice brought over a large bowl of stew along with a platter of bread. The stew was serviceable enough. It was fairly similar to a beef stew from back on Earth. The broth was a tad salty, but the flavor had a nice combination that was hearty and filling, perfect for a scrumptious meal in the evening before bed. The meat was definitely on the tougher side, a far cry from grade A5 Wagyu, but its flavor profile was close enough to beef that I still found it appetizing. The vegetables were cooked well, definitely tender but not so much that it was mushy. All in all, Alice was definitely a good cook, easily on par with Zenith.

Well, the food still lacked a certain… something, but no amount of cooking skill could ever fix that.

It was after the first few bites that I decided to do half of what I came here to do.

I coughed politely, bringing the attention of the entire table onto me. Setting down my utensils, I looked at Laws straight in the eyes.

"You mentioned before that Sylphiette had been receiving trouble for quite some time now. Are you aware that the bullying has escalated?" Laws and Alice tensed at my words, and I could see the utensils in Laws's hand creaking as they threatened to splinter into pieces under the man's tightening grip. Alice's normally kind smile immediately dropped, revealing the vindictive woman lurking underneath the mask she wore, one that had been tempered by the cruelty of reality.

"Explain." The woman's words left no room for discussion, her message more akin to a growl than a sentence.

"I came across her this morning when I was out exploring," I said. "She was being harassed by some boys. I successfully scared them off, but they were already bullying Sylphiette for some time by the time I arrived."

The look of either parent showed no surprise, but the look in their eyes beckoned me to continue.

"And these… boys... What were they doing to her?" Laws snarled, trepidation laden in his voice but asking for an answer regardless.

"…Um… they… t-t-they—"

"They were being quite rough with her. Verbal and physical harassment. Slinging dirt at her. There were three of them. And that was just from when I arrived," I explain tersely. "Sylphiette had twisted her ankle while she was running away. If I didn't get there in time…" I let the silence linger in the room, their imaginations speaking in place of my words.

Their faces twisted into uglier glowers, the prospect of possibly even more harm coming to Sylphiette agitating them further. The intensity of their displeased auras was rather impressive, reminding me that a parent's wrath is something I'd prefer to avoid.

"Sylphiette, did they do anything else?" Laws growled, his expression promising furious retribution onto those poor boys.

"… No…" she said meekly.

"Are you sure? Sylphiette, you can tell us anything, but we can't help if you don't tell us," Alice pleaded.

"N-No, they didn't do a-anything… just what S-Shirou said…" she said.

Both parents looked sternly at Sylphiette, trying to pressure her into confessing anything else that could have happened. The poor girl cowered back slightly but managed to meet their eyes, showing she was telling the entire truth. Seeing that their daughter didn't have anything else to say, Alice and Laws withdrew their pressure, turning away from her and back towards me.

"Do you remember what they looked like?" Laws asked.

"Sorry, I don't," I lied. Children, I reminded myself. A stern warning and slap on the wrist should suffice for now.

Though now that I think about it, Paul and Zenith seemed to know the parents of the boys. Perhaps Sylphiette's family would find out eventually, but that day would not be today. Time would lessen their rage, and maybe they'll let the bullies get off easy.

"It might be the same boys from before," Alice said. "They've harassed my daughter a few times, but nothing like this."

"Sylphiette and I are hybrids," Laws explained. "Humans never looked too fondly at us due to the history between our races. Nowadays, with the isolation of the demon continent and the exodus of the people of the Great Forest due to all the monsters running around and the problems it's causing, tensions between the two sides are at an all-time high."

Hmm, how interesting. I didn't know that the current geopolitical dynamics of this world were so similar to Earth's. Just like before, the more things change, the more things stay the same. People were people, flaws and all.

"It pisses me off," Laws continued. "Just when we were getting to settle down and start a family, all this bullshit happens!" He slammed a fist against the table, causing Sylphiette to flinch. From the way Alice responded by silently and calmly looking at her husband, this outburst was not a surprise nor new. The man shrunk in the face of his wife's disapproval, letting out a small apology.

I could see why he and Paul got along so well. Their problems were astonishingly similar.

"Forgive him. It's just been a regular topic since Sylphiette was born," Alice said.

Almost immediately, Sylphiette's expression became downcast, and I could sense that she was blaming herself for giving her parents a hard time.

"It's not your fault, Sylphiette. There's no crime in being born as you are," I consoled, my words drawing her eyes away from her lap and up towards mine.

For a moment, a bloody priest stood right behind the small elven girl, the dried blood staining his lips giving the corpse's smile a malevolent crimson glow. I blinked, and the apparition disappeared, the vision only known to me.

"T-Thank you…" Sylphiette quietly replied, shyly looking back down at her feet.

Alice let out a hum of approval. "Those are wise words. Who taught them to you?" The question was rhetorical from the way she smiled, but I answered, nonetheless.

"They're mine."

Her smile widened, and I felt the noose around my neck tighten. "To be spouting such wisdom at such a young age. Either you're well-learned from a book or Zenith and Paul have taught you a thing or two."

I nodded, content to let her make her assumptions. There was no need to be entirely truthful regarding these matters.

"In any case, such a cutie like you shouldn't be saying that kind of stuff anyway. Now I'll definitely need to drop by to give Paul and Zenith a piece of my mind." Alice sighed, a wistful look on her face. "Wisdom is good, but children should be children. There's plenty of time later in life to be learning all that."

I agreed with her words, though Alice forgot to account for one thing: that some people don't always have a choice.

Laws coughed, interrupting the pause. "Anyway, enough about us. You certainly didn't come here to have all this coming down on you."

I resisted the urge to tell him that he already had, or that he and his wife were speaking to me as if I was three times older than I was.

Alice nodded. "Yes, that's enough for now. My husband invited you here to show our gratitude for helping our daughter. For that, you have our sincere thanks," Alice said, smiling warmly at me in gratitude. Law gave me a firm nod, the universal gesture for men to show appreciation. Of course, I returned the motion.

"You're welcome," I said, returning their gratitude. Laws gave me a small smile of appreciation at not deflecting their thankfulness.

"T-Thank you, Shirou… for saving me." The timid girl looked up, her cheeks bulging as her face brightened into a bashful smile, small pink lips shyly curling upwards. It felt like I had stumbled upon a sacred treasure of the world, a sight no one else was beholden to.

Just like before, I couldn't help but draw comparisons once again, the girl's hair turning a vivid shade of violet as the surrounding scenery shifted to the unassuming tranquility of the Emiya estate where Sakura had shown me her genuine smile for the first time, one free of the burdens that had plagued her later.

There was a magnetic pull within my chest, my eyes transfixed upon the alluring curve of Sylphiette's lips, the image tugging on the contours of a soul that had sat dormant for so long. Before I knew it, there was an unfamiliar feeling on my face as the corners of my mouth quirked up.

"Of course. You're very welcome, Sylphiette."

There was a bang, the loud sound of something crashing against the floor. A glance to the side revealed that the source of the noise was Laws, who had been sitting on the edge of his seat and had leaned forward a bit too far and was now sprawled on the floor, the chair having been ejected backwards. Somehow, the man barely registered the accident and scrambled to return both the chair and himself to their correct locations, his attention eagerly fixed in front of him.

Next to him, Alice was slack-jawed, her eyes wide in surprise as if she was bearing witness to a once-in-a-lifetime forbidden scene. Her hands were limp, the utensils in them completely forgotten as teetered unsteadily in her fingers. Sylphiette had a similar reaction, her face flushed a deep red as she stuttered out a few words of… something. The girl was rapidly blinking as her eyes rapidly spun in circles in their sockets, her brain unable to fully process her thoughts as her senses overloaded.

I looked at the three family members, my blank visage all the response I needed as I returned their gazes with my own unimpressed stare.

Truly, the world was conspiring against me.

"Thank you for coming!" The jolly woman waved enthusiastically at me, her other hand resting on Sylphiette's head while patting it affectionately. "You have to stop by again. You're more than welcome at our house!"

I ruminated on her offer, weighing the pros and cons of continuing to associate with the family. They were most certainly not bad people by any measure; in fact, I could say without a doubt that they were all of outstanding character, strange habits aside. They were pleasant to be around, and I would not find myself inconvenienced in any way by mingling with them.

As always, the problems did not lie with them, but rather with me. Trouble was bound to find me sooner and later, and when that time comes, it would be better for me to face it alone. There was no need to involve any innocent people in my problems; such kind people did not deserve any more suffering than what was unavoidable. It was a similar conundrum with the Greyrats, people who already bore the consequences of my existence. Leaving them was akin to mercy, sparing them the trouble that came with being with me.

"I will if I have time," I said. A non-committal answer, neither accepting nor declining her proposal. Archer would approve.

The woman smiled, her face the image of a cunning fox. "Well, I'll ask your mother if I can have the luxury of taking you off her hands." I fought the urge to correct her choice of words. "Sylphiette doesn't have many friends —or any, for that matter. I'm sure she'd love to play with you some more."

"MOM!" Like clockwork, Sylphiette indignantly cried out at her mother's teasing.

"He has my approval." Laws gave me a firm nod and a thumbs-up. I raised an eyebrow at his words, unsure of what he meant but suspecting that it would be far too much of a headache to understand.

The four of us were standing outside the house. After the atmosphere had gotten a bit too awkward for my taste earlier, I had announced my departure. In a fashion that I was quickly—and unfortunately—growing accustomed to, all three family members had nearly tripped over themselves to see me out before I could make my own exit, leading to the current situation outside.

"DAD!" Sylphiette escaped from her mother's clutches and rushed towards her father, only to be confined once again in his arms as he wrapped them around her in a playful vice grip. The girl battered her petite arms against the man, doing negligible damage as the elf laughed harmoniously into the evening breeze, the happy chuckles carried to the far corners of the village as both parents couldn't help but give close-lidded smiles at their daughter's reactions.

I felt something tugging on my lips again, but this time I was able to push it back down. Alice noticed my pensive look and walked over to me, leaving her husband and daughter to their antics.

"You look like you've got a lot on your mind. Care to share your thoughts?" she asked innocently with a tilt of her head.

I closed my eyes, letting out a breath of air I didn't know I had been holding. "It's nothing. I'm just being reminded of something."

"Oh? And what do we remind you of, my dear child knight?"

I raised an eyebrow at her quizzically. "Child knight?"

She put a finger to her lips, pretending to contemplate the title. "Well, you're Paul's son, and Paul is the knight of the village, right? Therefore, you're a child knight!"

I let her words wash over me, the simple and rudimentary thought process behind her reasoning causing my mind to short circuit. "I… see…"

Well, I guess she wasn't wrong.

"Do you really?" She reached down and ruffled my hair, orbs of amber peeking out from the crimson strands she was playing with. "Well, maybe I shouldn't be bestowing you titles just yet. For now, you can just be Shirou, and that's all you need to be."

Ah, so she was like Zenith. Well, at least, Zenith before she came to a few realizations. I suppose that reality had to rear its ugly head one way or another.

"I was just thinking about how you all seem so happy. Nothing more." My words were curt and concise, the simple message nothing but honest.

Alice smiled, tinges of sadness tainting the image. "Well, it's hard to smile and laugh nowadays, but we do what we can." She looked back at the two people who were still engrossed in their play-fighting. "My husband was driven from his homeland, and even now when we finally thought we found some reprieve, reality came back to haunt us once again. It's not easy, you know, trying your best all the time, even if you don't know where your efforts are going and what's going to happen in the future. For all you know, you can be working towards nothing, but that's the thing—" she peered into my eyes, the weight of her gaze drilling into my soul "—even complete darkness can be extinguished by the dimmest of lights." She winked at me, her smile radiating mischievousness. "Now that's a good quote right there! Remember that for when you're older, okay?" Suddenly, her eyes widened, and her expression took on a mortified look. "Oh wait, I'm supposing to be treating you like a kid. Nooooooo!"

The woman fell theatrically to her knees, her beautiful visage twisted into an overdramatized expression of agony.

I gave her a patronizing pat on the head, mimicking her gesture from before. "It's okay. It happens all the time."

She was like Fuji-nee, a child in an adult's body that occasionally dropped nuggets of wisdom before reverting back to their childish demeanor.

"Well, just because it happens often doesn't mean it's okay." Alice stood back up "Sorry, I just can't help it. You don't act very much like a child, do you?"

I nodded once, not even trying to deny it. There was only so much I could hide. "Correct."

She sighed, a pitying smile staining her lips. "What a shame." She gave me one last pat on the head before she took on a more serious bearing. "Anyway, I was serious earlier. I won't bore you with the speech I'm sure Laws gave you, so I'll cut straight to the point: please stop by. No matter how much you try to deny it, my daughter is much happier today than she has been in a while." Alice and I glanced behind her to see Laws taking Sylphiette in his arms and spinning her around as she fervently tried to escape. "As a parent, the only thing I really want is for her to be happy. I don't want to see her sad if the one person she connected with didn't want anything more to do with her."

My heart felt heavy, my throat tightening as the depths of my soul ached and stirred at the ugliness of it all. I opened my mouth to respond but found my words had become a quiet rasp.

"I'll try."

Even I didn't know how truthful my own words were.

She nodded, a much more satisfied grin decorating her countenance. "Good, that's all I ask. Well, not like we won't try ourselves. Plus, I'm sure my little girl will try to find you anyway." She turned behind her, "Hey Sylphiette, Shirou is leaving. Say goodbye!" Alice called out.

The little girl quickly wriggled out of her father's grasp and ran over to us. "Um. T-thank you, S-Shirou!" The girl fidgeted in place, swaying back and forth on her feet as she looked downwards in embarrassment. It was mildly amusing watching her unease, but at some point, I had to leave.

"Of course. Like I said, you're welcome, Sylphiette." I gave Laws and Alice a nod, and they returned with happy smiles and wave. Giving Sylphiette one last look, I turned around to make my way back to the Greyrats.

I took only a few steps this time before I heard the noise of hushed whispers and the sound of someone being pushed forward. I spun on my heels only to see Sylphiette stumbling uncontrollably towards me.

"Ahhh!"

She fell onto me, but thankfully, I managed to brace myself in time. Had we both fallen down, it would have been unbearably embarrassing. Not that the current situation was much better, with her making her best impression of a bell pepper as I could feel her temperature becoming scalding hot in my arms. Right now, I had relied mostly on instinct to catch her, resulting in her locked in my arms as I fought to keep us upright.

Off in the distance, I could see Laws giving her wife a dry stare as Alice sported a proud look on her face.

"S-S-Shirou! I-I-If you want, d-d-do you want to p-p-play t-t-together t-t-tomorrow…?" Sylphiette stuttered.

I shot the woman behind her a deadpan glare before turning back to the girl in my arms. I held the girl out to an arm's length before answering, "Maybe. Zenith likes to keep me inside the house. Today was the first time I've really had the chance to go out…" Sylphiette understood the implication, her face becoming crestfallen. I could feel her body becoming limp under my hands as all the tension she was under previously evaporated in an instant. "But I'll see what I can do."

Just the small, fleeting hope of us meeting again was enough to brighten her spirits once again, and a delighted smile blossomed on her lips. "O-Okay!"

Unseen by her daughter, Alice made some vague gestures of celebration as Laws buried his head in his hands at his wife's antics.

Having felt like I had my fill of Sylphiette's family, I bid them a farewell, one that actually stuck this time, and made my way back.

My feet came down with a crunch, crushing a blade of grass, one of the few on the dirt pathway I was walking on, and I let out a sigh as I finally arrived back at the Greyrat's house. The building was plain and ordinary, nothing more than a medieval-era house, but with the curtain of twilight that had fallen over the land, it loomed over me like a dark, towering castle, filling me with a sense of trepidation.

I stepped forward to open the front door, my hands firmly grasping the knob. I pause for a second, letting my fingers and palm familiarize themselves with the sensation of wood on skin, committing the feeling of each fiber of wood to my mind.

Behind me was freedom, an entire world of possibilities. Free from the turmoil that I knew awaited me inside.

"Just a few steps, and you'll be free. Isn't that what you want, Emiya Shirou?"

This indecision would kill me one day.

I opened the door, almost expecting a horrific monster or overlording deity on the other side. Instead, cold silence greeted me, making me wish there was something to fight. The house was in the exact same state as I left it, meaning that the Greyrats were probably still upstairs. I closed the door behind me, cringing slightly when it made an audible thump as it closed.

So much for being discrete.

I looked up into the second floor, the long unassuming staircase leading into an ominous foreboding darkness. I stepped on it, the wood creaking beneath my feet as I placed my weight on it. I continued my ascent, each step as heavy as the last, a million thoughts racing through my head, but they left as quickly as they entered.

I stood in front of the master bedroom. I pressed my ear to the door, and I could hear some faint whispers on the other side, but they were too muffled and quiet to understand. I could have reinforced my ears to hear better, but I huffed internally at myself.

I knocked on the door twice, and I could immediately hear the hushed whispers stop. Taking that as sufficient notice, I entered the room. My eyes gravitated to Paul, who had finally woken up. He was sitting upright on the bed, his chest wrapped in a massive bandage that crossed over from his shoulder to his waist. His face was slightly sunken, and I could see traces of fatigue in his expression with the way his eyes seemed a bit dimmer than before. His brows were furrowed in concentration, and his lips were closed and pulled into a tight line. Whatever they were talking about before, it obviously didn't put him in the brightest of moods. Well, that, and the matter of me injuring him, of course. Nevertheless, he looked fine for someone who was having debilitating health issues a few hours prior. He looked safe and on his way to being healthy from what I could tell, which was my primary concern.

Off to the side, Zenith was sitting on a chair beside the bed. She seemed to be in the middle of simmering in anger, her face twisted in an ugly scowl. Upon seeing me, her face settled into a conflicted expression before tearing her eyes from me.

Lilia, still prioritizing her duties, was busy cleaning rags in a basin in a corner of the room. Seeing me enter, she gave a small polite smile, nodding in acknowledgement before returning to her task.

I returned her gesture, grateful that the vigilant maid wasn't making herself one of my concerns. I couldn't say I was particularly surprised by Paul and Zenith's reactions, but I was reaping what I sowed.

"And the hero returns! You finished walking your girlfriend back home?" Paul joked, breaking the silence that had settled upon everyone.

I rolled my eyes.

"Sylphiette is back home. I dropped her off to her parents then came back here."

Paul hummed in thought. "Well as long as she's safe. Did you catch their names? I'll need to apologize to them myself for keeping their daughter late when I'm better."

"Laws and Alice, I believe. They were quite nice. There's a chance they'll stop by, partly to thank me again and to apologize for keeping me for so long in their house while I explained what happened earlier," I said.

"Laws? That was his daughter? Damn, now he'll know I got my shit kicked in," Paul jokingly lamented.

"You know of him?" Zenith asked.

He nodded. "He's one of the guards that volunteered as part of the militia. He's mainly a hunter, but he asked for some shifts helping patrol and guard the village. I talk to him a good amount," Paul explained. "I can't say he ever mentioned his daughter's name but seeing as he's one of the few Elves here, it makes sense. As for his wife, I'm not very familiar with her."

"As you should be," Zenith remarked dryly, though it was more fatigued than playful teasing. "I can't say I know much about them. Bring me along if you go. It'd look bad if I'm not there as well."

Paul smirked in amusement. "Well, this would be a good chance to set up a little play date between our children anyway.

Zenith's fist lashed out, burrowing itself into Paul's chest. The man keeled over to his side, groaning in agony at the low blow on his flesh wound. "Careful, I brought you back to the land of the living. I can just as easily take you out of it," Zenith warned.

The only response she got was another groan.

"Please do be careful, Lady Zenith. While I'm sure Paul ls smart enough to not go frolicking off with other women, he is still, unfortunately, a man," Lilia intoned gravely.

"Oh, come on!" Paul said, sitting back up. "I wouldn't cheat. You act like I would just fuck anything with a pulse and a hole between its legs!" His remark made Lilia and Zenith raise their eyebrows unimpressed, making the man seethe even harder. "I've changed!" he swore, crossing his arms.

"Have you?" both Zenith and Lilia asked at the same time.

"Oh, come on!" he whined. The man-child turned towards me. "Welcome to marriage, kiddo. You can do everything right but still fuck up somehow. Can't win 'em all," he shrugged.

"Please do not corrupt Master Shirou with your asinine ideas," Lilia interjected on my behalf.

"He's my kid. I'm just teaching him the unfairness of life early on," Paul argued back.

"If he is your child, then he needs no teacher, especially since he has already begun bringing girls home," the maid responded.

Paul seemed like he was about to continue arguing but then thought otherwise. "Well, you're not wrong about that."

I rolled my eyes. "I have no interest in romance," I shut down. Paul gave me a wry smile, as if knowing something I didn't. A strange thought, since I was fairly certain I held all the cards here. Zenith blinked once, processing my words. Lilia let out a sigh of relief, thankful that I had no intentions of following in Paul's unscrupulous footsteps.

"Only time will tell," Paul said. "Anyway, we all need to talk."

All of a sudden, Paul's face morphed into one of seriousness, and the lighthearted atmosphere vanished, replaced with the heavy tension that occupied this house constantly. I gave Paul a look of surprise, not expecting such a straightforward response considering how long he had tip-toed around his thoughts all this time. However, what he was doing was akin to slamming your head directly into a wall, but then again, did I really expect better from Paul?

"Well, are you finally going to tell me what happened?"Zenith started. "I leave you two out to go do your stupid manly fighting bullshit, and the next thing I know, your entire ribcage is crushed, your internal organs are bleeding, and a boy half your size is dragging you through the front door."

Paul hummed thoughtfully, unsure of how to really respond to his wife. I looked over to the side and made eye contact with Lilia. She noticed my gaze, and I questioningly raised an eyebrow while subtly nodding to Zenith. She gave Zenith an appraising look, and with a small nod, she gestured for me to continue observing.

Paul at least looked sheepish as he nervously rubbed the back of his head.

"Yeah… Umm… So, Shirou and I were training…" he started unsurely.

Zenith gave him an unamused half-lidded stare as the man was having trouble finding the words. "Was it really training?" she asked, giving him the opening he needed to continue talking.

"We were!" Paul tried to ignore Zenith's raised eyebrow and Lilia's focused gaze on his chest. "I mean, we were having a nice little heart-to-heart, but for men, you gotta throw a few hands for it to mean anything. The clash of our blades was akin to a storm of lightning. The very world itself was terraformed from our strikes for nature itself was no match for the battle of our indomitable human spirits!" He emphasized the imagery with vague waves of his hands, trying to demonstrate the scale of the earlier battle to the two women.

Dear lord, someone kill me.

Lilia let out an exasperated sigh, and Zenith was massaging her temples to stave off the headache she was receiving for Paul's atrocious and unnecessary storytelling. It seemed that they were both well-adjusted—not enough, it seemed—to his eccentric mannerisms already and did not bother to protest it.

Seeing that everyone was rather unamused at his emphatic speech, Paul cleared his throat, the slight red hue on his cheeks betraying his embarrassment. Despite his efforts, everyone had seen through his words.

"Enough games, Paul. Tell me how you ended up like this," Zenith said, not letting up her pressure. Ice cold eyes zeroed in on the injured man, freezing him in place as they look for chinks in his armor, any minor crack enough for Zenith to pry the man's soul wide open and peer into the ugly truth he was hellbent on hiding.

Paul wavered underneath the relentless assault but didn't budge. Paul's eyes flickered towards me, a silent question sent from him to me. I gave him the smallest of nods, imperceptible to the other two people in the room "I… It was just an accident," he finally admitted. "I was about to win, but I got careless at the end. It wasn't anything terribly grand, just a swing that came faster than I expected. It could have happened to anyone," he shrugged.

It was perfectly in character for Paul to be slightly cocky. The explanation made sense, and the whole innocuousness of it all didn't leave too many holes to exploit. It was a simple response, but sometimes those were best. Whether or not Paul intentionally planned was another question altogether.

"You're saying Shirou did this?" Zenith asked, less of a question and more of a statement.

Paul gulped. "He did."

"To you? Aren't you some prodigy with a sword?"

"Everyone makes mistakes. I would have thought you would know that by now," he huffed, his eyes narrowed at her. In response, the woman evenly met his stare before tightening her lips into a line and turning away.

"Yeah, I guess I should." Her eyes briefly met mine before something flashed within the depths of that ocean blue and she quickly looked elsewhere. "So Shirou did this to you? Just so he wouldn't lose?" she pressed again.

Paul smiled sheepishly at her incredulity, understanding that what he was saying wasn't very believable. His story seemed contrived and bordered on absurdity, even to me who experienced it firsthand. And considering the history between these two…

Yes, perhaps trust was in short supply these days. Or maybe that had always been the case.

Even though she wasn't looking at me, I could sense Zenith's brain trying to put everything together, attempting to reconcile the image of the boy in her head with the gruesome wounds she had treated earlier, her beautiful features contorting into the troubled visage of someone twice her age.

"Yeah but like I said, it was an accident. And besides, I told him to go all-out. No wonder he got me in the end. Real men get stronger when their backs are against the wall," Paul said.

Zenith's breathing shuddered and trembled at the confirmation, and the singular gulp she took was as loud as thunder in the silent room. Frosty cerulean regarded him almost desperately, ruminating on the merit of his words. The conflict in her eyes only grew stronger until all of a sudden, the storm dispersed.

"Okay."

The abrupt acceptance of his implausible narrative took Paul by surprise, and he tilted his head in bewilderment.

"Okay…?" he trailed off, waiting for Zenith to elaborate on her curt statement. Contrary to his expectations, the woman merely let out an exhale, her eyes softening in acceptance at the situation presented in front of her. In the end, simple logic prevailed over whatever misconceptions she may have had. Even the most emotional of people would falter in the face of irrefutable reality.

"I just had to make sure." She leaned back into her chair, pursing her lips while taking a moment to digest the confirmation of the events straight from Paul's mouth. Thankfully, it seemed that the incident hadn't soured his impression of me, and he was firm on defending me from Zenith's attention. His emphasis on the "accident" part of the events were helping greatly in cementing my innocence in their eyes, allowing him to blow off the entire thing as a mere training mishap rather than something a bit more… worrisome.

"If I may make a suggestion, Lady Zenith," Lilia interjected, drawing the attention of both Greyrats, "perhaps it would be prudent of you to ask Shirou directly on what happened. His perspective might prove invaluable in confirming what exactly happened."

That's true. Zenith hasn't directly addressed me once since I returned. I could only imagine what was stewing in her mind since I left. The fragility she displayed before was gone, but whether or not that was from her strengthening herself or that she had already crumbled, I wasn't sure.

Zenith slowly turned towards me, and her words came out tentatively in a whisper. "Do… do you know what happened, Shirou?"

I paused before deciding on what to say. "Like Paul said, it was an accident." Speaking of which, I turned to the man in question, who raised an eyebrow at seeing my attention turn to him. I made a mistake, so I had to apologize. "I'm sorry, Paul," I said. It was the truth, that part I didn't fake in the slightest. It was a mistake on my part, losing control of myself. I wouldn't deliberately choose to hurt him, of course. "I don't know what came over me. One moment, I saw your sword coming towards me, and the next…"

I paused. Despite the chaos of the moment and the adrenaline coursing through me, I could still remember what had happened, the images in my head that had flashed in my mind briefly: the familiar glint of corrupted light glimmering in the dark, its once-pristine shine swallowing the darkness around it and oozing a melancholic glow, the formerly blissful and inspiring aura now radiating malice and treachery.

It haunted my dreams; every moment of its continued existence had been an insult to its former glory, sullying the legend it had carved into history. Merely thinking about it brought painful pangs of sadness into my heart. And perhaps what was even worse were the memories of the person holding that disgusting blade. Golden strands that sparkled in sunlight and danced joyously in the wind had wilted into a sickly pale green akin to dying foliage. Jade orbs so tantalizing that the finest of emeralds could be compared to her eyes and still be found wanting had become cold and dull. A face so beautiful that I could lose myself in it for days on end held none of the compassionate warmth nor ethereal grandeur it once possessed.

The memory forever scarred me, and it was little wonder I had reacted the way I did.

Of course, I couldn't tell them any of them that.

Paul smiled at my apology. "Don't worry about it, I know it was an accident."

Zenith's eyes darted between the two of us erratically, and with her soul bared opened like this, I could see the doubt and hesitation clouding her mind. However, at least in regard to my earlier statement, the turmoil cleared just slightly, and Zenith nodded in acknowledgement.

"I always knew you were special, but to be able to even hit Paul, never mind injure him like this…"

"Perhaps talent with the blade runs in the family," Lilia suggested. "Master Shirou is a genius, and Paul is a swordsman of considerable caliber. Shirou is his son, so it should not be unexpected for his offspring to have inherited his innate aptitude for battle," she lectured.

Zenith hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe." She turned to her husband. "So, he did this to you with just a sword?"

"A training sword but yes."

"A sword, huh?" Zenith gave him a disapproving look. "If it had been real, I'd be mourning for the two pieces of you in your coffin."

Paul cheekily smiled, though I could see the happiness in his eyes as his wife admitted that she would have grieved for his hypothetical death, as indirect as it was. "Eh, I'd be fine. I got you to heal me, don't I?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not that good, Paul."

"If you practiced more, maybe you would be."

"I had plenty of practice healing your reckless ass years ago."

"Oh come on, Elinalise and Ghislaine weren't exactly staying back either."

Blue eyes darkened. "Ghislaine was too good to get hit very often. Elinalise was at least deliberately taking hits for everyone. You liked to run off and do your own thing when the 'plan' got too boring."

He chuckled shamelessly. "Hey, it's a man's duty to show off in front of women."

"We weren't even together at the time."

He gestured to the house they were in. "And yet here we are."

The woman sighed, but there was no actual annoyance behind it.

The tension in the room defused substantially. I didn't know too much of what happened, but the previous relations between Paul and Zenith had become strained once again in the brief time I was gone. However, considering that they were on amicable enough terms to be joking and teasing each other like this, whatever occurred between them wasn't entirely on a personal level.

This was a good sign. It meant that I was past the first hurdle I had expected to come across. The initial explanations were out of the way, mainly due to Paul's assistance. Thankfully, Zenith was mainly questioning him instead of me, letting the man come up with his own story. Whatever he could come up with would surely be better than anything I could make. I was content to let him keep talking since any possible contradictions in the finer details could have raised unnecessary suspicions. Thankfully, Paul did not bother changing any of the details of what had happened. It was not surprising since Paul wasn't one for trickery or manipulation.

Well, I wasn't entirely against it. In fact, his decision made things much easier. He brushed everything off as an accident and kept everything vague, essentially giving me the reins to fill in the gaps as I wished. However, playing the part of the ignorant child seemed to be the best play for now.

The only questionable part was Paul's insistence on staying on my side. It seemed like he was staying true to his words from earlier and adamant on fulfilling his vision of a loving family, despite the hard road that laid ahead of him.

I couldn't really agree with it. Paul made the deliberate choice to not out me despite me having critically injured him, but the incident might as well be spitting in the face of his genuine wish for a family. Why he still sought to fulfill his wish with me, I did not know.

"Anyway, you're all missing the point. Enough about what happened. This accident is actually good news!" Lilia and Zenith both looked at Paul incredulously, who was now sporting a wide wicked grin on his face. "Because I just found out the hard way that our son—" he pointed a finger at me "—is a full-blown combat prodigy!" He ended his remark with a proud smile, waving over to me like I was some exotic circus animal he was showing off.

The two women responded by giving him blank looks, but whether they were in disbelief at his words or his behavior, I couldn't tell.

Had Paul known I was more or less already given the template for my abilities, he would not have been so eager to award me such lofty titles.

"Lilia already said that," Zenith pointed out.

"And you still don't get it! I'm advanced in three schools of swordsmanship, and I got destroyed by a four-year-old!" he exclaimed, showing off his bandaged chest. "Yeah, sure I got careless at the end but the fact that he could even touch me in the first place…" Paul trailed off, letting everyone else silently understand the implications of what he was saying. Meanwhile, I was growing more and more wary of where he was going to go with this. Writing me off as some sort of prodigy was fine—certainly better than being an extradimensional alien—but the inevitability of having more attention placed on me was already giving me a headache.

"What are you trying to say, Paul?" Lilia asked. Of course, everyone in the room knew what Paul was insinuating, but it only meant anything straight from the man himself.

Paul turned to Zenith with a serious look on his face. "Do you remember our compromise when we settled down? If we had a girl, we'd teach her magic. If we had a boy, we'd make him a swordsman."

His wife nodded. "I remember, though you never brought it up before."

A grimace briefly crossed his face. "Well, I'd like to finally make use of it. From what I saw, and from you two have seen as well—" all three adults made eye contact "—it's obvious Shirou is a natural genius. Doesn't it make sense that he starts training now to be a swordsman?" Paul reasoned.

"Don't want him to be lazy like you?" Zenith asked.

"He has way more potential than me. Since I was there in person to actually see and experience it, I know what happened. I'm pretty sure Shirou inherited my super strength and speed. That's why he was able to defeat me in our duel. He unlocked his ability right before he was going to get hit," " Paul shot back.

"That thing you do when you're fighting? When you go 'Hwah!' or 'Argh'!" Zenith made some mocking faces as she mimicked Paul's fighting style with her hands, prompting a small smile from the maid and a wry look from Paul himself.

"Admittedly I am less experienced in these matters, but I can attest to his reasoning," Lilia supported. "Nothing can swing a swordsman's blade faster than death. There are plenty of cases of warriors awakening their latent talent in moments of crises."

Lilia was correct. Humans are beings of emotion, and there are scarcely few stronger emotions than the feeling of impending death. It's a sensation every experienced warrior has encountered, when years of diligent training is thrown to the wind and you're left with nothing but primal instinct, when the adrenaline of battle fogs your mind, and your body moves like a puppet on strings. In that state, humans are no better than rabid animals, and nothing is scarier than when an animal with nothing left to lose is backed into a corner and the only way out is to fight.

I had seen this firsthand already, during the Holy Grail War. Berserker had emitted an aura of absolute dread, as if he could render me a meaty smudge on the ground at any given moment—which he could have—and that still somehow understated his abilities. Despite all her training and technique, even Saber's graceful sword strikes and immaculate footwork were unable to match Berserker's crude and unpolished fighting style for very long. The Madness Enchantment may not have been the most optimal of choices, given it locked away most of Heracles's more potent noble phantasms, but the sheer brutality and power behind that stone slab of his could not be denied, and in a more normal grail war, I'm sure there was a very good chance he would have been the last one standing.

Ultimately, technique is a crutch invented by humans to overcome physically superior enemies. Technique allowed for humans to maximize their pitiful bodily gifts, but if you could swing harder and faster than your opponent, then that's all that really mattered.

Paul nodded at her words. "For people like us, we can only fight at our best when we're trying our hardest to survive."

Zenith frowned at the impromptu lesson. "So, it's not a fluke, huh?"

Paul shook his head. "Even if he didn't win our spar, he's shown more than enough talent. Wait, why are you so hung up over this? Weren't you the one who was like, 'My baby is going to be so special!' when you were pregnant?"

"It's just…" Zenith sighed, unable to find the words to convey what she truly wanted to say. "Never mind, we can talk about it later." She let out another tired exhale, her eyes growing more sunken in their sockets. "As for your idea… I agree."

The injured man looked like he had a retort on his lips before he realized what Zenith had just said, leaving his mouth slightly agape as he struggled to process her words. "You… do…?"

The woman looked annoyed that Paul was so surprised. "Yes, I do. He's talented, obviously. It makes sense to nurture his potential."

"I... just didn't think you would agree so easily. Oh well, makes it easier for me then."

A polite cough cut through the conversation.

"If I may, I would like to ask something of Lady Zenith," Lilia spoke up from her place on the other side of Paul's bed. The blond woman raised an eyebrow, but I could tell that it wasn't necessarily out of surprise at the maid's interjection. "Before, you wanted Shirou to have a relaxed childhood as a normal child. With that in mind, are you sure this is the best course of action?"

Zenith's mouth opened but found that nothing came out. Azure orbs bore down on the troubled woman, the third resident of the house finally making her concerns known. A part of me was also surprised considering I never saw Lilia argue against her employers. The woman was a devout professional, so for her to be voicing her worries in this manner made me think that something serious enough had happened for her to cross briefly cross the line between the two.

Ah, but then again, Lilia has been growing more audacious lately. Slowly but surely, they were becoming less master and servant and more friends. It was due to that relationship that Lilia questioned Zenith, making sure the woman knew exactly what she was doing, that this outcome is what she truly wanted.

That was good; having someone to rely on would be better for Zenith.

Lilia's concerns were justified. Considering Zenith's appeal to me earlier, it wasn't wrong for Lilia to find Zenith's change in attitude abnormal.

"It's become rather… clear to me that my approach was wrong," Zenith admitted. "Like I said, he's gifted. It's as plain as day to everyone in this room." The two other adults nodded, and I felt sheepish at how poorly my acting had been to this point. "Before, I had tried to hide his potential to let him experience what it's like being a normal kid, but clearly it hasn't worked. If that's the case… then there's no point in going against it." Her voice wavered, but the woman continued, "And besides, was that even the right thing to do? It's not fair to him. If this is the way things are, then I'd much rather we cultivate his talent as best we can now while we still can… in case something happens."

"In case what happens?" Paul asked.

"Just… something. You can't ever be too sure nowadays."

Lilia still seemed like she had something to say but bit back her words before giving a nod. "If that is your decision, then I will not go against it. Paul, you believe similarly, correct?"

"Yup. It just doesn't seem right doing nothing when he can be better. Plus, he can be a knight like his old man." Paul shrugged.

"I see," Lilia said with a terse tone. "In that case, as long as Master Shirou agrees, then I hold no objections." The maid retracted from the conversation for now, content to let the married couple sort out the details.

To be showing such concern over me… how much was I missing?

"Shirou and I already talked about it, but I'll be handling his training for now. Sorry, but I'll be taking him from you for now, Zenith," Paul said, the smile on his smile neither entirely genuine nor mocking.

"That's fine. He's yours," the woman responded simply.

"You mean to train Shirou yourself, Paul?" Lilia asked.

The man nodded affirmatively. "I do. I know what it's like to be so gifted when you're young, so I can make sure he doesn't become an arrogant brat. Plus, I have loads of experience from my adventuring days to teach him actually useful stuff, and since I know a lot about each school of swordsmanship, I know what styles he'll like the best," he reasoned.

"Wait, I thought you couldn't explain half the things you usually do?" Zenith asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That's true," Lilia agreed. "Paul is very proficient in combat, but his talents do not translate very well to teaching, I'm afraid. He is unable to properly articulate how he is able to do the things he does," Lilia elaborated for me at seeing the puzzled expression on my face.

Ah, someone who did not know the fundamental basis of their abilities. I was like that at one point in time, and perhaps even now still. Another similarity between us, I suppose. Fortunately, I had some guidance from people far smarter than me.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, very funny," Paul said while rolling his eyes. "Like it or not, I'm the best swordsman around here. If you want someone better…" Paul cocked his head pensively before settling into a contemplative lull. "Huh, that's not actually a bad idea."

Chilly blue orbs narrowed into slits as a displeased frown carved deep grooves into her face. "Don't tell me…"

He smiled sheepishly as the man looked away guiltily, unsurprised at his wife's displeasure. "Hey, you said you wanted Shirou to be trained, right? She can do the same thing I do, and King-level swordsmen don't exactly grow on trees. She's the best person we can find unless you can find someone better than her. Plus, we partied with her, remember? She would be more willing to help."

"Yes, I'm sure that's all there is to it. Surely, there are no other intentions attached to your suggestion," Zenith mocked with a roll of her eyes.

Paul winced at her words. "I swear, I'm a good boy!" The man's guilty smile faltered at the sight of the blonde woman giving him a sour look. "Okay, so maybe I'm not so good of a boy, but I promise I won't do anything!" Going by the visage of displeasure on Zenith's face that looked to have been carved from solid stone, the woman wasn't buying his argument.

From the glimpses of the history behind the sword Paul constantly carried with him and the memories imbued in it, I knew that he was used to fighting alongside another warrior beyond even someone of Paul's caliber. Any information I could glean besides that was far too hazy to interpret, but judging from the current conversation, the possible mentor Paul was referring to was a woman that he had some… experience with. Not at all surprising considering it was Paul, but I could understand Zenith's reluctance in these matters.

"Is it truly necessary to find someone even more skilled than Paul?" Lilia asked. "Skill with the blade does not mean skill with words, and as skeptical of Paul's training methodology I might be, he is here and willing, which is more than anyone of comparable proficiency in this region."

Lilia brought up a good point. Now that I think about it, it didn't make much sense for someone other than Paul to teach me. I assumed that his Paul was simply to spend more time with me, and offloading the task of teaching me to another person was counterproductive towards that goal.

"Err, yeah… but I can't teach him for long," Paul confessed awkwardly. "He's already picked up on some stuff from me. If I train him, I give him maybe a year, maybe two tops, before he's better than me in pure technique. After that, all he really needs is to train his body, but that's something that can only be done with more time. At that point, the only thing I can do is just be a sparring partner."

I internally questioned whether his assessment was correct. His judgment on our techniques with the sword was not entirely true; during our brief spar, I had only shown him a small bit of what I was capable of. Granted, I was putting in a decent amount of effort, but in no way was I fully tapping into the millennia upon millennia of experience residing within me.

Still, to just so brazenly admit that his skill level was equivalent to a child barely to his hip, especially as a prodigy in his own right, did Paul have no sense of shame?

Ah, never mind, now that I thought of it, it made perfect sense.

I examined the reactions of the two women. Lilia seemed a bit skeptical. After all, having the best swordsman she's probably ever met admitting that he was going to be eclipsed by the four-year-old in the foreseeable future was a stretch by any means, even with peculiarities taken into account. Still, the maid didn't seem like she wasn't totally dismissing the thought, muttering to herself while trying to hide her furtive glances between Paul and me.

More perplexing was Zenith, whose expression had remained stoic the whole time. The head-scratching confession by Paul had little effect on her, the woman receiving the admission with nothing more than a small frown on her face. If anything, from the hints of resignation on her face, Paul's words merely affirmed the suspicions Zenith had been holding this whole time.

"If it can't be helped, then we have no choice," Zenith conceded. "If you think this is the best thing for him, then I trust your judgement." She got up from her chair, moving over to the window to the side of the room. Night had long settled upon the village, the warm rays of dusk having been replaced by the dim glow of moonlight as the bright white sphere slowly elevated further into the black, starry sky. With a click, Zenith opened the window, letting in a gust of cool, evening air. The woman leaned against the windowsill, basking in the pleasant breeze as rays of white framed her figure.

"What I think?" Paul glared at her from their bed as he scowled. "Look, I know this is my idea, but you're still his mother too, in case you forgot. You don't get to just say, 'I trust your judgement'. Your input matters too, and if you don't think this is a good idea, then we can try something else or drop it."

Zenith turned around but didn't make a move to come closer to Paul, instead remaining on the far side of the room. From the angle we were looking at, her silhouette was cast against the soft light of the moon that entered the window, obscuring her face in darkness.

"I don't think my judgement has been very useful so far," she said frankly. I couldn't make out her features, but I could imagine the tight line of a frown that was becoming a common sight on her face. "Paul's idea seems worth a shot. If nothing else, I have nothing else to try."

"What Paul might be referring to," Lilia cut in abruptly before Paul could say a word, "is that as Shirou's parent, you should be parenting him alongside Paul. There is no 'taking turns', as one might say."

Paul thought about Lilia's words once over before giving an acquiescing nod. "Yeah, sums it up, actually."

Zenith's head turned towards the outside, the image looking every bit of a wistful woman reminiscing better times. "It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" she whispered, her faint words not reaching Paul or Lilia. She sighed, standing up straight as she looked firmly at Paul. "Don't worry, this is what I want too. I don't disagree with your methods."

Paul gave her a disbelieving look. "You sure don't seem like it. Are you sure you're actually okay with this?"

Zenith gave him a singular nod. "I am. I'm just a bit tired right now."

Paul and Lilia locked eyes for a second before the man shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I guess that settles that."

"Please do not be so hasty, Paul. There's one more person you have to make things clear with," Lilia said. Seeing his raised eyebrow, Lilia merely responded by waving her hand towards the side, gesturing to me. "With the full details of your plan laid out, it would behoove you to ask Master Shirou once again if this change in lifestyle is something he truly wants. I doubt he knew all you had in mind when he initially agreed to your suggestion."

Paul coughed embarrassedly, his cheeks flushed a healthy crimson as he awkwardly met my eyes. "Um, yeah, whoops, forgot about that. Sorry, I got caught up in the moment for a bit," he laughed away good-naturedly. "Well, what do you want to do, Shirou? I'm sorry we've been talking about what to do with you this entire time without asking. This goes without saying, but your input is the most crucial step. We're not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do. Your future is yours to decide," Paul affirmed.

Their knowledge in the blade was appreciated but ultimately unnecessary. All I needed was a single glance at the weapon Paul and his friend to fully encapsulate the entire breadth of their experience. In that respect, a mentor was the last thing I needed.

What was a boon I could not overlook was the opportunity to train my body and techniques. Before now, I had to hide my activities in the cover of the night, something that was apparently not as hidden as I thought. However, with the excuse of training underneath Paul, I could freely exercise my body and mind during the day. For someone such as myself, this was the only path left for me. Emiya Shirou was a sword, and to stray from it was the height of arrogance.

Strength and power, that was what I needed. It was a dangerous line I tip-toed. History is rife with men who lost themselves in the pursuit of greater heights. For my journey to mean anything, I couldn't afford to lose myself. I was alone this time, the previous people who had helped me stay on my path long gone. The resolve to an unwavering beacon of steel would have to come from the depths of my own soul.

Strength not for the sake of strength itself, but as a means to an end. To stop all these lives that slip through my fingers time and again, I needed to be stronger. This blade that was my soul had to be tempered to the keenest of edges to cut down the swathes of enemies in my way. Archer had said that the path of a hero would be one of bloodshed, and I had no doubt that by the time I am done, there would be mountains of bloodied corpses in my wake. If I was to truly embrace my role, I couldn't afford to be complacent.

And perhaps when it is all said and done, I could return to Illya and recite to her the answers I had gleaned on this journey.

Of course, Paul's wish still stuck out in my mind, but analyzing the situation in such a pragmatic and logical manner… it couldn't be helped.

As much as I wanted to differentiate myself from those two, we were ultimately birds of the same feather, and the lines that divided us blurred together at times.

"I would be grateful to be learn under anyone's tutelage. If you believe yourself unfit to teach me, then I trust any replacement you deem suitable."

Paul smiled at my decision. "Perfect. That settles that. Don't worry, she's significantly better than me. Even you'll need a few years to whet your teeth on her," he winked, and I sighed. Honestly, his blunt flattery of my aptitude for combat was rather off-putting. It drew too much attention to me, who preferred to keep all my cards hidden until the most opportune time. Then again, maybe it was too late for such acting now.

"Speaking of training, I… wanted to propose something as well," Zenith said. When all eyes turned to her, she took a deep breath, trying to internally steady herself before continuing, "We should enroll him under formal magic lessons under a magician."

Her idea astonished Paul and Lilia. This was clearly the first they heard of it, and the abruptness of it all prevented them from masking the doubt on their faces.

"Are you sure about that? Making Shirou study magic and swordsmanship seems a bit… excessive," Lilia questioned hesitantly. "Besides, why do you think he has talent for the magical arts? Wasn't his display against Paul more of bodily prowess?"

Zenith's eyes darkened, balls of azure clouding over with a storm of emotions. Her features twisted into an expression of conflict, the fleeting image vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "That's only what Paul thinks. At the very least, we should get someone knowledgeable in magic to come here and give their opinion. It's not very day an Advanced-level swordsman gets put on his ass by a child."

"You think he used magic?" Paul asked, ignoring her remark. He cocked his head to the side as he remembered the details of what happened before he fell unconscious. "I guess there's a chance it wasn't the thing I usually do, but this would be the first time I heard of a magician actually doing something in melee combat. I mean, he didn't chant anything, so it couldn't have been a spell. Though now that I think about it, there was definitely a rush of something when I got hit."

"A child skilled in both magic and the sword…" Lilia's words trailed off as she gazed at me with a glint of reverence in her eyes. The respect in her tone was easy enough to see through, her admiration for the talents that were being revealed in front of her plain, but the underlying trepidation in her words brought me no comfort.

Well, I wasn't sure what angle Zenith was playing now, but truthfully it didn't matter too much to me. If she was setting me up for something, I would deal with it when the time came, but I couldn't ignore the benefits she was giving me.

The prospect of taking on another tutor didn't bother me the slightest. The real issue is that I was concerned that any and all magecraft in this world would be inaccessible for me to utilize. As someone whose element and origin were "Sword", the selection of magecraft available for my personal use was very limited.

I looked onwards, into my soul, into my Unlimited Blade Works, the very manifestation of my ideals. It was the one true specialization of magecraft allowed to Emiya Shirou, the very pinnacle of his powers, the distortion of his mind and body made unbound onto reality. To try and deviate from it was ultimately an exercise in futility.

Still, I pondered on the thought further. Attempting to use this world's magecraft was useless but having a working knowledge of this world's magic system could be invaluable. Of course, I would seem like the worst student in existence, but that was something I was more than familiar with.

"I wouldn't be averse to taking on more studies," I said.

Paul looked at me dubiously before letting out a breath he had been holding. "Well, I guess if you really want to, we can definitely try. It's the least Zenith can ask for since your swordsmanship training is a sure thing now."

Zenith huffed. "You always wanted to raise a swordsman. I wanted a magician. I guess we can both get what we want, huh?"

Husband and wife chuckled at the irony of it all while Lilia slapped a hand over her face, disappointed in their demeanor.

"Well, that settles it. If he wants it, then that's all we need to talk about. I'll need to get in contact with Ghislaine. I'm not sure which godforsaken corner of the world she's in right now, so getting a response might be tricky, especially with the increased monster activity on the roads nowadays. I'll probably need to make a trip to Ars or Roa myself to get the letter sent to her. Couldn't hurt to make a request for a posting asking for a magician's help with the possibility of a further tutoring job to be made in all the major cities as well," Paul rattled off.

If anything, Paul was quick on his feet and good at making plans. I wondered if he was the leader of the adventuring party he and Zenith kept hinting at earlier. It would certainly fit.

"Anyway, we can talk more tomorrow. Shirou, I'm going to be out of commission for the time being while I heal the rest of this injury. In the meantime, I can supervise your exercises and do some basic teaching in the major swordsmanship schools. If Ghislaine ever shows up, she can help out however she wants to," Paul explained.

I nodded, doing my best to speak as little as possible. It seemed that things were settling down, and I didn't need to accidentally spark a fire. Prior experience told me that it was best to keep my mouth shut anyways.

The occupants of the house fell silent, each member having a plethora of thoughts to sift through. This evening had left everyone with a good deal of things to ponder on, myself included.

"I believe it's time for the evening to come to a close. I'm sure Paul still needs more time to recover," Lilia suggested. I glanced at Paul, and true enough, he did seem slightly paler now. I guess he was putting up a front earlier, and I failed to notice.

Paul nodded, wiping off the sweat that was building up on his forehead. "Damn, this is how long I can last? Sheesh, I gotta get back into shape." He nodded at me, flashing me a cocky grin and giving me a thumbs-up. I blankly stared at him, tilting my head in confusion but returning the gesture, nonetheless. If anything, his smile grew at my response.

"Agreed. All that healing was tiring. I'm getting ready for bed," Zenith said, getting up from her chair. Like clockwork, her announcement seemed to jumpstart the other two adults into motion. Lilia started collecting and putting away the rags and basins used earlier. It was only now I noticed that many of the rags were stained red with blood, and the water was a disgusting, murky color with chunks of… stuff floating near the top. I scrunched up my nose at the sight, wondering just what had happened during the healing process. Paul wasn't outwardly bleeding when I brought him inside. Was there a lot of internal damage? It was a certainty, but I would have thought that Zenith's healing magic would have remedied that issue. Perhaps there were more limitations to her magic than I was aware of.

Paul started moving out of the bed, but a hand on his shoulder from Zenith stopped him in his tracks. When he raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, she merely glared at him in response.

"You are not letting my hard work go to waste."

Paul looked a bit miff at her stalwartness but remained on the bed regardless, crossing his arms like an indignant child. Zenith continued pinning him underneath her glare, stopping him from moving lest he incur her wrath. From an outsider's point of view, it might even seem like this was some weird form of flirting, but I knew better… I think… Oh god…

"Well, I'll be in my room if you require me." With a curt nod to the adults of the house, I showed myself out of the room.

Entering the quieter confines of my own bedroom, I let out a sigh of exhaustion. Somehow, someway, while the conversation didn't transpire quite how I preferred it, things could've ended much worse, and this entire household could've exploded in violent fashion, so it was best to take what I was given. Paul and Zenith more or less came to their own conclusions while Lilia interjected occasionally. From what I could tell, Paul seems firm on protecting me and believed that the incident was just a product of my uncontrollable inherited talents, which wasn't necessarily wrong. Zenith's strange change of heart is slightly concerning, but she's more or less accepted that I couldn't change for her, so that was one less thing she had to worry about.

I stretched my back, the feeling of my back popping and unwinding after a long day of stress giving me immense relief. I finally let my shoulders sag, not realizing how much pressure I had placed on them this entire time. I laid down onto my bed, and turning my head to the side, I looked out through the window and into the open sky. The beautiful moonlit night from earlier was shining just a bit brighter now, and more faint, twinkling stars decorated the canvas of black above me. Judging from the looks of things, I would have to wait a few hours before starting tonight's training session. Paul was in no condition to try and follow me, but it couldn't hurt to shift my hours even later to reduce the chance of other people spying on me. If Paul had managed to sneak past my detection, then it was entirely possible that Lilia or Zenith had as well. Granted, neither woman had shown signs, but Paul hadn't either until he had told me.

It was unfortunate, but this was the price I had to pay for my lack of diligence. Or perhaps it was not negligence but instead apathy. After all, even if Zenith or Lilia knew, I could not find it within myself to stop what I was doing. My goal laid far beyond, and I couldn't afford to stop at any point.

I sat up, turning to the window and opening it. Immediately, the refreshing wind of this world greeted me, inviting a pleasant coolness to the room. I leaned forward, enjoying the feeling of the night air against my face.

My indecision would be the end of this tranquil life. I could already see the threads that bound this life together starting to unravel. I had decided from the start to set myself upon a path of pain and misery, the road to heroism I had once overlooked. And yet, time and again, I had pulled myself back from fully embracing that path, not wanting others to suffer needlessly for the choices I made.

But in the end, I couldn't stop myself from hurting others, and I wasn't sure if I could ever find it within myself to make such callous choices in the future. Regardless, the consequences of my actions were mine to bear; I could only hope that I would be the only one to suffer under their weight.

This day marked the end of such peaceful times, of that I was certain. The events of today had been in the making since the very beginning, bursting like an overinflated balloon this afternoon.

But this was only the beginning. Who knew how many similar incidents I had already set in motion since I was reborn in this new world? A future was uncertain, as unreadable as a wall of fog, and despite what the others had believed, these eyes of mine were blind to the thing most important to me.

I let my head fall into the cushiony depths of the pillow, barely noticing how the soft fabric caressed my head. I had a few hours to burn… Maybe it was time to take a short bit of respite? Rest was unfortunately a requirement to maintain optimal bodily function. How long had I been awake this time? A week or two? Maybe a month? Or more? When was the last time I truly slept? Sleep wasn't a strict necessity up to a certain point, a point I had managed to push further and further back as I continued using magecraft to keep myself awake for longer and longer. It wasn't healthy, of course, I couldn't wait.

This accursed body of mine… if only I could develop faster. The spar earlier with Paul confirmed what I had already suspected. My general technique was solid, but nowhere near the infamous and acclaimed skill level of the servants I had faced in my previous life. In addition to that, my speed and strength were lacking, outright preventing me from executing certain maneuvers and putting me at a severe disadvantage against people who had both technique and physical gifts.

So much to do but nothing to show for it yet. It felt like I had all the time in the world to do what I wanted to do, yet why did it seem like time was already slipping through my fingers? The feeling of having so much freedom yet being confined and restrained at the same time… I couldn't quite shake it off.

Some might say that such lofty expectations and criticisms of the fighting ability of a child was foolish, but for the sake of my future plans, I couldn't afford that luxury. I had already seen true monsters, beings that were power incarnate, and if I wanted any chance of beating anything within their realm of strength, I couldn't allow myself any excuses. No one would go easy on me just because I was physically a child, so I had to do the same for myself.

No, my current level just wouldn't do at all. For all my training and experience, Paul had decisively and easily made quick work of me. Yes, I wasn't going all out, and yes, I wasn't fully utilizing my magecraft, but there would be times where I could not simply let loose with the entirety of my arsenal. Ironically enough, the powers I had been granted worked best when I was alone, the very thing I had tried to avoid in my previous life and the inevitable ending I foresaw in this current existence.

For every single part of our bout, I was fighting tooth and nail to extract any iota of an advantage I could, trying my absolute best to find a foothold in the unscalable wall that was Paul Greyrat. And if it wasn't for him letting down his guard at the very end, I would've lost. And the reason I won? Nothing I could easily replicate. Last second powerups from traumatic memories wasn't the most reliable method to fight.

I couldn't afford to fully expand the Unlimited Blade Works on every single moderately strong enemy. It was simply asking for the vultures in the ensuing battle to come pick up the pieces afterwards. That is why I had to raise my baseline fighting capabilities to deal with people of Paul's skill-level. If I could do that, then I would be set to conserve my strength for the real threats of this world.

A few hours… hopefully this body of mine would serve its purpose before it crumbled to dust and nothingness.

With thoughts of the tumultuous road ahead, my eyes closed swiftly, my body immediately falling into an instant slumber as it struggled to recuperate from the stress it had undergone.

It was hell.

A sea of living flames burned as far as the eye could see, stained crimson with the blood of countless people. The absolute blackness of the sky was tinted an ominous sanguine with the veil of bronze smoke that obscured it. The cackling laughter of fire drowned out the horrific screams of pain and desperate pleas for help of the people it engulfed.

It was hell.

Where people burned to crisps, where homes smoldered away to ashes, where the very land was scarred with the lamentations of the damned and broken. Where dreams withered away and died, and futures were rewritten into an endless void of flames.

It was hell.

The milky white orb in the sky radiated its usual pale soft moonlight, completely ignorant of the ghastly torture occurring below, the serene and beautiful sight unable to truly mask the dreadful nightmare.

It was hell.

The fire continued on, uncaring for the innumerable souls it had consumed, only seeking more and more to fuel the blazing vengeful flames it covered upon the land. It was no ordinary fire. It was living and breathing, the very manifestation of malice given form, an unstoppable force of death with a vampiric thirst for human life.

There was no escape. There was no life. There was no hope. Nothing but a sad and pitiful end. Only the inevitability of death, to be consumed by the flames of evil as the conflagration stretched its twisted, malignant grasp around the world.

The night proceeded onwards, the wicked inferno blazing as more and more lives were fed to satiate its ravenous hunger. Houses toppled and crashed, the eternal memories and histories they held reduced to serving as mere kindling for the fire. Mothers cried out as their children died in their arms, moments before they met their own ends as the flames engulfed them. People crawled on their stomachs, trapped underneath their very own homes, the burning timbers searing themselves into their skin. The strength in their legs was long lost, trying their hardest to escape the fiery fingers that took hold of them. They howled into the night sky, begging for mercy that was denied as they were swallowed whole, their lives snuffed out like a lit matchstick. Others managed to escape the flames of damnation, a fleeting yet living hope igniting within them, only to collapse as they realized that the smoke had thoroughly invaded their bodies, filling every minute crevice of their lungs with burning gas that cooked them from the inside out. They fell down, choking to death slowly but surely, their last moments a dreadful calm as they stilled for the final time.

The blazing inferno finally reached its end. It sputtered for a few more agonizing minutes, the last embers of its life slipping away to nothingness. There were no more human lives to fuel its conquest, its carnage leaving the land barren and destitute. It had removed all life from the area, cursing it with countless souls screaming in agony, their voices left unheard and carried away with the wind.

No one could have survived. Of course not, how could they? A disaster born straight from Angra Mainyu, the evil god of Zoroastrianism, a being far beyond humanity. A tragedy created for the sole purpose of destruction and death, a culling machine meant to kill as many humans as possible. It was a foregone conclusion that no human could have survived his wrath.

And yet perplexedly, two still lived.

One human, and one the farthest from it. One who had orchestrated the machinations of this apocalypse and one an unfortunate victim of it. Perhaps those very reasons are why they had managed to brave through the inferno.

They had survived the rampage of the firestorm, escaping from Hades by the slimmest of margins. But while they had managed to steal their lives from death's grasp, they didn't come out entirely unscathed.

Blisters ran all over their bodies, marks from where the flames had licked at them. Their eyes were bloodshot from the smoke, and their clothes were tattered and singed.

One figure was hovering over the other. His face was bright with joy and gratitude, his eyes watering with tears as they cascaded down his face like rivers, dripping into the person below. He held the other's hand to his cheek, caressing it with the love of a thousand fathers, gripping it tightly like it was his lifeline—it was, his last connection to humanity. His lips were spread wide in a thankful smile, and for once in a very long while, the man felt his heart beat once more.

It was a beautiful sight, the salvation the man had long yearned for finally presenting itself to him at last. Only after countless corpses piled onto mountains of bodies and countless sins accumulated and etched into his soul was the man able to find his own deliverance, at the very end of this world.

It was picture-esque, a snapshot of time perfectly representing humanity. Surrounding them was a sea of evil, hate and spite incarnated onto the Earth. A calamity of the man's own design, the depraved, sinister depths of his soul bearing fruit and fulfilling his wishes. Yet he paid it no mind, the mere simple act of saving the boy in front of him enough to stave off his despair.

Th duality of humanity: inspiring, magnificent little stars amidst a void of perpetual darkness.

How ironic was it then, that the very boy he saved could scarcely be considered human at all. And maybe it was for that reason why the fire had not consumed him.

His eyes were blank, his soul burned to its very core. A blank slate, nothing but a sack of living flesh. He had no memories, no soul, no past, no future. His expression was empty, unable to process any emotion.

He could not understand why the man above him held onto him with such fervor. And yet, the man still clung to him desperately, as of this feeling was fleeting and ephemeral, like the boy could vanish at any moment.

Why?

Why was he looking at him like that?

What had he done to deserve such a captivating smile?

Golden orbs lazily opened. One eye testily revealed itself, blurry and unfocused for the most minute of moments before its companion followed suit. A tentative blink, slow and methodical, and their gaze circled sound the room, scrutinizing its surroundings before they closed, satisfied with the results of its search.

Emiya Shirou awakened from his slumber. He took a deep breath, the long exhale the only indication of his slight discomfort. It was that dream again, one of fire and death. One where he had died previously, burning and perishing in a fiery blaze until nothing was left. And from those ashes, he was reborn once again, never quite the same, living another existence entirely.

He was accustomed to such dreams. They had plagued him constantly in his previous life, and long were the nights where he had turned endlessly, unable to purge the images of the fire that had given birth to him out of his head. Over and over, his mind replaying visions of his sins and atrocities, trembling for respite from the mental torture only for his pleas to go unanswered.

But given time, he had grown used to it, and now the only outwards sign that he had experienced it at all was a slight hitch of his breath upon waking. For an anguished existence such as Emiya Shirou, it was simply a way of life. Nowadays, his dreams were burdened by a different nightmare altogether. However, he had overcame that too.

Though perhaps overcame wasn't the correct term to use. After all, there was another reason why he sought to stave off the lull of slumber as much as possible.

He slipped out of his bed, nary making a sound as his feet landed upon the wooden floor. He moved like a ghost, practically floating across the room to the door, his presence barely felt by the world. He was as silent as an assassin, moving his young body with far more control and dexterity than most adults could in their entire lifetimes. One would be hard-pressed to believe he was a human, instead of a machine masquerading as one.

He slipped down the stairs, the movement of air the only hint he had been there at all, and with a practiced twist and deft step, he was out of the house.

Unbeknownst to him, he was not alone on this night. Cerulean orbs snapped open, the beautiful azure held within those sockets trembling and quivering in fear and paranoia. They say the eyes were the windows to the soul, and if one could look closely, they would still see the remnants of the nightmare she just experienced within those sapphire mirrors, the residual sanguine flames flickering in her pupils, tormenting her even in reality.

The woman sharply turned her head left and right, frantically looking for something yet finding nothing. She blinked rapidly, visions of a fiery wasteland morphing into the familiar confines of her bedroom. Moonlight shine through the window, illuminating the pitch-black room with a gentle, pale white glow, the tranquil setting a far cry from the chaos pestering her mind.

"It's just a dream," she told herself, though the words did little to comfort the woman. Her shoulders quivered and shook. The only thing she could hear was her own heartbeat as it pulsed rapidly inside of her chest, the organ painfully smashing itself over and over against her ribcage as it threatened to jump out of her. A singular, quiet sob escaped from her as a lone tear fell down her cheek. "It's just a dream…"

Unable to fall back asleep, she made to get out of bed, trying her best to do so as quietly and discretely as possible to not disturb her partner on the far side of the bed, where he slumbered peacefully after a long, stressful day. That particular issue would be something she would need to sort out another day. Right now, she had other priorities to get to. Not that it mattered anyway. She had long since lost any semblance of confidence in the proper course of action. She had no idea what she was doing anymore, not since the day he was born.

She placed her legs over the bed, placing one foot on the floor hesitantly. The tremors ransacking her body made it difficult to move properly but allowing the sturdiness of the floor to support her, she managed to get both feet onto the floor and stand upright. She wobbled slightly, losing her balance briefly before she steadied herself. Stumbling to the window, leaning her torso precariously against the windowsill, the woman was a far cry from the seasoned veteran adventurer she was, the strength she had built all those years having wilted away, reducing her to the pitiful mess she was now.

She gazed outwards, her half-lidded eyes focusing not on the tranquil peace of the night but set far inside her mind instead. Her brain was running rampant, conjuring hallucinations she had no wish to see but no choice to bear, nonetheless. She replayed those disturbing scenes over and over in her head, unable to stop subjecting herself to the torture. Her heart ached and twisted, emotions frothing forth until it flooded over her completely in a cascade of grief and anguish.

She internally berated herself. She was better than this. How many dreams had she already witnessed? Dozens by now? Maybe even a hundred or two? She had long lost count. They didn't come every night. Sometimes it took months between dreams, sometimes weeks, sometimes one came right after another after another after another. They did not have a particular pattern from what she could tell, only that they were more frequent nowadays. Now, she could expect one at least once a week. They didn't used to be nearly as vivid or immersive either. Before, it used to only be flashes, maybe with some brief sounds. She could barely understand what was happening in those visions, if she could even recall them outright. There were times where she had woken up with tears trailing down her face but no recollection of what had caused them. However, nowadays she was like a spectator, removed and detached from the events she was privy to observing.

But that one… that nightmare was on a far greater scale than all the other ones. It was almost as if she was there in person, feeling the bites and scratches of the damning fire on her own skin and the hoarseness of her throat as she shrieked and cried out in agony only for her voice to have long since expired, experiencing the slow, encroaching dreadful realization that her life was going to end in that fiery desert. Those sensations etched themselves into her very soul; while the finer points of her other visions were always lost to her memories, she had no issue perfectly remembering every miniscule detail of this one.

She had no idea what had caused this. No, that was a lie. She had a very strong suspicion of what had occurred, but it had always been a theory that she had tried her hardest to deny but could never completely extinguish. The doubt had always been there, constantly in the back of her mind, every word and every action made with those traitorous thoughts within her. In her desperation to snuff out her skepticism, to atone for the crime of distrusting her own flesh and blood, she had thrown herself recklessly into her role, giving all of her heart into raising him as best she could. However, in the end, it was all for naught, and perhaps that annoying voice in the back of her mind had been right all along and that those dreams had been a warning all this time. Lilia had tried her best to advise her, the woman having been a rather close confidant, and she had recommended that she continue her course, praying that her genuine feelings reach through to him, but now, after that heart-rending scene she had been privy to, it was far too much, and it was all too clear that her efforts to his point all ended in futility.

A thump caught her attention, and she turned her head towards the window. Funnily enough, the object of her turmoil made itself known, and the child bounced and moved like no four-year-old should have been able to. She quickly moved to the side, only allowing a sliver of her vision to see him. She was sure he couldn't see her, but there was no need to risk anything unnecessarily.

His movements were far more refined and practiced during this time of the day. It was when he dropped the façade, acting like a seasoned assassin hunting one of his marks. There was no hint of the childish innocence he falsely portrayed in front of them, only burnt bronze orbs dimly shining in the night.

The boy paused, tensing for a moment before all of a sudden, he disappeared, flickering out of existence. However, from the line of blurred air that quickly raced away from the house and firsthand experience from when she had tried to follow him one time, she knew he was heading to his usual training grounds inside the forest that surrounded the village.

That fateful night when her curiosity finally triumphed over her trepidation and paranoia, she had decided to finally follow her son and confront him—about his unhealthy habits, about the strange visions that haunted her, about the face that her child didn't seem like such a child.

But when she finally reached the grove that he might as well been his actual home, she stopped herself from calling out to him.

In his hand had been a simple sword, one almost as long as he was tall, yet he wielded it like a seasoned swordsman. He weaved through stances like a prodigy, his movements robust and firm yet exhibiting grace that would make the nimblest performers green with envy. He didn't simply go through the motions of swordsmanship, but rather he danced through them, making the practice look like a form of art so beautiful that she felt privileged to have had laid her eyes upon it. His sword flickered and vanished out of sight repeatedly, flashing through the air with enough speed to look like a constant circle of blurred steel.

He paused, and then the weapon in his hand disappeared into motes of blue light before coalescing into a different weapon—a spear. And just as easily as with a sword, he brandished it with supernatural expertise. Had she been on the pointed edge of his blade, she would have felt lucky to have been skewered by such sublime technique. It was strange how the arcs and twists and thrusts of the spear exuded such a hypnotizing beauty yet still managed to radiate such sharp deadliness.

She was an experienced adventurer and had partied alongside two genius warriors of the sword. She would not become so easily doe-eyed at any ordinary flashing show of steel. She knew firsthand what exceptional skill with the blade looked like, but the feelings she received from glimpsing this display of skill and magic was far above anything she had felt from the others before.

Still, as beautiful as it was, she could not ignore the nagging in her head—that the spear was the weapon of demons. With spears in hand, they had rampaged and tore through the human race twice now in wars that spanned centuries. How many families that been split apart and ended upon their jagged points? How much human blood coated its keen edges? How often had their tips been dipped and bathed in the flesh of unborn children in their mother's wombs?

And this was not even taking into account the Superd, the tribe hated among all races. The demonic wickedness of the spear had reached the peak of its infamy when the Superd had slaughtered everything in their battle-lust and madness.

It was superstition, yes, but a strong, justified one. Heroes in folk tales were often depicted with long, shining swords, the weapons of nobility and honor. But the sight in front of her, of a boy wielding an instrument of death and treachery with such efficiency, inspired only terror and panic.

Really, it was almost as if fate had been rubbing her folly into her face. It mocked her, showing her just exactly what she had been trying to ignore and hide this whole time. The worst part of it was that she could not deny her foolishness in the slightest bit. It had started out as gradual trepidation, but more dreams were shown to her, she had brushed them off. Then more and more of his abnormalities became apparent, and still she had ignored it all.

And what was the final result? A broken promise, one last desperate attempt by her to reach out to him, trampled over and destroyed. He had even harmed Paul, his own family—if he considered them family at all—and her nightmare was the final piece of the puzzle that brought everything together as her world came crashing down into shambles.

She knew he didn't mean to hurt her husband, that much she believed. However, the facts remained as is, and the terror that had gripped her heart when Paul had been slumped over unconscious while he remained stoic and cold…. Who could fault her for thinking the thoughts that pervaded her mind every day?

It was like a poison, seeping into the deepest orifices of her brain, contaminating her very soul. It was borderline blasphemy, even giving those toxic suggestions even the slightest iota of contemplation. However, as the days continued on, and the truth she had tried to refute all these years continued to be thrust into her face no matter where she looked, her resolve slowly withered into dust until she no longer had the strength to deny what was now clear.

"Then abandon him."

It would have been so simple. She could just get up and leave, take Paul and Lilia with her and move out. They had money to spare, and finding Paul a new job would have been easy considering his fighting prowess. Lilia too was an expert caretaker, so she could have found work as well.

They start over anew, perhaps have another child, and pretend this chapter of their lives never existed.

And that was even assuming she would have to be the one to restart. If she asked him to just up and go away, she doubted that he would have refused. He was polite like that, one of his characteristics she was thankful for. He would have understood, his knowledge of people and the world far beyond his age. Not to mention that he always seemed like he was on the brink of casting aside his mask, so having the choice made for me wouldn't have seemed so bad. Really, she didn't need any of that fake acting. If he wanted to leave so badly, he could go and do it. He'd be doing them a favor, ridding them of a thorn from their side.

If it was truly necessary… he was still a child. He was mortal, he could bleed. Who knew, she might even be doing the world a favor by killing—

She stopped, eyes widening as a sudden wave of nausea and disgust overcame her. She turned to the side, a stream of sickly green solid chunks and liquid bile—the breakfast he had made earlier—flooding out of her face. She dropped to her knees as the sounds of her horrid retching filled the room, its only other occupant none the wiser as she wallowed in her misery alone.

After what seemed like an eternity, the uncontrollable river of vomit finally stopped, and the woman managed to get her wobbling legs underneath her again. A hand came up to wipe at her mouth, her expression grimacing at the puke smeared on her skin. She took a deep breath, letting the calming rhythm of air flowing in and out of her body encompass the entirety of her thoughts. Thankfully, her heart started to relax, the earlier thumping against her chest slowing to a dull pace.

Such breathing exercises were helpful for her nowadays. Before, they had seemed only like a precaution, but now, she was grateful for the practiced guidance. When her thoughts became a whirlwind, finding her mental footing once again was a difficult endeavor.

She looked down, and her face scrunched up in disgust at the mess she had left on the floor. Bits and pieces laid scattered in a puddle at her feet, and some of the nauseating slop was seeping into the gaps between the floorboards. She made a note to herself to remove any traces of the incident occurring; she didn't need any more questions from Lilia about whether she was doing alright.

She clenched a fist, relishing how her fingernails dug into her palm, the pain cutting through the storm of emotions.

She was thinking too rashly. She didn't want to think about him that way. Like it or not, she had given birth to him, carrying him inside of her for nearly a year. The instinct of motherhood was engraved within her soul, the need to care for and protect him nearly superseding all else.

But as she had confided into Lilia earlier, he had no need for a mother. However, she couldn't find it within herself to not continue to act like one, the idealized image in her head spurring her onwards despite the lashes and scars she endured from its incompatibility with reality. She couldn't help herself, the self-destructive cycle simply part of her nature.

It was all she could do to have helped him out earlier in the evening when she had convinced the others to approve of his training in swordsmanship and magic. She didn't know much from her dreams, but she could sense that he was destined for things far greater than this humble life in their little village. He knew that too, hence why he pushed himself despite her heart breaking at the sight of her son throwing away the childhood she worked hard to cultivate for him, one that she never got to fully enjoy herself.

However, helping him out in this manner further alienated her because she knew it only served to drive her further apart from him. She wasn't Paul or Ghislaine; she could barely lift a sword, much less teach someone else how to use it. She wasn't very practiced in magic either, only capable of healing people and even then, in her only specialty, she was merely "okay" at it, someone barely of note. She could barely even heal Paul earlier, the internal trauma to his body proving too much for her abilities.

That's right, she would be spending time with people far more amazing than her, nurturing the talent she had shunned before, living up to the potential she knew laid within him.

And where did that leave her?

Unnecessary, that is what she was. Even with the plans she had set in motion in one last desperate attempt to feel needed, she was acutely aware of the fact that they served only the slightest of conveniences. In truth, the boy did not need anyone. Not her. Not Paul. Not Lilia. Not anyone. He had done perfectly well up to this point; there was no reason to think he could not keep going. The "wall" that so many people seemed to reach in the pursuit of mastery in their craft simply did not exist for him.

Unencumbered by human constraints. Transcendent above all limits.

The shift in the world so many years ago… Could it be…?

She let out a shaky breath, and she mentally started counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

She took a breath.

One.

Two.

Three.

The glass of the window fogged, obscuring her vision outside.

That's fine, she had seen enough. He was well past her eyesight anyway, long hidden from her view. Not that it mattered because she knew that whatever path he took, she knew that she would not be there with him at its end. She turned away, averting her eyes from the painful sight.

She had to hold on… but…

Zenith fought the urge to break down then and there, the tides of sourness swelling up within her heart tall enough to drown her entirely.

"What… did I do wrong?

Chapter Text

"Come on, put your back into it!"

Admittedly, it was a bit hard to hear the man's cry due to the deafening pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.

The man in question sat underneath a tree as he watched me futilely whack a sword against a rock. Apparently, Paul wanted to get a baseline for my physical prowess as part of his training regimen, hence why he was having me try my best to cleave the boulder in front of me with a single strike.

Of course, had I opted to use reinforcement magecraft on myself, I probably could have done so. The only reason I was a bit uncertain was that my current body was so weak that even with fully reinforcing it, I wasn't sure how much better my physical attributes would be.

"Laaaaaaaameeeeee!"

Admittedly, I was mildly getting annoyed at the man. Here I was, sweating underneath the afternoon sun and panting in exhaustion while he relaxed underneath the shade of a tree while leisurely sipping on a drink that he had brought from the house. Had I known that this is what he had in mind for training, I would have refused his offer entirely.

Well, not really, but the temptation to put an end to things was growing stronger with each mocking remark he made. Was he angry that I injured him by accident? Perhaps it was his fault for being put on his ass by a child.

"Damn, you suck!"

"If you think it is so easy, perhaps you can show me instead of giving me commentary?" I asked after I spun on my heels, staring at the man with a deadpan look. I held out the practice sword towards him. The weapon he had given me for our training session was a fully metal shortsword, still laughably clumsy in my hands but nothing I couldn't make do with. Paul had said that I was a bit too "advanced" for my age, and he could do away with the toys for my training sessions.

Paul gave me a wry grin as I towered over the sitting swordsman, my reaction fueling his joking attitude. It looked like seeing me snap was his goal all along. "You're going to make your injured old man get up and do work? Sheesh, I thought I raised you better than that."

I felt the urge to point out that he was largely absent for my upbringing—either one, really—but I decided that the remark was unnecessarily crossing a line. I could tell Paul was enjoying himself with the mirthful shimmer in his eyes at every quip, and I didn't particularly feel like ruining the mood. The infamous incident had only been yesterday, after all, and the fact that Paul was gung-ho and ready to enthusiastically dive into these lessons was surprising but not an unwelcome gift. The better I could sweep that particular chapter of my life underneath the rug, the better.

However, from the way I haven't seen Zenith at all since last night, a stark contrast to how she sought me out every single day beforehand, the ripples I had made yesterday were already making waves I could not undo.

Still though, I had to take it one problem at a time. Right now, appeasing the stupid man in front of me was the priority.

"Ah, I apologize. I believed the great Paul Greyrat was capable of shrugging off a blow dealt by a four-year-old. It seems that I was mistaken."

His unimpressed glower at me was reciprocated in kind, my stoic expression not faltering as the man got up with a quiet groan and took the sword in my hand. I followed him behind him, a bit of me eager to see his technique in person. All I had were the memories in his sword, its wielder a practitioner of whatever physical boost people employed in this world. However, I wanted to see for myself how the best warriors here were able to strengthen their bodies to superhuman levels. More specifically, I wanted to see if there were any similarities between what they used here and magecraft like reinforcement. If so, I would be able to excuse some of my abilities as having learned them under Paul.

Paul walked over to the boulder I had been hitting for the better part of the afternoon, its rocky surface sporting not a single hint of any damage having been dealt to it. Meanwhile, the sword that Paul had given me was chipped in several places, the result of carefully refined steel meeting the brutal wall that was nature several times.

"Watch and see, kiddo. This is how your old man impressed the ladies back in the day." Paul tossed the blade back and forth between both hands, getting a feel for the weapon as he mentally sized up the boulder. There was nothing special about it, just a random rock we had found in the outskirts of the forest we had decided to train in. The fact that it was a bit close to my usual training spot was a bit worrying since there were no doubt remnants of my previous activities there, but hopefully we wouldn't be making our way over there. Paul may have seen me train, but seeing the aftermath of my sessions might raise more questions than answers I was willing to give.

I crossed my arms and raise an eyebrow as the man continued to stare down the boulder. Was his power too restrictive? Did he need to do any mental incantations? Did he need to condition his mind first?

After a few more seconds, Paul took a deep breath, planting his right foot firmly into the ground as his left stepped forward, holding the sword in both hands.

"Argh!" Steel flashed forwards, the sword becoming a blur as Paul let out a battle cry. His arm came down like a meteor, and the short sword passed through the boulder like a hot knife through butter. However, Paul wasn't done yet, and with a twist of his wrist, his follow-through became the start of another swing as he slashed perpendicular to his first strike. Once again, metal cleanly cut through stone, and Paul finished the demonstration with an overly flamboyant twirl of his sword.

As if not yet realizing what had just happened, the boulder looked unaffected before all of a sudden, physics took over, and the large rock that had remained unaltered for centuries crumbled apart, the two bisecting slashes cut through it causing it to split apart into four distinct pieces. Paul turned back around with a cocky grin on his face.

"Well? Think you got what it takes to surpass your pops?" The smirk on his face was threatening to split his handsome visage in two, and he walked over to pass the sword back to me.

"The next time my opponent allows me enough time to complete a scholarly education before attacking, I'll be sure to do precisely what you did," I chided back, taking the weapon from him.

Paul strangely felt silent at the remark, but I paid it no mind.

I wasn't sure on the exact steps Paul used to be able to enhance his body to such a degree. Analyzing the past few seconds in my mind, the feat he pulled off was definitely magical in nature. I don't think Paul was conscious of what he did though, recalling his inability to explain his capabilities from Lilia's remarks yesterday. However, it was certainly some form of reinforcement, or whatever magic was the equivalent in this world. I could feel a distinct magical energy coating his body almost like some sort of invisible armor, and the aura Paul manifested also extended down to the sword as well, explaining why it was able to withstand being able to be pushed through solid rock with no issues.

If my understanding of magecraft was correct, then while the results were fairly similar, whatever technique Paul used was fundamentally different than reinforcement. Reinforcement magecraft relied on filling in the gaps and crevices of an object on a structural level, both in a physical sense as well as metaphorical. Due to targeting the nature of one's existence, it was capable of a variety of effects beyond simply making something stronger and faster.

Paul's technique seemed to work on the basis of covering its user and weapons with energy like a second skin, empowering their physical stats to beyond human levels. It wasn't bad at all, and judging from the fact that Paul bisected a boulder twice over with ease, its potency was definitely on the level of reinforcement magecraft typically practiced by Executors or Enforcers. It was not nearly enough to deal with a Servant of course, but I doubted that there was any real need for firepower of that caliber in this world.

"Jeez, cut me some slack, will ya? I had to focus for a bit since my body isn't exactly in good shape," Paul waved off.

I let out a noncommittal hum, my mind thinking not focused on his words as I contemplated what the reveal of Paul's technique meant.

If bolstering my body far past its normal limits was something not uncommon in this world, then using reinforcement was not entirely out of the question for me. Obviously, I couldn't go full all-out with it, but even raising my strength, speed, and durability to a fraction of Paul's would be a huge advantage and substantially increase my effective fighting ability with witnesses around. Of course, there was the question of why such a small child was able to even utilize such tricks in the first place, but I could easily divert the attention to Paul. I had no doubt that he would practically be preening underneath the spotlight.

"Alright, you try now." The man sat back down with a sigh of relief, his eyes half-lidded as he idly watched on.

"You expect me to get it with no explanation or anything?" The man definitely had a hands-off approach, I'll give him that.

"You did pretty well copying my fighting style just watching me. Don't tell me that this is too much for you?"

"Funny."

Well, at least this type of conversation was a better change of pace than the dynamic before.

"You know I'm not good with words. Any instruction I give you might just end up making things for confusing," he said while crossing his arms behind his hand, intermittently taking a sip of the drink at his side.

I scoffed light-heartedly. "Perhaps you can try?"

Paul gave me a look like I was an overbearing manager and he was a disgruntled employee working a minimum wage job. "Sheesh, so needy. Fine, all you gotta do is take a step forward, doing a little 'hngh', maybe add in some 'fwam!', and you should be good to go."

…

"What in the actual fuck does that even mean?"

"Language," he chided.

I internally rolled my eyes. Thankfully, this man was no Archer. Then again, perhaps that said more about me than anything else.

Seeing that I would get no more help from the overly lax man, I walked towards another boulder off to the side. Looking at the big piece of rock up and down, I calmed my breathing, settling into the same pose Paul had been in. It was all for show; I didn't require any preparation to use reinforcement magecraft. However, I had to at least pretend that I was copying what Paul had shown me.

"Hah!" I brought down the sword in an overhead chop, imbuing my body and the sword with magical energy at the same time. As expected, the broken edge of the weapon cut deeply into the boulder, managing to get a bit over halfway through the rock before it stopped. Planting a foot onto the boulder, I grunted as I pulled the sword out from where it had bit into stone. The weapon looked like it had seen better days, its once sharp edge completely damaged throughout the entire length. I gave it a tentative poke, my expression turning dry as it snapped in two from the gentle prod.

"Good job." I lurched forward as a meaty hand slapped the middle of my back before playfully ruffling my head. Looking up and through the auburn tresses obscuring my vision, I could see Paul giving me a proud smile and thumbs-up before appraising the quality of my work. "Not bad for a beginner, but your step forward was more like 'hmph', and your slash was more 'wham!' than anything else. If you had actually followed my directions, you definitely could've cut through it for sure. Still though…" He walked forward, examining the large gouge in the rock I had created before turning back to me with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't think you'd pick up on it so easily…"

Ah, maybe I overdid it still? I purposefully held back, deeming that completely bisecting the boulder was a bit too much. Perhaps I should have held back even more to not seem so suspicious. Then again, Paul already knew a bit of what I could do from our spar, so I couldn't afford to not seem gifted lest he catch on.

"I must have had a good teacher."

"Funny." He picked up the broken piece of metal on the ground, cringing at how it looked closer to a bastardized serrated knife than anything else. "You know I spent a good amount of silvers on that, right?"

I shrugged. Unfortunately, the option of tracing a replica was unavailable. "Would you like me to travel to the kingdom and make the money back?"

Paul grimaced at the idea. "Nice joke. You know how dangerous the roads are nowadays? Every merchant caravan has at least a dozen adventurers guarding it, and that's just through the main roads that have established depots scattered throughout the route. Every other route is either way too dangerous or requires way too much money to hire enough bodyguards."

"Didn't you use to be an adventurer? Couldn't you do escort me for free?" I questioned.

"Yeah, that's back when I had a complete party with me. Plus, I would need to study up on the monsters and vegetation around here and the city before I even think of travelling. You can't afford to go blindly during any commission. Don't take it seriously enough, and you'll be monster food before you know it," Paul lectured. Contrary to his usual attitude, Paul was taking the subject quite seriously. As a seasoned veteran, he must have seen more than his fair share of inexperienced adventurers meeting an untimely demise.

"Sounds very serious."

"Yup, especially nowadays. The bar for adventuring is much higher than back when I was active. You got monsters roaming the roads everywhere. Any horde can just stumble across a village like ours and just wipe it off the map. Then you got the horror stories of monsters with weird ass mutations popping up like what happened a few years ago. Haven't even gotten to mention the bandits too."

Ah, in every era, there are always parasites more than happy to take advantage of the chaos.

"Are there any around here?"

"Near the village? No. In fact, there's not a lot happening around here. The closest monsters you'll see are a good ways away from the village. They tend to stay away from here for some reason. You don't need to be too worried." Paul took another swig of his drink, his gulp audible in the pause of the conversation as I waited in anticipation. "Travel a bit and I'd be careful though. The main roads are heavily used, but where there are people, there's others ready to take advantage of them. Plus, any fighting could attract nearby monsters, and then everyone's dead if that happens." He had a faraway look in his eyes, the thousand-yard stare of a seasoned adventurer speaking more than his words ever could.

This world definitely resembled a typical medieval fantasy, but I had no doubt that there were surprises and twists waiting for me if I looked hard enough. The question was if I could find them before they found me.

Actually, now that I thought about it… "Yesterday, you said that you'd need to go to the city eventually to send your letter, right? Doesn't that mean you'll need to make your preparations regardless?"

I could see the gears turning in Paul's head before his face twisted as if he ate something sour. "Damn it, you're right." He sat back down and grabbed his drink, downing the remainder of it in one go as he let out a loud burp. "Gotta hit the books again, I guess. Plus I need to get in better shape too. I've been out of the loop for so long now. It's too quiet around here." He raised his arms in a stretch, wincing and putting a hand over his ribcage as he aggravated his injury.

I frowned at the sight, looking at it apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Paul sighed. "How many times do I have to say it? Don't be sorry. It was an accident, and you apologized afterwards. Nothing else needs to be said." Suddenly, he smirked. "Besides, this won't keep me out for long. Give me a week or two, and I'll be right back to kicking ass like when I was younger."

I rolled my eyes. The man was still well into the prime of his life. He wouldn't have to worry about growing old and feeble any time soon.

Well, he was right on one front. Paul seemed like he was completely over the accident, so feeling sorry on his behalf wasn't of any use to anybody.

"You said you would need to study before travelling to the city. Do we have any books on hand?"

If an experienced adventurer like Paul felt uneasy about travelling without having undergone the proper preparations, then it would be remiss of me to ignore his advice. Knowing the capabilities of the monsters in this world as well as the natural geography and flora would be a huge help in navigating the region as safely as possible.

"Oh? Interested in joining me on my trip?" Paul smirked at my eagerness, his eyes glimmering with approval.

Hmm, it wasn't what I originally had in mind, but the prospect of leaving the village for a bit to experience some of the outside world wasn't a terrible idea. There was certainly more merit than disadvantages to the opportunity, and having a glimpse of the reality that awaited me outside of this peaceful bubble I had lived in since my rebirth would definitely be useful.

"Just doing my due diligence. If you're gone, someone has to protect the village."

Apparently, that was the right thing to say. Once again, his palm rose to rest on my head, ruffling my hair teasingly before giving me a playful flick on my forehead. "Well, look at you, so eager to replace your dad as the village's knight, huh?" His smirk was in equal parts amusement and pride, and I couldn't help but return the gesture with a small, mirthful grin of my mine. Suddenly, Paul stood back up, letting out a few coughs. "Err, um, yeah there should be a book or two you can read in the house. Then again, I don't know how much use they are now." He quickly turned away but not before I could see the scarlet blush on his cheeks, and I could only raise an eyebrow at the interaction.

Paul started walking back towards the house, and I made to follow him. A few seconds of silence passed before he turned to me.

"Wait, can you even read?"

"…Probably?"

"What does that even mean?"

I don't think I've tried reading or writing this world's language yet, but assuming that my method of reincarnation was through the grail, then there was little reason to believe that it would function different than how I had seamlessly understood and spoke the language here. The grail was capable of miracles, and a trivial ask like communication was well within its capabilities, evident by how it was able to easily transition Servants into the modern world.

"More importantly, does mark the end of today's training session?" I inquired. Paul looked at me like I had just asked him to buy me a mansion for my birthday.

"Damn, you're still raring to go? I just watched you bash that sword onto a rock for the past few hours. Aren't you tired?"

"Call it a second wind at seeing my progress." I wasn't really tired. Trying to cut through the boulder with nothing more than child-levels of strength was a bit tiring, but I had not touched my magical energy reserves except for my very final demonstration. It would be a waste to stop my training here. Energy unused was energy wasted, after all.

Besides, if I could show Paul progress in reinforcing myself, then if there ever came a time when I had to show off more of my abilities, there wouldn't nearly be so many questions that would follow.

Paul hummed to himself contemplatively. "Well, I certainly can't fault you for being eager, that's for sure. I felt like I had a lot to prove when I was a kid too." He tapped his chin repeatedly while thinking of how to train me further. "Admittedly, I didn't put too much thought into this. I've never trained anyone before, so I don't know how to actually be a teacher. I had no plan in mind when I proposed training you. At first, I was going to have you go through the basics of each school but considering you can already do my secret technique, it doesn't seem so useful…"

I shot Paul a blank stare. "Is that really all you had planned for me?"

The man shrugged back at me. "There's a reason why I want Ghislaine here. If you want actually advanced sword techniques, she's your best bet." He flinched in realization. "Oh, Ghislaine used to be part of the adventuring party Zenith and I were a part of. In terms of skill, she's a whole two-levels higher than me. I could never even come close to beating her in a spar. Well, emphasis on spar. I got the better of her in other ways," he said with a wink.

I scrunched up my nose in disgust at what he was implying. "As long as she's skilled, it doesn't matter. However, please refrain from enlightening me of your romantic life before Zenith."

Paul laughed at my properness and wrapped an arm around my shoulder before pulling me closer. "Haha, well, if I told you, we would be here until the evening." If that sentence had come from anyone else, I would have thought that it was a proclamation of arrogance. However, when Paul said it, I couldn't help but believe it was more a factual statement than anything else. "Besides, I see you making the moves on Laws's daughter yesterday. Trust me, we're cut from the same cloth, whether you want to admit it or not."

He continued to sly tease me about Sylphiette, citing that she would be my first but I shouldn't get too "overly attached". I could only wryly look at him in response but ultimately said nothing, content to let the man have his fun.

After another minute, Paul finally stopped trying to give me a premature pep talk. "Well, as long as you don't go breaking her heart, it's fine. It'd be pretty awkward for Laws and I."

Ah, now that I thought about it, Sylphiette's father had a similar idea stewing in his mind. Those two have spent far too much time with each other than what was healthy.

I was about to give a retort to Paul when I spotted a figure walking towards us in the distance. Straining my eyes, it turned out to be Lilia, complete with her classic maid uniform. She was walking towards us, not in a desperate rush but definitely looked like she was moving with purpose. Her mouth was set in a tight line across her face, and I could see her brows were slightly furrowed. While her stride was focused, her eyes were not, and I could see those azure orbs glassed over in thought of something else.

"Did something happen between you and Lilia?"

Paul suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable and broke out in a nervous sweat. "U-Um, definitely not, no way. Things are just peachy. W-Why do you ask?"

I cocked my head at his strange behavior before mentally waving it off. In response to his question, I opted to merely point a finger at the approaching maid.

"Wait, that's Lilia? Damn, you got good eyes."

Uh, whoops. I should not have said anything.

"I eat my vegetables."

"Heh, I guess you're right," Paul snicked, "Speaking of food, thanks for the meal yesterday. Helped me a lot when I went out for my patrol later."

I nodded in acknowledgement. Truthfully, I expected the man to throw out the food I usually made for him. Thankfully, he was not putting precious resources to waste.

After a few minutes, Paul and I finally reached Lilia. The maid had a thin sheen of sweat from the blazing sun bearing down on us, and her cheeks were flushed a slight red as she tried to hide her panting. Unlike her, Paul and I had the shade of the forest to protect us for the majority of the day, but it seemed that Lilia had been wandering outside for quite some time trying to look for us.

"Ah, I finally found you two," Lilia greeted, her demeanor as polite as ever despite her slightly disheveled appearance. "I trust that your training session has been productive?"

"A bit better than I would have preferred, to be honest. We're only one day in, and I've already run out of things to actually teach him," Paul complained. "I mean, really, he looked at me do my secret technique one time, and he's basically halfway there."

Lilia smiled at Paul's lamentations, and I couldn't ignore how her eyes shone with wicked satisfaction at seeing Paul confess his inadequacies. "It's to be expected. He is your son, and as I said yesterday, you surely passed on your talents to him."

Paul rolled his eyes, and like Lilia, he wasn't very adept at hiding some of his emotions, namely the slightly perverted glint in his eyes.

"Seriously?"

Paul was obviously trying his best to restrain himself, but it was hard to miss how his eyes gravitated towards Lilia's large, heaving chest, especially with the small beads of sweat trailing down her face to disappear teasingly into the depths of her neckline. In tandem with her rosy cheeks and large, striking eyes, the woman in front of me made for an alluring sight, the target of women's envy and the subject of men's dreams.

In that sense, I couldn't really fault Paul. Still though, the perverted glint in his eyes was a bit unsettling. How strange, I never felt such sensations from him before. Was his mental state in a better spot now, accidentally releasing some of his more undesirable qualities?

Ah, the psychology of Paul Greyrat. It was a fascinating subject but one I fear I would never be able to fully understand.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Still, one thing to get a good fight out of someone barely to my hip. It's another to watch myself get copied like a cheap parlor trick," Paul complained.

"Perhaps it might be time for you to improve your own skills," Lilia suggested.

Paul let out a whine but didn't disagree. With his emphasis on battle experience over theory, the only way I could see Paul significantly improving his skills was to return back to adventuring and tip-toeing the line between life and death on a daily basis. I could hardly imagine Paul diligently studying underneath a mentor.

Besides, Paul didn't necessarily want to get stronger. His wish was to cultivate this life he's carved out for himself. Jumping back into the fray to risk life and death on a fleeting promise to return home was not to his benefit. In other words, as long as Zenith and I existed, then Paul would remain as is.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with that. At the very least, Paul had the power to protect those he wanted to protect, the only measurement of strength that truly mattered.

"Anyway, what did you want to talk to us about?" Paul said, changing the topic of the conversation.

All signs of amusement disappeared from Lilia's face, and her frown returned once again. "I shall be straight to the point: Lady Zenith has fallen ill."

Paul remained emotionless for a brief moment before her words settled into his mind. His jaw clenched tightly in frustration, and his knuckles became white, the fires of anger igniting within his irises. It wasn't a surprising sight; Paul tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, and the man was definitely the kind of person to feel rage when his loved ones were in danger. Being the veteran adventurer he was, I was sure that he already ruled out that Zenith was at any real risk. Otherwise, Lilia would have sought us out and delivered her message with more urgency. It was also the reason why Paul wasn't racing over to his house the instant Lilia's words left her mouth.

However, I don't believe that Zenith's sickness was completely random. The fact that it occurred the day after the events of yesterday was no coincidence. The woman was under a great deal of fatigue and stress, and the mental toll of the accident during the spar along with all the pressure that had been accumulating to this day must have been too much for Zenith. The human mind was fragile, after all, and her body couldn't handle it at some point.

"Gotcha. Well, I suppose that makes my plans easier." Paul turned to me, and I could see the hints of doubt and suspicion in his eyes before they quickly dissipated with a blink. "Well? How do you feel about taking care of your mother with me today?"

Lilia shot Paul a slightly alarmed look but chose to say nothing.

As for Paul's suggestion, if I was the cause of everything, then my presence would only be a hinderance. Having the subject of her anxiety and paranoia constantly around her would only delay her recovery.

"I don't think I would be of any help though."

"Are you sure? Maybe seeing her son might put her at ease."

"I'm—" I gulped "—sure. Besides, I don't need to see you coddling Zenith. Of course, if you need anything, please let me know."

"Well, if you're sure about this. Feel free to come back if you change your mind." Paul looked a bit disappointed at my answer but accepted it regardless. "Anyway, I'll be occupied for the rest of the day. What are you planning on doing?"

I shrugged at him, not too sure myself. "More training. I'll probably keep practicing that technique."

Paul smirked but the gestured faltered quite quickly. "Well, it's good to see you're dedicated, but I can't help but feel a bit worried." He sighed and looked like he was about to protest a bit more before remembering something. "Oh shit, today is supposed to be my turn to patrol!"

Lilia quietly sighed. "I'm sure they will forgive you for missing this day. After all, the area around the village is quite safe, no? I'm sure you can find a temporary replacement, or your partner can do his duties alone for just one day."

Her logic made sense. Paul looked convinced by her words, nodding along with her reasoning, but his head suddenly snapped in realization. "Actually, hang on, I may have just solved all my problems."

Lilia narrowed her eyes, a gesture that seemed far too practiced on her face. It seemed that she was quite wary of Paul whenever new ideas struck his head. "Should I be concerned?"

Paul turned to me once again, and the smirk on his face was quite striking, enhancing the man's naturally good looks. It was little wonder why he was the fancy of many women back in his younger days. His devilish grin and hypnotic jade eyes spoke of untold mischief, and I couldn't help but also wonder just what he had planned as well.

"Shirou, how do you feel about patrolling around the village?"

Thunk!

Thud!

Thawck!

The volley of arrows soared through the air, hammering into the thick column of wood with a series of thumps.

The sound of rustling leaves filled the silence afterwards, but if one was perceptive enough, they could hear the faint scraping of bark before the signature twang of string echoed throughout the forest once again. Like clockwork, a barrage of arrows raced towards their target, the quiet whistling of steel through air only lasting for the briefest of moments before the projectiles punched through the tree.

Again came the sound of something moving along the tree line, of feet sliding against the branches of a tree before another salvo of metal rained down onto another tree several dozens of meters away. The entire motion was smoothly and quietly completed in fractions of a second before the entire process repeated itself far into the distance, new targets and firing positions chosen at random with each cycle.

To conclude the exercise, I pirouetted through the air, flipping head over heels before firing one last shower of arrows at a distant boulder. I poured just a bit more magical energy into the ammunition, letting them be filled just shy of the point of explosion before letting them loose from the drawstring of my bow.

Like missiles, they propelled through the air far faster than any regular man could perceive, arriving at their destination almost instantaneously. The mana-soaked arrows drilled through the rock with ease, embedding themselves into the boulder before they ignited in a small show of blazing fire. The rock stood no chance, disappearing into a shower of smoke as tiny debris rained down from above, the only remnants of what had once been there.

With a final twirl, I fell back onto the ground, landing with a crunch as blades of grass were crushed underneath my feet. A singular bead of sweat ran across my brow, the only sign of exhaustion I had felt during the exercise. When I had first done such exercises, getting my body used to the extent of physical exertion that it required was an arduous ordeal. It was simply due to the fact that the body of a toddler was not meant to handle such strain, and the pace of growth of a child's body was meant to support mainly the growth of the skeletal frame. Developing the muscles necessary to facilitate the abrupt movements of the exercise would mainly come from adolescence. Until then, I simply had to make do with using reinforcement magecraft to supplement my strength and speed.

However, with the sheer volume of practice I had done since I first started, I had brute forced the results, regardless of my slow rate of growth. I had time, if nothing else. Of course, I could concede that the current degree of progression of my training was well beyond most people my age. I was simply comparing it to what it could potentially be, and hopefully will be. It was certainly nothing to scoff at.

I just had to be careful of any potential arrogance. All I had was a head start; I couldn't afford to become complacent in any manner. Besides, I always had quite the number of humbling experiences in my previous life. If I wanted a bar to constantly measure myself again, then any of the Servants in the Holy Grail War were more than sufficient. Those were true monsters, and as I was now, I could only be a slight aggravation against something of a similar caliber.

With a dismissive wave of my head, all the projections I had fired disappeared in motes of blue light, the makeshift wooden bow in my hand dispersing as well. Had I wished them to remain, they could have stayed indefinitely, but I didn't need anyone wondering why there were bundles of arrows pierced through the entire diameter of the tree trunks in this area.

Unfortunately, I couldn't do anything about the aftereffects of the exercise. Repairing the holes in the trees was beyond my abilities; I had no aptitude for any sort of healing magecraft, or the vast majority of magecraft, for that matter. Naturally, that meant the healing magic that Zenith used as well. As for the rock… well, no one would miss it, I was sure.

Honestly, there was almost certainly no need to hide anything. I had purposefully ventured deeper into the woods than I previously had before where I was sure that no one from the village would accidentally end up exploring. With the knowledge of Paul having spied on me during my nightly training sessions, I had been forced to find a new place to conduct my exercises. Of course, Paul almost certainly knew I had simply relocated elsewhere if he noticed the lack of new activity in my previous place, but hiding as much I could from him—and the rest of the Greyrats—was almost certainly more beneficial to me than anything else.

Now that I put more thought into it, were the nightly sessions still a good idea? If Paul were to check up on my bedroom late at night and find me missing, then answering his inevitable questions and forcing more secrets out of me could complicate the situation more than was necessary. Replacing them with sessions during the day could solve my problems since Paul knew and approved me of doing my own training.

Then again, maybe I could do both. As long as I didn't get caught…

I held out my hands, my mind focusing briefly upon the near infinite catalog of weapons within me before finding the sword I was looking for. With a pulse of magical energy, the sword emerged from the blade works with a shimmer of light. The weapon I held was proportionally correct to my smaller body, my application of alternation during the tracing process resulting in the weapon shrinking until it was actually capable of being held in my stubby, small hands. It was the same magecraft that had allowed me to make the wooden bow from before, the weapon having been nothing more than a random twig I had found before I had repurposed it for my needs.

With my new sword in hand, I simply practiced the sword forms that Saber had taught me all those years ago. Archer's fighting style was more suited for the twin falchions, and truthfully, I had no interest in projecting them unless there was an actual enemy to confront. Until then, I was content to go through the motions that the King of Knights had instilled in me, flowing from one stance to another as I blended together the swordsmanship employed by my Servant along with my own personal touches. Of course, I was nowhere near as skilled as Saber, and replicating her abilities through my own personal skill rather than through my magecraft was simply not within my capabilities. The best I would do was a bastardization of her technique, an easier-to-use version that employed elements of the swordsmanship Archer had learned and grew in his eternal time as a Counter Guardian, a style more befitting Emiya Shirou.

However, there was no shame in versatility, and learning the art of combat through the eyes of as many people as possible would only serve to make me stronger. In that respect, increasing my base skills and instinct for battle rather than taking the shortcut of synthesizing the battle experience held within the swords inside of me would have more long-term benefits.

Unfortunately, despite the intensity and amount of training I was doing, I was sure to hit a wall eventually. As Paul had repeatedly stressed to me, nothing could substitute for actual battle experience. I could spend years practicing these forms every day, fighting invisible enemies and carving through stone with steel and puncturing through wood with arrows as much as my body would allow, but in the end, I would be severely outpaced by someone who lived on the border between life and death, risking everything to remain in the realm of the living. As Lilia had eloquently put it, nothing could swing a swordsman's blade faster than death, and the adrenaline that flowed through the human body as the reaper encroached had no alternative. Humans were amazing in that sense, thriving in situations when the pressure was at its absolute highest and the promise of tomorrow was uncertain. In those circumstances, a year's worth of training could be gained in a single battle, and a decade of experience in a single moment when the fingers of death enclosed around someone's neck.

As someone who rapidly grew with each encounter in the Holy Grail War, I knew this phenomenon all too well, which is why the ever-present dilemma of venturing outside on my own always weighed on my mind. I knew that it would have to come eventually, and I knew that I could grow so much more if I did. The only problem was what I was leaving behind.

Fortunately, since Paul and I agreed on that respect, he had pulled some strings to assist me in that area. Due to his injury, he was unsure of his ability to properly resolve a situation should something happen during his patrol around the village and had asked if I wanted to take his place. Truthfully, I thought that this opportunity was Paul's way of helping me discretely. I knew for a fact that while he was indeed hurt, he was still a more than capable fighter. Furthermore, Paul admitted in his own words that the area around the village was quite safe and free from monsters. As strange as his methods were, even Paul would not purposefully send a child into a dangerous situation, someone such as myself included. The man had a certain protective aura around him, and for all his faults, he was still a knight and followed some code of chivalry, I imagined.

Still, that meant that Paul was more than able to fulfill his duties but had chosen to instead give me some responsibility in hopes that I could learn from it. I wasn't surprised that Paul didn't directly voice his intentions; he probably thought it was too embarrassing to say out loud.

Well, there was also the fact that Paul was asking a child to take his place. The man had said that he would get me someone he trusted to patrol with me on the off-chance that something happened, but the fact remained that a full-fledged adult would be protecting the village with a four-year-old as backup. I couldn't fault the person for being wary. It spoke of Paul's confidence—and slight delusion—that he saw no issue with his arrangement.

Which brought me to now. Paul said to come back to the Greyrat house after a few hours. Apparently, he had someone in mind and was inviting him back to his house to talk. Suspecting that I had no interest in the conversation, he had given me free reign to do as I wished until everything was confirmed.

Well, I wasn't one to waste such a gift. I was looking forward to the upcoming opportunity. It would be my first time actually leaving the village proper. Paul explained that I wouldn't be going too far in the surrounding forest, but for the sake of thoroughness, we would need to make sure that the immediate area was safe. Naturally, we would be expected to deal with any monsters we encountered, but from Paul's experience, there were very rarely any monsters that wandered near the village.

However, considering how safe it seemed to be, I was fully expecting something to go tragically wrong. Situations had the tendency to be flipped upside down when I was around. With that in mind, I was also wary of what this evening had in store for me. In the worst-case scenario, I was prepared to do what was necessary, but I was hoping it would not come down to that.

Steel sliced through air with a whoosh, and I flicked the blade to the side with a flourish. It had been at least an hour since I started honing my swordsmanship skills.

—Wait.

The mental command to dismiss the sword was at the forefront of my mind, but before I went through with it…

"You can come out now. I know you're there."

I hated how the unforgiving tone of steel had crept into his voice. An after effect of past battles, but one that was not suitable for the current situation. There was no enemy to fight this time around.

I focused my eyes at the tree to my left, and I don't think it was a coincidence that it was the direction that led back to the village. Thankfully, I didn't feel any hostile intent from the presence, and whoever it was, the most they could have observed was me practicing my swordsmanship. I was moving around far too much during my acrobatic exercises when I was shooting my bow to have had any spectators, and from my point of view high in the trees, I would have seen anyone coming towards me.

Still, to think someone had managed to sneak up on me again, how embarrassing. Admittedly, while my focus during my rumination wasn't the sharpest, I would have normally sensed any regular person. Either this person was skilled in presence concealment like an assassin, or my skills were slipping.

With my enhanced hearing, I could hear the gulp of nervousness and rapid heartbeat from whoever was hiding. Finally, there was the scuttling of footsteps, and the person stepped out from behind the tree, revealing a figure far shorter than I expected.

"Sylphiette?"

The small girl avoided my gaze like a child being lectured by a parent. She nervously shifted around on her feet, her hands fidgeting in front of her as she stammered out an explanation.

"S-S-Shirou, I was l-looking for y-you!"

Well, tried to, at least.

Hmm, well this development definitely complicated things, but the situation wasn't particularly dire in the slightest. Anything Sylphiette could have seen could be easily explained. Paul was technically training me, so I could always fall back onto that explanation.

"Well, you have found me. Was there a reason you were hiding?"

"U-Um…" The girl's cheeks lit up in a brilliant shade of scarlet, and her pupils dilated to the point of almost swallowing her irises. The whole image made it look like she had been caught doing something she shouldn't have been doing. "S-Sorry, I was j-just…"

I raised an eyebrow, walking closer to her until I was only an arm's length away. Sylphiette was always on the quieter side, but even her current volume made it almost impossible to properly converse with her unless I wanted to actively reinforce my ears again.

She let out a shrill "Eep!" but thankfully didn't try to move away from me. Sensing that I may have been scaring the poor girl, I took a quick step back, giving her a bit more room to breathe. The last thing I wanted was for this conversation to seem like an interrogation. I didn't need alienating little girls on my conscience.

Sylphiette still looked abashed but was starting to calm down. Her breathing slowed, and her face lost its red hue. I let her compose herself for a few more seconds, and sensing she was finally ready to give me an answer, I cocked my head questioningly at her.

"S-Sorry," she apologized again, "I-I was about to s-say s-something, but it… it was…"

"It was…?"

"It… was beautiful…" she finished, her words subdued and faint.

Beautiful? Was she referring to the swordsmanship I displayed?

A small smile blossomed on my face, mentally agreeing with her assessment.

"It is," I nodded, and I couldn't help but think better of the girl in front of me.

If her words were truly the case, then there was no fault in her actions. After all, despite how diluted the display she may have seen have been, the style I was practicing still held its foundations by the noblest of all knights, a form of swordsmanship more akin to the art of dancing than any practice of violence. The technique was only elevated by its original user, her skill with the sword unparalleled and unmatched. Despite being her student, I could only hope to mimic a mere fraction of its splendor.

My initial reaction had very much been like Sylphiette's. When I had first laid eyes upon Saber's sheer skill, I was hopelessly starstruck, her flowing movements almost a type of hypnosis on their own. It was like a star in the night sky, breathtaking beyond belief but undoubtedly far out of reach. Some things were meant to only be admired but not acquired, and the skills of a Servant were simply not meant for mortal hands.

For someone like Sylphiette, who had probably never witnessed anything remotely close to the Servants that ascended far beyond humanity, her reaction to the enchanting sword forms I used was more than justified. The fact that I held its original user in high regard may also have played a factor in it.

"W-Where did you l-learn that?"

"Paul's been helping me train," I explained, the technical lie rolling off my tongue with practiced ease but leaving a bitter aftertaste, nonetheless.

A small frown came over her face. From her reaction, I could surmise that she was probably still worried about Paul. After all, the last time she had seen him, he was in a terrible state. From her point of view, seeing the village's knight injured in such a fashion must have been shocking.

Considering she knew I was the one who had put him in such critical condition, I was surprised she still wanted to seek me out.

"W-Wow… S-Shirou is really amazing," Sylphiette said with a reverent tone in her words. My mouth tightened to a thin line at her words but said nothing, my subconscious disapproval rejecting her opinion.

"Thank you," I said, not having it within me to say otherwise. "You said you were looking for me. Was there a reason for that?"

Just like before, her face brightened like a ripe tomato, and her eyes darted back and forth between me and the surrounding scenery. By now, I was quite used to this behavior, so I patiently waited for her to calm herself as she stuttered out her words. "U-Um… I-I j-just wanted to see you… You said you wanted to p-play today, r-right?" she stammered, the furious blush on her cheeks only intensifying with each word.

Huh, did I really say that? It didn't seem like something I would say, but then again, if Sylphiette had looked at me with same flustered expression she had on right now, gazing at me with large, doe-like eyes glimmering with hope, I almost certainly would not have had the courage to refuse her.

"That's right, I did," I confirmed. Well, I didn't like breaking promises if I could avoid it. I didn't really have a real excuse to deny her anyway considering I still had quite a bit of time until I had to get back to Paul. Plus, I didn't need Laws giving me a taste of his fatherly wrath after accusing me of hurting his daughter's feelings.

Actually, now that I thought about it…

"Sylphiette, how did you even find me?"

The clearing we were in was fairly deep into the woods. It was a purposeful choice, one specifically made to avoid these situations. By my estimation, we were at least half an hour's hike into the forest. I would not have been surprised if we were past the safe zone that Paul had mentioned and inside monster territory. There was no possibility that Sylphiette had accidentally stumbled into this area. She was actively seeking me out, yes, but unless she followed me from the beginning, a possibility that simply did not exist due to me making sure I was alone during the beginning of my training session, I was confused on how she had found me.

"U-Um… I'm not r-really s-sure… I wanted to s-see you, so P-Papa said I should go to your h-house, b-but then I got lost…" It wasn't surprising. There was at least an hour or two's trek between the Greyrat's house and Sylphiette's. Remembering the route we took yesterday was a hard task for a child. "I-I was walking a-around, b-but then I thought I f-felt y-you… so I w-walked here. I s-saw you were training, and I d-didn't want to b-bother you… And it looked so p-pretty… and I kept watching…"

She felt me? What a strange way of phrasing it. Then again, Sylphiette was young, and she wasn't entirely sure what she was experiencing.

She felt me… I wasn't asinine enough to believe that she was referring to some mystical pull on our destinies. As ever-present as its chains were, I had a hard time believing that my fate was intertwined with hers, and it was making itself known.

Was her intuition simply so advanced that it bordered on clairvoyance? Was Sylphiette some sort of psychic?

Ah, actually, that answer might be more correct than I thought. It was entirely possible that Sylphiette was similar to Lilia. Lilia had initially shown signs of aversion towards me despite me having done my best to behave like a child. While it was possible that my acting skills were simply not up to par, this was a new world, and I had thought Lilia to be some sort of psychic at first, or at least having increased sensitivity to mana. The fact that I was constantly practicing magecraft late at night meant that I was practically dousing myself in magical energy, something that Lilia could have easily picked up on.

If Sylphiette's perception towards mana was sharper than most, then it would certainly explain how she was able to track me to our current location. She must have encountered sensed remnants of my magical energy from my earlier training exercise, and considering I had a rather unique magical signature, it was possible that she instinctively associated its feeling with me. After all, if she was truly more sensitive towards magical energy, then she must have felt a portion of it during our first encounter when I had reinforced myself.

Wait, no—I was thinking about this too narrowly. Perhaps it wasn't simply that she had greater insight into mana than most people. Sylphiette had said it herself that she had been actively hiding from me to observe my training. That fact that I didn't sense her at all was strange, but I had been only searching for the energy of a regular person. Every human back on Earth had Od, and the people in this world were no different, containing some magical energy inside of them. It was that level of energy that I had been focused on detecting. If someone were to have been actively suppressing their magical presence, then I would not have been able to sense them with the level of focus I was using.

However, Sylphiette was only a child, and she could not have been someone who had been trained in this world's magic. Laws and Alice did not strike me as the kind of people who would make their child undergo such training at an early age. With those factors in mind, it left only one possibility:

Sylphiette was a natural magician.

To be honest, it didn't change anything, but if her senses were this refined and her control over her own magical energy this strong at her age, then there was no doubt that she was a prodigy in the making. It was ironic considering all the praise that the Greyrats and Sylphiette's family had thrown onto me when in reality, the truly talented one was the little girl in front of me.

"Are… Are you angry?"

Shit, I had lost myself in my thoughts again.

"No, don't worry, I'm not mad," I said. There was little harm in Sylphiette having seen me swing a sword for a bit. While it was a bit unnatural for someone my age to have movements so refined, the excuse of Paul's training and genetic, natural talent was still valid. "I was just surprised you still managed to find me. We're pretty deep into the forest after all."

Sylphiette looked a bit embarrassed. "O-Oh yeah, I didn't t-think of that. There could be m-monsters here…" Her head swiveled left and right, her eyes searching our surroundings for any possible disturbances. With the darkness and shadows created by the forest canopy, there was the chance that she was instinctively trying to locate any magical energy around us instead of using direct eyesight. Then again, she was part-elf, and there was a chance that she was able to retain some vision in darkness.

"Don't worry, I made sure this area was safe." While my senses had not been able to detect Sylphiette until I had actively focused on them earlier, I was more than capable of detecting monsters passively. Unless monsters in this world were capable of hiding their presence like Sylphiette had done, then there was no danger. Even if there was anything dangerous around here, I was confident that I would be able to deal with it, or at the very least, notice it enough in advance to start running away. The more powerful the monster, the more mana it radiated, meaning I would have a larger warning for anything truly threatening.

Sylphiette calmed down slightly with my assurance, but I made sure to be heighten my awareness of everything around me. Even though I was more than capable of handling myself, the same could not be said of Sylphiette. If a fight broke out, I would need to somehow keep her safe while being in combat, a task not particularly suited to me considering my fighting style and magecraft.

"That's good…"

"Still, you bring up a good point. We should go back to the village where it's safer," I suggested. There was no need to put ourselves into unnecessary risk. The training session would have to be cut short for today. Unfortunate, but it was only one of many, so this loss wasn't very detrimental.

Sylphiette nodded enthusiastically. "Y-Yes…!"

Seeing she was raring to go, I walked back in the direction of the village. Sylphiette immediately joined me, and just like the time I walked her back to her house, she found herself comfortable enough with me to walk side-by-side. That was good; it seemed like she did not take my earlier silence personally.

The path we were walking on was not marked in any way. It was simply just the route I remembered taking on the way here, though I made sure to stray a bit off to the side to avoid the markings on the trees from earlier. However, I had initially traversed this area jumping from branch to branch, allowing me to ignore the rough terrain of the forest. Walking on the ground now, it was a thoroughly unpleasant experience. The various roots jutting out of the soil and scattered rocks made the ground uneven and hazardous to walk on. A slip of the foot on a slippery rock or a leg being caught on vegetation meant tripping and falling. With some luck, there would be a patch of soft dirt waiting. The far more likely scenario was the hard and unyielding surface of a rock or tree. Humans were fragile, and it didn't take much to crack open a skull or break a limb.

It didn't need to be said that this level of danger was trivial for me. I was smoothly navigating the rocky and rough route, countless experience giving me a level of control over my body far beyond my years.

It wasn't me I was worried about.

"Are you okay, Sylphiette?" I asked, turning around and waiting for the girl to catch up. Her face was coated in a light sheen of sweat, and her cheeks were flushed red with exertion. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she carefully stepped over a particularly thick tree root. What she did not expect was for her foot that she had planted onto the smooth slate to slip, causing her to slide forwards and lose her balance. Sylphiette let out a wail, her eyes wide open in panic as she started her involuntarily descent towards the ground.

"Ahhh—!"

Of course, I wasn't one to stand by as the unfortunate situation unfolded. The girl let out an "oof!" as her chest hit my arm, her entire body being cradled between my right arm and chest. In a pose that was quickly becoming far too familiar to me, I had caught her amidst her fall, and now the elven girl was blushing brightly as she processed what was happening.

Before the inevitable stammering could come out from her, I quickly placed her back on her feet. "Please be more careful," I said. Now that I looked closer, I could see some scrapes and scratches on her arms and legs. She must have had similar difficulties chasing and tracking my magical energy.

"O-Okay…!"

Keeping Sylphiette in mind, I made a deliberate effort in slowing down my pace, matching hers until we were side-by-side again so I could be ready to catch her at a moment's notice. Considering the abrupt change in my speed, I was sure that Sylphiette knew exactly what I was doing, but from the significantly more relaxed expression on her face, she was definitely appreciative of the change.

Once again, the conversation died. Unlike before, Sylphiette wasn't primarily focused on her footing, instead choosing to remain silent. Naturally, I was the same, preferring to let the sounds of the local wildlife and gusts of the afternoon wind echo uninterrupted.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. I could see Sylphiette's furtive glances towards me, and I knew she was simply looking for an opening to start another bout of discussion. While the silence between the two of us wasn't uncomfortable, per se, there was a definite sort of invisible tension. Sylphiette had sought me out for a reason, after all, and I was heavily contemplating how to go about fulfilling her request. As sad as it was, something as menial and mundane as "hanging out" was beyond the scope of my knowledge or experience. Hell, I would not have known what to do had someone my true age asked me out to a social gathering, never mind someone as young as Sylphiette.

I wasn't even sure if this was appropriate in the first place. Truthfully, I was a bit uncomfortable with the whole idea, but I had already trapped myself in this situation. I didn't want to rebuke her efforts after she went through the trouble of finding me.

"Did you have an idea for what you want to do?" I asked, deciding that the most direct path was the only way I was going to progress.

"U-Uh…. No…" Sylphiette said with a disheartened face. "I… I never had a f-friend before…"

It made sense. Laws had said yesterday that Sylphiette didn't have the most pleasant interactions with the people around her. That reveal was only corroborated by the fact that Sylphiette was being bullied when I first met her. From what Sylphiette and her family told me, this treatment was mainly due to her heritage and the negative history that came along with it.

"Don't worry, I never really talked to anyone either," I replied, trying to soothe her insecurities. "I do believe that you are the first person around my age that I've interacted with."

Sylphiette peered at me with wide eyes and an agape mouth. "R-Really?"

Those scarlet orbs glimmered, and I could see hope sparkling within her eyes as she latched onto the common thread between us.

"Really," I confirmed. I wasn't the social kind, and even though I had no regrets about it, my meeting with Sylphiette had come purely by coincidence. That afternoon, I hadn't set out away from the house to encounter more people.

However, she didn't need to know that, and just like before, I couldn't find it within myself to see pools of crimson tarnish and dull with disappointment.

Unfortunately, that didn't really solve our current problem. Right now, we were two socially deprived children with very little ideas on how to proceed.

"I-I s-see…" Sylphiette stuttered, but from the way her face lit up with a small smile as she meekly looked at the ground, I could tell she was more at ease than she had been earlier.

A more comfortable silence settled between us, and the previous tension slowly dissipated.

Truthfully, this encounter was completely meaningless; there was nothing for me to gain by doing this, and I doubted that Sylphiette had thought far enough ahead to want to request something from me. There was very little rhyme or reason for our meeting. However, just like that fateful night in that cavern, fighting a battle that had lost all its meaning long ago, I couldn't find it within myself to turn the other way. Illyasviel had said that even a meaningless life still had value. I myself had said that my own life had no meaning, yet the memories and bonds I had created were but.

Maybe it was precisely that fact that this meeting was pointless that I didn't find it disagreeable. After all, despite everything, Sylphiette's company was far from distasteful.

"Are you guys proud of me? Maybe I'm not so hopeless after all."

Knowing them, they would have most certainly said that this development was not entirely unexpected, their faith in me far greater than my own.

"S-Shirou…" Sylphiette called out, and my reverie ended as I looked at the girl by my side. "You were… training earlier… right?"

I nodded once, not seeing any reason to lie, especially since I had already revealed I was training with Paul. "I was. Why do you ask?"

"I…" Her brows furrowed in deep thought as she pondered her next words. "Why… Why are you training?"

It wasn't a bad question. Most people who have questioned the extent of my efforts, wondering why I chose to forsake the chance at a new and easy life to instead chase the remnants of an ideal. From Sylphiette's perspective, she must have questioned why someone her age was acting so differently. After all, most children didn't spend hours every day honing their body and skills.

"Just in case," I answered, the vague explanation not truly satisfying Sylphiette from the puzzled expression on her face. However, it was the best answer I could give her. The inevitable path of the hero that I was destined to take was not a peaceful one. At some point, when words failed and the only option left was bloodshed, I would need strength to overcome the challenges that would be thrown my way. Of course, I had no confirmation that such events would even occur in this life. It was a new world, a new opportunity with new people.

However, the same forces that granted me this chance were the very same that conspired me to be a hero. There would come a time when my ideals and resolve would be tested, and the ugly truth of the ideals of heroism laid bare before me once more. Even though there were no signs I could see, there was an instinctual knowing engraved deep within me that these peaceful days would not last.

"You… You're going to f-fight?" Sylphiette asked next. Ruby mirrors peered up at me, and my own troubled expression was reflected back for me to see.

I had tried to avoid such wording. I didn't want her to start getting worried. Unfortunately, she was much sharper than she let on.

"…Eventually," I said. I could have easily given her another half-truth or noncommittal answer, an omission of the truth that was a lie in spirit, and I had nearly done so, but there was something within her anxiety-ridden face that made it difficult for me to try and deceive her.

Sylphiette's frown only deepened at my words, and her jaw tightened as her eyes simmered in frustration. "But… why do you have to fight?"

Sylphiette was a gentle child. She didn't want to hurt anybody. I didn't need any magecraft to see that much. She was the type to forgive and forget, always choosing the option that avoided the most conflict and made everyone happy even at the expense of herself. Even those boys who had bullied her, I'm sure she didn't strongly resent them. It wasn't a surprise that she wanted to avoid fighting as much as necessary, and why she couldn't understand someone like me, someone who could only fight.

In a way, her way was better. What I was doing was motivation without purpose. Because I could not see the end and what I was truly fighting for, it was ultimately false determination, resolve with no weight behind it. It was liable to break away and crumble into ash at any moment. It could scarcely be called any kind of resolution. In other words, utterly worthless.

Meaningless—the word had been dancing in my mind so often that I had begun to forget its meaning.

Maybe that was what I was pursuing—the value of an empty life that Illyasviel said. Perhaps even in my previous life, that was what I had sought all along. Everything had value, she argued, and possibly even now, there was something I could still do.

"… It's just something I have to do." I left my answer at that, unable to explain further even if I wanted to.

Sylphiette's eyes lingered a bit longer on me before turning back forwards, her displeasure obvious but letting the conversation drop for now. I placed my focus back towards getting back to the village as well; we were at the edge of the forest now, and I preemptively shielded my eyes from the glaring sun. The dense forest canopy had shielded us, but the village provided no such cover.

The world turned white, my eyes briefly blinded before the familiar sight of Buena Village greeted me. On one hand, I was glad that we had reached our goal. Getting Sylphiette away from potential danger was definitely the priority. On the other hand…

My eyes darted towards the girl by my side, and I could see she was still deep in thought from our exchange earlier. I still had a bit more time before Paul should have expected me back. The walk back from the forest had taken a bit longer than I anticipated, but the time available wasn't so short that we were unable to do anything.

Sylphiette's current silence was a gift in disguise because while we had fulfilled our objective, it also meant that the common goal we shared had disappeared, and we were now back to the problem from earlier.

"So… what now?"

Fortunately, the elven girl seemed to have made up her mind. She tugged on my sleeve, and I was surprised at the firmness in her grip, looking at the girl questioningly.

"Shirou… can you please… teach me how to fight?"

…

The words entered my ear, my brain processing and analyzing the information given. However, no matter how much I put into my interpreting what Sylphiette had said, my mind came up blank.

"What?"

"… Why do you want to fight?"

Was my initial judgement of Sylphiette incorrect? She didn't seem to be the type to actively seek out a fight. Even if she had no choice, just like when I first met her being surrounded by bullies, she struck me as the kind of person who would rather run away or endure everything rather than harming others. She was far too gentle for anything else. Of course, I doubted that she had ever been in a life-or-death situation, but that was all the more reason for her to not needing to fight.

"You said… You said you fight because you have to… I…" she clenched her fist, and her shoulders trembled as tears began pooling in her eyes, but she did not let them fall. "I don't want to fight… But if I wanna protect Momma and Papa… and me… then…!" Hardened red orbs gazed at me pleadingly, the strength of their magnetic pull taking me by surprise. In comparison to her determined expression, my own could only blankly stare at her in bewilderment, wondering at just what had prompted her to make such a request.

I wonder if this is how Archer had felt, standing atop that hill of swords and gazing down upon a face that had once made its home on his own.

"That still doesn't answer my question." I couldn't afford to be swept up by Sylphiette's resolution, but I could still empathize. After all, all she wanted to do was to simply be able to protect what she cherished. "Are you and your family in trouble?"

She shook her head. "N-No… but people don't like us. P-Papa says it's f-fine… but if they bully him l-like they b-bully me…" I saw a spark of anger flash through her eyes, the first sign I've ever seen of the girl's hostility towards others.

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't rage at other people, but anger at herself instead.

Laws and Alice had hinted before that they faced immense discrimination due to their elven association. From Sylphiette's perspective, she must have felt powerless to be able to help her parents as they struggled to find their place in a society in didn't want to accept them. I was sure on some level, she also felt that it was partly her fault, merely someone contributing to the problem when in reality, she was anything but.

In some respects, our feelings during our childhoods were similar. I could easily have imagined myself in her place, begging for the strength to protect what was mine.

"Why me?" I asked her. "Your father would be a better trainer, would he not?" He patrolled with Paul. Laws may have had his eccentricities, but he didn't seem incompetent.

"P-Papa doesn't want me to fight," Sylphiette said. "He… He says I need to p-protect myself… but he says he'll take care of me… and Momma doesn't think it's g-good for me…" She trailed off with a disappointed tone, clearly understanding what was necessary but upset she was barred from achieving it.

"What about Paul? He's an experienced knight. Surely, he would be a better choice."

Sylphiette shook her head. "I… I can try, but Mister Paul d-doesn't seem like he would help me…"

Paul seemed to value independence and self-sufficiency, but I could just as easily see him wanting Sylphiette to not fight because she was a girl. A bit chauvinistic, but I couldn't fault his intentions.

"And you think that I'm better suited?"

Sylphiette nodded, and I could see hope glimmering within her eyes. An ugly feeling twisted within my chest, and I could sense that my next words would have a lasting effect on the little girl. She had reached out to me, showing me her vulnerability and insecurities. To deny her now was tantamount to stomping upon her wishes.

However, her parents were correct. I could understand Laws and Alice's words. For Alice, the woman was simply too pure. As she had succinctly put it, children should be children, a simple motto but one that proved quite wise. No doubt that she would not have wanted to see her daughter forsaking these innocent days in some quest to become stronger.

As for Laws, he knew he would not be able to protect her forever, a cruel truth that reality forced upon him. However, helping alleviate the issue by training his daughter was tantamount to accepting that fact, deferring to the ways of the world instead of defying the natural way of things. Laws surely took some pride in his fatherhood, and admitting he wasn't always capable of protecting his loved ones might as well have been spitting in his face.

Of course, at some point, such pointless pride would have to be thrown away, but I was sure that Laws would like to keep dreaming a bit longer. After all, everyone needed something to cling onto, and Laws wanted to shun the inevitable truth, hoping that if he plugged his ears and closed his eyes, that he could keep it at bay.

But I was not Laws. More than anyone in this world, I knew the consequences of such pride and arrogance. The dying visages of the ones I had failed were permanently engraved within my mind, the words in their last breaths constantly echoing in my soul. This new life I was given was a constant reminder of my shortcomings, and not a day went by when I did not question what would have happened had I done things differently.

I clenched my fist, the skin of my hands feeling clammy with sweat. The noise of the outside world became nothing more than static, the faint buzzing in my mind replacing everything else.

"…If you truly believe this is the best choice, then I'll do it." Despite being the one to say them, my own words sounded foreign to me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

Sylphiette looked surprised at my response. "R-Really? You'll train me?"

A pause, and then I nodded, the motion stiff and hesitant. "I'll do it. I'll train you, Sylphiette."

Sylphiette's face split in a beaming grin, the radiant joy causing the fluttering of something within my chest. However, deeper inside of it was another sensation far nastier, and despite the glowing smile that outshone the sun high above us, I could not deny the pit of fear opening within my stomach.

"T-Thank you!"

The girl launched herself at me, and I dumbly caught her in my arms, the scene a repeat of our parting yesterday. However, this particular gesture held far more weight than the simple goodbye we had shared yesterday. Our eyes met, and even though our heights were practically equal, it still felt like she was the one looking up at me. Crimson orbs regarded me with admiration, conveying a lifetime's worth of gratitude despite her young age.

However, in comparison to her jubilant expression, my own was frozen stiff, my features stoic despite what Sylphiette deemed a joyous occasion.

"Children should be children."

Once again, Alice's words rang inside my head. And just like before, I could not help but agree with them.

I knew the burden that came with an impossible promise, and while Sylphiette was far from the path, I also knew that the most genuine and heartfelt wishes were the ones that twisted into bitter little things in the end. All Sylphiette wanted was for the people in her view to not cry, and so she sought the means to my gain.

But where would it stop?

Her vision would expand.

Ten after one.

A hundred after ten.

If she could save people, then Sylphiette would surely do so. That was just the kind of person she was. After all, I was the same.

"Children should be children."

I never knew the joys of childhood. The innocence of youth was unknown to me, a gift stolen from me since birth. If I went through with this proposal, then there was a chance that Sylphiette could end up the same as me.

What a sad life.

And yet…

As the girl in my arms looked at me with such dazzling eyes, contours of her ecstatic smile carving itself within my soul and searing itself into my mind, I could not help but recall another scene, of a dying man and a broken boy.

"Was this how you felt like, Kiritsugu?"

He had only given me a small, relieved sigh after my proclamation of continuing on his dream. Back then, I was hopelessly naïve. I was caught up in the moment, the jubilation of having the opportunity to carry on Kiritsugu's dream and happiness blinding me. If I sifted through my memories, would Kiritsugu's eyes have the same haunted glint that tainted mine? Would his smile wilt away to show the troubled look that I was holding back right now?

When he had passed on his dream, did he know he was condemning me to be a hero?

I could have checked, but I held myself back. There was bliss in ignorance, and truthfully, it didn't matter at this point. However, the same could not be said for Sylphiette, who still had her whole life ahead of her.

Behind her back, my hands clenched into tight fists, and the feeling that I was sentencing an innocent child to her doom pervaded my body.

If so, there was only one thing to do.

I had to take responsibility.

I had to make sure she did not go down that path.

In the void between worlds, there was nothing. It left him bereft of much to do. Of course, he was far from twiddling his thumbs; With all the time in the world, he was given the opportunity to do what he did best: scheme.

And scheme he did. The foundations were laid for plans years in the making. People he knew were important were manipulated and brought underneath his thumb. The building blocks of fate itself were his to control. He was a god, the only one left after the First Dragon God died at his hands. The world was his to control. His reign was indisputable. Victory was within his grasp.

And all of it was for naught.

The future he constantly monitored, the one that showed the path to his inevitable triumph, had become something utterly foreign to him. It was a murky and distorted mess, as if he was wading through a muddy swamp and trying to see through its clouded surface.

And yet, despite his unmatched ocular prowess, the fog of mystery that obscured his destiny was nigh-impermeable.

Something was interfering with his vision.

No—that wasn't it. His abilities were functioning correctly. The issue did not lie with him. With that fact in mind, there was only one possibility left.

The future itself had become warped.

Twisted and deformed beyond recognition, destiny of all things had become unreadable to him. It felt strange, the future he had become so accustomed to seeing and manipulating becoming something utterly foreign to him.

However, he was nothing if not persistent. His experience and skill with divination was unmatched. No one could navigate the stream of time as well as he could. Despite the uncertain and turbulent tide of fate, he could sense still sense that it was going towards somewhere. Before, he had seen the strong knots of destiny that marked the significant events of the future. Like rocks in a riverbed, the current of time was especially chaotic around these points, and it was towards this particular convergence of fate that he moved towards.

And at last, though parsing through the vague visions and misty images required more focus and energy than he was comfortable with—deciphering his own future took precedence above all else—he finally reached it.

Death.

No matter how long he concentrated or how much energy he poured into his foresight, the result was aways the same.

Death.

His eyes were absolute. In the present, there was scarcely anything that could avoid his sight. And yet, what he saw was no lie.

Death.

It was the only certainty he was able to perceive in the ever-changing current of fate, the sole answer he was able to find through the hazy flow of time.

A sea of flames as far as the eye could see. A hill of countless swords. A pair of golden orbs gazing defiantly at him. A wave of golden light. And then… nothingness.

He was unable to see anything past it. It was like a wall, even his all-seeing eyes unable to see past it.

Another correction—a wall implied there was something behind it. It was more akin to string, following the thread until it stopped, realizing that it had been cut.

He was no fool. He knew what it meant. He was not so arrogant as to deny what was in front of him.

He was going to die.

Or perhaps he would be sealed instead. His death and the destruction of the gem within him would result in the ruin of the world. Whoever was supposed to defeat him would surely not be so foolish as to do that.

Right?

He couldn't be sure. He did not think the last remaining dragons would go as far as destroy the last remaining world to exact their revenge, but without the advantage of his future sight, the previous certainty he enjoyed had vanished into thin air.

Regardless, in either scenario, his future would come to an end.

Even his vision of the present was clouded. Normally, he could view anything he wished aside from places with far too concentrated mana, but now it was as if the entire world was blanketed in a thick layer of mana, partially obscuring his sight. He was still able to discern most things, but he could sense some areas that were far too difficult to see through.

He needed to know what had happened. Whatever occurred had the power to affect the world itself, that was for certain. Just a brief look into the places he could see showed him so many new phenomena that he couldn't help but be wary.

New monsters. New dungeons. All of them started appearing one day. It was as if the world itself was mutating. Things that he had never glimpsed before in all his time examining the future had suddenly appeared.

It meant that whatever happened was not meant to happen. It was something unnatural, something completely alien to the world. An external factor he could never have possibly accounted for—a new entity entering the game he had played since the very beginning.

From what he could tell, it was not just him who was taken by surprise. No one expected such drastic developments so quickly, and even now, society was still struggling to regain its former footing.

More importantly, it meant whatever plans he had been crafting in the shadows were now at risk of being compromised. He could no longer trust if the events he had previously foreseen would come to pass. Would the people in the future even be born? Would the rise and fall of kingdoms and rulers stay the same? He wasn't sure; all the pieces he needed to secure his victory had vanished into mist.

He hated it. This weakness. This helplessness. All the foundations he had laid down, all his preparations and planning, his previous efforts and victories were all for naught. To think that his assured victory had disappeared just like that…

The rage coursing through his being was enough to destroy a mountain hundreds of times over. If he was able to physically manifest himself into the world, he might have done just that.

Alas, he had to settle for seething and fuming within this void. Every day, he cursed that stupid dragon god, defiant and troublesome even to his last breath. Those damn dragons proved to be a constant thorn in his side, and now that his vision has been obscured, whatever machinations they've created to try and oppose him were now hidden from his sight.

Perhaps it wasn't all bad. At the very least, they should be in the same situation as him, stuck reassessing and recalculating their plans. If he was lucky, they might even get themselves killed by something.

Well, they didn't matter right now, anyway. What he had to do was re-establish his footing in the world. He hadn't talked to his pawns in a while, having been so engrossed in ascertaining his future that he had ignored everything else.

He could start by sending someone to the areas he couldn't see. The pockets of unusually highly concentrated mana were suspicious to him considering he would have remembered them if they had existed before. Not only that, but he could feel that they were… different somehow. There was something about the magical energy signature in those areas that seemed… off. He wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling, but the sense of dread and trepidation within him was hard to ignore, and very few things in the world could evoke such emotions from him.

More questions, but he was sorely lacking in answers.

It was strange. The smoldering anger at all his plans having been thrown into disarray, this perplexing fear of the unknown variables that had been thrust onto him, the strange sense of numbness at foreseeing his own death, the myriad of emotions churning and festering within him created a new sensation altogether, the feeling a far cry from the smug satisfaction he had enjoyed for the past several thousands of years.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly what he was feeling, but he did know one thing.

Hitogami has waited around for long enough.

The board had been reset, his grasp on the future wrested from him, his eyes blinded, and his death foretold.

However, the future was not set in stone. If destiny sought to end him, then he would force it to its knees and underneath his grasp again.

He had been caught by surprise, that much he could admit.

However, if a new player had entered the game, then whatever it was, it had sorely overstepped.

After all, his dominion had been built upon the corpses of gods. He had usurped the previous order, his machinations uprooting the very balance of fate itself.

The path to his answers was already revealed—it was time to make his mark upon fate once more.

A/N: Whoops forgot to update here. For those unaware, I mainly upload to FFN. Will post the other chapters weekly. Now excuse me as I contemplate a Fate - Shadow Slave x-over

Chapter Text

From a passing glance, the scene must have seemed like it cut straight from a film—the quiet calm before the explosive climax, with tension thick enough to be almost palpable to the naked eye. Two combatants stood opposite each other, the afternoon wind sweeping across rolling plains of grass with a soothing whoosh as the sun bathed the land in a golden glow.

It was very bit fitting of the beginning of a vaunted duel, the tranquil scenery encapsulating the calm of a swordsman's heart when the clashing of steel replaced words.

Unfortunately, it was anything but.

"I-Is this r-really o-okay, Shirou?"

"It's necessary to gain a base understanding of your current abilities before I can make a proper training regimen for you."

On one side stood a small girl, her dainty features twisted into an anxious expression and ruby eyes trembling as they focused on what was in front of her. Her hands tightly clenched around the handle of a sword whose blade was as long as her torso. The weapon was raised, its edge poised to draw blood upon those who would welcome its harsh bite.

At least, it would have been if the tip of the blade wasn't quivering uncontrollably.

I stood on the other side. My posture was was relaxed and my arms hung loosely by my sides as I impassively regarded the girl across from him with an aloof expression, betraying none of my thoughts as my eyes maintained their even gaze.

Well, it wasn't that I was uncaring. In truth, I just simply didn't really know how to approach the current situation, so most of my attention was focused on contemplation. The explanation I gave to Sylphiette was simply a stalling tactic I used while I thought of how I could fulfill her request. To that end, I borrowed a page from Saber and Paul's book and pulled Sylphiette into an introductory spar in order to gauge her abilities.

I made a note to apologize to Paul later. Being a warrior was one thing, but being a mentor was another daunting task altogether. Considering I was doing exactly what he had done to me earlier, perhaps his methodology deserved more credit than I initially thought.

"Um… a-alright…" The poor girl looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but here, ironic considering she had been the one to make this request.

Well, I couldn't really fault her. I'm sure she didn't expect to start off with something as drastic as a fight when she asked me to train her. She probably thought we would have done basic exercise drills to strengthen her body or practiced basic swordsmanship much like what she had seen me do before.

Those were all wonderful ideas. However, they neglected the very first prerequisite to being a fighter—the mentality needed to even swing a sword in the first place.

A sword cannot protect. It could only hurt others, cutting down the enemies in front of it with its unforgiving steel. The path it forged was not a golden road blazing in the darkness but instead marked by rivers of flood and littered with fields of corpses.

It was an unsightly life, an ugly fate thrust onto those who coveted the power it granted. This gruesome truth had already been revealed to me in all its dreadful glory, a lesson I had taken to heart. At some point, if Sylphiette wished to continue walking down the path she sought, then she too would have to learn.

Of course, on some level, I knew Sylphiette innately already understood as well. She would not have to come me with her request otherwise. She may have been young and innocent, but she was oddly sharp for her age.

But such lessons would have to wait for later. For now, getting her accustomed to the idea of having to harm another person would do. For the gentle girl, it was a harsh transition but ultimately a necessary one.

Well, perhaps easier said than done…

"You won't be able to hit me if you're standing all the way over there," I said, raising an eyebrow at the elven girl. She still had not moved despite me giving her the initiative. As I thought, the largest obstacle for her would be overcoming her own nature, her greatest battle being against herself—another common thread between us. "If you're unable to step forward, then there's no point in continuing."

It was cruel, but it was the truth. This was the very first step she needed to take. Everything else could come after.

The enemies she would face would not hesitate to hurt her, to take away the things she treasured the most. She couldn't afford to falter or hesitate when it mattered the most. If there was one thing I had to teach her, it was that.

Sylphiette looked at me pleadingly. "Can I… not use a sword?"

"It's heavy, isn't it?" I nodded towards the weapon in her hands. She gazed warily at it, the length of steel brightly reflecting the sunlight off its sharp edge. A stray blow from it would almost certainly leave behind a nasty wound, if not outright kill someone. I was sure that the possibility weighed heavily on her mind. "If you want to fight, then it's something you'll need to get used to. The weight of that sword is the weight of the responsibility you'll need to carry."

To be more accurate, it was the weight of human lives that she carried in her hands, but I didn't need to give her such a morbid answer. Then again, I was already starting to lecture her anyway.

Sylphiette grimaced at my words. "It's not that. I'm… okay with fighting. I just… I d-don't want to hurt you…"

Ah, so that's what the issue was. Perhaps I underestimated her resolve, and Sylphiette had already drawn the line between allies and enemies, and I was simply on the wrong side of it.

"I'd use a training sword, but it's back at the Greyrat's house. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Think of this less as a fight and more as a hands-on lesson," I said, trying to assuage her worries. "I'm not here to critique your forms or anything. I'm seeing how well suited you are for combat."

Truthfully, that was the main reason she was even using my sword in the first place. I would have traced a sparring weapon for her to use, but I couldn't quite come up with a logical explanation on how I randomly found a wooden sword in the middle of the woods that was most definitely not on my person before.

"It's… fine. I-I can do this…!" Sylphiette words wavered, but her grip did not loosen. I could see her muscles tensing, her mind working to overcome the doubts plaguing her. Determination sparked in her eyes, and I almost smiled at the sight.

I responded in kind, my posture straightening as I acknowledged her efforts. It would have been rude to display such disrespect in front of an opponent who was trying her best.

"One… one more thing, Shirou."

I raised an eyebrow at her interruption, silently asking her to continue.

"…What do I get if I win?" The corners of her mouth curled up in a small smirk, and her foot stepped forward into what vaguely resembled a basic fighting stance.

I blinked once, not immediately responding before I felt my lips curl upwards into a small, the sight of the normally demure girl displaying some confidence sparking something within me.

I wondered what had ignited such a sudden outburst of spirit inside of her, but wherever it came from, it didn't matter. Everyone had their reasons, and Sylphiette seemed like she was starting to find hers.

"You win if you can land one hit on me. If you can do that—" I thought about what would serve as an appropriate reward for someone like her. It couldn't be anything overly extravagant since we only met each other yesterday, but it had to be enticing enough to properly motivate her. My mind blanked on possible options until I remembered something "—then I'll make you a meal," I proposed.

"Y-You can cook?!" Sylphiette stuttered out, her eyebrows wildly arched upwards and her jaw hung slack.

I nodded. "If we are going to be training regularly, then making sure your body is receiving sufficient nutrients for development is crucial," I explained, though I wasn't how much of the scientific justification would stick. "I've been told that I'm a skilled chef, so I can guarantee you'll enjoy the food at the very least."

It wasn't arrogance but a matter of fact, just as the sky was blue and the sun was hot.

"Shirou's cooking…" Sylphiette's stance tightened further, her footing becoming firmer as she brandished the weapon at me. "I… I'd like that…" Her smile widened even more, and I could see the anticipation for the coming battle blazing in her eyes.

Good, that meant she was ready.

My mouth opened to signal the start of the spar, but the loud stomping of footsteps coming my way stopped any words that I had to say. Sylphiette charged forward, her footwork clumsy and her gait unsteady but rushed towards me nonetheless. Her speed was comparable to the boys who were bullying her before—no, a bit faster, even. The sickening thought that she had to be faster to evade them crossed my mind before I pushed it out.

Thin, bony arms held the sword tightly to her side as she crossed the distance between us, and after a few seconds, she was finally upon me. I looked pointedly into her eyes as she stepped forward into her striking distance, wanting to see her reaction when the ugliness of combat was forced in front of her face.

A small seed of hesitation sprouted in her expression, her eyebrows furrowing in doubt before its traces disappeared completely. Her sword rose, the weapon held in a tight two-handed grip as Sylphiette sliced at my chest.

I internally hummed in approval, noticing how her motion didn't falter as the sharp metal drew closer and closer to cutting my torso open. I waited until the sword was barely a hair's breadth from me, and when Sylphiette continued to follow through with her attack, I leaned slightly backwards, seeing my blank expression in the reflection of her blade as it harmlessly passed by me.

I analyzed her technique: clumsy, yes; slow, certainly. However, the instinct was definitely there, and Sylphiette did not pull back her sword at any—

There was the glint of steel, and my eyes widened slightly, the sword coming towards me once again far earlier than I had anticipated. It arced downwards in a diagonal slash, Sylphiette having taken one additional step to come closer. I deftly hopped to the side, and short strands of freshly cut auburn hair floated down in front of my eyes.

A breath later, and the sword was leveled at my stomach like a spear. Sylphiette planted a foot forward, and she thrust the weapon forwards. I pivoted on one foot and spun sideways, the length of metal grazing my shirt as it once again passed by where I had been just a moment earlier, hitting nothing but air.

Unfortunately, her string of oddly well-executed strikes ended there, and Sylphiette lost her balance and stumbled forward, the girl having misjudged the change in her center of gravity from having fully extended her sword outwards. She staggered past me, barely able to catch herself and regain her footing after a few seconds.

"You've been practicing," I stated factually after seeing her recover and get back into a stance. "Who taught you?"

Her movements were too intentional to be a beginner's. While they were crude and unrefined, there was definite purpose in her attacks. Her second attack had been thrown out using the momentum of the first missed strike, a tactic only more advanced swordsmen utilized. In addition, she had adjusted the angle and range of her swing to cut off an escape backwards, adapting to my very first dodge. The following stab had also been executed with decent speed, almost as if she had known that I was going to dodge in that direction.

Sylphiette shook her head at me. "N-no one taught me… I'm just doing w-what feels… right…"

I narrowed my eyes at her, but I could not sense any falsehood in her words. It made sense; Sylphiette wasn’t the type of lie, and if she had previous training, I doubt she would have come to me. Of course, there was also the fact that her parents would not have allowed her to train in the first place.

Unfortunately, it still left the question of how she had learned such skills in the first place unanswered.

Sylphiette tensed, her muscles coiling in preparation for the next exchange of blows. She leapt forward, clearing the gap between us in a few elongated strides of her short legs. She raised the sword high into the air before bringing it down in an overhead chop. I twisted out of the way, avoiding the strike, but the sword had already changed its trajectory, Sylphiette having stepped forward to convert the feint into a horizontal slash at my chest that covered all possible areas of escape.

This feeling…

If she had been faster, she would have hit me for sure or at least necessitated the use of reinforcement. Unfortunately for her…

I bent my torso backwards, feeling the metal against my nose as the sword passed by my head. Sylphiette's eyes widened at the unnatural maneuver before she recomposed herself, flowing into another attack targeting my waist this time.

She had aimed lower to stop the same trick from working again, and she was still far too close for me to dodge conventionally with the extended reach of the sword.

It was only a vague familiarity but still…

I let my legs go slack, and I dropped like a bag of rocks. I fell into a leg split, and Sylphiette missed her mark again, her eyes widening at the unorthodox tactic.

Thinking fast, I quickly rolled away just as the elven girl stabbed the ground I had been on top of. I bounced onto my feet before frowning, wiping at the dirt that now covered my pants.

She rushed forward, exploding into a series of attacks. With every strike, Sylphiette’s movements grew more sluggish, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her technique began to falter, the precision of her attacks giving way to clumsiness. Sweat dripped from her brow, her grip on the hilt tightening in desperation. As her energy waned, the force behind her blows weakened, and her footwork became increasingly erratic. Despite her determined spirit, fatigue betrayed her, each swing of her sword becoming a laborious effort rather than a calculated maneuver. Her final overhead slice, though executed with excellent intent, was slow and easily anticipated, the blade missing its mark and striking the ground beside me with a dull thud.

I glanced at my prospective student. Sylphiette had shown remarkable promise and talent, and I had no doubt that she would be a capable warrior given time, but the current sight didn't surprise me in the slightest. She was slumped over her sword, the weapon having remained embedded in the ground as Sylphiette used it to prop herself upright. Her chest rapidly heaved as she heavily panted, and her bangs clung to her forehead in slick clumps.

It couldn't be helped. Despite the entire bout only lasting for a few minutes, Sylphiette was just a little girl, and she did not have the proper conditioning to fight for any extended amount of time. Not to mention that she had been on the offensive the entire time, knowing that a battle of attrition would not be in her favor and consolidated all her energy and efforts into a series of well-executed strikes.

Her awareness was to be commended. Such thoughtfulness into a battle strategy wasn't something most people could implement, never mind a child.

Hmm… there was just something about her that I couldn't quite put my finger on though…

"We can stop here for now. I've seen enough," I said. Sylphiette's head instantly pops up to look at me, and traces of denial clouded her eyes as she shook her head at me.

"No… not yet…!" Sylphiette pushed herself back onto her feet before firmly grasping the sword and pulling it out of the ground and pointing it at me. "I… I can still fight…!"

I raised an eyebrow at the defiant figure, noting the blatant wobbling of her knees and the rivers of perspiration running down her face. Her face was flushed red with exhaustion, and she looked as if a stray gust of wind could have toppled her over.

By all rights, I should have denied her wishes. And yet, there was something glimmering in those deep crimson pools that beseeched me to bite my tongue. In the end, I could only dumbly nod, watching as Sylphiette pulled out the sword with a heavy grunt before pointing it at me. Despite her exhaustion, she managed to stop it from wavering, the steel tip pointed straight at me.

Sylphiette took a deep breath, steadying herself before she leapt at me. Her eyes were wide like a feral beast's, her pupils narrowing in anticipation as she took in every bit of information in her field of view. Even though I could see myself clearly reflected in her irises, I knew that what Sylphiette was seeing was not Emiya Shirou but only the line she herself had drawn, a reflection of herself that she sought to surpass with every iota of her being.

I blinked, and she was upon me, regaining some of her lost speed. Her arm rose, the sword falling down right after like a crashing comet. I hopped out of the way, and I only gave the weapon a cursory glance as it followed me like a moth to a flame. A stab missed entirely as I turned sideways. The following horizontal slash was responded to with a dodge backwards. She stepped forward to cut off an escape, but when I matched her movements and got close enough in front of her that only a few centimeters separated us, her eyes widened in surprise at my boldness. With this distance, her sword was of no help, and whatever plans she had thought of beforehand had met an untimely end.

"You're still holding back."

Her moves… they felt incomplete, almost as if there was another part she was forgoing. The execution of her strikes was excellent, but they lacked lethality. She had mainly aimed at my torso so far, but none of her attacks were outright fatal had they landed. I would have severely been injured, yes, but they were not as deadly had she aimed for my head or sought to debilitate my movements by targeting my extremities. She was intentionally cutting herself off, stopping herself from fully committing to this spar.

That would not do. If she wanted to be serious about this, then she had to dispel such hesitation from clouding her mind.

And even more than that, I was simply curious on how much further she could go.

"If you want to win, you'll need more than this." I explained. I frowned at the familiar words, the memories of a distant battle causing my chest to tighten. Was this how she had felt when she had faced me?

Hmm, the more I thought about it, the more I could see myself in the girl across from me. As for whether or not that was a blessing or a curse, only time would tell.

Sylphiette flinched at my words, and I knew then that I had been correct in my assessment.

"Can you really afford to hold back? Are you sure you won't hesitate when it matters the most?" Even though we were the same height, it felt like I was the one looking down upon her. Truthfully, I wasn't sure if those words were meant for her or for myself. I couldn't fault Sylphiette for not knowing the answer when I myself wasn't certain either. However, I still had to ask, if only to instill in her that treading this path was not something to be taken lightly.

"I… I—!" Her brows furrowed, and her jaw tightened. She was almost there, I could feel it. She simply needed a slight push.

"Even if your family is in danger?" Once again, I was falling into the trap of lecturing her. She didn't need such burdens this early, but then again, perhaps instilling the gravity of what exactly she had asked of me would ultimately be for the best.

Sylphiette remained silent for a moment before something lit up within her eyes, and I could see the dam within her mind break.

She braced a hand against my chest, grunting as she mustered as much strength as she could to shove me away. I hummed approvingly, letting myself stumble backwards. Now, we were a bit over an arm's length away from each other, a distance that was soon exploited as Sylphiette threw a slash towards my neck.

Excellent, it seemed that my words had their intended effect.

In a way, it was a form of trust between us. Of course, Sylphiette was not truly trying to hurt me. However, she could not grow properly if she held herself back. Without the viciousness and brutality of a real battle, she was unable to properly measure herself and give her all in this fight.

It was almost a contract—one that allowed her to throw away the burdens that weighed heavily in her mind. In exchange, she trusted me to stay true to my words, trusting in my abilities and not letting her regret making her choice. If I betrayed her now, I wasn't sure if Sylphiette could ever pick up a sword ever again. For her sake, I had to live up to her faith in me.

The sword continued its deadly arc, and I tilted my head in response, feeling its sharp edge a few more hairs. Sylphiette spun on her heel, and she stabbed her sword straight at my foot. I quickly stepped out of the way, the metal weapon skewering the ground instead of rooting me in place. The elven girl flicked her wrist, sending the sword upwards in a vertical slice. When that attack missed as well, she firmly stepped forward into a neutral stance with her sword raised high, any number of options available to her from that position.

The bout continued, but unlike before, there was the undeniable edge of mortality added to her strikes. Sylphiette continually focused on attacking my head and legs, the former to decisively end the fight and the latter to restrict my movements. It was a very pragmatic way of fighting, one that even Archer would have approved of, though I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to agree considering I could count her age on one hand.

Each swing of her arms brought with it clear intent to bring her victory, the shift in her mentality making her attacks more potent than before. It was not as if she was faster or stronger—the opposite, really—but the shift in her mentality had unlocked her fighting style, the somewhat smooth, flowing style becoming more refined and crisper. All of a sudden, my movements had to be more precise than before, any singular mistake capable of ending my life in an instant.

However, I remained unfazed. After all, this type of combat was one I was far more familiar with than anything else.

The sun overhead continued baring down on us. Droplets of sweat flew as Sylphiette continued slashing at me. By now, she must have attacked me almost a hundred times by now. Dust swirled all around us, our movements having kicked up the ground underneath. The whistling of steel parting air was almost rhythmic by now, almost as if I was dancing to a familiar tune.

In a way, I was. It had taken some time, but I finally grasped the reason for the passing familiarity in her strikes.

Sylphiette unleashed a succession of quick slashes, all dodged with minimal effort now that I had adapted to her style. The ending stab towards my heart was anticipated well in advance, and I was already close to her side by the time she pulled back from the thrust.

Because of her crude imitation, I did not immediately recognize it at first, but the explanation for her sudden skill as well as this nagging sensation all lead to the same answer.

She had only seen one demonstration of it, but Sylphiette had managed to vaguely replicate the swordsmanship style I had inadvertently showed off in front of her during my training exercise in the forest.

It was impressive; Saber's fighting style along with my personal touches was not an easy thing to get a good grasp on. I cheated by using my magecraft to bypass the foundations, but Sylphiette only had sheer talent to rely on.

If the other adults knew of this, perhaps they would be the ones praising her as the extraordinary child instead of me, something I wholeheartedly agreed with. If in the future, she managed to blend her magical talent with aptitude for combat, she would make a fearsome warrior. She would no longer need to worry about not being able to protect her family.

But that came later. For now…

Sylphiette was slowing down, that much was plain as day. Her swings were clumsier, and her footwork was sloppier. The crimson flush of her cheeks sharply contrasted with the rest of her pale countenance, and her eyes were gazing far past me, the girl more focused on fighting herself than me at this point. The determined expression that had adorned her face still remained, but the weariness of her body was starting to win over.

Well, everyone had their limits. A part of me was a bit ashamed to have pushed her so much, especially since this was only our first session, and she was still far too young to be doing any of this. The colder, logical aspect of me knew that she had asked for this, and withholding anything from Sylphiette when this gruesome training could save her life one day was more of a disservice to her than anything else. Trying to force my image of innocence and naivete upon her was ultimately unfair for her. If it meant that she would be safer in the future, then bearing her resentment was a small price to pay.

"Children should be children."

I scrunched up my nose, a foul bitterness rising from my throat before I forced it back down. Every time I felt that I grasped the answer, it slipped away from my fingers like cherry blossom petals in the wind, scattering beyond my reach. Each revelation was as short-lived as the flowers themselves, and the lingering sense of longing they left behind served as a cruel reminder of the elusive and ephemeral nature of understanding.

The sun glinted off Sylphiette's blade, the sword coming down towards my face. I coolly regarded it, unconcerned as it approached. Sylphiette's eyes absently looked at me, but I could sense her anticipation building.

This fight had gone on for long enough. It was time to end things.

I let the blade come even closer, and Sylphiette's eyes widened as she saw my lack of response. However, even if she wanted to withdraw her attack, it was already too late. She was far too tired to have realized in time.

"Shir—!"

Sylphiette's cry stopped midway, her mouth hanging slack. The sword in her hands had stopped barely a few millimeters from my face. Her eyes traced the length of the weapon, focusing on the two fingers that rested about halfway down the blade, my thumb and pointer finger pinching the sharp edge.

Sylphiette looked stupefied, a disbelieving look on her face as her eyes darted between my hand and my face. "But… how…?"

I cocked my head. "You're tired. It wasn't going that fast." I wasn't lying. It spoke volumes of her fatigue that Sylphiette did not notice how slow she was attacking. By the end, she was swinging her sword for the sake of swinging. Catching it in my hands was an easy task.

The elven girl frowned at my words, trying to pull the weapon out from my grip. "Not… yet…! I can still…!"

I sighed, letting go of the sword. Instantly, she fell back, landing on her bottom as the sword landed in front of her. She got onto her knees, scrambling towards the weapon but letting out a whine as I plucked it off the ground.

"That's enough for today." I looked down upon the disheartened girl before offering her a hand. She looked at it for a moment, and memories of our first encounter filled my mind, the similarities not escaping me. However, the circumstances were different this time, proven by Sylphiette's small smile as she graciously accepted my offer. I pulled her up, letting the girl stumble onto her feet. "There's no point in continuing. You have nothing left to give. Anything more could be damaging in the long run. If you're going to train at such an early age, you'll need to do so responsibly," I lectured.

Sylphiette looked at me incredulously but said nothing. "I guess…" She wiped a hand on her forehead, grimacing when it came back slick with sweat. "I should probably go back home… I need a bath…"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's about time I headed back as well. Paul should be expecting me soon." Unlike her, I was in perfectly good shape. In the end, reinforcement was not needed after all. Then again, I never expected a complete novice to force me to use magecraft, no matter how prodigious.

Sylphiette perked up at that. "Then… when can we meet again…?"

I pursed my lips in thought. "We shouldn't meet every day. You need to rest between sessions so you can recover properly. Rest and training go hand in hand," I explained. It was basic physiological science, but such wisdom was still valuable. "Twice a week should suffice." It left plenty of time for her to practice on her own as well as freed up my schedule. I didn't dislike spending time with Sylphiette like this, but there were things I still had to do.

"Twice a week… is that really e-enough?" she questioned.

I raised an eyebrow at her before I felt my lips form into a small smirk, raising a hand and ruffling her hair. "I'm glad you're motivated, but there's a time and place for everything. Don't overdo it. Trust me, you should enjoy yourself a bit."

Red eyes bashfully gazed at me from behind emerald strands, and Sylphiette pouted at my suggestion. "B-But is that what you do…?"

I wondered how she knew that. Perhaps it was that keen intuition that had allowed her to learn the foundations of a technique far beyond her skill level, or maybe because I wasn't a very good actor. Then again, it could have been both.

I pulled my hand away from her, wiping the now sweat-covered appendage on my shirt. Sylphiette paled at the sight, looking aghast at the dark stain on my clothes.

"Don't be embarrassed. This is the result of your effort. Be proud of yourself," I consoled. However, my reassurance had little effect, the girl abashedly covering her face with her hands.

"Nooooo……"

Ah, it appeared that Sylphiette was shutting down. Unfortunate but not entirely unexpected.

"Okay, I should be going soon. Will you need help getting back to your house?" Quite frankly, I thought she was a bit directionally challenged. After all, she had wandered aimlessly until she found me earlier today, and it had been up to me to lead her back to her own house yesterday.

"N-No… I think I remember…" The demure and uncertain expression on her face told me that those words weren't entirely truthful, but I could feel the resolve underneath.

I felt the corners of my mouth quirk upwards.

"I see. Alright then, meet me here in two days." I nodded and threw up my hand as a sign of farewell before turning around.

"Um… S-Shirou…!"

Like father, like daughter, I supposed.

I looked back at Sylphiette. She flinched when I raised an eyebrow, shyly avoiding my eyes and finding the ground far more interesting.

"I… I'll remember w-what you said today." Sylphiette clenched a fist in front of her chest, forcing her head upwards and nodding at me resolutely. "And thank you… for everything…" Perhaps it was the pearls of sweat trailing down her cheeks glistening in the sun, but I could have sworn that the small smile on her face shone even more radiantly than before.

My eyes crinkled. "You're very welcome, Sylphiette."

The beaming curve of her lips only grew larger, and Sylphiette waved her hand enthusiastically at me before spinning on her heels and walking back towards her house.

The wind kicked up again, blowing the blades of grass all around us into an undulating plain of jade. The elven girl's emerald crown gently swayed with the breeze, her tranquil stride maintaining its unperturbed gait.

The sight was eerily familiar, the faintest tugs on the back of my mind. Whatever it was, the resemblance must surely only been in passing.

I looked upwards. Judging by the start of the sun's descent, it's been quite some time since Paul and I separated. It was time to head back. Unfortunately, that meant that I would be returning to Zenith. Of course, it wasn't as if I disliked the woman or anything, but I always had to wonder if my presence was the best thing for her.

Then again, there was only one way to find out.

"Oh, it's you again."

Perhaps my words were more frank than necessary. Thankfully, I didn't think the man took it personally considering Paul and Laws shared a knowing smirk.

"Told ya."

"I already knew, but it's still hard to get used to."

The two men exchanged some lighthearted words, letting out a few rounds of chuckles. Laws reached into his pocket, digging into his pants before fishing out a singular silver coin—the currency of this world, I presumed. He deftly tossed it over to Paul, the small piece of metal shimmering in the sunlight, and the experienced adventurer nonchalantly caught it and placed it in his pocket.

"We made a bet," Paul explained when he saw my raised eyebrow. "He thought I was exaggerating."

My now deadpan stare moved over to Laws, who only shrugged his shoulders at me.

I sighed. I would think adults would act a bit more like their age, but perhaps I shouldn't throw stones from glass houses.

"I presume that he will be the one I'll be patrolling with?" I glanced towards Paul. The man smiled, the small toothy grin glinting with satisfaction.

"Yup. You get to work with this piece of shit. You're a lucky bastard, aren't you?" Paul joked, giving Laws a few gentle jabs at his ribs with his elbow.

In turn, Laws merely snorted. "Yeah right. That's a whole lot of crap from someone's who got his shit beaten by someone who can't even drink," the man finished with a mocking smirk.

Paul's eye twitched. "Oh please, if that happened to me, then imagine what he would've done to you. Don't bother lying—we both know I'm way stronger than you. Don't even think you're in the same league as me."

"Didn't stop you from getting sent on your ass by your own son."

"Oh, you wanna take this outside?"

"We're already outside, Paul."

The man in question growled, the smile on his face showing a good amount of teeth. He pressed his face right up against Laws, the elven man maintaining his calm and deadpan demeanor despite the village's knight showing clear hostility barely a few centimeters from him.

From my perspective, Laws was a tad shorter, but his aloofness at the situation made him seem far taller than the man in front of him. Paul knew this, of course, and Laws's unperturbed expression only served to stoke the fires of Paul's anger. If anything, the elven man continued to hold onto his pride, not cowed by the man's flashing canines nor his dark and viscous expression.

I frowned at the sight, and I idly wondered if I would need to step in. I wouldn't physically stop him, but perhaps some words to remind Paul would be good. After all, the man was quite emotional, despite his mostly good intentions.

"Ah geez, fine. Guess I couldn't scare ya." With a sigh, Paul backed off, a good-natured smile on his face replacing the scary visage. A small grin blossomed across Laws's lips, a satisfied aura surrounding the man.

"We've known each other for a while. Your little tricks aren't going to work on me," Laws said with a roll of his eyes.

Paul stood next to him, hitting his back with a meaty slap before wrapping his arm around Laws's shoulders. "Well ya, I wouldn't like you so much if you didn't have much of a backbone." This time, Paul's toothy grin was sincere, a gesture that Laws couldn't help but smile even wider at.

The two men chuckled heartily, the tension in the air dissipating as if it never existed in the first place. One would never have guessed that they had just been jawing at each other a few moments ago.

Ah, another development had slipped underneath my notice this entire time. Before, I had observed Zenith and Lilia's increasing closeness, the alienated and overwhelmed woman seeking out companionship in the only other person who could have lent her an ear. Their budding friendship was one I was satisfied to see, recognizing that Zenith desperately needed a pillar of support within the fractured household.

However, I never had wondered about Paul, any idea of contemplating how the man coped and dealt with the same situation that had driven Zenith to Lilia completely slipping my mind. Not that it mattered now—the answer was staring at me straight on. Just like how Zenith had sought out someone to help bear her burdens, Paul had done the same. After all, they were only human and thus were creatures of companionship.

Well, I didn't judge them. Just like I was with Zenith, I was glad Paul had found someone he could confide in. Perhaps his and Laws's relationship was a bit more… rough than what I was used to, but as long as this dynamic worked for them, that's all that mattered.

I let the two men continue their joyful chortles, not particularly inclined to interrupt the moment. Now that I thought about it, this was the first time I saw Paul so openly happy and expressive. Ever since yesterday, he had been more open with me, but the carefree smile gracing his lips and lack of tension in his face was a sight that I had not seen yet.

"Anyway, like I said, you'll be working with Laws today," Paul explained between weakening bursts of chuckles. "Don't let his appearance fool you. He's not as good as me, but he's more than capable."

Laws nodded. "I do a good amount of hunting for the village. Nowadays, it's a bit dangerous to go as far out as I used to, so I need Paul or more bodyguards to fend off any monsters we encounter as we get further out."

"Yeah, those expeditions used to take up the entire day. Sometimes, we had to go pretty deep into the forest to find food. Those trips were always very dangerous." Ah, so that must have been where Paul wandered off to in the periods I didn't see him very often in the past.

"How dangerous was it?" I asked.

Paul's eyes darkened a bit. "Thankfully, we don't have many weird mutations around these parts. It's usually the same monsters as before, just stronger and bigger and a lot more of them." He suddenly frowned before fixing a glare at me. "Oh, don't get any funny ideas, you won't be doing any of that today. Today's job is just a routine patrol around the village. Maybe you'll find a monster or two if you venture a bit further out but nothing Laws can't handle. I do not want either of you doing anything stupid while I'm not around, am I clear?"

Both Laws and I nodded firmly. I had no intention of disobeying Paul's orders. Of course, what I intended to do and what I would end up doing were two entirely different things.

He looked between the two of us, trying to see any signs of falsehood in our face before sighing and relaxing his posture.

Hmm, to make a warrior such as Paul wary, whatever monsters lurked in the darkness of this world must be quite formidable.

"Don't worry, I'll keep him away from any danger. I'll put my life on it if I have to," Laws promised.

"Unnecessary," I interjected, only realizing my mistake when both adults shifted their heads towards me. "You use the bow?" I quickly asked.

Aside from the obvious bow slung over his shoulder, Laws's fingers were calloused, as expected of someone who routinely practiced with weapons, but I noticed that his fingertips were significantly rougher than the rest of his hands, something that could only come from extensive practice from archery. If he was a hunter, then it made sense that Laws used the bow during his hunts for food.

Laws noticed where my eyes were gravitating towards and smirked. "You noticed?" He held up his hand for me to see. As expected, the tips of his thumb, pointer, and middle fingers were substantially more hardened than the rest of his hand due to the bowstring when he was shooting. “I’ve been using the bow for years now. Happens to every experienced archer. Can’t say that Alice is very fond of it though.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why would she complain?” I asked.

Laws lightly coughed. “Don’t worry about it,” he deflected. “Anyway, you thinking of becoming an archer? You’re young, so you’ll have plenty of time to try out what kind of weapons you prefer, but having a head start couldn’t hurt. I wouldn’t mind giving you a few pointers as a way to repay the favor.”

I hummed then shook my head. “No thank you. It’s just a passing interest.” It was passing curiosity, nothing more. I had plenty of idea on how Paul fought, but due to my lack of interactions with anyone else, I had little knowledge anyone else. Delving in his memories was one thing, but hearing it directly from the man was another.

“What’s this about a favor?” Paul turned to his friend.

Laws waved him off. “Nothing important. I just wanted to pay Shirou back for helping out Sylphiette. Since it looks like he’s shaping to be a fighter like you, helping him out in his training seemed to be an obvious solution.”

“It’s certainly not a bad idea. You already have swordsmanship down pat—somehow,” Paul added with a grumble. “You sure you don’t want to branch out to other things? Laws here is actually a pretty good shot. You’ll be in good hands, I promise.”

I shook my head again. “I like swords,” I explained simply.

A slight blush came over both men’s’ cheeks, and Paul and Laws let out a cough. “Well, whatever you say,” Laws said. Suddenly, he snapped his head upwards in realization. “Oh, did you come across Sylphiette by any chance? She said she was going to look for you so you two could play together.”

I nodded.  “She found me near the forest while I was training."

Paul frowned. “Just make sure you don’t go too deep, okay?”

“Of course.”

A guilty look flashed across his face, and Paul scratched the back of his head embarrassedly. “Ah, look at me, being such a nag. God, I swore I wouldn’t be so strict, and yet here I am.”

A hand clasped onto his shoulder, and Paul turned to find Laws giving him an encouraging smile.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. You’re just looking out for him, nothing wrong with that.”

Paul gave him an even look before deciding to trust in his words. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. It’s just I’m a bit late to the whole ‘fatherhood’ thing, so I don’t know what exactly I should be doing or saying.”

“Eh, you’ll learn,” Laws reassured.

Both men discreetly glanced at me, expectant looks in their eyes. I understood their intent, of course, but I was simply trying to find the proper words.

If I said I didn’t mind the strictness of his parenting style, then he would only continue it, spurred on by my implicit encouragement. However, restricting my possible moves in the future was not to my benefit, even if it was out of good intentions. On the other hand, telling Paul I found his insistence on controlling me annoying would only serve to possibly drive the man away from me when he was making a genuine attempt to reconcile. The idea of letting such efforts be unfulfilled left a bitter taste in my mouth.

In the end, my contemplation took too long, and Paul looked away, but the crestfallen expression on his face was badly hidden, something that Laws pointedly chose to ignore.

"Anyway, what did you guys end up doing? I'm curious on what Paul's son's idea of fun is," Laws said, the curiosity on his face unashamedly obvious.

I let his words bounce around in my mind. I wasn't sure how much information I should give him. My gut reaction was to keep my answer vague, responding only with half-truths to make sure the man didn't get overly suspicious of Sylphiette and I's true acitvities. However, I remembered that Sylphiette would undoubtedly tell her father of what had transpired earlier today, and I immediately discarded all plans to hide what we were doing.

"We were training," I explained frankly, and almost as soon as the words left my mouth, Laws's eyes narrowed, his mouth tightening to a thin line.

"Training? You really roped in a little girl to whatever you were doing?" Paul asked.

"She asked me to teach her," I shrugged. "I recommended she find another teacher, but she was adamant on choosing me."

"You don't seem particularly happy," Paul noted.

I withheld a sigh. "I feel that it's not appropriate for her to learn such things."

Laws's frown deepened. "Is it because you feel she's too weak?"

I shook my head. "Because she's too innocent. She's just a child," I elaborated.

Laws's eyes burrowed into mine, his stare entirely even throughout the entire time. I did not back down from his gaze, content to let him find whatever he was trying to find.

"Then why didn't you say no?"

I blinked, the question he posed one that I myself struggled to thoroughly answer. A breath passed before I found the words best suited to satisfy both Laws and myself. "Because I have a hard time saying no to her," I said simply. I could not divulge how I empathized with her struggle for strength, so such words were the best I could do.

"Oh?" Paul's lips curved upwards into a small smirk, eyes glimmering with mischief. "Guess you have a soft spot of her, huh?"

"… I suppose," I said hesitantly, unsure if I could even deny the accusation. I turned back towards Laws, whose scrutiny was still present but had lessened in intensity.

The man sighed, closing his eyes as a helpless expression overtook his face. "Honestly… when you put it like that, how could I possibly be mad?"

He placed his hands on his hips, taking a few deep breaths as he regained his composure.

"Wait, what's so bad about this?" Paul asked.

Laws looked at him like he grew a second head. "Maybe because I don't want my daughter to be a training addict? You know that not everyone is like you and Shirou, right?"

Paul held up a finger to retort before he suddenly lost his gusto, letting his hand fall back down to his side. "That's… a good point. But hey, that's not a bad thing!"

Laws gave him an acquiescing nod. "True, but it's not for everyone." The man's head swiveled back towards me again. "Earlier, you said she was just a child. It might be a bit patronizing, but Alice and I both agree with you. She's innocent, as you said, but she's sharper than she lets on. She knows that the world is shitty, but I don't think she knows just how much." His shoulder slumped, the weight of his responsibility aging the man by several years. "We don't have any grand plans for her. I don't need her to be some sort of hero or saint. I just want her to be happy. Sure, eventually Sylphiette is going to outgrow us, but at least for now, I'd like her to just be my little girl, nothing more. I don't want her off training, trying to get stronger. I just want her at home, greeting me with a happy smile when I get back from my hunts or patrols. Call it selfish or whatever you want, but as a father, there's nothing I want more than to keep my family safe and sound."

The man ended his speech there with a deep intake of air, his genuine feelings perhaps something that he needed to get off his chest sooner than now. Paul gave Laws an understanding smile, not disrespecting his friend by mocking the heartfelt confession made by the elven man. Paul's hand fell onto Laws's shoulder, an echo of the gesture from earlier, and the two men shared a small smile before separating.

I frowned, the man's words hitting me particularly hard. His concerns were valid, echoing the same worries I had earlier. Children should be a children, a saying that I was quickly finding myself going back to time and again. I didn't want Sylphiette to lose her smile.

An image flashed across my mind, one of a bloodied girl with a dagger in her heart, and I remembered how she had relied on someone else to save her before, unaware that she had chosen the wrong person to trust.

"Would you like us to stop?"

My decision held little resolve in the first place, something that had plagued me ever since my life had taken a turn for the worst. I could easily have decided that Sylphiette didn't need my help and kept her away from the ugliness of the world. Without a teacher to help foster her talents, then she would have lost her motivation to continue. If she attempted to pursue her conviction by herself, then Laws and Alice could still dissuade her. She valued her parents highly, and ignoring their wishes completely was not something Sylphiette wanted to do.

Laws took a deep breath, mulling over the decision in his mind. "I… I don't think so," he finally said after a period of contemplation. "Maybe this is for the best…"

Laws was capable to pragmatic judgement. He knew that giving her daughter strength had its advantages. Still, I felt for the man. I knew exactly what he feared could happen.

"You can still change your mind. Even if Sylphiette wants to train, you can be her guide. I don’t need to be the one to teach her," I suggested. Even if it didn't completely satisfy his wishes, Laws could at least spend a bit more time with his daughter.

However, the man shook his head at my proposal. "Sylphiette chose you. Even if she knew that I would say no, she would probably have tried anyway if she actually wanted me. The fact that she went straight to you tells me all I need to know. Besides, she made her choice, and I can't deny it holds some merit. At the very least, I'll respect her decision."

Choice.

I swirled the word around in my mouth like an exotic fruit, imagining its taste on my tastebuds. In the end, I spit it back out, unsure what to make of its flavor—whether it was something to be savored or discarded.

Understanding that the man had begrudgingly chosen his stance, I turned towards Paul.

"Don't look at me," Paul interrupted, my mouth having only just opened. "You made your bed, now you have to lay in it. A man takes responsibility for his actions."

Ah, well it was to be expected. Contrary to his questionable nature, Paul was very much a proponent for accountability according to his own words, and I haven't found enough evidence to think otherwise.

"I'm concerned that with two adults here, it's me who is questioning the validity of having a four-year-old training a child," I pointed out.

Paul stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, they say that the best way to master something is to teach it to another person. There's not much I can really teach you," Paul grumbled, "but maybe teaching a complete beginner can show you some new things."

"Sometimes a fresh perspective is best," Laws added with a sagely nod of his head.

I let out a doubtful hum, not entirely convinced of their arguments and only mildly perplexed at how I was the only one seeing what was wrong with the situation, but at this point, I had already made too many promises to stop—perhaps a lingering habit from my past life.

"Hmm, it's about time," Paul noted, eyeing the sun overhead. However, sunlight was slowly beginning to ebb away, the sun having started its descent back under the horizon. "Remember, you're patrolling the village from now to a few hours into the evening. After that, you can swap with the overnight guards. It's the same as we've always done." Of course, the words weren't meant for either Laws or I, but more as reassurance for Paul himself, though we had the tact to not comment on it.

"Well, if that's all…" Laws let his words linger in the air for a few moments, but after seeing that no one spoke up, he decided to to turn around and head back towards the main village road.

I made to follow him but sensed something was missing and abruptly stopped in my tracks. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the tall knightly man seeing us off with a complicated expression. I paused, then with a slow, hesitant dip of my head, I gave Paul a singular, curt nod. His eyes widened in surprise, his features twisting in surprise before realization set in and his face settled into a small, satisfied smirk. He returned the gesture, giving me a firm nod before he turned around and disappeared inside his house.

I watched the door close behind him before spinning on my heels, slightly jogging to catch up to Laws. The elven man was waiting for me, and judging from his expression, he had seen the exchange. However, he remained silent, offering me nothing more than a pensive look before he continued walking down the path.

The sound of the door closing brought Paul no small sense of relief. Perhaps it was the fact that the sturdy wooden barrier separated him from the outside, and in turn, arguably the largest source of his worries. With him out there, Paul did not have to worry about how he came off as. He didn't have to worry about how the expression on his face looked to others—whether he looked too angry and unapproachable or maybe not serious and firm enough or even overly so. He also didn't have to fret over his words and if he was offending others somehow. Words were easily misinterpreted, and even if that wasn't the case, sometimes the wrong things slipped out of his mouth, his tongue perhaps a bit quicker than his wit.

Paul was quite used to the lingering taste of regret. For someone like him, being able to change his image to other people was not a skill that came naturally. His talents were far more suited towards combat and violence, not social finesse. His skills laid in the act of stabbing or slicing or bludgeoning things repeatedly until they died, not the gentle and graceful art of—he shuddered—communication.

He shuffled to the side, bracing himself flat against the wall before moving his head until he could see just a sliver of the outside through the window. The small boy he called his son was walking away, catching up to Laws.

Taking in a greedy gulp of air, he walked away from the window, pausing for a moment to try and calm himself down, the beating of his heart against his chest made him afraid it was about to explode.

The irony that it was the confines of this house, the very ones that he had hated so vehemently in the past, that were now assuaging his worries was not lost to him.

"Damn, I can't believe this is my life now," Paul bemoaned to himself. This sort of issue was not something he would have dealt with or fussed over when he was younger. However, Paul knew that he lived in a cruel reality, and as times changed, so did he. His efforts today and yesterday were proof of that.

No, he couldn't afford to tackle everything like he had in the past. Such recklessness was what had gotten him into his current predicament in the first place, and he wasn't keen on making the same mistake twice.

He had to stick to his promise, picking up the pieces of fatherhood he had carelessly thrown to the wayside so long ago. After all, he wasn't sure if there was any redemption if he failed now. He had already fucked up everything he had sought to build, and it was a miracle he was getting a second chance. He was on thin ice, a fact Paul knew all too well and was the driving reason for his caution.

Paul sighed. As tiring as this level of mindfulness was, he wouldn't be free of it any time soon. After all, despite the fact that Shirou had left, his worries did not entirely leave with him. Of course, there was the nugget of concern that bit at the back of his mind, a trait that any parent shared with him.

The rational part of him knew that there was nothing to fear. Not only had he already scouted the surrounding area and the patrol route they would be going personally beforehand many times and just a few days ago, but Paul had sent Laws with him. Laws wasn't a clear-cut warrior, having trained more as a hunter than anything else, but the perilous times they lived in nowadays had necessitated training on a more combative level. It was not only Laws that had received such training from Paul himself, his status and training as a knight and adventurer making him more qualified than anyone else nearby, but also every capable male in the village. Being able to muster a significant portion of the village's population into a capable fighting force at any time was important for any possible monster attacks or bandit raids. Thankfully, nothing such had happened since he had settled in this village, but he had heard plenty of reports from the supply and merchant caravans that stopped by occasionally about the settlements that were wiped out or looted overnight. When Paul had been told such tales, he had decided that Buena Village would not be joining those stories if he had any say in it.

Not to mention, he was confident that Shirou was more than capable of handling himself. Judging from the spar from yesterday and the display of skill earlier today, Paul was certain that Shirou was easily on par with a seasoned adventurer in terms of pure combat ability, and he could give any knight the most interesting fight for their lives. After all, being able to keep up with Paul of all people meant he was already in the running for among the strongest. The number of people who could give Paul a good fight, never mind win, were few and far between, their strength beyond something normal humans could obtain.

So yes, the boy—a child barely to his waist—was strong, strangely so. Still, a parent, even one as bad as Paul, could not help but worry for his safety.

Frankly, as fitting as it was that his talent for swordsmanship had been passed along, the degree of it was surprising, almost frighteningly so. It was… abnormal to say the least.

Then again, it was easier to note what wasn't peculiar when it came to him. After all, Paul himself had raised such concerns to Zenith years ago, pointing out his odd mannerisms and dissimilar appearance, but his wife had—unsurprisingly—remained staunch in her stance.

It was funny looking back on it now, seeing how their roles had almost reversed.

Paul sighed before dragging himself deeper into his house. He tried to ignore how he cringed as he stepped onto the stairs, his weight causing the wood to creak and announce his presence to the two people upstairs—if they hadn't already.

As expected, he heard the door to the master bedroom opened, and a few more steps took him to the top of the staircase, face to face with Lilia.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Lady Zenith is still in the process of recovering. Her condition is improving, but it would be beneficial for her to avoid any stressful situations if possible." The maid pointedly looked at him, and Paul felt a bit sheepish underneath her gaze.

"I'll try. She wanted to talk anyway."

Lilia held his eyes for a few moments longer, weighing the truthfulness of his statement. However, she looked away first, peeling away from him stare in an almost flippant manner. "If Lady Zenith wishes it, then I cannot deny her." She let her words hang in the air before giving him a small bow before brushing past him, descending the stairs and out of his sight.

The exchange was over as soon as it started, the abruptness of it almost giving Paul whiplash. Not that it surprised him, of course. Putting aside their rather—ahem—regrettable history, the woman had plenty of reason to resent him. However, she was far too dutiful and professional to ever explicitly show her displeasure, leading to the current tension between them now.

To the passing eye, the maid was simply polite and curt, never crossing the boundary between them as expected of employer and employee. However, Paul was no fool, and the air near her was just a bit too frigid for it to be simple professionalism.

If he had to guess, the cause of her frosty demeanor was not due to the unfortunate decisions he made in the past, but rather the rather strained relationship between him and Zenith. He would have been blind to not have noticed the growing friendship between her and Zenith over the past few years, a trend that Paul was not quite sure how he felt considering the rather complicated emotions he felt towards either woman. As any good friend would do, Lilia was probably reluctant to show any friendliness towards him if Zenith didn't entirely approve of him.

Not that he expected any in the first place. He nearly had a heart attack when she first showed up at his doorstep all those years ago, and the implication of blackmail had been the only reason he had been able to make a decision despite the confusion clouding his mind back then. The unspoken threat was a proverbial sword against his neck all these years, something that caused him no small amount of stress.

Their earlier interaction this morning was a surprise. She had not joked around with him before, and the atmosphere was—dare he say it—almost comfortable between them. Of course, he knew that it was all a lie, nothing more than a front to try and fool Shirou, who did not deserve to get caught up in their drama. However, the kid was smart—smarter than what was good for him—and he probably already caught on.

She had a soft spot for him, Paul noticed. The eyes that had been almost hard and accusatory—much like his own had been at the time—had softened over the years, and the constant edge in her disposition had diminished as well. Of course, the signs were still there, Shirou tending to have that effect on everyone,

All in all, the fact that there was no lost love between them and the tension between him and what might as well be her best friend amounted to the present situation—a complicated, anxiety-ridden mess.

And now he was about to step into an even worse one.

Paul moved forward, prying his eyes away from the downstairs where Lilia had disappeared to and looking at where she had come from. The slightly ajar door might as well have been an invitation, but it was an opportunity he was hesitant to take. The past few days have been a tumultuous, chaotic blur, and what he was about to do wasn't going to help matters in the slightest. However, it seemed that he had not been the only one hiding secrets.

Whether Paul wanted it or not, circumstances were developing faster than he could sit down and think things through. He didn't have the luxury of time anymore. He could feel it; things were going to be changing rapidly soon. It had only been a small spark, but even the faintest of embers could ignite into an inferno.

Perhaps that is why Zenith made her move now, and why he was entertaining this in the first place. If he was going to be swept up in the winds of fate, at least he would have some say in it. Better to try and change things himself than drown in self-pity.

Paul stood in front of the door, a hand resting on its surface and was about to push it open before he thought better of it, instead softly knocking his knuckles twice against the door.

"Come in," a frail voice softly called out from inside the room.

He slowly opened the door, quietly entering the room. Paul wasn't a complete asshole, and despite the… issues they were undergoing through, Zenith was still his wife. He would show her the consideration he had omitted in the past, though he doubted it would change anything now.

Zenith was in the same position he had left her in earlier this morning. She was sitting upright on the bed, the blankets pulled to her waist and a tray of soup and apple slices sitting on the bedside table. However, Paul could tell that it was barely touched, the bowl still full and only a few slices missing. Her head was turned away, her attention fixated towards the window next to her.

Paul stepped further into the room until he was standing almost at the foot of the bed. Only then did Zenith's head twist, glassy blue eyes moving from the view of the outside to regard him.

She was a mess, that much was obvious. Her hair was frayed and untidy, looking more like a nest for insects than the curtain of sunlight he had flirtatiously described it as to her. It was more akin to moss with the way sweat-ridden clumps clung to her skin. Her eyes were bloodshot, the effect only exacerbated by the dark bags sagging underneath them. They were the eyes of a prisoner, the unending pools of azure that had pulled him in before telling the story of someone trapped in a cage, beaten down and dragged through hell until thoughts of escape no longer existed.

It was his greatest regret that he had not been able to notice the poor state he had helped contribute to until it was far too late.

"… Is he gone?" Zenith softly uttered. It was an interesting game she was playing, not trusting herself to specify just who she was referring to, but Paul could hazard a guess on who it was.

"Yup. He only stopped by briefly so I could give him the rundown for tonight," Paul explained.

He watched her expression carefully, noting how her face twisted from relief to disappointment, then to dread and everything in between. It was a curious thing—how he could tell almost exactly what she was feeling yet at the same time be completely ignorant to what was going on in her mind. Emotions were a hard concept to truly understand. After all, he had felt—and still felt—the same.

"… I see," she said simply, trying hard to disguise the slight tremble in her voice. "You're… you're sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes," Paul answered. "He's a natural fighter. You can't stop him. If I put an end to it, then he's just going to rebel and act up. Trust me, I was the same way before."

"And you think sending him out there is any better?"

He nodded. "It gives him something to focus on," he explained. "It will give him an outlet for his energy. Besides, if he wants to act like an adult, then he can have a few responsibilities like one."

"He's four-years-old, Paul."

"I started young too," he shrugged. "Besides, you and I both know that he's more than what meets the eye."

Zenith frowned but didn't say anything. He could see the conflict in her eyes, the logic of his words bringing her just a bit of much-needed clarity. However, she wasn't completely convinced, not yet at least.

"Still though, you don't know what could happen out there," she retorted.

"True," he conceded, "but you shouldn't underestimate your son." He didn't miss how she winced at that word. "The monsters around here aren't that strong, and Laws won't take him out very far. He'll be fine." Of course, it wasn't that he didn't understand her worries. He was the same, but he couldn't afford to show it.

"I.. I don't know," Zenith said after a pause, not persuaded but not having enough fight within her to argue otherwise.

He waved his hand dismissively. "It'll be fine," he reassured. Paul stepped back a few steps before closing the door behind him. Zenith's eyes narrowed at the gesture before turning back to him. He walked to the window she was fond of staring out of and opened it. The gentle afternoon breeze swept into the room, the cool air pleasantly brushing against his skin. "You should really keep this open. Maybe some fresh air will help you feel better," he suggested.

Zenith scoffed. "Enough games, Paul. What do you want?"

Ah, she caught on. He never was good at that, trying to hide his intentions. He had wanted to slowly ease the conversation into direction, but he showed too much of his hand. Oh well, it didn't matter. They were already talking about him anyway.

"Earlier… what you told me…" he started. Immediately, he could see Zenith tense, her shoulders squaring and jaw clenching. Azure orbs hardened, and despite her sickly and haggard appearance, Zenith's displeasure wasn't any less intimidating.

"I told you to forget about that," she said with scowl. Paul internally sighed, wondering not for the first time if this course of action was truly the best idea.

Well, nothing was ever solved by doing nothing.

"That's not it works, Zenith. I can't simply 'forget' what you said," he responded. His voice was firm but cool and steady. Despite his temperament, he would need to be the calm mediator here. If this conversation turned into a screaming match with fingers pointing at each other, then any hope of resolving the issue would be dead. No matter what happened, he couldn't have a repeat of that night all those years before.

"Well, make it work, Paul," she huffed, the aggravation clear on her face.

"She's just stressed," he told himself, pushing down the smoldering urge to retaliate that simmered within him.

Her demeanor was different from before. There had been hints that what had happened yesterday had been affecting her, but he could not possible have predicted that the aftermath would have resulted in this shift in behavior.

Earlier, when Paul had returned to the house after learning of Zenith's illness, he had walked into her room to gauge her condition. She was much like she was now, exhausted and irate, and his attempts to calm her had only led to more friction between them. Words had been thrown at him, and he had tried his best to weather the storm. In the midst of scathing remarks and thinly veiled accusations, he had wondered if, all those years ago, Zenith had felt the same as he had felt earlier.

It was a strange feeling, seeing the face of someone whose image was practically engraved into his mind but unable to truly recognize them. In that moment, her visage brought only with it a sense of alienation and foreignness, an impenetrable haze of unfamiliarity that clashed with the vivid tapestry of heartfelt memories they had woven together all these years.

If the sinking pit in his stomach was how she had felt, then he could have apologized to her a thousand times over and his repentance would still not be finished.

"Sorry, I can't do that," he shook his head at her. "I… I want to fix things. And if I want to do that, then I can't ignore anything." Each word was like pulling blood from stone, the unsteady words of a man who was never any good from them but vowed to try anyway. As fragile as his voice was, the resolve behind his words was undeniable.

Zenith's glare wilted slightly. "I… I don't even know if things can even be fixed anymore." The woman leaned back, resting against the headboard of the bed as she visibly deflated. "You can put all the pieces together again, but things can't go back to the way they were," she said quietly, defeatism laced within her voice.

He had said similar words back then too. To have them thrown back at him might as well have been a slap to his face.

But that was fine. They were going around in circles, he noticed. If the conversation continued on like this, then matters wouldn't be resolved.

"I'm sorry. I never believed you all the way back then. And I didn't entirely believe you earlier."

That caught Zenith's attention. The woman perked up, her head snapping towards me fast enough to almost give her whiplash. Her eyes, wide and disbelieving, were trembling.

Surprise.

Fear.

Paranoia.

Anxiety.

Paul may not have been the most astute of people, but within those tumultuous orbs, he could see all those emotions and more. However, past all the turbulence and chaos, he also saw something else.

Pleading desperation.

And with that, Paul knew exactly what he had to do.

He had reached out his hand to her that day. It was the defining moment of their relationship, the foundation upon which their marriage had been built upon.

He had betrayed the trust before. He would not make that mistake again.

"Tell me more about these dreams you've been having."

It was up to him to take the first step forward once again.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, when he was on the job, Laws was quite the serious man.

I expected him to be more like Paul, especially since they were such close friends. After all, like attracted like, and from what I saw, there were quite a number of similarities between the two. Of course, it wasn't that I thought Paul didn't take matters seriously. On the contrary, I was confident that the man was more than capable of being stern when he wanted to be, his insistence on us not wandering too far out just one of several pieces of evidence, not to mention my brief insight into his personality from tracing his sword.

Still, this austere demeanor was not within my expectations. From our previous interactions and his conversations with Paul, I had pegged him as a lighthearted and playful man. Perhaps not to the extent of Paul, but Laws had thrown around his fair share of jokes.

However, gone was the lax and mirthful attitude. Laws's eyes surveyed the surrounding the area like a machine, constantly scrutinizing and analyzing anything that could be of interest or out of place. His hand was constantly on his bow, the weapon at his side and a hand at the ready to nock and fire an arrow at any given moment. His stride was smooth and controlled, every step he took the exact same as the one before it and the thousands before that.

There was a tense, nonsensical atmosphere about him as well. It made sense considering he would have to be extra vigilant since I was with him. He didn't seem overly worried, but the man was definitely on edge, a fact that was illustrated by the sparsely few words exchanged between us since the start of the patrol.

After leaving Paul at his house, Laws and I had headed off to the forest to begin our patrol. He had reminded me to stay close to him at all times, the dense foliage and slowly descending darkness of twilight not an easy thing to navigate. There was the occasional path marking, signs on trees or rocks created by the previous patrols over the years following the same route. Laws's elven heritage may also had the effect, the man being almost unnaturally adept at traversing the unlit and uneven land.

Our patrol continued for several hours, and by then, the entire forest was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The bright white orb was shining brightly in the sky as if it sought to compete against the endless blanket of black all around it.

"It's getting late," Laws said, breaking the silence that had hung over us for the past few hours. "The nighttime shift should be getting ready by now. We…" he paused, then a beat after, "We should be getting back."

"You sound uncertain," I pointed out, a hunch forming in my mind. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes darted to me then flickered back to scanning the surrounding area. There was a certain air of paranoia around the man, one that had not been there at the start. "It's nothing important, don't worry."

As he said that, his brows furrowed in concern, doing nothing to alleviate any possible worries I could have.

Curious on what could cause the elven man to lose his confidence, I focused, trying my best to feel for any magical energy around us. Tohsaka always said I was sensitive to mana, but despite concentrating on our immediate vicinity, I could not find anything that seemed out of place. I channeled some mana through my five senses, feeling the world itself almost come alive as the heightened stimuli flowed through me—the soft rustling of leaves in the evening breeze, the quiet chirping of birds in the treetops, the thick pungent scent of decaying leaves and damp earth intertwined with the clean odor of pine and mountain air, and even the previously obscured details of the foliage around us all assaulted my mind, the sheer amount of information flooding my brain taking a moment for me to process.

However, despite all my efforts, I could not find what Laws could have been so concerned about.

Actually…

"I know Paul said it should be a quiet patrol, but is it normally this quiet?" I started, eyeing the man carefully. Laws immediately tensed, his posture stiffening at my words, and I knew that my suspicions held true.

"Yes… but no," he said hesitantly. "What Paul said is true. We usually never run into any monsters around the village."

"But…?"

Laws frowned, turning untrusting eyes into the darkness around us. "Usually, I can still sense them. I'm part elf, so I have a better sense of the forest than most. Monsters stay away from the village for the most part, but they're definitely present. They just stay away from it, probably since they're scared. It's good that they're more docile than normal around these parts; we would've had to move into one of the cities or merge with some other villages if the monsters showed up frequently enough." He paused, and I could see his ears lightly shaking, the man straining his hearing. "But I don't sense anything. It seemed perfectly fine yesterday, even earlier when we started patrolling."

I hummed, understanding slowly dawning on me. "And now?" I asked, the question more a confirmation than anything else.

Laws's eyes narrowed. "Nothing," he said simply. He started walking again, circling the clearing. I silently followed him, watching as he seemingly wandered around before the man looked like he finally found what he was looking for. Laws knelt down, pointing a finger at a patch of dirt. It looked freshly disturbed, imprints of what looked like paws left on the dirt. "See this? It's probably made today. There's monster activity around here, recent for sure."

"But now there isn't," I finished for him.

The elven man nodded, the gesture laden with displeasure. "It's always better to know where your enemies are," he said.

Saber would have agreed with him, that was for sure. She had a habit of inserting tactical wisdom during our training sessions. Of course, hers was born from experience as a king of a war-torn country. I was surprised Laws had learned similar lessons as well though that might be because I underestimated the conflicts the world had presented to the man.

Laws stood back up, stretching his arms as he groaned in satisfaction at hearing the pop of his joints. "Anyway, it doesn't matter much. We're heading back for now. I'll let the others know to pay attention to anything weird going on."

Laws still seemed reluctant to leave matters at that, but I assumed that his priority was to make sure I got back safely. If he was alone, I was confident that he would have taken the initiative to investigate the issue further.

Frankly, I was also curious about the odd change in behavior of the monsters. From what Laws noted, there was nothing from before that could have alluded to this discrepancy, meaning that the only possible variable was me.

It still begged the question of why my presence on the patrol caused the monsters to instinctively shy away from us. I had a few ideas, namely my status as an alien, someone not originally from this world. It was possible that the monsters could feel the difference between me and everyone else. Assuming that creatures of this world were, in some manner linked to the “planet” or its equivalent of Gaia, then it made sense that they were more sensitive towards the fundamental differences between my body and soul and everyone else’s.

Alas, I couldn’t explore that theory any further until Laws and I separated ways. As much as I wanted to travel deeper into the forest right now, Laws would not let me, the earlier instructions from Paul stopping any possibility of the man putting me in any risk of danger.

Truthfully, I was more worried about him than myself. Laws was competent, yes, but he did not seem to have any special powers. His abilities, from what I can tell, are mainly above average proficiency with the bow and excellent spatial awareness in the forest. He was no pushover, but if anything truly dangerous came along, I was not confident I could keep him safe while dealing with my hordes of monsters.

“It’s best to not wander into a situation unprepared,” I agreed, ignoring how the plans being made in my head contradicted the wisdom I preached.

For now, I had to let our patrol come to an uneventful end. Laws would eventually escort me back to Paul, and then afterwards, I would slip away in the middle of the night and return here.

Before, I had no reason to explore the surrounding woods, but now that such a blatant phenomenon occurred due to my presence, it would have been irresponsible of me to ignore it. After all, it could be the prelude to worse things to come, a sign of impending chaos. With that in mind, taking the initiative here was the correct choice.

Laws gave me a small smile. “Good, you’re smart. If I was talking to Paul, he would have been dead set on continuing and finding out the cause of the problem,” he said. “I’m not your father, so I’ll spare you the parental lecture, but I will say this: Paul has some good traits, but he has a few nasty habits as well. It’s good to learn a few things from him but be careful you don’t pick up anything too distasteful,” he warned, though his tone wasn’t particularly grave, a sign that his opinion on the man was far from negative.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said with a nod. Laws looked satisfied at my answer, turning around and heading into the darkness of the forest.

"If we go this way, we should encounter the village perimeter eventually," he said. I raised an eyebrow, not out of skepticism but simply impressed. Elf or not, navigating this area was tricky.

We continued our trek back towards the village, my brisk footsteps trying their best to keep up with Laws's relaxed, longer strides. I made sure to stay right behind him, not eager on getting lost in the forest and wasting time trying to find my way back. Even with my enhanced vision, it would not have helped me much with this dense foliage.

A part of me could not help but feel… suspicious. The patrol had gone well, the abnormality aside. Laws did not even question me about Sylphiette or make any attempt to talk at all period, the absolute best-case scenario. I was not looking forward to trying to navigate his overprotective fatherly tendencies. Thankfully, it seemed that I had dealt with most of it from yesterday and earlier today.

Of course, it all meant that fate was saving the troublesome part of the night for later.

There was silence, nothing but the soft sound of rustling leaves and rhythmic crunching of grass.

A gust of cool air wafted through the forest, and I took in an involuntary whiff.

The moon shone brightly above us, hanging in the sky as part of its eternal cycle of waxing and waning.

My footsteps paused, Laws stopping not long after.

"You sense them too?" The question came in out a soft whisper, barely audible in the wind. Whether or not it was because Laws could not trust in his voice or to make sure nothing else overheard his question, I wasn't sure.

I nodded, the gesture visible to the elven man. He had spun on his heels, a grimace spreading across his face. Compared to before, the man was visibly worried, his brows furrowed in anxiousness as his jaw clenched and unclenched rapidly.

"There's a lot of them." I sniffed the air again, smelling an unnatural odor of… wrongness. I frowned, quickly taking in another, deeper intake of air. Unfortunately, my efforts only proved to confirm the traces of doubt in my mind, and I could feel my hairs standing on end as the sinking dread in my stomach only continued to worsen. My breathing grew erratic, my chest rising and falling alongside my shallow breaths. Even my heartbeat, usually even and calm, had quickened, and I felt a singular bead of sweat slowly, almost tauntingly, cut a path down my cheek, the evening wind feeling almost icy against the slick skin.

It was a laughable amount compared to what I had experienced before—nothing could compare to the real thing—but the fact it was present at all was… concerning, to say the least. Even just trace reminders of it like now me were enough to unsettle me, the pangs of distant memories flooding back to me in a gush of emotions.

I shook my head, pretending the gesture did something to alleviate the discomfort before turning reinforced eyes back towards where we had walked from.

There was a large group of them—whatever was coming towards us. From what I could sense, there were easily a few dozen monsters, probably a pack of some kind. Assuming that the monsters of this world bore some resemblance to back on Earth, they were probably canine creatures of some kind.

My arms dropped to my sides, and my hands grasped at the empty air, my fingers twitching at the lack of solid material they expected. The instinct was there, my body simply reacting to the situation at hand. Every fiber of my being screamed at me, the temptation to let loose the flood gates I had held closed for so long dangerously caressing my mind.

I was not Lancer. I did not crave the battlefield. I felt no need to clash blades needlessly. However, a part of me could not help but feel the longing for battle, something far more familiar to me than the years of stagnation I had lived up to now.

"Every hero needs a villain to oppose him."

Once again, the false priest's words came to my mind, and once again, I could not help but begrudgingly accept them.

However, no matter how alluring the call was, there were other things I had to take care of.

"Should we run?" I asked the man next to me. I could probably handle myself, but the same could not be said for Laws. No doubt the man thought similarly towards me, so suggesting we try and escape was the easiest way to get him to safety.

Laws looked in the direction of the incoming horde, the monsters not yet visible but close enough to light the man's senses on fire. He stayed silent for a bit before planting one foot behind him. "Let's go," he agreed, pausing hesitatingly. "We need to get to the village first and raise the alarm. No matter what, we have to gather Paul and the rest." For a moment, his eyes flickered towards me but the idea in his mind was discarded before it could be voiced.

I gave him a silent nod, and only then did the man fully turn around. He took off in a brisk jog, my own slightly reinforced legs letting me follow close behind.

"It's about half an hour walk from here to the village edge. If we're running, we can get there in under half that time," he said. The fact that he was going slower than he could have for my sake was left unsaid.

"Has something like this ever happened?" I asked.

"No," Laws answered. "They're acting strangely. Monster attacks on a village aren't uncommon, but they don't disappear before suddenly coming back."

I hummed thoughtfully, jumping over a tree root that Laws had stepped over. "You think there's something else going on?"

"Maybe, but I wouldn't know." He sighed, "Why now of all times?"

"It might be because of me. I tend to have terrible luck." E-rank luck, to be more specific.

Laws chuckled, the nervous undertones in his voice obvious. "Don't presume yourself to be that important."

If only.

"Will Paul be able to handle this?" He was strong, I knew that for a fact, but his main experience seemed to be within a coordinated party.

"Haha, gods no," Laws laughed. "Your father is good, but he's not that good. Paul's spent the past few years trying to raise a family, not out constantly fighting for his life. He's a bit out of practice. Not to mention that whatever is chasing us is pretty strong. Anything with the kind of aura I'm feeling from the monsters over there can't be anything below B-ranked."

"Then what's the plan?"

"For you? Sit back and relax. You're just a kid. I imagine this is not what Paul had in mind when he said he wanted you to get some practical experience," he said dryly. "Leave this one for the adults. We'll need to assemble our fighting forces. Thankfully, since Paul is both an experienced adventurer and swordsman, we've been trained to handle attacks from monsters like this."

"Have you ever put it into practice?"

A pause. "Well, aside from our excursions out into the forest, can't say we have," Laws admitted. "This will be our very first time putting our training into action. Sleep-deprived and in the middle of the night—can't say these are ideal conditions to test things out."

I opened my mouth to respond but a cacophony of piercing howls cut through the air. Laws flinched, his lips spreading into a grim frown.

The situation wasn't looking good. Howls were a form of communication between animals. I was no expert in animal behavior, but wolves typically howled to gather their pack at a location, meaning they either were anticipating a fight, had found some prey for their dinner, or possibly in our case—both.

"They're getting closer," Laws called out. I could sense more of them now, their previous calls having summoned more pack members to this area.

Laws clicked his tongue in frustration and then reached down to grab my arm. I looked at him questioningly, but no words came out of my mouth as the man swung me around and threw me onto his back. I landed onto his shoulders, and sensing his intentions, hooked my legs underneath his arms and grabbed a clump of his hair in each hand.

The idea was sound; with the increased urgency of the situation, Laws couldn't afford the leisurely pace he was at before and instead opted to carry me on his back.

Laws's strides became longer and faster, and without the worry of leaving me behind, the man was able to run in a full-out sprint through the forest. He expertly navigated the area, smoothly jumping over roots and rocks, his balance and dexterity not hindered with the additional passenger at his back.

However, his maximum speed was ultimately lower by carrying me. It was a simple fact; I added too much weight for Laws to be able to reach his top speed. While our current arrangement was a definite increase in our pace, escape was still not certain.

With the closer distance, I could more accurately analyze the magical energy near us. Just based off pure aura alone, whatever was chasing us was a large group, a few stronger entities surrounded by many weaker units. It was a typical formation of pack animals, the alpha male surrounded by the lesser, more expendable pack members.

Thankfully, just based off the aura they exuded, I could tell that they weren't particularly strong despite the disturbing feeling they exuded. The ominous air I felt from them remained only as a reminder of the past, the traces of the tainted prize I had fought to destroy remaining firmly in my memories where it belonged.

The monsters behind us reminded me of Caster's dragon tooth warriors. Plentiful in numbers and dangerous in a group, but nothing more than a nuisance. Even in the early phases of the war, with only the absolute basics of magecraft under my belt, I had been able to dispatch dozens of them with ease. Someone like a Servant would have had no trouble destroying hundreds of them at a time.

The monsters here seemed to be on a higher level than Caster's minions, but the underlying principle behind their attack strategy remained the same: overwhelm the enemy with numbers. It was a classic tactic, one ingrained into the very instincts of animals and humans alike. With the likelihood that we would be surrounded increasing, retreating back to the village as Laws suggested was essemtial.

"Do you know what could be chasing us?

"Assault Dogs and Terminate Boars," Laws answered with a grim expression. "Multiple packs probably."

I wasn't entirely sure what to make of the implication that boars were leading packs of dogs in this world. Still, it was a slight comfort that Laws was at least familiar with them, even if the creased brows and deep frown on his face didn't abate in the slightest.

Another sharp cry rang through the air, and this time, I could see blurry forms moving through the darkness. They were gaining ground, and in a few minutes, they will no doubt have caught us. Laws was still running as best we could, but it was an awkward situation for him. I was physically weighing him down, and his stamina and speed were hampered as a result. The fact that this situation was caused by my decision to withhold my abilities was not lost on me either.

I was half-tempted to tell him to leave me behind, but I knew Laws would never agree to it. Morality side, he had promised Paul he would keep me safe.

Should I just hop off him and increase my speed, resolving to deal with the questions later? I suppose I could always pawn it off as more fruits of my training with Paul, especially since he already showed me how to increase my speed and strength. However, that particular excuse could only go so far. According to Paul, I barely managed to pull it off, and not even to its full extent. If I suddenly sustain that level of enhancement all the way back to the village, then even Paul would be hard pressed to convince himself that something strange was not occurring.

Or maybe I could attribute it to a sudden spark of genius? As Lilia had so eloquently put it, nothing swung a swordsman's blade faster than death, and the dire circumstances we were in made for an excellent cover.

No, that had already happened once. Lightning doesn't strike the same spot twice, and miraculous breakthroughs don't happen every day.

I felt that nagging in the back of my head again, and the distinct feeling that this level of misdirection was something Archer, rather than Emiya Shirou, would do rose up within me again.

However, I threw such useless trepidation to the side. For now, I had to focus.

My hands were tied; either I reinforce myself and Laws and I escaped, or I commit to the upcoming battle. In any case, my cards would be revealed.

"We're not going to make it to the village in time," I said matter-of-factly to the man below me. By my estimate, we still had several minutes of travel before we reached Buena Village, and by then we would long have been surrounded by enemies.

Laws winced at my words, and his silence and lack of denial was enough to prove my assertion correct.

"Either they catch up to us or we would be bringing a horde of monsters straight to the village. Most people are asleep right now, and the night shift patrol alongside yourself would not be able to handle this group alone. The time it would take to muster an adequate defense would be time the monsters would spend ravaging through the area."

Laws remained silent, but despite the darkness, the conflict in his expression was plain as day.

"The monsters are currently attracted to us, but if we come closer to the village, they might just attack it instead."

"…What are you trying to say?" he said warily, the scowl on his face darkening.

"I'm suggesting we split up," I said. "We should divert the pack away from everyone else. One of us acts as a distraction, and the other runs to get help."

I could sense him processing my words, the merit of my idea working through the arguments he thought of.

"I promised Paul I would make sure nothing would happen to you," he said hesitantly.

"A lot of bad things will happen to me if we stay as we are," I countered.

"… Alice could kill me if I left you alone."

"You know I'm right, Laws."

I understood the man's reluctance, and in no way did I hold it against him. However, now was the time for action.

"You might get attacked if we split up," he pointed out.

"I can fend off a monster or two," I replied. I didn't bother pointing out the results of yesterday's spar, something I knew Laws already kept in mind. "At this rate, we need to take the risk."

Laws remained silent, pensively contemplating my logic. After a few seconds, he sighed. "Alright, fine, you win. We'll do it your way."

I nodded. "Okay, I'll stay behind and lead the monsters away from the village. You should run straight—"

"Wait, what? That's fucking stupid," Laws interrupted. "I'll lead the monsters away. I know the forest here better than anyone. With some luck, these guys are the only things around, so I can stall for time while you get Paul and the other guards," Laws ordered.

It wasn't a bad plan. It was actually fairly sound considering the situation. However, I would've preferred it if I was the one confronting the monsters. Laws was good, but a single mistake would be his last. I was used to such situations, but the elven man was another matter entirely.

The image of a red-clad girl bathed in equally red blood crossed my mind before I squashed it. I didn't need distractions right now, but I would have been lying if the experience hadn't changed me.

Regardless, I couldn't do anything about it. I could tail him and make sure he didn’t get hurt, but someone still needed to go to the village for reinforcements. However, going to the village and back here to retrieve Laws was time he had to fend off a large horde of monsters by himself, a gamble I wasn't bent on taking.

I mentally sighed. I knew it would come to this point, but I was hoping to avoid such measures if necessary. Promises would be broken tonight, and the fallout of the situation would be something I need to deal with. However, making sure everyone stayed as safe as possible was my utmost priority.

"That's fine too," I nodded in agreement with Laws's plan.

Laws turned his head towards me, eyes slowly narrowing. "You better not be planning on doing something stupid," he warned. "I haven't forgotten you're Paul's son. I can feel there's something dumb going on in that head of yours."

First Sylphiette and now her father. What was it that made that family so perceptive?

"I won't be in danger," I promised. Regardless of whatever I do, I doubted that I would be in any real risk. Nothing from what I saw indicated anything I couldn't handle.

He looked unconvinced, but the poor man must have realized that he had no other option but to accept my words. Forcing Laws, who has only been helpful and kind towards me, into this position only made the bitterness in my mouth stronger, and I nearly gagged in disgust at myself. Still, this was for his own good, a line of reasoning that was doing a poor job of consoling me.

I felt them before I saw them, the rapid thumps against the ground signaling their approach like a stampede of angry animals. Deep, guttural growls echoed from behind us, far closer than the howls from earlier, and both Laws and I instinctively glanced backwards.

The black, shadowy figures from earlier were no longer hiding in the veil of darkness of the forest, giving me my first look at the creatures that plagued this world.

Wolves, I noted, but far more bestial and menacing than any I had ever seen. They were significantly larger than their counterparts from Earth, more comparable to a lion than anything else. Dark, matted fur gleamed ominously in the night, almost as if it was sucking in the moonlight. Thick bands of muscle covered its long, lean frame, and steel grey claws—stained a dark crimson with the dried blood of countless hunts—angrily jutted out from its large black paws like jagged swords.

Long white snouts were topped with speckled noses, and below it, their lips were curled back in a snarl to reveal rows of razor-sharp ivory teeth shining like polished knives, chunks of flesh and bone from their last meal still wedged between their fangs. Those same fangs opened and closed as spittle flew through the air, the sound of harsh barking loud enough to drown out the sound of anything else.

Their eyes glowed a baleful red, a raging inferno billowing within pairs of ruby orbs that seemed to suck in the very air around them. I couldn't count them all, but there were more than a hundred of them now, a veritable curtain of crimson-dotted darkness surging forward to consume us. The sight of them all sent goosebumps down my arm, and I nearly tripped due to my lack of focus.

The howls from earlier must have been summoning more monsters from the surrounding area the entire time we were running. They were still dozens of meters out, but they would be upon us in a minute or two at this rate. They bound and leapt through the forest, their fervor rising at finally spotting the prey they had been hunting. The countless bushes and roots separating us meant nothing to them, the monsters avoiding them easily as if they never existed in the first place. It was like a wave of darkness, a swarm of malice and evil that threatened to destroy everything.

And we were the only ones standing between it and everyone else.

"Well… shit," Laws cursed. His arm came up and pulled me off his back depositing me at his side as he continued running. I instantly matched his stride, hoping the man didn't notice as he reached into the quiver on his back and pulling out a handful of arrows between his fingers. "Keep running towards the village! Don’t you dare do anything else!" he ordered before sharply turning away and run perpendicular from me. The bowstring was then pulled back, the arrow barely notched onto it before the sharp 'twang' rang through the air, the projectile soaring before the steel tip dug into the unruly hide of one of the wolves.

If the monster was hit, it didn't show it, the blow barely hindering its stride as it continued advancing towards us. The arrow was dislodged soon after, never having found any true purchase within the beast.

A breath later and another arrow sailed through the gaps of the foliage, then another one, then another, each arrow hit one of the monsters. They did not do any true damage, the layer of muscle and skin too thick to puncture with ordinary weapons, but Laws never intended to try and stop the swarm of monsters.

Sinister red orbs turned towards the man, and despite the growing distance between us, I saw the corners of his lips quirk up into a smirk. He glanced towards me, and despite the fact that he was throwing himself into the lion's den, his gaze only showed concern towards me.

I felt my eyes scrunch up.

There was just something about that family that I found admirable.

The exchange only lasted fractions of a second, but I felt he said more than a conversation's worth of words within that moment.

And then Laws was gone, the image of his back disappearing in the depths of the darkness of the forest. The sea of black and red, which had been rushing towards me, made to follow him, the fleeing prey that had angered it far more enticing.

The rumbling slowly withered away until I couldn't feel it anymore, and the noise of hoarse snarls and ear-splitting barks faded as well, leaving nothing but ominous silence.

I didn’t even realize that I had stopped moving ever since Laws and I’s separation, instead blanky staring at the vast expanse of darkness that the elven man had vanished into.

I turned away, looking towards the direction I had been running towards. The village was so close now, only a few more minutes away. However, it was for that exact reason that Laws chose to move when he did, not wanting to endanger anyone else. Not that I blamed him—I was getting ready to do something drastic as well, but Laws beat me to it.

I took a deep breath.

Well, Laws had taken the initiative before I could, but things were not entirely out of hand just yet. The man had displayed incredible valor, and despite having a loving wife and daughter waiting for him back at his home, he had prioritized the safety of the village over himself, risking his life on a gamble and relying on a child he only met one day ago.

The resolve to commit to such a decision… the strength to not falter in the face of adversity… how exemplary.

It was only right that I honor his determination.

Magical energy coursed through me, empowering me far beyond what I had displayed earlier. For a brief moment, the sensation felt almost foreign, the warmth flowing through me not something I had felt ever since the Holy Grail War.

Mere training could never match the intensity of a real situation. As Paul repeatedly emphasized, there was no substitute for the real thing.

The world blurred, trees and grass and bushes and darkness blending together into an indecipherable haze. I ran forward, running away from the village and deeper into the forest, towards the direction that the monsters had come from.

Laws had made his decision.

And it was time I do the same.

They chased him, almost close enough to nip at his heels. Sharp canines and serrated claws constantly swiped and bit at him, threatening to rip and tear him into nothing more than bloody hunks of meat, meat that would soon be filling the bellies of countless Assault Dogs and Terminate Boars.

It would have been an unsightly end, and perhaps that only added to Laws’s motivation to continue running. He needed to buy as much as possible for Shirou to get the others, but he was well aware that his own chances of survival were fleeting. Still, he wanted to go out with a bit more dramatic flair, perhaps a noble last stand in front of his family as he slayed countless enemies with each sweep of a sword before he eventually succumbed to his limits. Now that would have been a sufficiently heroic sacrifice; for all the teasing he gave Paul of his overly-masculine fantasies and ideals, Laws himself was no different, and all men dreamt of laying down their lives as they went out in a blaze of glory.

Not that he had much of a choice here. Unfortunately, dying in this backwater forest was the card he had drawn today—possibly his last.

His favored bow had been discarded, thrown aside somewhere so he could focus all his energy into running. His quiver and arrows too, not even the steel arrows providing enough stopping power to hinder the monsters, never mind killing them. All he had done was piss them off, something he had been hoping to accomplish but secretly hoped his abilities amounted to something more than.

And thus, acknowledging that he had succeeded in getting their attention, he had abandoned his primary weapons to give himself the best chance at outrunning the enemy.

Unfortunately, even with the slight edge he had given himself, his chances of survival were looking grim. The ugly truth was that he was reaching his limits first. Assault Dogs were hunters, and their bodies were well-suited for long pursuits. They had overwhelming stamina, and while perhaps their outright speed and strength wasn’t the highest, outlasting their prey was a tried-and-true tactic, one that Laws was experiencing firsthand.

However, Laws was determined to make his last breaths as useful as possible. Every second he could buy was critical; giving up was not an option despite the bleak circumstances.

His legs screamed at him, fire lancing through his veins as he ignored his body's protests. Indignation swelled up within him. Had he been lax in his training? Paul had trained him and the others relentlessly, constantly drilling in them the importance of routine and discipline. Laws had trained vigorously, but he had never pushed himself this far. Admittedly, the security of the village had never been called into question, the only threat to the settlement being only hypothetical. While they had prepared for such a possibility, it turned out to be insufficient, and now he was going to suffer the consequences.

Laws was no warrior. He was a hunter. Upfront, large-scale battles did not suit him. He was not like the grizzled soldiers that guarded the cities of the Asura Kingdom, men who had been plucked from their families to face the monstrosities that assaulted their borders. Nor was he part of the Holy Knights, men who rebuked the incoming stem of monsters with nothing more than steel and faith. Hell, even in the village itself, he was nothing compared to Paul, the man a certified monster in his own right.

Unable to find acceptance within a society that scorned his kind. Unable to protect his wife and daughter from a world that rejected them. Unable to make a difference even now when it truly mattered.

He was simply Laws, nothing more.

He leapt over a tree root sticking out of the ground, but he stumbled on the landing. Laws quickly caught himself, but the almost miniscule mistake had given the monsters behind up precious fractions of a second to get closer.

The elven man clicked his tongue.

It was still too soon. The plan had been to stall, praying that Paul would have gathered the militia in the meantime. Then he would have diverted the swarm back towards the village, meeting the fighters on the way there and stopping the stem of monsters then and there.

The strategy was a complete gamble at best, a hasty idea thought of in a panic as they had made their way back to the village. In his hurry to find a good solution, he had immediately agreed with Shirou's plan, but there were too many variables. What if Shirou got attacked on the way back? The boy was talented, sure, but he was not battle tested. What if the monsters decided to attack the village anyway despite him drawing their attention? What if Paul and the others got overwhelmed? They didn't have many capable warriors in the settlement, and Paul was only one man, no matter how skilled.

Then again, they did not have the luxury of time, so this shoddy tactic was all they had.

Time… that's what it all came down to, huh? Something so far beyond out of his control that it felt useless to direct his danger at it, but he could not help but do so regardless.

How could he have had more time? If he ran faster? Laws discarded the thought; his body was his body, and he was pushing it to its utmost limits already.

Laws's thoughts drifted to the red-haired boy that had been at his side just a while ago. The logical part of his brain told him that abandoning the child was the correct action. By leaving Shirou behind, Laws would not have had to hold himself back, and he might have been able to reach the village in time to warn everyone else, and they could have mustered a proper defense.

And despite it all, he could not feel a hint of resentment towards the boy.

The voice in his head was as correct as it was traitorous, and Laws scrunched up his face at the thought of it. He was not nearly as frank as his wife, but he still agreed with her ideals, hence their marriage. The prospect of selfishly forsaking a child elicited a current of ugly emotions in his chest. He would have preferred tossing himself to the very monsters he was trying to escape from instead of going through with the sickening thought that crossed his mind, if only to spare himself from whatever Paul and Alice had in store for him.

If that child had been Sylphiette, and he Paul, would he have gone through with it?

While certain aspects of his character were questionable, when it came to matters such as this, Laws knew the answer for certain—a resounding "no". The man had been one of the few people to accept him and his family, looking past their heritage and bloodlines and treating them as people, giving them their fair shake. In a world that did not welcome them, Paul had accepted Laws and his family with open arms, giving them a home to stay in after their previous one had disappeared in a blazing inferno.

If nothing else, Laws wanted to repay that debt.

His thoughts came to a screeching halt as he heard the bloodthirsty cry of one of the Assault Dogs ring uncomfortably close to his ear. He whirled around, his hand dropping to his side and his fingers quickly unstrapping the small dagger near his hip. The maneuver was just in time, and Laws felt something clamp onto the back of his shirt in an unrelenting vice-grip, and Laws instantly felt an immense weight start to drag him backwards.

Steel flashed, and the sharp blade cut away the cloth. Laws lurched forward as he felt the sudden mass pulling on him disappear before he run even faster, the brush with death pumping him with energy. He impulsively looked back and saw one of the Assault Dogs with running with shreds of cloth in its mouth.

Along with fresh, crimson stains on its teeth.

With a growing numbness spreading through his body, Laws reached a hand back to where he had cut his shirt. He felt something wet on his fingers, and pulling his hand back, he saw the appendage slick with blood.

His blood.

The pit in his stomach widened, and Laws clenched his jaw at frustration at having been caught up to. He couldn't afford such sloppiness, and now his already quickly-dwindling deadline was now even shorter. The wound wasn't fatal, far from it, but with his blood in the air and steadily leaving his body, his fate was sealed. He wasn't going to bleed out any time soon, but the scent of his blood would only quicken his pursuers, and any other monsters nearby would quickly catch wind of him as well. He had been fortunate that the only threats he had to deal with were all behind him, but he wasn't oblivious to the possibility that he could be ambushed from any direction, especially now that he was heading deeper into the forest.

"Focus," Laws told himself. He couldn't afford to think about hypotheticals. He had to concentrate on the problem at hand.

The path he was on wound up the side of a mountain. It was a treacherous route, one that would need his utmost concentration to navigate smoothly and quickly. However, the advantage was that it would be hard for the monsters to easily chase him, giving him much needed breathing room—

A strange sensation hit him, a tingling feeling permeating throughout his body.

"Magic?"

He was familiar with it, having met a few magicians in his life before settling down. Zenith herself was one too. However, whatever he had felt was not like the magic he had witnessed before. It felt… strange, almost foreign. Mana was the energy of life, something all living beings in this world possessed. In some sense, it should have felt fundamentally familiar. However, the energy that had just briefly pulsed was not that. It was far more… alien, dangerous, almost like a million swords pointed at his throat.

And it was with that realization that Laws lost his focus. His footing slipped, and the precarious path he had been navigating finally prevailed. The ground to his side sharply sloped downwards, and the elven man could not regain his balance before he fell, stumbling down the side of the hill he had been on.

His vision blurred. His brain rattled around in his skull, and his feeling for whichever direction was which was thrown astray. He was rolling down the slope, but the disorienting movement caused his mind to blank out.

His hand shot out, trying to grab something—anything—to stop himself. Fingers dug into soil but found no purchase. He grasped at a root but it immediately slipped past his fingers. He managed to get his hand around a rock only for his momentum to dislodge it from the ground. All through it all, the sharp roots and rocks jutting from the ground repeatedly stabbed into his body, and he couldn't even find the air in his lungs to cry out as his breath was continuously driven out of him.

Helplessness overtook him, punctuated as his torture came to a climactic ending as his back hit the flat side of a large boulder with a nauseating crack. Laws slumped against the cold stone, his eyes closed as he felt his strength leaving him.

"—Ah…"

A second passed before an unsteady, wobbling arm propped itself up underneath the man. Its counterpart joined it, and the injured man managed to get himself onto his hands and knees. Another second later and he got a wavering leg underneath him, pushing himself back onto his feet with a groan. He precariously swayed back and forth before leaning up against the front of the boulder.

When Laws opened his eyes, rays of moonlight filtered into his vision, the bright white orb scintillating in the vast blanket of black. It hung vigilantly in the sky, unconcerned by the deadly plight of the man its light shone upon. After all, the affairs of mortals were underneath it, nothing more than a footnote in the passing of time.

Battered and bruised and broken, Laws basked in the moonlight, gazing up silently before a singular chuckle escaped his lips. Then another, then another, and before long, a steady stream of quiet laughter left him.

He felt so utterly… insignificant, and he could not help but feel that all his woes, all his efforts, in the face of the moon, were entirely meaningless.

A hand rose, and he found his fingers, despite the blood dripping down his fingertips, still clenched tightly around the dagger in his hand. He ignored the white-hot pain lancing through his head, the intensely hot scrapes dotting every part of his body, the aching of his bones and muscles, and through it all, his lips curled into a small smirk, and almost defiantly, he brandished the weapon up at the moon, towards the top of the hill he had fallen from.

It had only been a few seconds. At any moment now, the swarm would be upon him.

He stood up straighter, forcing his body into a fighting stance that Paul had taught him. It was shoddy, and if the knight was here, he would have teased Laws for such poor form.

"One of you…" Just one, that's all he needed. A life for a life. Equivalent exchange—one of reality's fundamentals laws. If those beasts wanted to kill him, he would gladly return the favor.

Even if it was meaningless. Even if he gained nothing. He would fight until the bitter end. The flame blazing within him would accept nothing else.

"Are you watching? Finally… I get to be cool for once…" At this point, Laws didn't know who the words were for. Perhaps for the friend and mentor whose footsteps he futilely tried to follow. Perhaps for the wife and daughter he would be leaving behind, the crowning jewels of his miserable life. Or perhaps they were only for himself, the last ramblings of a man who was going to die.

He held that pose, dagger raised high, ready to make one heroic final stand.

A few seconds went by. Then a minute passed. Then another. Then the numbing realization that he couldn't even feel the monsters nearby hit him.

"Ah… well, at least I looked just a bit like a hero," Laws quietly said to himself, chuckling at the ridiculousness of it all. He collapsed against the boulder, the sheer exhaustion hitting him in full force. He felt his eyes grow heavy, and his consciousness started to slip away from him.

"… Perhaps."

An unfamiliar voice cut through the silence, sweet and pleasant, along with the crunching of leaves and grass as footsteps approached him. He knew he should've moved, or called out for help, or anything, but the sweet temptation of sleep overrode any sense of danger he could have felt. The sirens of the dream world sang to him, inviting arms dragging him under the veil of reality towards bliss.

And then finally, his world faded to black.

"… Healing…!"

Chapter Text

Within the darkness of the forest, dimly lit by the beams of moonlight that pierced through the thick canopy of leaves, they ran. Frightening forms raced through the forest, chaos trailing in their wake.

The ground shook, the very earth itself trembling as if an earthquake was splitting it into two. Birds abandoned their nests as they flew away in large flocks, and the small critters that made the forest floor their home ran away in terror at the encroaching storm. Trees toppled over, the sheer amount of weight stampeding on top of them splintering and crushing the centuries-old wood like a human crushed twigs underfoot.

They bound and leapt, meters of lands traversed as an afterthought, their speed enough to seem like a blur to the naked eye. They almost trampled over each other in their haste, their bodies becoming almost a singular twisting and churning mass of flesh and bone. Despite being pack creatures, all intelligence had been abandoned in their minds, leaving only a wrathful and mindless husk.

Demonic, crimson eyes dotted the sea of black, a malicious, primal hunger burning in their depths. Not a hunger for flesh or blood but for destruction and chaos, caused by something else far more instinctive, a deep-rooted feeling ingrained within every living being, one that superseded all thought and priorities.

Fear.

Every living creature fought for survival. It was a fundamental rule of nature, as immutable as how the sun and moon rose and fell with each passing day to the tune of the unstoppable march of time. Living beings longed to live, and any threats towards that goal overrode all logical processes, leaving behind nothing but one command:

To destroy.

And so they ran, not away from the danger they sensed but towards it. Every fiber of their being screamed at them to tear apart whatever threatened their continued existence—to rend it apart piece by piece, run it through with claws and fangs until the screaming within their soul stopped.

Finally, they arrived, the origin of the energy they had felt. A singular beat, that was all it had taken, and they had converged at this location without a second thought. Even to the monsters, the bane of humanity and the enemy of civilization, what they felt here grated upon their soul, an incorrigible wrongness, a despicable stain upon the world.

They broke through the last barrier of trees, about to burst into an open clearing to find—

THUMP!

A large, black mass flew through the air towards them, smashing into a tree they were about to run past with a thunder thud. The sizeable dark form turned out to be one of their own, one of the leaders of their packs, a Terminate Boar.

The monster was enormous, easily eclipsing any man. Long, jagged tusks angrily curved upwards into a sharp point, easily deadly enough to gore half a dozen men upon their length. Similar bony protrusions grew from atop its head, ivory spiraling around itself until it formed a pair of gruesome, devilish horns. Its hide was pulled taut over its broad frame, bulging with thick cords of lean muscle embracing its skeleton, and arms bigger than a human torso ended in claws almost the length of swords. Various bonyspikes ran alongside its spine and limbs almost like makeshift armor, only adding to the menacing image.

The monster was also very dead.

A length of wood pierced through the giant monster, impaling its cursed heart. The shaft continued all the way through until bloody steel, the tip of a spearhead, sprouted from the other side of the tree trunk, the weapon completely skewering the monster. The boar twitched once, then twice, its extremities jolting occasionally, but the shudders were more akin to the death throes of an animal which had not realized its death than any real sign of life.

Its mouth was agape, once frightening jaws hanging open as a long and a pink tongue drooped limply from between rows of dagger-like teeth. A thin stream of blood ran down its mandible, joining a much larger pool of red leaking from the fist-sized wound on the monster's chest.

The swarm of incoming monsters stopped, the need to observe overcoming the fogginess of their minds as they uncharacteristically paused to look at the corpse of one of their brethren. The primal gears of their simple brains turned as their gaze turned from the fallen monster to where it had been launched from.

A human, barely older than a child, stood in the center of the clearing. His stature was small and diminutive, not even reaching the shoulders of one of their pack members. He stood underneath the moonlight, his posture relaxed and his expression pensive. The scene would have seemed quite serene if it wasn't for the severed head of an Assault Dog grasped in one hand, hefting the gory body part like he was examining vegetables at a market. In his other hand was an ordinary sword, albeit one that seemed custom made for his size, nothing that would have been out of place on an adventurer, but something told them that its edge was far sharper than any typical warrior's blade.

Scattered all around him were more bodies of monsters, strewn about the clearing in varying states of disfigurement. Some were killed with extreme precision, a single wound to the heart having ended their life in a swift stroke. Others were more brutally ended, limbs or heads sliced and split like meat at a butcher's table or torsos perforated with stab wounds and gutted open. The most unfortunate ones could barely be called corpses at all, more akin to bloody chunks of flesh and bone haphazardly littering the area, their bodies sliced to thin ribbons.

If the child held any reservations about the disturbing scene, his countenance held no indication of it, amber eyes staring both distantly and intently into lifeless crimson orbs as if it held the answers to life itself.

"It looks like my theory was correct."

A voice, quiet yet resolute, pierced through the silence of the night. There was an almost uncaring tone to it, a simple frankness that betrayed little else. Despite the boy continuing to twist and turn the head, his eyes fixated upon it, the newly-arrived monsters knew that the words were meant for them.

"You all seemed to be attracted to me," he continued pensively, "and yet I've haven't seen any of you before. You've all avoided me and this village before. Paul said none of you ever attacked, but here you are. How strange—why is that?"

The question was rhetorical at best, and if the monsters understood human speech, they would have wondered why the boy was asking them such questions with such an air of indifference.

"The ones here seem to be a cut above the rest. I can sense the weaker ones running away. I guess my magical energy has that effect on monsters below a certain grade," he stated. "You all though, you would rather step forward than run away?"

Despite the presence of the monsters near him, the boy still remained unconcerned about anything else, and the creatures took the opportunity to fan out, slowly spreading around the perimeter of the clearing to try and surround their quarry. Their prey was distracted, and this opportunity would not present itself again—

"But that still doesn't explain the most important part."

The boy discarded the bloody skull, contemptuously tossing it aside as he finally turned his gaze towards the approaching beasts. Twin copper orbs glowered with an icy fire, embers of gold smoldering in his irises. His lips were set into a thin line, but if one looked closely enough, they curved downwards into a scowl marring his otherwise frosty visage.

"You all have its stench."

The words were almost spat out, an undercurrent of cold accusation cutting through them, and the monsters, despite not understanding human speech, could feel the smoldering anger in his tone.

And then the air itself turned against them.

Energy emanated from the child, flooding the area with the same repulsive aura that tortured and scraped their souls. The oppressive atmosphere was crushing, an almost tangible force threatening to annihilate them then and there. Every animalistic screamed at them to act—to lunge forward, to rip out his throat, to do whatever it took to end the torment and erase the aberration of his very being. Yet, that same voice told them they would be cut down in an instant if they even moved from their place.

Indecision and hesitation paralyzed them, the monsters caught between the overwhelming need to attack and the certainty of destruction if they dared.

Within every living being laid the innate instinct to protect their life. The monsters' drive to live is what had brought them here, to bring down their combined might upon whatever had threatened their existence.

However, there was another side to the very same impulse.

Flee.

Fight or flight was the fundamental basis upon which the living evaluated conflict. All decisions, once rational thought and logic were stripped away, boiled down to either choice. There was an invisible line all living beings instinctively drew, one that dictated the level of strength required to forsake all delusions of struggle, to turn around and flee and leave nothing behind.

And for the monsters that surrounded the boy—the source of the aura that shook the core of their souls and threatened to unravel their very existence, the very presence that had provokingly called them here—they were quickly discovering where their own lines had been drawn.

"Running away?"

High-pitched shrieks and helpless yelps rang throughout the clearing as explosions rocked the area. Swords, uncountable and innumerable, hovered in the air above the boy, phasing into existence one moment before streaking down like meteorites the next, rays of light tracing through the air. They smote down the escaping monsters like lightning bolts from an angry god, not letting a singular beast leave the area with its life.

They all took an involuntary step backwards, every fiber of their being screaming at them to look the other way and flee. However, the scent of their own blood wafted through the air, and the cries of agony and anguish were fresh in their minds.

Fear gripped their minds. Hesitation halted their bodies. The two voices within them, to fight or to run, went silent, the scales determining the best course of survival no longer functioning.

"You all seemed so eager earlier. What happened?"

Blue flashed, and more swords, plain and mundane, coalesced into existence. They hung in the air, a second painfully passing by before their tips lowered until they were aimed right at the vanguards of the packs.

Booms echoed, shockwaves ringing through the air as steel rained from the sky. Blood spilled, limbs and heads flew, and through it all, the boy did not move, looking at the carnage with disdainful indifference.

Their numbers were dwindling. Escape was not possible. If they continued as they were, they would only continue to be slaughtered. They were like livestock, plump and ready, simply waiting to be killed. It was a hopeless situation, one with no route to victory.

Then, through the fog clouding their minds, with the pressure of their inevitable doom bearing down upon them, something snapped.

A symphony of sharp howls and screams, harmonious and united, pierced through the air, their combined number enough to simulate a continuous, endless, desperate wail.

Then the attack began.

They came at him all at once, tactics and strategy tossed to the wind and forgotten, their thoughts filled with nothing but bloodlust. Each beast may have been individual in their mind but in this moment, the voices of their brethren poured strength into their frozen bodies. Their souls briefly lit aflame as one, a singular, hopeless cause overcoming the haze and unifying them all to fight one last, desperate battle with a result long since decided and their end inevitable.

On clawed limbs they charged, bursting out of the forest with monstrous ferocity. The force of their stampede created tremors in the ground, their combined might equivalent to a natural calamity. They descended upon the boy, a sea of bladed paws and serrated fangs longing to bite into his soft flesh.

The figure in the center of the clearing cast an even glance at the incoming monsters, bronze eyes showing neither concern nor disinterest, regarding the wave of evil with nothing more than a small, terse frown before closing his eyes.

Dozens of meters separated the beasts from their prey. Fang over fang, claw over claw, muscled legs powered their advance. They saw no movement from the boy, no efforts made to evade the swarm nor combat it, and the observation only spurred their assault, their hunger intensifying with each stride they took.

They felt it before they saw it, another pulse of sickening alienness, and then suddenly, the sky itself turned to steel, a curtain of swords numbering far more than the earlier volley materializing high above the child. Sharp steel flashed with a deadly luster, their sheer number almost enough to blot out the night sky. They were merely ordinary swords, nothing but the useless trinkets of typical warriors, but something made far stronger and sharper than they had any right to be.

Their instincts finally roared to life once again, breaking their silence to scream and plead and beg for them to stop. However, it was far too late, and the giant swarm of bodies were far too close to try and run away now.

At this point, there was only one option left for them, a grim reality they all accepted: to fight­—

And to die.

Golden orbs opened once again, and a shudder ran through all their bodies at the icy gaze they emanated. The screaming in their heads only became louder, but the knowledge that the sliver of hope they sought only existed forwards spurred their bodies onwards.

And then hell was let loose.

Sound warped. Booms rang through the air. Whelps and cries followed soon after before they were drowned out by the thundering sound of steel crashing against the earth. Clouds of debris and flesh and blood flooded the area, and bodies fell from the sky like dying birds as the force of explosions threw them upwards into the air. Each projectile fired spelled certain death for anything in its path.

It was a massacre—a slaughter beyond comprehension. Monsters charged forward only for their offensive to be halted in its tracks by a rain of blades. The distance to the boy wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but in the moment, that gap was insurmountable, a seemingly near-infinite space they could not even hope to cross.

The first line of Assault Dogs was gone, their corpses broken and decimated on the ground only a few steps out from the forest line. In just a few moments, they had been decimated beyond belief, heads hitting the ground before the realization of their deaths caught up with their brains. Lengths of steel were lodged in every single monster, some fortunate to have been impaled in the head or heart while others were skewered from head to rear like gruesome sticks of meat. Their bodies crumpled like puppets with cut strings, muscles grinding to a stop as they died.

In a sense, their resistance was meaningless. Nothing they could have done would have swayed the tides of the battle, their actions ultimately an exercise in futility. They were simply not strong enough, a fact that was forced upon them in the most brutal of fashions. Their hides were easily punctured by the endless swords, and their bones shattered and broke underneath their peerless edges. Their minds and muscles simply could not react nor move fast enough to evade any of the deadly projectiles, steel moving faster than thought.

They died without achieving anything of use, reaching death's door empty-handed—their efforts a fruitless endeavor.

However…

Through the falling bodies and from the fog of dust and blood, they burst forth.

Their fur was even darker than the ones before them, slabs of muscle and bone bulging and rippling underneath. Their claws were longer and sharper, and their teeth stained with even more innocent blood. In comparison to the monsters underneath their paws, they were stronger through and through, a different level of strength without a shadow of a doubt.

They prowled forwards, the deaths of the fallen providing them with the smallest of opportunities, a miniscule gap in the barrage of steel that any living being would have been suicidal to try and exploit.

They ran forwards, the line of bodies that marked the previous furthest point they had reached now behind them. They saw the boy still far in the distance, a lone figure calmly standing amidst the storm of blades and shadow, and the sight of their enemy, tauntingly distant and seemingly unreachable, only fueled their ardor.

One meter turned into two. Two meters turned into three. Three turned into ten, unnatural strength propelling them onwards in the blink of an eye, and the monsters could not help the bud of hope blooming within them as they eyed their goal.

Their journeys ended as their chance closed in an instant, and their blood spilled out onto the ground as the next volley of swords finally arrived, striking down the monsters before they could further approach and creating another line of bloody bodies.

However, it had been enough.

Lifeless eyes remained opened, watching blankly as the next line of monsters, stronger and faster, pushed forward, trampling upon the dead and dodging flying corpses as they charged into the tiny opening created.

Those same orbs dully observed as their replacements met the same fate, impaled into the ground like ghastly gravestones, morbid monuments to their extinguished existences.

The once peaceful forest was now anything but, the clearing having become a macabre stage where the drama of their existence played out in visceral detail. Each monster knew its fate the moment it surged forward, yet the collective will drove them forward relentlessly. They were born into this grim dance, and one after another, they sacrificed themselves, their lives the only currency they had to buy the precious time needed to close the distance between them and the boy who stood unwaveringly, his swords flashing in the crimson-stained battlefield.

With every step forward, another barrage of swords met the monsters of black, cutting them down mercilessly. Yet, for every monster that fell, another took its place, driven by a primal urge to overcome the insurmountable obstacle before them. Their numbers seemed endless, a ceaseless tide of darkness and fury.

Goden eyes narrowed ever so slightly as more swords appeared, each one finding its mark with unerring precision. A bead of sweat trailed down his brow, and the once calm breathing had become slightly labored. Each wave of weapons came ever so slightly slower, the barrage of swords not able to fully repel the incoming horde.

Weakness, that's what it was.

The invincible aura of the once-unassailable figure before them dimmed by the smallest amount, an observation that none of the monsters missed. Predator instincts ignited, and with renewed vigor, the onslaught of darkness continued to throw itself into the rain of steel. Finally, the daunting task ahead seemed less impossible than before.

The distance between them and the figure continued to diminish, meter by hard-fought meter disappearing, the distance seemingly infinite yet undoubtedly shrinking. The monsters' bodies piled up, forming grotesque mounds that their kin trampled over in their blind pursuit. Blood and entrails painted the battlefield, mixing with the churned soil to create a grim tapestry of morbid defeat.

The monsters did not falter. They pressed on, their claws scraping against the earth, their growls and cries filling the air with a sinister symphony of death and desperation. Hearts raced, their own heartbeats a final reminder of their fleeting lives before they were inevitably struck down.

It was, by all accounts, a terrible strategy, and without their sheer numbers, such a scheme would not have been possible. However, with the insurmountable cliff before them, there was simply no other choice, their lives the fuel for the fire blazing deep within them all, all only for a sliver of an opportunity to finally present itself.

Then, at long last, the storm was nearing its end, the monsters' seemingly vast numbers having been exhausted. In the end, they did not manage to reach the boy, their relentless assault faltering at the very end. Bodies crumpled mere steps from their target, the unreachable boy standing as a silent testament to their futile struggle. Their grand offensive had met a tragic end, falling short of its mark.

However, just when it seemed like the flames of hope had been snuffed out, they stepped forth.

They were the final wave, the last remnants of the swarm, the pillars of strength among the horde. They were the strongest, the indisputable elite among elites, almost another breed of abominations altogether, more akin to the nightmares the prowled underneath the human psyche than any real living being.

They stalked forward on disjointed legs, the bone underneath their hideous hides jutting out unnaturally in jagged patterns. The bony protrusions that ran all long their bodies were far larger than their brethren's, growing out to form plate-like armor that protected the vulnerable flesh underneath like grotesque knights from hell. Wisps of shadow trailed behind them, crimson orbs burning with a malevolent hellfire that caused the boy's eyes to widen before narrowing further.

Everything else had been ultimately an expendable asset, nothing more than fodder to tear open the smallest of openings in the wall of impossibility before them. With a shrill battle cry, a storm of claws and teeth and tusks bore down upon the solitary boy, a united cry ringing out in one final desperate attempt at victory.

The first Assault Dog finally reached him, maw snapping open as it sought to rip out his throat. Its fangs missed its target as the boy twisted to the side, almost materializing away from the attack.

With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, the sword in his hand flashed forward, briefly glowing with magical energy before puncturing the plate that covered its side and tracing a bloody line across the length of the monster's body, its momentum only causing it to carve itself open along the blade. It landed, legs wobbling as it precariously swayed twice before collapsing, its organs spilling open from the wound in a waterfall of gore.

Two more approached him, attacking from both sides to cut off any escape paths. There was a whimper as an arm shot out like a bullet, fingers digging into flesh like a steel vice-grip. Another yelp rang out as one monster was thrown onto the other, bones cracking in a resounding snap before the sword reappeared once again to skewer both beasts through their hearts.

A shadow loomed over the boy before a pair of arms, two black and white columns of pure muscle, slammed down into a cloud of debris of dust. The Terminate Boar lifted its arms back up, the black appendages preparing to smash the figure into a red paste on the ground.

There was the soft ringing of steel pervaded the air, and the monster's face became speckled with crimson droplets as both arms exploded in a shower of blood, the limbs suddenly disappearing from the elbow down. It looked at its arms puzzledly, confusion coming before understanding, even more so when two feet softly landed upon the base of right tusk. Red orbs started to pan upwards towards a pair of legs and a small torso before the motion was interrupted by virtue of the steel sword stabbing through the gaps of the bones that adorned its head like a helmet, impaling one of its eyes with a sickening squelch.

A deafening roar echoed throughout the forest, and the immense monster thrashed around in anger and pain. Small hands pushed the weapon further in before twisting, and the writhing stopped altogether, the giant behemoth crashing to the ground and twitching twice before finally lying still.

Dust settled, and twin jaws of razor-sharp teeth clamped down onto the figure's right arm that wielded his weapon. The Assault Dog towered over the boy, and the arm in its mouth might as well have been a toothpick in comparison.

"I suppose some level of injury might be a bit more believable. Still, it's good to know that this sort of attack is not an issue."

Muscles flexed and tightened, but the jaw that could snap a sword in half like a twig could not summon the strength necessary to drive the canines down to pierce flesh.

On the other side, two Assault Dogs leapt at him, intent on using the diversion to finally deliver a lethal strike.

The sickly sensation filled the air once again, and the arm that was trapped in the maws of the monster tensed before wrenching itself free. Teeth scattered at its feet as the monster's jaw hung limply, blood streaming from where its now-missing teeth used to be, and the monster took a step forward before an axe fell from the sky, smashing into its skull and littering the area with bloody fragments of bone and brain matter.

At the same time, an enormous greatsword materialized, almost two meters long and wider than the boy himself. It launched itself at the two monsters, cleanly slicing both and leaving the halves of the dogs to gush blood at the boy's feet.

A second Terminate Boar, even larger than the first, barreled towards him, each step almost an earthquake on its own. An arm, almost as thick as a tree trunk, came towards him at blinding speeds. The boy suddenly reappeared on the thick limb, carefully balancing himself before racing towards the monster's head with sword in hand.

However, his movements were not quick enough. Another pack of Assault Dogs leapt up at him, jaws snapping open in a vicious snarl as they intercepted his path. The first one was easily swatted aside, brain pierced through before it could land. The second dog came from the other side, and it flew at the boy before latching on its jaws around his leg.

There was a click of a tongue, eyes that looked more haggard than before narrowing, and the monster's head became estranged from its neck as the resistance abruptly vanished. However, its intent was only ever a distraction, and two more mouths clamped on the boy's arms.

The sudden weight caused a shift in balance, and the figure tumbled down towards the ground.

A fire erupted within the few monsters left, the predatory senses within them blazing to life as they all sensed the opportunity that laid before them. Hoarse screams echoed throughout the clearing, a primal cry that could only mean one thing:

Attack.

Snarls and growls roared throughout the clearing as they converged upon the small boy lying on the ground. They charged with an animalistic ferocity, hunger and hate blazing within crimson eyes.

A large foot, attached to legs each the size of fully-grown men, reared up and hung in the air for a moment before it smashed into the earth.

A breath later, and the same limb rose again, slamming back down with even greater force.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Soil and rock scattered, and the small crater below the monsters spread outwards with each ground-shattering strike. The foot, taloned with claws the size of swords and just as deadly, did not relent in its attacks, leveraging the tremendous mass behind it to crush its target.

Blood flew through the air, but for the first time since the night started, it was not spilled from the monsters. The Terminate Boar prepared to continue its assault, but a flash of light caught its attention. It briefly looked away from the figure sprawled on the ground to see a large longsword materializing next to the boy. It quickly shot towards the monster, and only lightning-quick reflexes managed to divert it away from its heart and into its stomach.

Black sludge seeped from the wound, but the injury was far from fatal. Ignoring the embedded projectile for now, the boar bent down and pick up the boy in its oversized hand. The small figure was now a bloody mess, face contorted in pain as he remained slack in its grip, the sight almost pitiful. Combined with his diminutive stature, and it was hard to believe that the puny thing in its grasp had been responsible for the carnage

Lips curled back in a snarl, and the blackened hand began to squeeze, the full might of the monster bearing down upon the frail body in its grasp.

Bones creaked, and a groan escaped the boy's lips as he bore the immense pressure crushing him. A second hand joined the first, and the force killing him doubled in an instant.

Bones cracked. Blood and spittle flew. Eyes almost popped out of their sockets. A gaping maw opened, lowering itself towards the boy.

And then…

BOOM!

Fire erupted, the sword impaling the monster exploding in a burst of heat and light. For an instant, blood rained from the sky, showering everything in the vicinity with speckles of red. A thunderous impact shook the earth, the upper half of the Terminate Boar landing with a loud crash somewhere in the distance, glassy eyes fixated upon its still-landing lower body. Those remnants wavered for a few more moments before finally toppling in a resounding thud.

The boy struggled to his feet, his face contorted in pain. Each labored breath was punctuated with harsh coughs, and a thin trail of blood ran down from his mouth and nose. He staggered unsteadily, but despite his state, the intensity in his eyes did not fade in the slightest as he eyed the remaining monsters charging towards him.

A volley of swords appeared, launching themselves at the horde. A series of explosions engulfed the group, dust and smoke obscuring his vision. However, from the haze emerged the monsters once again, their numbers obliterated but still present.

They swarmed him, a storm of teeth and claws buffeting the solitary figure. His arms were a whirlwind, the steel sword in his hand almost invisible. Each swing of the blade severed limbs and head, and bodies crumpled as blood cascading like waterfalls all around him.

However, his retaliation was not one-sided, and each life he wrenched away from their grasp exacted a toll upon the boy. Jaws full of jagged fangs bit into his shoulder, and this time they found purchases within his flesh. Claws raked over his arms and chest, leaving behind shallow but bleeding trails.

It was a losing battle for the figure. He had lost his greatest asset, his range, and now the enemy was engaging him in melee, the place where their overwhelming numbers had the biggest advantage.

The monsters knew this as well, and their increasing fervor reflected in the desperate frenzy they crowded him with. Any second now, just the slightest of mistakes, and it would be over. His margin of error had disappeared, and it was only an inevitability for fatigue and exhaustion to spell his doom.

For the boy, there was one option remaining.

"I am…"

The monsters froze, a cold, numbing sensation overtaking them. The alien feeling returned, utter wrongness that permeating from the boy intensifying several times over. The air itself shook at his words, as if the world was fracturing and distorting around the child before them.

Deep within, a primal instinct—the very essence that marked them as children of this world—thrashed and howled, urging them to flee at any cost.

Because whatever was going to come next was something not meant to exist here.

As one, they pivoted away, their will to fight extinguished like the last flickers of candlelight.

By then, it was already too late.

Golden eyes lit ablaze.

"… the bone of my sword."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

I used to dream of a scorched earth.

Of seas of blood and mountains of corpses—the path of the hero that I had sworn to cross.

At some point, I knew that I would meet my end at the end of that road, and even though at one point I had decided to choose how I reach the end, choosing to be a hero meant there was no other fate waiting for me.

I was born in fire and blood, and I would die in it as well. My journey would end just as how it started, and even though I was now in a new world, there were some things that simply couldn't be changed.

The smell of burning flesh pervaded my nose, the foul odor something I was well-acquainted with at this point. My footsteps were punctuated with splashes of sanguine fluid, puddles of red covering nearly the entire clearing. Giant mounds of burning dogs and boars littered the area like morbid bonfires, their festering carcasses gazing lifelessly at the sky.

I cast an impassive look at it all, my visage as blank as a marble statue.

I had resolved myself to kill people. I was not naïve enough to believe that achieving my dream would not have come without cost. Bloodshed ultimately was a necessary price, a lesson that humanity continually taught itself over and over. After all, to nurture the flame of ambition that dwelled within humanity's core meant to accept that it would eventually engulf everything in its way.

So I was not surprised that I stood in the center of this macabre scene. It had been something I was long anticipating. However, the fact that the bodies piled high around me were monsters and not people was a slight comfort. In that respect, I had not needed to steel myself for the fight that had come. There were no hopes and dreams that needed to be crushed today. There were no wishes to be trampled upon just to fulfill the ones that already resided within me.

It was mindless slaughter, as simple as that.

I let my body relax slightly, and Kanshou and Bakuya, modified to fit my current body's proportions, dissipated into motes of blue light. I walked over to a Terminate Boar, trying my best to endure the searing pain that pervaded every portion of my body with every movement. The battle had not been without difficulty, and if I had not used the more potent parts of my arsenal, I would have been overwhelmed. There were far too many of them, several hundred by my count, my attempt at drawing the monsters to me perhaps succeeding a bit too well.

I coughed, the pain of crushed rib bones stabbing into my lungs lighting a burning fire in my chest. Blood trailed down from the corner of my mouth, dribbling down my chin before I wiped it away with my hand.

In addition, this body was not as used to physical exertion. My combat proficiency with tracing and other magecraft was dependent on my soul and not the body, so those areas were not affected by my rebirth. However, my physical stamina was still developing, and my body still had to get used to outputting so much magical energy. My spar with Paul and usual training sessions had not pushed me as far this night had, combining constant applications of magecraft alongside physical combat taxing my body more than I expected.

Still, it was not all bad. Testing out my capabilities was an unexpected benefit from this night. Had I been so adamant on training at every possible opportunity, then handling the assault would have come at a greater cost, both to me and the surrounding area.

However, all this effort was ultimately to save Laws, his survival the main reason I was willing to go so far. Repaying his kindness by casting aside my doubts and hesitation was the least I could do. If nothing else, regardless of the consequences that would befall me later, I saved one life today, the only thing that mattered.

Of course, I had no doubt that the man was injured in some manner. I was confident in his skills to survive until I was ready to call all the monsters in the vicinity away from him and the village, but everyone had their limits. I would need to find him soon and bring him back to the village.

My lips curled into a small smile.

What a familiar feeling. Perhaps this was the seductive sensation that had allured me so long ago. It had been so long that I had almost forgotten it.

However, just as quickly as it came, the smile faded. The sight in front of me was far too repulsive to ignore.

Tendrils of shadow smoked from their bodies. Their flesh was as black as the night sky. Blank orbs stared back at me, but even in death, their crimson hue radiated a chilling malevolence that would not have been out of place on a demon's.

An uncomfortable feeling swelled up within my chest, and I could feel hints of bile racing up my throat. The pit in my stomach was a gaping chasm, and my lungs burned as I let out a breath that I did not even realize I had held in.

Fear is not the word I would have used.

I did not feel fear when Berserker's monstrous presence dragged my body across the streets of Fuyuki nor when his jagged blade had nearly torn my body in two.

I did not feel fear when Gilgamesh had towered over me with a sky brimming with gold, judging the worth of my existence with haughty ruby eyes nor when the symbol of her authority tore reality itself asunder.

I did not feel fear when my own servant stood across from me in that desolate cavern, the weight of the world falling upon my meager shoulders as I dueled with the blackened knight to write the ending I sought.

This emotion though… I had only felt it once before—when I finally saw the grotesque trophy we had all been fighting for.

Countless lifetimes could pass, and I would not be able to forget it. It was etched into my mind as deeply as the wishes engraved into my soul. I was born in its taint—an inescapable part of my being.

The sickening aura that caused my stomach to churn was only a passing memory, but the feeling of wrongness emanating from the surrounding corpses still served as a foul reminder of the past. What I had sensed earlier as the beasts approached paled in comparison to this overwhelming, corrupting presence I bathed in.

It was wrong, plain and simple. Even back on Earth, I could sense that it was something that did not belong. Here, in this new world, alien could scarcely describe the feeling.

But even this much could not make my skin crawl and my innards writhe like it did before.

The taint of the Holy Grail.

This was not just a passing resemblance. It was the real thing, without a shadow of a doubt.

I wanted to turn a blind eye to it, to deny its existence outright. The grail had been the cause of Sakura's misery, the poor girl suffering as a tool in a fool's quest to attain the corrupted power. Saber herself had blindly pursued its temptation, and the revelation of its true nature had nearly broken her. Whatever sweet nothings it whispered into the ears of its victims only brought about nothing but agony and destruction.

And most of all, if the grail was truly present in this world…

Then it meant that Illyasviel's sacrifice had been meaningless.

I ground my teeth together at the futility of the girl's final, meaningful choice, and the red orbs that stared back at me served as a mocking reminder of that fact. My fists clenched, and my shoulders trembled at the thought of it all.

The revulsion I felt transformed into something I could describe far easier.

There was a bitterness in my mouth, a vile, festering sensation blazing within my chest. It felt completely foreign, the raw, passionate anger swelling within me not something I had never felt before.

Hate.

Justice?

Fairness?

To think that reality could not even spare her even that much—that the incarnation of all the world's evils was granted a second chance, while an innocent girl whose life was never her own was denied—it was the ultimate irony.

And I hated it.

At one point, I had empathized with the corrupted being, knowing exactly what it felt like to be crushed underneath the burdens of others, to be the martyr that the masses desired, to live an existence not for your own sake but for others. In some sense, I knew it was illogical to hate the grail, Angra Mainyu never being given any sort of choice—the dark god only fulfilling the function it was given.

However, such sentiments did nothing to smother the flames within my heart, and empathy would not stop me from doing what needed to be done.

It was strange, feeling such a rush of emotions. Such a thing would not have been possible in the past. It was only when it came to them that I could feel the hints of normalcy that were denied to me from birth.

Perhaps that is why I was born in this new world. Maybe this is what Illyasviel and the others had in mind— a purpose given to me, the last survivor of a forgotten war, and one last chance to make things right.

I could feel them, the listless pieces of my resolve coming together once again, and with them, the tranquil, languid life I had lived up to now was set aflame, leaving behind nothing but ashes.

Rage bred acceptance—acceptance of life's cruelty, of past failures resurfacing to haunt me once again. Acceptance birthed defiance—against fate, against the ending I had once written.

And from defiance, purpose emerged.

For the first time in years, both halves of Emiya Shirou—id and ego—were in complete and utter harmony.

And the flame that I had lost since coming to this new world was lit anew.

Tongues of flickering flames lashed out at me, golden fire licking my skin but leaving it unmarred. It was not surprising considering what this body was made out of and what it had been forged in, a useful side effect of the past.

I looked all around me, noting the large number of bodies completely filling the clearing as if it was a landfill for corpses, and a displeased frown appeared on my lips.

I would need to get rid of all these bodies somehow. Most were already in the process of being incinerated as an unintentional side-effect of my earlier efforts, but perhaps there was a flaming mystic code or noble phantasm I could use to hasten the process. There was a chance that the magical energy from this amount of bodies would attract more of monsters, and if they somehow grew stronger from eating their dead kin, then a horde larger and stronger than this one would come barreling into Buena Village, and I would definitely not be able to hold off that sort of attack without any sort of preparations and massive collateral damage.

One of the mounds twitched, the large mass shaking and rumbling before with a pathetic whine, a singular body crawled out from beneath the pile of flesh. It looked more like an abandoned puppy than the fearsome wolf it had seemed like earlier. The ominous black fur was dingy and slick with dirt and blood. Its front right leg was missing from the knee down, and both ears were torn off, leaving behind only bloody stumps. Jaws that proudly sported over a dozen fangs were now down to half of that, and its lower mandible hung limply as its tongue lolled out from the side, the muscle no longer able to sit properly within the monster's mouth.

It stumbled onto its feet, weakly propping itself up and trembling for a split second before gravity won, the beast crashing back to the ground. Another attempt was more successful, the monster swaying unsteadily as it precariously balanced itself on three limbs.

I watched as its head panned from one side to the other, the sole remaining eye scanning the devastated battlefield. The monster took in the sight of the pack, brothers it had charged into battle with, now lying dead all around it.

Their once fierce and frightening forms were reduced to lifeless heaps, stacked high in columns like trash as they slowly burned to cinders. Each burning body was a testament to the failure of their attack, and the flames dancing over their remains cast eerie shadows that seemed to reach out towards the lone survivor, as if trying to drag it down to join its fallen brethren.

For the monster, the sight must have been its personal hell. The last remnants of crimson light, which once burned with rage and determination, were slowly ebbing away from its eye, leaving behind a dulled orb—a window into an empty soul, devoid of the primal fury that had once defined it.

And perhaps that fact only made it more surprising when the monster turned towards me. Battered paw placed in front of paw, it began to stumble its way over. There was a listlessness to its stride, an emptiness in its gait. Each step seemed to extract a toll from the beast, nearly causing it to topple over. The ground beneath its feet barely registered its weight, and its massive frame seemed to sag underneath an invisible burden.

There was a listlessness to its stride, an emptiness in its gait. It moved like a puppet with cut strings, its body going through the motions of life while the mind and spirit were broken and gone. Each lumbered step brought the monster closer to me but also further from itself, and I could not help the rising pity in my chest.

Was this how I had looked like all those years ago?

I continued to let the monster come closer, interested in what it would do, if it would do what I had done.

The broken beast was in front of me now, and I watched it closely with a keen curiosity.

There was a murmur off to the side, and then I sighed, taking a step backwards.

A sword lanced through the air, blue light tracing a line through the darkness of the night. The last Assault Dog did not even have the time to notice the projectile as the sword buried itself into the monster's head, destroying its skull in a gory explosion of blood and bone before stabbing into the ground.

The decapitated body managed to move another two feeble steps forward, its momentum undeterred by the loss of its brain until reality caught up to it and it fell over at my feet, the monster finally joining the rest of its family.

It seemed that my visitor had enough waiting.

I had felt a presence make it way over to the clearing just a bit earlier, but whoever it was had decided to sit back and observe as I had idly checked all the bodies. I was sure that the sight in front of them must have been quite shocking, seeing a young child wading through the corpses of so many monsters. Truthfully, I had been so engrossed in my musings that I had not even noticed the presence until it was too late, and now all I could do was act nonchalant and wait until they approached.

I glanced to the side, looking at the magical weapon. The design of the sword itself was fairly nondescript, nothing more than a standard longsword. Its blade was almost the length of my height, and no decorations adorned its pommel or cross guard. However, the remarkable qualities of the weapon did not lie within its shape but in its construction.

Undulating frosted vapors wafted from a blade of crystal rime, dense hoarfrost spreading from where the sword was embedded into the earth. The grass within a few meters of the blade was frozen solid, a carpet of icy spikes blanketing the area. The length of ice shimmered in the moonlight, capturing ethereal motes of white and refracting it to cast an iridescent glow over its surroundings.

I let out a breath, watching as it turned visible in the now chilly air, the white mist rising until it disappeared.

I hummed in approval.

Not bad. Whatever spell conjured the weapon had an impressive amount of power behind it.

The sword itself was a manifestation of magecraft and was not a true weapon. There was no history or memories for me to analyze; for all intents and purposes, it was just magical energy transformed into ice and molded into the shape of a sword.

I glanced at the corpse at my feet and crinkled my eyes wryly.

Simple but effective. I had no complaints.

Grass softly crunched as footsteps approached me from my periphery. It had taken them quite a while to cross over from the clearing's edge, though perhaps that only made their aim more impressive.

"You shouldn't be playing around with monsters."

An even voice cut through the air, and I instinctively stiffened. It was undoubtedly feminine, perhaps one that would belong to a younger woman. However, there was a depth of it that belied its apparent youth, a certain quality that spoke of wisdom and experience beyond her years, and the words she had uttered were said with no small amount of insight.

I frowned, my senses beginning to fray at the voice. Memories flashed through my mind, the sensations vivid yet fleeting all the same. I scrunched my eyebrows as faint pin pricks assaulted my mind, trying to remember where I had felt this before.

And then I finally turned to meet the owner of the voice.

She was shorter than I expected, shorter than every adult I knew, and had I not known better, I would have mistaken her for a teenager. She was garbed in a white tunic and black skirt, the clothes well-kept and meticulously maintained, scarcely showing signs of use. They hugged her petite frame, subtly highlighting her delicate frame.

Draped over her entire body was a two-piece brown cloak, starkly contrasting with the pristine clothes underneath. Where her tunic and skirt seemed barely touched by time, the cloak wore its history openly, almost proudly. It bore the marks of countless adventures, mismatched patches and stitches covering numerous tears and missing pieces littering the entire piece—someone who had weathered innumerable storms but had emerged victorious. The marks did not detract from her image but added to it, seamlessly weaving together a tapestry of seasoned experience that complimented, rather than diminished, her youthful visage.

In her hand was a long staff, the weapon taller than the wielder herself, and various scratches and blemishes dotted the metal shaft. A small blue gem levitated mystically at its tip, radiating enough magical energy to pique even Tohsaka's interest. Sitting even higher was a black witch's hat, its tip lazily drooping downwards and the brim serving to emphasize the face underneath.

Blue strands fluttered in the wind, the curtain of hair seemingly taking on a life of its own as it rippled and flowed, vividly shimmering against the muted surroundings. Azure locks framed a youthful face, and despite knowing she lived a life far from comfort or luxury, there was not a single blemish I could spot. However, all that paled in comparison to the shining gems on her face.

Sapphire orbs even icier than the sword she had launched glimmered in the night, the polished blue sheen of her irises glowing like twin stars in the darkness. They rooted me on the spot, the frostiness of her gaze almost stopping all my thoughts, the depth of those pools sending my brain into an endless loop of fascination and enchantment.

Under any other circumstance, perhaps I would have been content to do so. However, no amount of mesmerizing lights could have stopped my realization from shattering the illusion in front of me.

The gentle nighttime breeze picked up into a strong gust, rolling across the forest and searing my skin with its cold air. Clouds drifted across the sky, and the moon appeared once again, bathing her in a column of soft silver as if she was a performer on stage. The moonlight only further heightened her presence, wrapping around her to create an ethereal aura that only highlighted the almost otherworldly sensation I felt.

It was just like that night, when my whole life had been turned upside down, when the eyes that had been closed off from the world had finally opened, when the fate that I had been beholden to no longer seemed to be the only way forward.

When I met her.

Memories came flooding back, the sixteen days that had irrevocably changed my life and destiny forever playing through my mind once again. I felt burnt soil between my fingers, and I realized that my legs had collapsed from underneath me. I was now sitting on the ground, looking up at the woman.

Her eyes were wide open, her mouth agape as she looked down at me. However, it was not from my sudden lack of composure but something else entirely.

I watched as her elegant features twisted through a myriad of emotions, changing from amazement to surprise before settling on a complicated expression of fearful bewilderment.

"You… the same as back then…?"

Her voice was quiet, barely louder than a whisper, as if she couldn't trust herself to speak any louder. Dainty eyebrows furrowed, and the grip on her staff tightened as I sensed the magical energy within her threatening to surge forward.

Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into eternity as we stood locked in a silent confrontation.

My blood ran cold. My heart hammered against my chest, threatening to explode. I was immediately on edge, puzzled captivation morphing into heightened wariness.

Not because the woman in front of me possessed a firm and commanding presence, combining both ability and experience into a singular, powerful force.

Not because those azure orbs shone with enough magical energy to make my hairs stand on end, swords flashing through my mind as I suppressed the instinct to call forth my blades.

"Mystic Eyes? No… something else…!"

There was no doubt about it.

This meeting was no mere coincidence. It was a fateful convergence of paths, one that I would not fully understand until I reached its end.

It was exactly like how it was back then, an echo of the past returning once again to change my destiny.

And a single thought crystallized in my mind.

"This woman is dangerous."

Chapter Text

A cold silence enveloped the forest.

Amidst a sea of broken, bloody bodies, she loomed over me, the incredible weight of her presence seemingly causing the world itself to pause and stop, her existence almost bending reality to its whims. With the way the moonlight clung to her luminous form, it would not have been inappropriate to call her a goddess. Despite her small stature, she was towering, her magnificence wholly unsullied by the deathly scene around her, as if the air embracing her was too divine to be touched by the filth and grime of the mortal realm.

She was grace and elegance given form, a blessing from the heavens themselves descending to earth. Her aura was magnetizing, and I could feel all that I was, body and soul, destiny and fate, inexorably drawn towards her, her radiance threatening to swallow me whole.

"Was this how I had seemed to you all?"

It was hard to deny. It was plain as day—as obvious as the brightly lit moon in the stark black sky.

Perhaps this breathtaking presence is what Saber and the others had been trying to convince me I possessed, the mark of someone who was blessed by the world. They all had told me several times, and I had never properly listened.

Saber's sincere words, Tohsaka's flowery praise, Sakura's thankful cries, Illyasviel's saccharine adoration, and even Rider's small, knowing smiles all conveyed what I had stubbornly refused to accept. How ironic was it that the very thing I denied would now be thrust back to my face, a mirror reflecting the truth I had so desperately avoided? It was like a bucket of cold water, the realization hitting me with the force of a chilling tidal wave.

Crystal blue orbs bored into amber pools, and time stretched as the strength to turn away slipped from my grasp. One second turned into two. Two seconds turned into four. Four seconds melded into infinity, and my brain turned to mush as my lungs burned from a breath I had been holding in since our eyes first locked together.

Somewhere in the hazy depths of my mind, I made a mental grimace. The effect that this woman had on me was dangerous, the pangs in my chest ripping open the wounds that had festered all this time. Not that they ever healed in the first place, of course not, but the familiar feelings swirling within me only intensified the memories that haunted me.

My only consolation was that just as our meeting had affected me greatly, stirring up the ghosts of the pasts like a whirlwind, I was having a similar effect on the woman in front of me.

She was paralyzed, her dainty features twisted into a complicated expression. The confusion and caution were still present from before, but now her eyes were glassy and unfocused, and her mouth was agape. Hints of wonder started seeping onto her face, and whatever she saw was clearly overwhelming, as she flinched in surprise as the staff fell from her grasp, her hand shooting out to grab the weapon like it was second nature.

The sharp movement seemed to snap her out of her reverie, and blue eyes narrowed onto me like spotlights. The trepidation was back now, even stronger than before, and her lips were pulled into a terse line.

"You… who are you?"

The suspicion in her words was unmistakable, tinged with subtle accusation, but the slight tremble in her voice betrayed the underlying hints of fear I sensed earlier. I could sense her magical energy fluctuating—the possibility of a fight not escaping her. However, perhaps the visions she glimpsed within me made her hesitant to resort to violence. Or maybe it was as simple as the fact that to her eyes, I was only a child, my youthful appearance staying her hand.

Still, the knowledge that we were both on an even playing field gave me a small comfort.

"I'm—" I took a moment to properly find my voice again "—a boy from the village around here," I answered.

She raised a delicate eyebrow. "Just a boy, huh?" The woman had a disbelieving gaze as she looked around us, eyes darting from the smoldering mounds of flesh and bone that littered the area and towards the small steel sword that was sheathed at my side then back to casting their frigid gaze at me. "And what of all this?" She waved a hand towards all the bodies.

A snake coiled itself around my throat, and I could not help the feeling that my next words would determine the nature of our relationship.

The temptation to deny everything rose within me. The uncertainty of her reaction to the truth gave me pause, not to mention the consequences afterwards. There was a small chance she would shrug it off as the delusions of a child, but with what she had seen, it was a miniscule hope at best. More likely than not, she would believe me, and perhaps the secrets I had hidden from the Greyrats would finally to light. I had been hesitant to reveal anything due to the tenuous balance in the household, and up to now, Paul, Zenith, and Lilia had been willing to look past my abnormalities, but there was a significant difference between confirming I was a gifted child and them discovering just exactly what they had been harboring this entire time.

Could I convince her to withhold my secret? It was a possibility—making the woman some sort of collaborator. Having an ally separate from the Greyrats and the villagers could be invaluable, and the chance to do so would be now, when the slate would be the cleanest it ever could be.

Of course, in that case, the question of how exactly I could ensure her cooperation came to my mind, and with it, what exactly I would need to offer.

What was I willing to give up for my goals? It was a question that I had constantly wrestled with both in this life and my previous one. Before, I had been willing to be an uncompromising wall, believing myself able to defy the fate I had been imprisoned to, and even though the circumstances of this situation were far different, the core dilemma remained the same.

This time, however, I was not facing an immutable destiny, but a negotiation where the stakes were of my own choosing.

I held no status in this world, and I had no wealth to my name. I was simply a young boy in the middle of the countryside, and there were no connections I could offer in return, no favors I could call in. For all intents and purposes, I was a child, nothing more.

However, I had something far more significant than simple material gifts.

The truth.

The truth of the monsters that had attacked me and plagued this world as well as the truth of my impossible existence—a traveler who had crossed the barrier between worlds and held the history of one within its soul. If she were an opportunist, the potential of our collaboration was obvious. In that regard, I myself was the most valuable bargaining chip of them all.

I had been and still am willing to toss away this peaceful life in this village to pursue my ideals. Now, with a clear goal in sight and an enemy to defeat, the ante only increased.

I sighed internally.

Once again, I caught myself.

What was I even doing?

I immediately discarded my thoughts, and I could feel myself mentally relaxing at the loss. Archer would be proud, and the thought of that made me scrunch up my nose.

Of course, there was the other, darker, uglier truth to consider—the fact that I was just tired of it all. All the pretending, all the acting, living a life that didn't suit me, it simply didn't agree with me. Coming from a war with the fate of humanity at stake and billions of lives hung in the balance, seeing the destruction of the life I had yearned to create and the deaths of everyone I held dear, feeling the last crumbs of happiness slip away from my fingers… compared to that, how could I possibly reconcile Emiya Shirou with the banality of merely living?

No, that kind of story died when the ghosts of the past followed me to this new world. I would need to finish what I started, and for better or worse, I couldn’t afford to play coyly anymore.

Besides, the people of this world deserved to know the truth, regardless of anything else.

I stood back up, ignoring the aches and pains of my body. Looking at the woman from this angle, she was only a head and a half taller than I was, yet it did nothing to diminish her presence. The movement caused the woman to tense further and eyes to narrow. In contrast, I let my shoulders slacken, keeping my arms to my side as I stared evenly as the mage.

Well, there was certainly one way to distinguish myself from the crimson knight.

"They attacked me and my partner. If they came any closer, they would have attacked the village as well."

Even now, she was still assessing my intentions. I could tell from the way she carefully examined my form, keeping particular attention to my hands, that she was the studious, analytical type.

She took a moment to consider my words, letting out a hum. "Monsters are known for being aggressive," she agreed. "Still, it's hard to believe you did all this on your own."

I pushed forward. "There are a lot of things that are hard to believe nowadays,” I said, repeating Paul’s words.

Something dark flashed through her eyes. "That is certainly true. " The witch-like figure walked over to the nearest pile of bodies, prodding it inquisitively with the butt of her staff. "How visceral. Even though the evidence is right in front of me, to think such a young child would be capable of this level of brutality…" She trailed off with a frown, continuing to probe the dead monsters. "It's hard to tell given the extent of the damage, but it looks like each one was killed with only a single strike. Whatever you used to kill them had both impressive destructive power and unerring precision." There was subtle but definite approval in her voice, though whether or not she was impressed by the manner in which the monsters were killed or the techniques used to do so, I couldn't tell.

Then she turned back towards me with a curious gaze. "This doesn't look like any elemental magic I know. These wounds were inflicted by physical weapons, but your sword—" she gestured to the weapon at my hip "—isn't capable of causing these kinds of injuries. It's almost like…" she trailed off, a finger tapping her chin thoughtfully, a pensive look on her face as she pondered, "a small army trampled through here, like the aftermath of Asuran knights."

The term meant nothing to me, but I decided to file the information away for later. As for her question, I couldn't stop myself from questioning my actions, but I pushed through the hesitation. I had to commit now; I couldn’t afford to waste time and energy trying to do two things at once. If nothing else, upfront honesty wouldn't betray my ideals, even if it could betray my efforts in the future.

Magical energy gently ebbed and flowed, softly enough that the woman in front of me wouldn't get the wrong idea. Thankfully, she looked more curious than guarded, the blue motes of light coalescing in front of me matching the azure glow of her eyes. The woman continued watching with clear fascination as I slowly went through the steps of my personalized version of gradation air, mana giving form to memories and experience before encapsulating it in a vessel of steel.

After a few seconds, the light finally subsided after one final flash, revealing a completely ordinary longsword, as plain and mundane as any weapon you would find on the hip of any adventurer. Its original warrior was no one of note, just a well-trained soldier from a time long passed. Weapons like it were the majority of my arsenal, and it was one of the countless blades I had used earlier to dispatch the monsters.

"What in the world…" The petit woman breathily whispered, her voice barely audible as wide eyes reflected a mix of awe and confusion. I could sense her mind racing to make sense of the scene before her, bright cerulean orbs frantically darting along the length of steel hovering between us. Occasionally, her eyes would quickly peer at me, her gaze boring into my soul as if she were trying to decipher the secrets that laid within it before returning her focus back to the sword.

"It's magic, I can tell that much… but it's so much more…"

The enigmatic woman, a figure shrouded in mystery and allure and had appeared in dramatic fashion, was reduced to an almost child-like state, innocent wonder sparkling in her eyes as she examined the projection.

Perhaps it was those eyes of hers, the shining orbs maybe granting the woman a deeper insight into the secrets of the projection that were unknown from others. To a regular person, my projections were merely ordinary weapons, indistinguishable from the mundane original. Even most magi would not have been able to identify them as fakes, and only Gilgamesh had been able to peer past their shell and decipher their true nature at first glance.

The witch-like figure seemed to finally snap out of her reverie, her back straightening as her eyes turned back towards me.

"Ahem… How uncouth of me. I apologize," the woman embarrassedly said, a faint blush visible on her cheeks. "Whatever magic you conjured is quite mesmerizing. I would ask what spell you used to create such an effect, but you have only been truthful with me while I have not divulged anything yet. Such sincerity deserves to be reciprocated in return first." Her gaze softened, and a small smile blossomed on her lips. The wide brim of her hat dipped, the woman nodding in a gesture of respect.

I could barely recognize the quiet, meek "Thank you" that left my lips, and the woman coughed lightly as she quickly averted her eyes.

"Ah, I suppose I should probably start by introducing myself first." To her credit, she gained her composure quickly, icy orbs regarding me with a firm look. "My name is Roxy Migurdia. I'm an adventurer, and I was investigating some strange monster activity in this area." Her free hand disappeared inside the folds of her shirt before reappearing with a card of some sort.

I dismissed the sword between us with a thought, and though she tried to hide it, Roxy's face fell in slight disappointment. Still, she stepped closer to just shy of arm's length, offering the card towards me.

Curious about what she was giving to me, I took the object, inspecting it with an inquisitive gaze.

It was magical, if barely, but I wasn't familiar enough with magecraft—both this world's and mines—to ascertain its supernatural properties. There was some sort of function there, but the only thing I could do was sense the faint mana radiating from the small crystal embedded on its back.

Still, I was ignoring the obvious purpose of the card. It was clearly some sort of identification, almost akin to a driver's license or residence card. The woman's name was clearly printed at the top, alongside her age and gender. There was also her race and job etched onto the small metal sheet, stating she was an adventurer much like she had told me, though the fact she was apparently a demon almost caused me to raise an eyebrow.

I looked up from the card, scrutinizing the lady in front of me.

Tufts of silky blue hair crowned her dainty head, showing no signs of any spiraling horns. Her skin was a youthful, alabaster white, a far cry from the fiery red of the denizens of hell, though there was a faint tan giving it a healthy glow, presumably from many days spent outside as an adventurer.

I looked below me, and though I could see the red tint of the soil from the blood of the monsters that seeped into the ground, there was no circle of fire and brimstone opening up at my feet nor any arms from the tortured souls of the dead trying to drag me down to hell.

Well, she was far different from any demon I could have imagined. Sylphiette was also called a demon by the bullies yesterday. Perhaps my image of demons was simply not correct in this new world, and the demons here were actually small girls with an abnormal talent for magic.

Roxy noticed that I was staring intently at her, and she cocked her head questioningly. I quickly glanced back down towards the card.

What truly caught my attention were the fields denoting her rank and party.

In the space that should have listed all the other members of her party, there was nothing but empty space, the metal of the card clean and unblemished.

From my brief dive into Paul's memories and what he told me, I knew that solo adventuring was atypical. Most adventurers were in parties of at least a few members, and even someone as strong as Paul was no exception. Even the warrior that Paul had suggested training me, the one he had fought alongside and conceded was the far better swordsman, didn't fight alone.

And finally, in the space below her non-existent party, the woman's adventurer rank was displayed at the very bottom, the lettering larger than everything else. Etched into the steel in crisp, bolded lines were two simple letters—

SS.

Paul and Zenith were S-rank adventurers from what they said yesterday. Being SS-rank put her in a league above even them, and that's accounting for the strength of Paul's entire party. I wasn't sure if adventurer rank necessarily translated directly to combat ability, but the fact was impressive, nonetheless.

A part of me was glad that my initial trepidation towards her wasn't just pure superstition and paranoia. Her presence and aura reminded me of memories long since passed, digging up the emotions that I had buried deep within my heart, but they had ultimately been just that—reminders. I could scratch the surface of her abilities just from pure intuition and senses but seeing the actual acknowledgement of her abilities in a tangible manner helped to put my feelings into perspective.

And it made my initial assessment of her all the more correct—Roxy Migurdia was dangerous, in more ways than one. Her delicate and saintly appearance belied the fierce and skilled mage that lurked underneath, and just being near her was enough to set my senses aflame.

Still, despite everything, it wouldn't change my plans going forward. If nothing else, Roxy did not seem to have any malicious intentions. I could give her the benefit of the doubt at the very least.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you then, Miss Roxy," I said, handing the card back to the woman.

"Such a polite child. However, just 'Roxy' will do, please," she insisted, her smile slightly strained. She put the card inside her dress, but I didn't miss how her eyes lingered ever so slightly upon the enlarged letters at the bottom nor the complicated storm of emotions laden in her gaze. There was a sense of satisfaction in there, but it felt hollow, almost bitter.

Visions of red flashed through my mind, of a crimson cape fluttering in desert winds. Orbs of ashen grey steel pierced through the sandstorm, a pair of haunted eyes staring through my soul.

Ah, so that's how it was.

If Roxy noticed my intent observation of her, she made no comment on it, instead looking at me with a curious look.

"I'm Shirou… Shirou Greyrat. I'm from the village near here," I answered her unspoken question.

"Buena village, if I'm not mistaken?" I nodded my head affirmatively, and Roxy let out a quiet hum. "I heard that this village is one of the few settlements that survived the monster outbreak. There were also a few rumors saying that this village experienced far less monster activity than other places." The woman once again cast a deadpan gaze all around her, giving me an unimpressed look. "I'm not entirely sure how much credence there is to them."

It seemed that this woman did her research on the area.

"Still, as interesting as such a phenomenon would be, I’ve discovered something far more fascinating." I could sense her magical energy shift, and twin frosted orbs bored into me once again. I shifted uncomfortably in place, beads of sweat rolling down my forehead as the woman keenly scrutinized me.

There was no doubt about it. This unnatural feeling radiating from her wasn't just an imagined effect on my part. My intuition had immediately focused on her eyes, and I could sense a concentration of energy coming from them. She was definitely doing something, but whatever function she was activating was beyond me.

Tohsaka and Illyasviel had told me about Mystic Eyes back on Earth, special eyes that were able to actualize magecraft. Rider herself possessed a pair, able to petrify living beings with a single glance. However, whatever special powers Roxy had definitely did not seem as outright deadly as the servant's. A good thing too—I was wholly unprepared to combat someone who had a trump card such as that.

Perhaps they were able to enhance her analytical abilities and grant her visual prowess. It would explain how she had been entranced by my projection, the multitude of layers of memories and experience in it a mesmerizing maze to navigate through. It would also explain why she was so intent on observing me; perhaps my unique status as an outsider was something she was able to readily see.

"Still, as mystical and mysterious your magic was, I find it hard to believe it was capable of devastating results." Roxy said skeptically. "Judging from their corpses, these monsters are highly mutated, and there are enough bodies here to traumatize the average soldier. Had you been a warrior on par with Sword King Ghislaine or a mage on the level of myself, I would not have been surprised. However, the amount of people who could replicate such carnage probably barely number a dozen, and I do not believe any of them are you."

I shrugged again. "I made a lot of them."

Roxy blinked. "You… made a lot of them…?"

I nodded. "A lot."

Roxy blinked again. Then again. Then again. Her features were oddly blank, but there was a bemused haze over her eyes.

"Had that statement that from anyone else, I would have thought it was made in jest, but coming from you, I can't help but feel it's entirely truthful." She hummed thoughtfully as she pondered. "Well, it would certainly explain how you were able to deal with such a large group of monsters. Keeping the large swarm at bay with a barrage of projectiles is definitely a sound strategy. However, to be able to create enough of them to stalwart such a massive offensive is… impressive, to say the least."

Roxy knew there was little sense in denying the truth when the evidence was right in front of her. Of course, that did not mean that she was easily accepting of my explanation, but she was grasping at the implications of what I had revealed along with what her eyes told her.

"I have to ask: how did you learn such magic in the first place?"

Honestly, there wasn't an easy answer for her question. I didn't know very much about it myself.

"I was born with it," I said simply. For now, that explanation would have to suffice. Perhaps I could elaborate further when the current information was allowed to marinate in her mind.

"In that case, you're probably a miko of some kind," Roxy hypothesized. "There is certainly some precedent already. I heard a prince in the Shirone kingdom was born with superhuman strength, and due to his lack of control, he killed his own brother when he was barely a toddler."

Ah… that sounds like—

"You look guilty. I'm guessing an incident has already occurred?"

I frowned, the remorse from yesterday swelling up within me. "It wasn't too serious, and he'll make a full recovery, but I would still prefer if it never happened in the first place."

Roxy considered my words before firmly nodding. "That is good to hear, both at the outcome and your caution. Children tend to easily misjudge things, and for someone as strong as you, lacking control over yourself can result in some dangerous situations, harming those who are close to you among the top of them." Her last phrase cut a bit too deeply for my liking, but I managed to hide the grimace on my face.

Roxy paused, more words on her tongue before she stopped herself. "Well, I'll stop myself there. Children tend to believe themselves to be adults when they aren't. For you, at least when it comes to matters such as this, I believe further wisdom is unnecessary. In some cases, patronizing lectures such as this can do more harm than good. I wasn't overly fond of them when I was younger, so I can attest to that fact."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's… surprising. I wouldn't have guessed." It was hard to imagine the woman in front of me on the other end of a scolding. She seemed far too composed and collected to have warranted such. Then again, the harshest lessons are often the ones that shape us most profoundly.

Roxy's eyes softened, a strange mix of amusement and bitterness crossing her features. "Is it really so difficult to imagine? Then again, if my younger self saw how I had turned out, I imagine she would be quite frustrated." She chuckled softly, then her expression grew more serious. "I wasn't always like this. I was far more arrogant and desperate a few years ago—no, even before that. I believed myself to be superior, not bowing my head to others. I was always desperate to prove myself, to show that I was more than just a kid." She shook her head in painful reminiscence, a self-deprecating smile on her lips. "I only ended up becoming a fool, and the world has a habit of humbling us when we believe ourselves to be infallible."

Her words pierced through me, the meaning behind her message all too clear. I knew exactly what she was referring to, the vivid bitterness in my mouth at reality's cruelty just as fresh as the day it had forced it down my throat. However, her existence wasn't as accursed as mine, and it made me all the more curious about her.

Despite not delving into the memories buried within that staff of hers, I was slowly starting to piece together the fragments of her past. They were fleeting, almost imperceptible, but each interaction, each carefully chosen word—not because she was trying to hide something but because she was particular about what she said—each subtle shift in her expression offered small glimpses into the enigma that was Roxy Migurdia.

In a way, this type of understanding was far more genuine than the one I usually experienced—the difference between knowing and understanding.

It was… satisfying, and wave of inexplicable feelings washed over me. How strange… when was the last time I had felt anything like it?

Flashes of five people raced through my head, and I realized that asking such a question was the height of stupidity. I already knew the answer; I was simply in denial about what was in front of me.

Roxy let out a small sigh. "Well, I'll spare you the stories. I'm sure you already get the idea. They're nothing more than the foolishness of youth, after all."

"I…" My mouth opened, but the words died in my throat.

How strange—when I stared down a sea of monsters, such an emotion never crossed my mind, but it was only when in a conversation with this woman that trepidation stayed my words.

"…Even still, I would like to hear them." Each heartbeat thumped against my chest, hammering against the walls around it, and despite knowing full well the consequences, I found myself swept up in its quiet yet insistent rhythm.

I was being greedy, indulging in a selfishness that bordered dangerously close to arrogance. The rational mind knew just where this road would lead to. Just as Icarus had strayed too close to the sun, I had scaled the unassailable peaks of the mountains that were my ideals and had fallen back down to earth.

However, the heart was a weak, feeble thing, and the ghosts of my ideals, ones I had tried to bury with my own hands, refused to stay silent.

"… I see. I'll be sure to tell them to you some day." Roxy turned away bashfully, but I could see the hints of a small smile on her lips and a slight crimson hue on her cheeks. Unfortunately, the scene only lasted for a few moments before Roxy snapped to attention. "Oh, before I forget, I should treat your wounds first."

A small hand placed itself on my chest, and I barely had time to raise an eyebrow before a soothing sensation stemmed from the appendage and flowing through my body.

"Healing."

"A shortened incantation," I noted.

The spell seemed to be the same as the one Zenith had cast on me when I was younger when I had accidentally bruised my head. Just like back then, golden light and speckles showered us, and I could feel the broken parts of my body knitting itself back together. However, perhaps it was just the sheer difference in magical energy, but Roxy's spell seemed different. If Zenith's magical energy had been like liquid sunlight, Roxy's energy would be comparable to icy moonlight, and yet paradoxically, it was warmer than Zenith's. I could feel the cool warmth spreading into every crack and crevice of my body, quickly replacing the damaged tissue and bone.

What was undeniable was the sheer gap in potency between the two spells. The intensity of the icy heat flooding through me was far greater than what I had felt from Zenith back then, and the speed at which the spell worked was impressive.

After a few seconds, the stem of healing stopped, and I withheld the whine of disappointment from leaving my mouth. During the entire process, I had inadvertently closed my eyes to better focus on the sensations permeating throughout my body. Moonlight greeted me as I opened my eyes, along with a pair of cerulean orbs lazily blinking open.

Roxy let out a groan, withdrawing her hand as she stretched. "How strange. I've heard that the feeling of healing magic was quite pleasant to some people, but to think that it would be mutual…" she trailed off.

"Was that not typical?" I asked.

Roxy shook her head. "No, it's never like that. That was a first for me. I'm curious on what sparked it." Her eyes fluttered over to meet mine. "Your magical energy… it's warm, by the way."

I raised an eyebrow. "Thanks…?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "When I first felt your energy, it felt completely different. There was an… edge to it, like a sword to my throat. However, just now, when I dug deeper, what I felt was nothing like that…"

"… What was it like?"

Her features twisted into an expression of confusion. "I'm not sure… It's hard to describe. There was so much to take in. I could hardly process it all."

I wasn't surprised. After all, Tohsaka and Saber had said similar things.

Her eyes lingered upon me before landing upon the stacks of flesh and bone still piled high around us, and Roxy let out an exasperated sigh, as if she was disappointed. "Unfortunately for now, I should probably deal with this mess first. Please follow me."

Roxy started walking towards the edge of the clearing, myself right beside her. When we were just a few steps inside the forest proper, she turned towards the clearing, her staff pointed towards it. "If you're ever going to do something like this again, please make sure to dispose of the corpses properly. Not doing so can result in more monsters and perhaps some more mutations as well." I felt her magical energy shift and wane, though perhaps far less than I anticipated, and then I felt a sudden rush of heat engulf me. A bright light emanated from the tip of Roxy's staff, and I covered my eyes with my arm as I looked away. The heat intensified as a wave of wind almost sent me off my feet, but I felt something—Roxy's free arm—catch and gently guide me away and behind the woman.

In her shadow, I was able to see clearly what was happening—a giant ball of crimson fire, one almost as big as the woman herself, hovered in the air above her staff. Its flames flickered and violently licked at the surrounding area, and the heat from it threatened to almost cook me alive. However, Roxy stood unperturbed, her cloak fluttering dazzlingly in the buffeting winds as her silhouette shielded me from the harsh light. Her posture was still relaxed as she continued to softly hold me back.

"Flamethrower."

Her body sharply recoiled as her uttered the name of the spell, and a jet of flames spewed from her staff and towards the large mass of bloody bodies in the clearing. The odor of burning flesh intensified as the center of the clearing ignited into a sea of flames, swallowing the dead monsters whole.

Without skipping a beat, Roxy turned her staff towards the ground, and then I felt a faint rumbling.

"Earth wall."

Almost instantly, a giant mass of earth erupted from the ground, forming a large wall that eclipsed even the trees towering over us. It traced the outline of the clearing, spanning dozens of meters in length and separating us from the burning bodies on its other side.

"Let's go. I still need to completely close off this area." Roxy circled around the clearing, reaching the part where her previous wall did not reach before repeating the exact same process of casting a fire spell and then enclosing the area. She repeated the process a few more times, and I could only watch in curiosity at her application of this world's magecraft.

How interesting. If her earlier words were to be believed, then this level of technique could be considered near the top of what was possible in this world. In that case, it would have been more apt to compare her to someone like Tohsaka or even Caster, though I highly doubt that even someone like Roxy could contend with the Servant of the Spell.

“Done. By morning, everything inside should be ashes," Roxy said as she looked at the giant cage she had built, smoke still wafting in the air.

Well, making the clearing into some sort of makeshift kiln to contain the incineration process and not burn the forest was definitely unexpected, but I couldn't fault the results since it didn't take long, and Roxy didn't even look particularly winded, the mage as prim and dignified as when I first saw her.

"There are going to be a lot of ashes," I pointed out. "Wouldn't that cause problems if they get scattered?"

"Oh?" Roxy pondered for a bit. "Ah, now that I think about it, the ashes still have residual amounts of mana in them in addition to whatever caused them to mutate in the first place. There's a chance it can get into the soil and water and cause even more problems." She frowned and rubbed her temples as an exasperated sigh left her lips. "Normally it’s not a problem but with this many… I suppose I'll need to use a wind spell to gather all the ashes into a box of some kind and bury it somewhere."

Wind too… it seemed like elemental magic was her specialty.

"Well, it shouldn't be difficult. Thank you for being astute. Admittedly, I've never had to deal with such a large quantity of monsters before. This was almost a grave oversight on my part."

"It's nothing. I just thought it made sense."

Roxy looked at me for a few more moments before she started walking away from the clearing. "You mentioned you have a partner, right?"

"I do," I said, walking next to her. "He should be safe. I diverted the monsters away from him."

She paused. "That pulse of strange energy, that was you then?" I nodded, and Roxy looked like she wanted to chide me. "A reckless plan, though I can't quite fault the results," she conceded. "Would your partner happen to be an elven man by any chance?"

"He is."

"I found him earlier while I was investigating the area. He passed out shortly after escaping the monsters. He was quite injured, so I applied some healing magic and placed him in a safe area before coming here," Roxy said. "As for your little stunt, I could immediately sense there was something off about your magical energy, but to think that it would also attract monsters… I have a few theories, but I would need more time to confirm them," Roxy quietly muttered to herself.

I mentally raised an eyebrow on what exactly she meant by that last part, but if she was anything like the other magi in my life, then there was only one thing it could mean. Tohsaka and Illyasviel already had their fair share of trying to dissect my magecraft, and I had suffered many hours at their hands as they endlessly hypothesized and experimented about the boundaries and mechanics of my abilities. It was one of the few times the two magi were not constantly bickering and the only thing they were ever able to see eye to eye on.

"You have quite a wistful smile," Roxy noted as she quickly glanced towards me.

"Err… sorry?"

She coughed. "Ah, my apologies, I didn't mean it like that." She turned away from me, but the residual blush on her cheeks remained. "I was simply making a statement. You had a similar look earlier as well. It's only our first meeting, but I can tell you don't express yourself much, do you?"

"Damn Emiya, you don't smile much, do you?"

I rolled my eyes at the girl's words. "I'll smile when there's something to smile about."

Ayako looked at me questioningly before she let out an exasperated sigh and gave me a wry smile. "Only you would think that, Emiya," she said before catching up to me and wrapping herself around my arm. "Come on, just like this!" Her lips were spread wide, proudly showing off her shining teeth.

I raised an eyebrow. "And this doesn't have anything to do with Tohsaka?"

Ayako's smile disappeared in an instant as she sputtered embarrassedly. "N-No way, I'm way better than her!"

I scoffed. “I never mentioned anything about being better,” I pointed out, my expression remaining neutral as I watched the girl turn into a sputtering mess.

"No, I suppose I don't," I answered. Roxy stared at me for a few more seconds before accepting my response.

Our walk continued in silence for several more minutes after, but much like how I had felt with Sylphiette, the silence was not so much awkward as it was calm and comfortable. The natural bustles of the forest had returned by now, the animals that had fled earlier now returning. Birds softly chirped, blending into a melodious song as faint gusts of wind whistled throughout the forest.

I peered at the woman beside me. Her gaze was fixated straight ahead, but judging from their cloudy gaze, her eyes were clearly planted towards other matters than simply leading me back to Laws. However, while there were very faint hints of wariness in her eyes, it was clear that those orbs that had cast such a heavy weight upon me had softened considerably, and the rigid posture and tense shoulders that had betrayed her guarded demeanor had disappeared by now. The icy edge of her voice, which had sent chills down my spine moments ago, had now thawed considerably, leaving behind a cool cadence that paradoxically radiated a soothing and pleasant warmth.

She was taking this entire night in stride, I noticed, despite the rather… interesting introduction we had. Had Zenith or Paul been the one to stumble onto the scene from earlier, there was little chance that they would have accepted what was so suddenly thrust into their faces as easily as Roxy had.

"We're here," Roxy said, her voice snapping me out of my thoughts. We were standing near the foot of a small mountain, one of the few in the area before the land turned into a larger mountain range up north. It was faint and hard to see in the darkness, but I could see a streak of red on the slope of the mountain, coming down to the forest floor before stopping at what looked like a small earthen dome. Small slits dotted the structure like makeshift windows, but I could not see any kind of entrance or exit.

"I left him in here," Roxy said. "Your signal attracted all the monsters nearby, but it's better to be cautious in situations like this." The woman gentle prodded the dirt hut with the butt of her staff. "It's sturdy enough to withstand a few attacks from some Assault Dogs, but ultimately I just needed something to hide him out of sight while I investigated the disturbance." She finished her explanation by pointedly looking at me, but there was no real heat behind her gaze.

"You… put him in a house…?”

“Unless you preferred that I left him in the open?”

“I… nevermind.” I couldn’t fault her logic, but I still found it somewhat ridiculous.

"Icicle edge." I stepped to the side as a circle of chilling ice materialized in front of Roxy's lowered staff. It was like a buzzsaw, my hair fluttering in the wind as her magic drew in the air around it. I blankly watched as she released the spell, the blue disc slicing clean through one side of the dome.

Actually, maybe it was just her.

The separated wall crumbled to the ground, and I stepped forward to peer into the now opened shelter.

Inside, curled up into a ball on the opposite wall was Laws. The man had definitely seen better days. His clothes were tattered and stained, bearing as silent witnesses to a recent brutal encounter. Yet his skin, visible through the tears in his garments, showed no fresh wounds or bruises—Roxy's doing, I presumed—the flesh as new and plump as a freshly born baby's.

His chest rose and fell in a deep, even rhythm, quiet exhales echoing into the night. His face was oddly relaxed, whatever dreams he had conjured whisking him away to a blissful sleep. A part of me was inclined to let the man be; he had fought hard tonight, and interrupting the serene scene in front of almost seemed like a crime. Unfortunately, there were certain things that had to be done, and I had to let Laws save some face with his current display.

"It seems like he’s recovering quite well," Roxy said, peering over my shoulder at the man.

Well, there was no use in delaying further.

I walked over to the man, my small height allowing me to stand in the small area, and I gently prodded his leg with my foot.

The man let out a small grunt but did not wake, and I took that as my cue to use a bit more force, enough to softly shake the man.

One eye lazily opened, its companion soon joining it as they slowly blinked in sync. His torso groggily rose, his head craning upwards to look at the one who had interrupted his slumber, and he dumbly stared at me for a second before panning over to look over my shoulder at Roxy who leaned against the frame of the opening. His gaze then returned back to me, his face blank while his mouth hung agape like a fish's.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Laws," I said, then cocked my head to the side questioningly. "I trust your nap was refreshing?"

He blinked once, then twice, and then limply leaned back against the wall behind him. His eyes darted towards Roxy again, then to the bright moon hanging in the sky, then back to me, and I could see the gears turning in his head as he finally processed just where he was and what he had been doing.

Then, he found the words to express the situation.

"Ah shit."

Chapter Text

Laws was not entirely sure what to make of the current situation.

Truthfully, he was having trouble even processing the fact that he was alive in the first place. When that monster had ever so kindly taken out a chunk of his back, he had come to terms with the fact that his life was going to come to an end. Furthermore, when his mind had faltered and his consciousness started to slip away from him, he was convinced that his comatose body was going to end up as a free meal for any passing monster.

Laws recalled that, before he had succumbed to unconsciousness, he had heard an unfamiliar voice. It hadn't belonged to anyone he'd known, and despite its lack of overt hostility at the time, the fact that his fate had lain in a stranger's hands had provided him with little solace as he'd slipped into an uneasy slumber.

Then again, considering the owner of that voice, his impromptu caretaker that had introduced herself earlier, was right in front of him, perhaps he was in no danger at all.

"Why is a child even out this late?"

"I was replacing the injured knight who was supposed to be patrolling tonight."

"… You can't be older than five-years-old."

"Four, actually."

It was slightly difficult to reconcile the lingering sense of vulnerability from earlier with the scene he was witnessing. Even though he had known the boy for only a day, Laws did not think that he was the type of child to act in this manner.

It was no surprise that Paul's son was quite the oddity. He stood out like a sore thumb, his distinctive red hair and bronze eyes an exotic exception in the village. If Laws didn't know any better, he would not have guessed he was Paul's son, the differences between the two nigh-high unreconcilable when they were side-by-side.

And that was not even his strangest trait. The boy's mannerisms were a whole other beast to tackle—metaphorically, of course. Shirou, simply put, did not act like any child. In fact, he did not act like any person Laws knew, and he had travelled a good deal and met his fair share of people.

Shirou knew the harshness of reality, almost as if its cruel lessons were engraved into his mind. Laws had wondered where such wisdom had been earned, but no explanations he thought of made any sense, so the mystery that was Paul's son remained unsolved.

There was the stoicism he exhibited too. When it came to matters of emotion, especially when it involved his father, the boy became almost aloof, that marvelous mind of his almost detached from his heart. Laws recalled the earlier conversation with Paul and how the man had voiced his insecurities. For a man like Paul, who was not good with words nor at expressing himself, a gesture like that must have taken a great amount of willpower. It was not easy, being vulnerable in front of others, and even despite their friendship for a few years now, Paul still did not easily show that side of him.

However, Paul had done so anyway, baring his emotions openly in front of the one who had caused them in the first place. Laws had watched him his friend, then he had observed Shirou, the opening in the conversation the perfect opportunity for the source of Paul's worries to assuage the man's worries.

Laws knew much of Paul's situation, and from what he could tell, it was a grim place to be in. However, the confusing tangle of emotions that plagued the Greyrats could still be resolved. Before all hope was lost, just the right words, infused with just the right emotions, could save someone.

Laws knew this, and from the glint in the boy's eyes, he knew Shirou understood as well.

And Shirou had done nothing.

Perhaps he was giving the child just a bit too much credit, and maybe Laws was not as observant or as smart as he thought he was, but the child's indifference towards certain matters certainly fit his perplexing behavior.

Well, Laws doubted that he was overestimating the boy. After all, in an act that he was noticing to becoming a growing reoccurrence, Shirou had given Paul a small gesture of reassurance right before they had left, a parting comfort that only took a second. However, to someone like Paul, even if it was a bit late and the gesture itself a bit awkward, it was still appreciated and valued. Hell, considering Paul’s own gracelessness in similar matters, maybe the man found it even more relatable.

Did the boy mean it as a consolation for his earlier missed chance? Laws wasn't sure, but it also begot the question on why he didn't do anything earlier.

Regardless, it meant that Shirou wasn't entirely callous. In fact, Laws would judge him as more caring and considering, in the boy's own strange, clumsy way. His treatment of Sylphiette was proof of that. His attempts to distance himself from her was obvious, the wall he was trying to build as plain as day. However, his attempts to do so easily crumbled, and Shirou had not been able to truly push away his daughter.

He was not a bad person, that much was true. Despite the puzzling nature of the boy, that fact was absolutely certain. Truthfully, Laws was growing increasingly fond of him.

If Laws was feeling poetic, he would say Shirou was like an almost impossible existence—crack in a mirror, a flaw in the world. The crack, thin yet undeniable, and just as a fractured mirror shattered the illusion of a perfect image, Shirou's presence seemed to disrupt the natural order, creating ripples in the fabric of normality.

"I forgot to confirm earlier, but did the healing magic working correctly?"

"Are you unconfident in your abilities?"

"Due to the abnormalities during the process, I would like to make sure."

"… I feel fine… Thank you…"

"… You're welcome."

And yet, somehow and someway, the scene in front of Laws seemed to mend that crack, the sight emanating an inexplicable sense of… correctness. It was like finally scratching an itch that tormented him just out of reach or the final piece of an intricate jigsaw puzzle finally slotting into place. There was just something about it that felt… right, a feeling of satisfaction just seeing the pair walking together in front of Laws. At this point, he was half-tempted to excuse himself, feeling like he was intruding upon something.

In fact, he felt so out of place that Laws almost forgot the pressing factor that had caused this situation in the first place.

"The monsters," he started. Shirou and Roxy both turned around at his words, their faces growing serious. "What happened to all of them?"

Silence.

Laws noted the twisting expression of conflict on Shirou's face. Despite being almost unreadable most of the time, there were common moments like this where he, maybe unknowingly, showed his heart on his sleeve. It was strange, but it fit the boy perfectly.

As to what he felt conflicted by, Laws could only guess. Maybe Shirou was afraid of recalling the dreadful beasts? Laws had to keep reminding himself that the boy was just that—a boy. Judging from his tattered and bloody clothing, he surely had encountered a few monsters and had not escaped unscathed. The terror of coming so close to death must have shaken him on some level, genius or not.

"I took care of them." From next to the boy, a small, firm voice spoke up.

Laws raised an eyebrow, skeptical of her claim. "All of them?"

Roxy nodded. "I'm an adventurer. Hunting monsters is my profession." She fished out a small metal card, handing it to the elven man.

SS-rank?

How peculiar… Laws knew that the Adventurer Guild had undergone some reforms in the past few years, but he didn’t know that they had added a whole new rank. On some level, he wasn’t surprised; the bar for adventurers has only increased ever since the surge of new and more powerful monsters. Naturally, the abilities needed to combat them had to rise as well, and the people who returned alive from the excursions deep into monster territory deserved to be rewarded more, if only to incentivize more people to keep the horde back at bay.

Still, a whole rank above Paul’s party? Paul was the strongest person he knew, and had he devoted more time and effort into his swordsmanship, Laws wouldn’t have been surprised to see his name on those monuments someday. Paul was a prodigy without a shadow of a doubt and had fought alongside a Sword King. To think that one woman achieved something even beyond them was hard t believe, and he was half-tempted to accuse the woman of marking the card herself.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t realize,” Laws said, handing her back the card.

“It’s fine,” Roxy dismissed. “Truthfully, I’m a bit surprised that I seem to be relatively unknown in these parts, but I suppose it’s a bit far out.” Despite her words, Laws couldn’t find a hint of arrogance, the woman simply stating the truth.

“Still, I’m surprised that you managed to kill all those monsters without any injuries to show for it.” Laws was under the impression that magicians were strict backline members in a party, the rest of the members forming a shield around them to give them the time and space to complete their incantations. Roxy looked like she came along, so she wouldn’t have had the benefit of a team of people to protect her.

Roxy shrugged, then pointed at something behind and above Laws. The man followed her finger, tracing it to a hazy cloud of grey—smoke, he realized—that came from deeper inside the forest.

“Fireball.” Laws turned back around, greeted by a large orb of flames conjured by her staff. “I’m a magician. Large-scale attacks are my specialty,” she explained.

“I… see…” Laws responded, having trouble comprehending more due to the destructive magic right next to him than any real doubt of her abilities. At the very least, the mysterious woman was far more powerful than any magician had ever met before if she was able to shorten her incantation to that extent, something Laws didn’t even know was possible.

Roxy nodded, the spell disappearing with a swipe of her staff. “Their bodies are burning right now. It should be done by morning.” Roxy walked past him, heading towards the village. “In the meantime, I’ll escort you two back to safety.”

After a moment of deliberation, Laws turned to follow her, and it was only after a few seconds of walking did he realize something was amiss.

“You okay?” There were only two pairs of footsteps, and Laws found Shirou had remained behind, a pensive expression on his face. “If you’re tired, we can rest for a bit,” he offered. At this point, it must be far past his bedtime.

“It’s nothing,” the boy said, and he quickly caught up to Laws. The man knew there was something else going on, but he didn’t have the energy to pry more into it tonight. Right now, he had to think about how to explain this entire situation to Paul. They were far past the expected time to return, and considering how paranoid the knight was nowadays, there was a good chance that he was probably gathering some people to head into the forest to search for them. Or maybe he was giving the man too much credit, and Paul was going to search for them by himself?

“You look worried,” Shirou said.

Laws smiled wryly. “You and I might be in quite a bit of trouble.”

A guilty expression crossed the child’s face. “I knew this was a terrible idea.” he grumbled.

Laws laughed. “Well, maybe you should have voiced that. Then again, Paul probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.”

Shirou sighed. “I… Yeah you’re right.” They walked in silence for a bit, mulling over their own thoughts, but Laws could see that the boy’s eyes had been fixated upon something specific—or rather, someone.

A teasing glint shone in his eye, a side-effect of having been married to his wife for quite some time. “Something catch your eye?” Laws whispered to his companion.

Predictably, the boy turned a deadpan gaze to the elven man, and Laws could see why Alice had teased the boy so yesterday. “It’s rude to stare so intently at me.”

“Are you talking about me or about yourself?” Withholding a chuckle as the boy’s eyes narrowed, Laws eyed the woman who walked ahead of them, Roxy either not caring for or not hearing their conversation. “She’s pretty, I’ll give you that, but aren’t you shooting a bit too high? Demons are quite long-lived, you know, and they never look their age. For all you know, she could be older than your mother.”

Shirou rolled his eyes but remained silent.

“Besides, what would Sylphiette think, seeing you so interested in someone else so quickly?” Shirou shot the man a dirty look, and Laws couldn’t help but let out a quiet chortle.

Laws was only half joking. While he was fairly confident the boy didn’t suddenly develop a crush on the powerful magician, he was Paul’s son, and if he knew anything about the Greyrats, it’s that the entire family might as well have been a bunch of rabbits in disguise. Paul had told him stories about how chaotic and ravenous the normally reserved and demure Zenith became in the bedroom—at least, before everything had fallen apart.

Of course, Laws had a good idea on what exactly ailed Shirou’s mind. While Roxy didn’t seem to harbor any malicious intent, the fact remained that an abnormally strong person had suddenly appeared in their lives, and with great power came an immense amount of risk and danger. No matter how you cut it, the situation was quite strange.

Truthfully, half the reason that Laws was even following her was precisely because she was so dangerous. Someone who had the ability to dispatch so many monsters at once unscathed was definitely someone that Laws wanted to remain on good terms with. Conversely, if Laws had misjudged her character, then acquiescing to her requests was still beneficial, a possible unspoken threat hidden behind the woman’s words. After all, he not only had to keep his own safety in mind but also Shirou’s. It was the reason why neither him nor Shirou had directly addressed the strange circumstances surrounding the woman, settling for some teasing remarks instead to point his mind towards that direction, assuming the boy hadn’t already.

Well, that scenario was unlikely. If the woman wanted to do something, she already would have.

“Please give your daughter a bit more credit,” Shirou said before speeding up his gait to catch up to Roxy’s side. The woman looked down at boy materializing beside her, tilting her head and blinking owlishly at him before quickly turning her head back forwards.

Laws sighed.

Maybe it actually was like that after all.

Roxy Migurdia had no idea what she was doing.

It was a strange feeling. It wasn’t to the point of arrogance, but Roxy took pride in her intelligence, and her varied life experiences only served to complement her natural genius. To that effect, logical thinking and planning were her biggest strengths, and they had enabled her to survive this far into her rather dangerous lifestyle. After all, one did not roam the world as a solo adventurer without constantly having a plan in mind and a myriad of contingencies alongside it.

And yet, for all her intellect and skills, even the infamous magician had been unable to predict how this night had gone.

She wasn’t entirely surprised that strange, new variables had appeared. After all, the trail that she was tracking had eluded her for years now, and not once had she been able to satisfy the burning need for answers within her, her efforts only giving her more questions than anything else. By now, she had long since learned not to expect the ordinary nowadays, logic and reasoning almost a scarcity ever since the world decided to flip itself upside down.

Case in point, the child who was walking alongside her.

Nothing about him made sense. The boy was barely to her chest—and Roxy didn’t exactly possess a particularly tall frame—and his age could be counted on one hand, and yet when she had stumbled onto the clearing, ready to fight off a sea of flesh and evil that could have swallowed a dozen villages whole, she had found him, standing amidst piles of burning flesh. His visage was splattered with the blood of monsters, yet it bore an expression of eerie calmness ill-suited upon his youthful face. Like an artist before a canvas of death, his eyes swept over the scene with a detached interest that sent chills down Roxy’s spine.

And that was not even considering the fact that the boy oozed the same wrongness that had scarred her all these years, a visceral sensation that clawed at her mind and haunted her dreams, the very ghosts she had been trying so hard to dispel all this time.

Perhaps it was fitting, her hunt for monsters ending with Roxy finding someone where the line between humanity and monstrosity became perplexingly blurred. He was a walking paradox, a living contradiction, and his existence presented an unsolvable enigma that Roxy’s analytical mind could not reconcile.

And yet, here was the same boy, walking peacefully beside her as if he hadn’t been surrounded by charred corpses just a little while earlier.

It was strange. In a way, Shirou almost contrasted against her own nature, making her question reality even more, and his existence was as mysterious as it was dangerous. However, despite everything, she could not bring herself push him away.

She was wary of him, yes, but she did not entirely distrust him. After all, Roxy herself had been a victim of unfair prejudice, her demonic heritage and infamous reputation often preceding her before all else. She was hesitant to cast that same judgmental gaze among someone else; hypocrisy, after all, was a flaw in reasoning that she preferred not abiding by, even if Roxy acknowledged that sometimes, such contradictions were unavoidable, the complexities of reality and the emotional nature of people making infallible rationality impossible.

In a situation like this, where the boy had been entirely cordial with her and hid nothing despite it benefiting him little, reciprocating that honesty would only be fair. The time for questions could always come later if need be.

Then again, perhaps Roxy should not be throwing around the word “honesty” so lightly. After all, she had lied to protect the boy.

“Why?” A quiet voice next to her pierced through her thoughts, the word barely a whisper. Roxy looked down at the boy, whose gaze remained locked forwards, but she knew otherwise. The word had been said quietly even though their companion had disappeared further ahead to act as a scout.

Why?

It was such a simple question, only one word, and yet the implications it carried continued far beyond that. He knew just what she had done, but uncertainty was still laden in his voice.

She was not surprised he did not know. Truth be told, Roxy herself could barely rationalize it herself, the irony not lost on her.

Why would she go so far for a random child she just met? Why put herself at risk?

It didn’t make sense, and perhaps it only drove home that fact Roxy was not as beholden to her ideals as she would have preferred.

As the question echoed in her mind, Roxy grasped for an explanation, the true motive behind her actions as elusive as a mirage in the desert. Yet, as the moments were filled with a contemplative silence, something finally emerged from the haze in her mind, and Roxy couldn’t tell if she was surprised the answer was fairly simple despite the layers of logic and rationalization it hid under.

“You’re different,” she started softly, her tone measured. “It has a certain weight, doesn’t it? It’s both a blessing and a curse. People are simple, rude creatures. They often push away what they don’t understand. I know what it’s like to stand out in a way that pushes others away. Being alone because of who you are… It’s a sad thing. You don’t deserve something like that.” Roxy couldn’t tell whether or not the words were for him or for herself at this point. “Besides, the world will never forget who you are. I'm sure you're well aware of that. Hiding can only get you so far for so long.”

“… I see…”

Her eyes were fixed straight forward during the entire explanation, but she didn’t need to see anything. After all, the resulting silence told her far more.

No more words were exchanged between the two afterwards, but Roxy liked to think that the lack of conversation wasn’t uncomfortable. The elven man was still gone, but she wasn’t concerned. There was a higher chance that livestock would fall from the sky than their companion losing track of them.

As they pressed on through the deepening twilight, she heard the man’s hurried footsteps, and Laws burst through the trees.

“It’s them,” Laws said. “We should regroup. They’re probably looking for us.” Strangely enough, despite having the chance to reunite with his companions, the man did not seem particularly excited.

A search party? It was getting rather late. Assuming the two were out on patrol as Shirou said earlier, no doubt the chaos of the night had delayed them enough that people became concerned.

They continued walking for another minute or so, and true enough, a faint flicker caught Roxy's eye. It was difficult to see through the dense foliage, but the glow was very much real, if a bit far in the distance.

Speaking of whom, the boy tensed slightly at the man’s words. Roxy mentally questioned that but made no comment. She could already hazard a few guesses about his unease.

“We’re over here!” Laws called out. He repeated himself a few more times, but Roxy doubted the distant group could clearly hear them.

“Here.” She raised her staff into the air, a small orb of flames forming at its tip. “Fireball.” The flames grew larger and brighter until her staff became a makeshift torch that almost seemed like its own miniature sun in the dark forest.

“Please don’t set the forest on fire,” Laws said warily.

Roxy rolled her eyes. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”

The others seemed to have noticed them because the faint light grew brighter, and the hazy cloud of light turned out to be instead a group of torches moving towards them. Soon, distant voices broke through the tranquility of the forest as both parties moved closer to each other. Before long, Roxy could spot the distinct figures of villagers quickly moving through the forest, their concerned faces illuminated by flickering flames. One of them in particular, belonging to a tall man that was leading the group, was a bit more alarmed than the rest.

“Shirou! Laws!” an unfamiliar voice cut through the forest, accompanied by hurried waves of a torch. The man was sprinting towards them, and his eyes immediately gravitated towards the child at her side and then to the elven man. An expression of relief washed over his handsome features, but his eyes widened as he saw the bloodied and torn clothes on their bodies. Those eyes narrowed once they panned over her, and his expression quickly morphed into one of anger. “You, who are you?!”

The sound of steel sliding against its sheath whistled through the air, and Roxy suddenly found herself gazing at the drawn sword with a raised eyebrow, its edge glinting menacingly in the torchlight. Despite the man still being several steps away, Roxy’s intuition told her that she was at a disadvantage, the distance between them dangerously insufficient for her to comfortably fire off a spell. Just from his stance and speed, she could tell he was a cut above the standard swordsman.

The villagers accompanying the man also drew their weapons, swords pointed at her like an angry mob.

She suppressed a sigh. She was used to this by now, but the disappointment still bothered her more than she would have preferred.

The man seemed to be overly emotional and direct, so deescalating the situation would be beneficial. “An adventurer,” Roxy answered crisply. “I helped these two while I was dealing with some monsters that were nearby.” She made sure to not make any sudden movements, knowing that any perceived aggression could worsen things. If push came to shove, the man seemed like he was the kind to immediately dive into the fray.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Monsters? There should barely be any around here. And what do mean they needed help?” Despite the hostility, the man remained rooted where he was. From his perspective, it must have looked like a hostage situation, so he was probably thinking of a way to separate them.

Laws stepped forward. “Paul, it's alright. She's telling the truth. This is Roxy, and she helped us out of a tight spot."

The man, Paul, looked at Laws with narrowed eyes before slightly lowering the weapon. “And you just trusted her?”

Laws shrugged. “Didn’t exactly have much of a choice.” He spun around, showing Paul the bloody backside of his shirt. “If not for, I’d either have bled out or be in chunks inside of a monster’s stomach by now.”

Paul frowned. “She’s not lying then?”

Laws shook his head. “If Roxy hadn’t taken care of them, then I imagine you would have your hands full dealing with a giant swarm of monsters in the village right now.”

“There’s no way that many monsters just appeared out of nowhere when they’ve done nothing all this time.”

The elven man sighed. “Paul, you know that I’m not the type to lie. You’ve seen crazier things before. Why the hesitation now?”

His words caused Paul’s frown to deepen. Roxy could see his brain working to decipher truth from fiction, and she could see the exact moment when he realized that he detected no lies within the other man’s words. “Shi-…” Green eyes flashed towards the boy next to Roxy, but his voice faltered. “… Shirou…”

Shirou nodded curtly. “Paul.”

“… Do you trust her?” The words hung in the air, and Roxy found herself also waiting for his answer with bated breath. She wouldn’t blame him if he said no. After all, children were taught to not trust strangers, and they had only met just a little while ago. It’s not as if distrust was something she wasn’t used to by this point anyway.

“… I do.”

Roxy felt her lips curl into a small smile.

He already expressed his willingness to put his faith into her once before, but seeing it again was nice.

A cough brought her attention back to Paul. There was a mixture of confusion and… something else in his eyes, but Roxy made no comment on it. “Well, if these two trust you, then I will too.” The sword disappeared back inside its sheath, and the man stepped forward, extending his hand towards her. “I’m sorry about the rough introduction. I’m Paul Greyrat, the knight of this village and responsible for these two.”

Roxy extinguished the fireball that had remained unlaunched. “Roxy Migurdia, adventurer,” she said, shaking his hand. In a movement she was becoming increasingly weary of, she took out her Adventurer Guild card and handed it to Paul. “Just to verify my identity.”

Paul nodded in thanks, and the other villagers relaxed as well, putting away their weapons. “I’m surprised to see a magician out in these parts, especially one alone. Magicians aren’t exactly known for working solo. Don’t you have a party with you?”

Roxy shook her head. “Not anymore. Besides, I tend to work better alone anyways.”

The man paused briefly but continued reading the card and whistled. “Damn, they added new ranks?”

“They did, though I’m the only one in it for now,” Roxy explained. She took the card back from the man. “It was given as a show of merit considering the amount of missions I was undertaking, not to mention being the sole survivor of the Cataclysm from a few years ago.”

“Cataclysm?” Laws asked.

“It was the incident that effectively separated the Millis and Central continents. I’m sure you’ve heard of the rumors by now, right?”

 “I’ve heard that area is basically a dead zone by now. No one can even get close to it without shitting their pants, not to mention the things that in it…” Paul made a nasty grimace, an expression that Roxy agreed with. She remembered the nauseating feeling all too well, the chills that raced up her spin, and the heavy weight of dread in her stomach. Not once had she summoned the courage to return back there, so for all intents and purposes, she was stuck on this side of the world. Voyaging by sea was almost impossible with the limitations of combat on a ship, and while she was confident in her abilities, routing through the Divine Continent was not a task for any lone person. She would need a full party with her to even think of attempting the challenge.

“I heard it’s getting bigger,” she added. “They say the land around the area has only grown more inhospitable as time passes.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “As if things weren’t shitty enough.” The knight let out a sigh, either from exasperation or exhaustion or both. “With the pleasantries out of the way, why don’t you all explain what happened? I got worried when you guys were running late, then I saw smoke coming from deeper into the forest and gathered some people to head over.”

“Ah, that would be the monsters,” Roxy answered. “I’m just disposing of their bodies. They’re heavily mutated, so I didn’t want to risk their bodies being eaten and causing more issues.”

“Mutated… so they were more of them…”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen them before?”

Paul nodded. “Once or twice, when we were first establishing patrol and hunting routes. They were always wandering around the village, but they never attacked it. I left them alone since they always felt… off to me, but you’re saying a bunch of them attacked you guys?”

Laws cut in. “It was looking like a standard patrol, but I noticed that all the monsters disappeared by the time we were almost done.”

Roxy frowned at his words. What he was describing was atypical behavior of monsters. Usually, they would attack with reckless abandon. Laws was almost making it seem like the monsters had some sort of strategy in mind, perhaps coaxing the two into letting down their guard and luring them deeper in the forest before ambushing them.

“Disappeared? What do you mean by that?” Paul questioned.

“As in I couldn’t even sense them nearby.”

To evade an elf’s senses in the forest… They must have scattered quite far.

Paul’s frown grew with every word. “That’s weird… What could have caused them to just change so suddenly…?” Roxy saw the man’s eyes flash towards Shirou, and she questioned how much the man knew. Shirou had said his energy attracted monsters, but that was contradictory to Laws’s account of the monsters briefly disappearing. There was something else missing, and maybe probing the boy later might reveal something useful. “Okay, so you noticed something was off. What’s next?”

“Well, we started walking back towards the village when we were attacked by the monsters. Like Roxy said, I’m pretty sure these ones were mutated, but they just felt more… vile than the ones we saw from before.” Laws paused as a shiver went down his spine. “I… There were so many of them Paul. If they had made it to the village, there wouldn’t be anything left.” Laws paused, his eyes trembling slightly, but the man gritted his teeth and continued on, “There wasn’t any chance we could escape them. Even if we did, they might have just gone for the village. I told Shirou to go grab you and the others while I stalled them.”

Paul’s eyes darkened. “You were going to sacrifice yourself?”

Laws gave him a dry smile. “What other choice did I have?”

Paul’s fists clenched, and he let out a sigh, choosing to just lightly punch the man in the shoulder. “Don’t do something so stupid again,” he finally said, his voice tired. “And I guess that explains your injuries.”

“Yeah, one of them caught up to me and bit me in the back. I thought that was it for me, but for some reason they stopped chasing me. After that is when Roxy found and healed me before I passed out.” Laws pondered for a bit before he snapped his fingers in realization. “Wait, before that, I remember feeling something strange, like a pulse of energy. That’s when all the monsters went off to chase after that instead.” His face twisted into a troubled look. “It felt weird, unlike any magic I’ve felt before.” His face paled, and a grimace overtook his features, one Roxy could not fault the man for.

“I see… I guess it didn’t reach the village. I definitely would have felt something like that if I was around.” Paul still looked troubled but decided to move on. “Well, I guess that explains what happened with you. What about you, Shirou?” The torchlight almost seemed to focus on the boy, casting in a stark, golden glow that highlighted him from the surrounding darkness. The child looked uneasy with the full brunt of everyone’s attention suddenly on him, the most emotion she had seen the somewhat stoic boy exhibit.

“… I also encountered some monsters. There were too many to handle all at once, so I sustained some injuries.”

“Where?”

“Nothing major, just some shallow cuts.”

Paul hummed thoughtfully. “Laws, how strong would you say the monsters were?”

“They were mainly Assault Dogs being led by Terminate Boars. Obviously they were stronger than usual, so I’d say somewhere around B to A-rank.”

Judging from the corpses Roxy saw, she agreed with his assessment.

Paul whistled. “You’re not a seasoned adventurer quite yet, but that’s still… abnormally impressive.” He stepped in front of the boy, a hand lowering towards Shirou’s head. It hovered hesitatingly for a brief second before it ruffled the auburn locks. “Well, as long as you’re safe, that’s what matters. Anyway, so you went to grab yourself a new pair of boots. What happened after that?”

“That would be me,” Roxy cut in. “After healing Laws and making sure he would not be harmed, I located the main pack of monsters and dispatched them. I later found Shirou after his battle and healed him. The rest of the time was spent destroying the bodies of the beasts and reuniting with Laws before we agreed to return to the village.”

The irony was not lost on her, lying to protect someone to reciprocate their honesty. Roxy wondered if that made her a bad person; she could not even hide behind half-truths, so she had little defense except for the fact that she was doing this to preserve the wishes of a child.

Then again, considering the fact that she was committed to the bit by this point, she had a hard time convincing herself that this was something she would regret.

“Damn, you actually went through the trouble of burning all the corpses?” Paul questioned.

Roxy shrugged. “They weren’t in a usable state anyway. Besides, I couldn’t risk more monsters cannibalizing them and get stronger.”

Paul considered her words for a moment before nodding in acceptance. “I guess I can’t fault you then.” The man suddenly let out a groan, sighing in relief as he stretched and popped a few joints. “Well, everything makes sense from what you guys are telling me. A bunch of monsters showed up, and someone from the Adventurer Guild showed up to help. A bit convenient but I guess that’s luck for you,” he summarized.

“I was already investigating the abnormalities in this area, so it’s not purely coincidence,” Roxy said.

“True,” he conceded. “Well, this night has dragged on long enough. I guess I straightened up most things. I still have one question though.” Paul looked straight at Roxy. “You’re a lone magician, but you don’t have a single scratch on you. If what Laws said was true, there’s no way you could have taken all that many monsters all by yourself unless there’s something else you didn’t tell me.” His voice was not fully accusatory, but the man was being quite firm.

Roxy sighed. She was hoping it would not have to come to this, but if she wanted his trust, there was little else she could do. Revealing a minor secret was hardly a big price.

She focused, willing energy into her eyes. Her vision sharpened, and the flow of magical energy around her started to come into focus—

“That’s because she’s not the one who killed all the monsters,” a young voice pierced through the air. Roxy’s concentration fell apart as soon as she recognized who it belonged to, and she turned to face the child at her side.

Paul regarded the boy with a certain look, but of all the emotions on his face, surprise was not one fo them. “Then who did?”

Shirou met Paul’s gaze steadily, his face set in an expression of seriousness beyond his years. Then, Roxy felt the air hum with a familiar energy, and swords, just like the one he had shown her earlier, materialized in the air, five of them hovering in the air between him and Paul. Paul’s eyes narrowed, and his lips straightened into a tight line.

Ah, perhaps Roxy should have given him more credit.

Chapter Text

The sharp shrill of shimmering steel sang through the sky, a salvo of sharpened swords slicing into the soft earth below. Each projectile jutted out of the ground like gravestones, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris with each strike, and by now, there was scarcely a spot on the forest floor that wasn’t dotted with miniature craters.

And perhaps that made it all the more impressive that their intended target had not suffered a single scratch so far, his blurry form gracefully weaving through each attack like a shadow.

Suddenly, there was a gap in the barrage, a slight delay in the curtain of steel bombarding the man, and the opportunity was one that did not go unnoticed. Years of experience and innate genius took over in that moment, and his body rushed through the opening, his powerful frame barreling towards me.

CLANG!

His sword rose, the blade pressed flat against his face as it stopped a spear fired from his blind spot, his keen instincts saving him from a gruesome injury. The man winced as the impact nearly sent him to the ground, instead only pausing his stride for a brief moment. However, it was more than enough, and the slight opening vanished in a shower of steel.

The man clicked his tongue, sweat running down his furrowed brows as his frown deepened. With a flex of youthful muscles, he sprung away to the side, dodging projectiles as his mind tried to calculate an approach through the storm.

I sighed, somewhat tempted to end the “spar” then and there.

Unlike last night where I had been gradually worn down by the onslaught of monsters, I was in a better state right now. I had shaken off some rust from years of complacency, the result of only training and little else. My body also felt lighter, as if a monumental weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and my mind raced with a clarity I had not felt since before my reincarnation. While the path that had laid before me had always been obscured in fog, there was finally a direction I could focus all this time and effort towards.

With those factors in consideration, I was not surprised at the result before me. Despite the projections I was using far less destructive than the ones I normally employed, the foundation of the strategy was still sound. Utilizing a rain of swords to stalwart any advances while creating opportunities for my own offensive was a tactic that had proven effective against even Saber herself. Hell, it had allowed me to match the King of Heroes, albeit only temporarily, but long enough, nonetheless.

So it didn’t surprise me that Paul was unable to break through. As skilled as the man was, there was a nearly insurmountable gap him and the things that this technique had been used against. The man was only human, after all, and fighting monsters always required tip-toeing the fine line between humanity and insanity, embracing the darkness that dwelled within while still retaining the strength to remain human.

Of course, it would be a different story if Paul finally managed to close the distance or if exhaustion diminished my skills, but for now, the current stalemate would have to do.

Well, it wasn’t as if I was doing this to assert some sort of superiority over the man. It was at Paul’s insistence that we have this spar, after all. Not that I blamed him; after what he learned, there were just some things that were better felt than told.

Last night, after I had told Paul a significant portion of my abilities, that I had been the one to deal with the majority of the monsters that had threatened to overrun the village, the man had only met me with quiet acceptance. Some portion of me was surprised, pegging the man to be the type to overreact, someone who put action and emotion before thought. Then again, Paul already had a first-hand experience of my small fraction of my powers, and he had already been deliberating about me for quite some time now, so perhaps this was simply the natural consequence.

If anything, he seemed more peeved that Roxy and I had conspired to hide the truth from him, though Roxy had thankfully quickly stepped in and explained that part was solely her doing. The enigmatic but helpful woman then helped to smooth over the situation, clarifying my status as a “miko”, the same classification she had used when we first met. Whatever it meant, Paul seemed to take it in stride, and while the doubtful look remained to a certain extent, the logic in her words was enough to sway him.

“Were you like this the entire time, Shirou?” he had asked afterwards, his tone fragile yet firm.

“… Yes.”

Whether or not he was upset by the truth, I hadn’t been able to tell. Even now, as he circled around me, trying his best to draw my blood with his blade, I couldn’t sense any true hostility, so whatever the man felt, he was either undecided or indifferent to my answer.

It was almost certainly the former, I assumed. Knowing Paul, I wouldn’t be surprised if this spar was some sort of test for him to decide on his feelings towards me. Such a roundabout method was certainly something the emotionally-clumsy man would use.

Still, regardless of what he wanted to do, this sort of reaction was much better than the worst-case scenario. I couldn’t decide if Paul was sane or not for handling everything so smoothly. It took a truly strange person to witness a child with the ability to manifest swords from thin air and questions things as little as he did. Though considering Roxy had a similar response, maybe everyone in this new world as far more accustomed to the supernatural than I was.

WOOSH!

There was the sound of steel breaking through the canopy of the forest, and then Paul rushed out from behind a tree, his sword braced at his waist in a white-knuckle grip. He let out a guttural scream, his pupils narrowed as I saw my own reflection within his irises. The ground cracked below him, his stride creating a small crater in the ground, and the man launched himself towards me in a sudden burst of speed.

I raised an eyebrow, unsure what his plan was, but I sent a new volley of projectiles his way regardless. The man battered them aside, but the minor movement was enough to slow him down just enough for an additional wave of steel to coalesce above my head.

However, I felt that something was wrong, and it was only until I heard the all-too-familiar sound of sharp whistling that I craned my head upwards.

Steel glinted in the bright sunlight, shining almost like a pair of stars. A pair of swords, two that I had projected, lanced towards me at dangerous speeds. One was aimed right towards me, threatening to skewer me right where I stood, and another was heading behind me, cutting off my instinctual escape path.

Ah, he must have thrown up from when he was hiding behind a tree.

I blinked once before snapping my head back forwards where my opponent was. Paul had swatted aside the additional projectiles I had sent to repel his charge, and his sword arced towards me for a decisive blow.

It was a clever move from the man, perhaps something I should have expected considering his mastery over this world’s swordsmanship styles, one of which utilized such unorthodox maneuvers such as this.

Unfortunately, Paul also told me to win if I could, and I knew he wasn’t trying to kill me, so he expected me to escape this pincer trap in some manner.

I dismissed the two swords shooting towards me an instant before they could reach me, the blades disintegrating into motes of blue light. At the same time, the rustling of chains filled the air, and Paul’s eyes widened as iron links swiftly wrapped around his wrists, both ends of the chain ending in a dagger that stabbed itself into the ground at his feet.

The swordsman came to a sudden halt, his momentum carrying his feet forward while his upper body remained immobilized. He crashed onto the earth, his breath leaving his lungs as he landed squarely on his back.

To Paul’s credit, he reacted quickly, immediately struggling to free himself. However, his efforts stopped once his eyes traced the length of steel that loomed over his chest.

“I swear, it’s just one stupid trick after another,” he sighed defeatedly.

“Satisfied?” I asked.

My opponent stared pensively at the blade before closing his eyes, leaning his head back. Paul’s brown hair swayed softly with the afternoon breeze, and his chest rose and fell rhythmically as his breathing slowed to a crawl.

“… Yeah…” he finally said after several seconds, jade orbs finally opening and peering straight at me. The chain restraining him disappeared along with the sword I brandished towards me and the countless weapons littering the forest. However, despite being free, Paul chose to continue lying on the ground. “… Be honest, how much of your power were you using?”

I paused for a moment, thinking how to approach the question. “… Had I been just a moment slower, I would have been in trouble.” My statement was no lie; Paul held the advantage of a fully-grown adult body in its prime along with whatever power he used to enhance himself. It was a good thing that he had just been a tad too reckless in his final attack.

And then I sighed, realizing that misdirection was still a lie. “Your tactic at the end, it was good. You never would have gotten close otherwise.”

Paul’s lips twitched. “Heh, well look at you, being so smooth and diplomatic. With skills like that, you might be more at home in the royal court of the Asura Kingdom than in this village.”

I scrunched up my nose at the thought. “I’ll pass. I have little interest in politics.”

"You say that..." The man let out a thoughtful hum, studying me with an appraising eye. "Though I feel like you might be very good at it."

Ah, I couldn’t deny that one.

A hint of amusement crossed Paul's face. "With those looks and manners, you might even charm yourself a princess. Set yourself up for life." He spread his arms in an exaggerated gesture. "Maybe even ascend to the throne if you're up to it."

I rolled my eyes. There was little likelihood that I would place myself in a demanding leadership position. “No way, ambitions like that will ruin your health.”

"Ha!" Paul's bark of laughter was followed by a wry expression. "With deadpan jokes like that, maybe being a comedian would suit you better." His gaze drifted to the scattered evidence of our spar around us. "Though maybe a street performer might be better considering how you can pull swords out of thin air like a cheap magic trick trick... North God style is good for unconventional tactics, but I don't think anything could have prepared me for that."

I shrugged. “The world works in strange ways, Paul.”

“… True. Well, considering what your magic does, I still consider you a swordsman. I got that over Zenith at least.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you’re really that concerned about me being a magician instead of a swordsman like you wanted, I wouldn’t be worried. This—” I held out a hand, and a generic sword landed into my palms”—is really the only magic I can do.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “Wait, that’s all you can do? You can’t go around throwing fireballs at people?”

“No, just swords.”

Paul blinked owlishly at me, his face set in an expression of frank bewilderment. “Huh… You tried?”

I shook my head. “I don’t need to. Call it my intuition.” Magecraft came from the soul, and the soul shapes the body. The soul of Emiya Shirou was allowed only one form of magecraft, and the body I’ve inhabited in this world would naturally suffer the same fate.

The lack of understanding and bemusement was clear in Paul’s eyes. “There’s a book upstairs with a bunch of spells you can try. If you ever feel like trying”—the word left his lips with no small amount of incredulity—“you can have a go at it.”

I withheld a sigh. Well, maybe giving it a proper attempt wasn’t unreasonable. No doubt I’ll be asked to do so anyway at some point. There were some things people just needed to see for themselves.

“I don’t believe reading was within the homeschooling curriculum,” a voice interjected. Paul’s head turned to the side, my own gaze lazily following his to land upon a female maid standing a healthy distance away from us alongside some other visitors. “Not that you had one, of course,” Lilia pointed out.

“He’ll figure it out, I’m sure,” the man responded dryly. With a grunt, Paul hauled himself back onto his feet. He wasn’t injured, the swordsman having expertly avoided every blade thrown at him, but it was clear that the man had definitely exerted himself a good deal. His once-white shirt was stained with grass and soil marks, evidence of the countless rolls and dives that had kept the various cuts on his clothes from blemishing the skin underneath. Sweat plastered his wild, roguish hair to his forehead, and though he tried his best to hide it, I could tell his breathing was slightly labored.

Lilia let out a quiet but exasperated breath at his blasé attitude. “I envy whatever gives you the confidence to say such things.” The maid then turned her eyes towards me. “Congratulations on your victory, Master Shirou,” she said with a curt nod. I could sense some wariness in her tone, and her gaze still retained the same skepticism as it had before, but both parts had… lessened? It was strange considering I had expected the opposite to happen. Lilia had always had her suspicions, so confirming them with no room for doubt should have only intensified her feelings, and yet…

Regardless, perhaps what was even more puzzling was the glint in her eyes, one of respect and… satisfaction…?

“Thank you, Lilia, though it wasn’t a serious fight in the first place. Paul was not putting in his best effort.” While the man was trying significantly harder than he had during our first spar, he had not gone near his maximum potential in either bout. It was to be expected; it was only a casual practice round to gauge my abilities. There was no serious intent to win from his side. He had only pushed himself as far as he needed to see what he wanted to see.

“As if you are any better,” the man next to Lilia spoke up. Laws stood there with a skeptical expression. His eyes panned around the forest in a mixture of fascination and disbelief, noting the churned and broken earth as well as the multitude of broken trees, their trunks gouged open with some particular ones having bent and toppled over. His mouth slightly agape, and his brows twitched as his mind struggled to reconcile the irrefutable demonstration before his eyes with the grounded logic his beliefs had been built upon. Calloused hands rose to his forehead, fingers massaging his temples in an effort to stave off an incoming headache. “If you were really the one to take care of all those monsters I saw, then you’re not trying very hard either.”

I shrugged, unable to refute his words. Laws told no lie, after all. It was only a spar, and I had no desire to fight Paul on any serious level, not to mention that I wasn’t entirely keen on using the more potent levels of my magecraft in something unserious like a spar. The more destructive and lethal components of my abilities were best saved for situations that actually necessitated them.

“Ah, don’t be like that, Laws,” Paul cut in, prompting a raised eyebrow from Laws. “Anyway, I guess I forgot the part where I advertised this training session to the whole village. You’re all lucky that I’m not charging you for the show,” he joked.

To his credit, Laws looked a bit sheepish at the accusation. Next to him was Alice, who gave me a bright smile and a wink when she noticed that my eyes fell on her.  I gave her a nod back, which only served to widen her grin.

My vision lowered, casting a gaze upon the small figure that clung to Alice’s legs. Similarly to her father, Sylphiette’s face was brimming with awe, but while Laws’s had been mixed with disbelief, his daughter’s expression contained all pure, unrestrained wonder—befitting that of a child. Her eyes sparkled like stars, wide and unblinking as she looked around at the destruction around her with almost childish naivete, her mind no doubt replaying the scenes earlier on repeat.

I was not entirely surprised. After all, unlike Laws, Sylphiette had already seen me shed my guise, inadvertently spying on me during one of my training sessions. Of course, there was a large difference between waving a sword around and crystallizing them out of thin air, but the girl was sharp, and perhaps such leaps of logic were not entirely out of the question for her.

There was also the fact that she was a child, and the prospect of high-speed missiles creating loud noises and explosions appealed to her young mind.

When she noticed me looking at her, the young girl flinched, snapping out of her reverie and letting out a quiet “Eep!”. I half-expected her to hide behind Alice’s legs, but Sylphiette managed to sit still, giving me a timid smile and a shy wave of her hand.

Amused, I reciprocated with a small grin of my own. Alice gently nudged Sylphiette with her leg, and the two exchanged some hushed words I couldn’t hear.

“For the spectacle I just watched, a small price would not have been unreasonable,” Lilia responded.

“Funny, I’m sure that’s all there is to it. You definitely don’t take pleasure in seeing me on my ass,” Paul shot back.

Lilia’s lips split into an icy smile. “Why, I don’t know what you mean, Master Paul. I’m a professional. I would never indulge in such pettiness.”

“Funny.” Paul turned to the man next to the maid. “Anyway, what are you here for anyway?”

“A few things, really. First of all, I don’t think I actually properly thanked Shirou for yesterday. Everything was going a bit too fast, and my brain was too scrambled to actually make sense of anything.” The man took a few steps forward, ending up in front of me before kneeling down. He raised a hand, letting it fall onto my shoulder before he stopped and thought better of it. Instead, Laws clasped my hand between both of his own, his rougher, larger palms easily enveloping mine in a firm but gentle grip. “Thank you, Shirou. It would have been easy for you to turn the other way—no, it would have even been smarter for you to do that. You took a risk just to save me, even putting yourself on the line for someone you only met a day before. Can’t say I’ve met many people, never mind children, that would have done that same. Rest assured, I will never forget this.”

“No, we will never forget this.” Two lithe arms snaked around my waist, hoisting me up before I felt a familiar, warm sensation swallow me whole. “First, you rescued my cute little daughter from some bullies,” a soft voice breathily whispered into my ear. “Next, you saved my husband from being eaten alive by monsters and probably stopped the village from being overrun. One might wonder if you are doing this on purpose, trying to worm yourself into our family’s good graces. By all accounts, you are our hero.”

Her words were genuine, and the gratitude in her voice was unmistakable, but I couldn’t help but sense something else in her message, and my mind recalled the first conversation I had with the somewhat eccentric woman.

It wasn’t anything sinister, nor did I think that she was disappointed in me. It was more akin to… a warning of sorts.

“Alice, I think you’re killing him,” Laws cut in.

It was a scene that had already been played out before, so I had already adjusted before I could nearly suffocate once again.

“Paul, can we keep him?” Alice asked.

“… No?”

“Awww… Oh well, I guess you’ll have to settle for coming to our house occasionally. Perhaps maybe after these “training sessions” I heard you set up with Sylphiette, hmm?” I peered upwards, meeting Alice’s gaze as she smirked down at me, my head still held firmly against her chest.

“I was already planning on dropping her off anyway.” I wasn’t entirely sure if Sylphiette could manage on her own if she completely exhausted herself during our training, after all. “I have no illusions that regardless of what I do, you will withhold me at your house if I’m there for any reason.”

Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “You catch on quick.” Her smile softened, and the woman freed me from the prison before turning and lowering me. Just like her husband, she got down before me, and I felt a surge of discomfort at the show of respect. "Seriously, thank you, Shirou. You saved my husband's life, and before that, you helped my daughter when she needed someone most.” Her voice softened. “Without you, my family would have changed for the worst, and there’s nothing more saddening in this world than a broken home.”

With the angle I was at, behind Alice, I could see Paul suddenly becoming extremely uncomfortable, his eyes not meeting Laws’s as the elven man tried to catch the other’s gaze.

“… You’re welcome…”

Alice looked like she had a bit more to say but chose instead to stand back up and affix her husband with a cool stare. “Thanks to you, my husband has returned to me intact… just so I can give him a good scolding about how stupid he is.”

Laws let out a groan. “Alice, didn’t I hear enough of this last night?”

Alice placed her hands on her hips, the scene looking every bit like a concerned mother chastising her misbehaving child. Another reprimand was about to leave her lips before the woman caught herself. “Yes, I suppose you did. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I suppose I can forgive you this time.”

“I don’t need heroes, Laws,” Paul interjected with a steely tone. “However, for keeping Shirou safe, I’ll say you made the best out of a bad situation.”

Laws gave him a wry smile. “Well, truth be told, I was feeling quite heroic at the end,” he admitted. “It would’ve been a cool way to go out.”

“Idiot, don’t say that in front of your wife and kid.”

Laws quickly stiffened in realization, slowly turning his head only to be greeted by the sight of a woman whose scowl was growing by the second. Next to her, hints of tears were beginning to form within youthful red orbs.

“Nevermind, perhaps you need another lecture tonight,” Alice said with a resigned sigh.

The elven man’s face was morphing into one who was learning that there was a thing such as too much honesty. In sharp contrast, Paul was reveling in the other man’s misery, the ultimate sign of a true, brotherly friendship.

“Wait, you mentioned that you had more than one reason for coming here. What was the other one?” Paul asked.

Alice's expression turned sheepish. "Actually, Laws and I were hoping to arrange a dinner with your family," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "We'd been planning it even before you helped Sylphiette, and now it seems we owe you even more." She gave a warm smile. "We'd host, of course, but when Laws heard from Paul about Zenith being ill..." She trailed off with a small shake of her head. "Well, those plans will have to wait until she's better. But in the meantime—" She held out the basket she'd been carrying. "—I thought I'd bring over some home cooking for Zenith and you boys!"

I blinked in surprise, and as soon as she presented the basket, I was hit with the savory aroma of roasted meat and herbs. I could pick up the distinct notes of different spices, some more familiar than others, along with the unmistakable scent of fresh-baked bread.

Paul perked up at the smells wafting through the air, glancing at the container of delicious food with not-so-subtle interest before walking over to us.

“We already left the basket for Zenith as well as some packed dinners at the house. This right here is just a snack since Laws told me you guys would be training by now.”

Paul raised an eyebrow towards his friend, who responded by shrugging his shoulders. “It seemed obvious after what happened last night. Was I wrong?”

“Can’t say you are,” he mumbled begrudgingly, though the man looked like he was pouting with his eyes, However, his mood brightened considerably when Alice dropped the basket into his arm. “A-Ah, thank you, Alice,” Paul said.

“It wouldn’t sit right with me if I came empty-handed on our first meeting,” she said with an amicable smile. “You know how it is with these small villages—first impressions tend to stick. And after you and your son have done for us, both as a family and as a person living under your protection… well, I wanted to show that we’re not here to take advantage of the kindness given to us.”

They were good words, powerful words, and I found myself nodding along to the woman’s sincerity.

 “Well, I’d be lying if I said I became a knight out of good will, but taking payment from the people I’m safeguarding is hardly chivalrous.” Paul inhaled a deep whiff of the food in his hands then offered the woman a cunning smile. “However, I’m sure some exceptions can be made. If you’re going to offer this kind of food to us, then consider your debt repaid.”

I rolled my eyes at his roundabout gratitude. “Thank you, Alice. I’m sure it means a lot to Paul and Zenith.”

Alice gave me a forlorn smile, one that made me cock my head questioningly, but my thoughts were interrupted by Paul’s voice.

“Wait, you said there was more food at the house? This basket isn’t exactly light, and I don’t think you guys have a wagon. You carried all this by yourself?” he asked.

“Don’t be silly,” Alice said. “Laws carried it all. It’s a fair price considering I did all the cooking.”

Her husband cut in, “’Price’ implies there was some sort of consensual exchange. I assure you that I did not have much of a choice.” Laws paused for a bit, before adding, “Well, I can’t say I was entirely against it. It wasn’t much, but anything that can help me improve my stamina and strength is something I shouldn’t be avoiding.” The man turned to his friend. “Paul, feel free to up the intensity of my training regimen as well.”

Paul looked at him questioningly, his concerns about to leave his tongue before his puzzled expression morphed into one of realization. “Ah, so you felt it too, huh?” he said with a small smirk of his lips.

Laws nodded resolutely, and his wife cocked her head curiously at the unspoken words exchanged between the two men. “You felt it? What do you mean?”

"Death," an even voice answered. Alice jerked her head to her left, eyes drawn to the forest's edge. Lilia stood with the family now, hunched over Sylphiette with hands firmly covering the little girl's ears. Though Sylphiette's eyes were wide with confusion, Lilia paid her no mind. The maid let out a soft sigh, her gaze following the others' to where they stared deeper into the forest.

Of course, I wasn’t surprised. Due to a plethora of recent events, I’ve been keeping my guard up as much as possible. Then again, even if I was a bit more lackadaisical with my awareness, her presence was hard to miss.

"I've seen it over and over," the cold voice continued from the forest depths. "Despite the obvious truth, not everyone truly understands their own mortality until reality threatens to wrench it away. How each person responds to that challenge is up to them."

The bushes to my right rustled. A slender leg emerged, landing beside me with a firm thud, followed by its companion. A weathered staff stabbed into the soil next to beaten, mud-caked boots. The sound of a dingy brown cloak dragging against foliage echoed in the silence.

The figure that walked past was small in stature but that did not stop the air from feeling heavier around her. She paused only briefly, but those piercing azure eyes drilling into mine sent chills down my spine that lingered long after she looked away. Even in the bright shafts of sunlight piercing the forest canopy, her gaze held that same intensity as our last meeting, her blue irises shimmering with barely contained power.

Almost hesitantly, she gave me a small nod, one that I returned a moment later, and the mysterious woman continued making her way to the rest of the group.

“Oh, you’re back,” Paul said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the adults. He gave Laws a gentle nudge to his ribs, shaking the man out of the stupor he had fallen into.

“Indeed,” Roxy said. “I’ve returned from finishing the job with the monsters of yesterday as well as investigating the surrounding area for further abnormalities.” She looked around, noting the rest of the people who had gathered here. When she noticed Lilia and Sylphiette, a confused look fell onto her countenance before the answer dawned on her, and she let out an embarrassed cough while trying to hide the faint blush on her cheeks.

“A-Ah, Miss Roxy, h-hello!” Laws stammered out. The elven man rushed to the approaching woman, clasping her small hand in both of his before enthusiastically shaking it as his lips split into a bright smile. Roxy raised a dainty eyebrow at the gesture, far too perturbed to resist. “I’m so sorry for yesterday, I never actually properly thanked you for saving me last night.”

While the display was perhaps a bit too theatric, the sentiment was genuine, judging from how Laws went out of his way to show his gratitude to me.

“Uh… You’re welcome,” Roxy weakly responded. Her discomfort at the situation was somewhat amusing, the normally stoic and composed woman obviously not having a lot of experience with dealing with the upfront and unfiltered kindness of others.

“Oh my goodness, Laws, please stop it. You’re scaring the poor woman.” An arm shoved Laws out of the way, and a blonde woman suddenly encompassed all of Roxy’s field of view. “Hello, my name is Alice. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, Miss Roxy,” Alice said with a disarming smile.

“… The pleasure is mine,” Roxy replied quietly, giving Alice a blank look. Despite her intelligence, she was having a hard time processing the wonder that was Sylphiette’s family.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I assure you that I haven’t done anything of note for you. You on the other hand…” Alice beckoned, and Sylphiette—now freed from Lilia’s helpful grasp—came running until she was standing in front of the mage. The little girl hesitated for a moment, twiddling her thumbs while her gaze darted between the confused magician in front of her and the ground. However, an encourage pat from Alice finally gave Sylphiette the courage she needed.

"T-Thank you, Miss Roxy," the little girl said, her voice shy but sincere. "D-Dad told me it was you who s-saved him when he was in d-d-danger..." Her eyes glistened with remembered fear before it morphed to profound relief. "I'm... really happy he's alive!" The last words came out with a burst of emotion, her small frame trembling softly with the intensity of her feelings.

Roxy was stunned, her eyes wide in surprise and her mouth slightly agape. The woman was caught so off-guard that the flow of magical energy she was sending to her eyes disappeared, reverting to the striking blue orbs from last night when we parted ways. “You’re… You’re welcome…”

I couldn’t say I was particularly surprised. After all, I had fallen for something similar before. If I hadn’t known better, I might have accused Sylphiette of subtle manipulation—her words too disarming, slipping through chinks in armor too easily, too often. But no, it wasn’t anything as deliberate or insidious as that. She didn’t need to scheme; it wasn’t in her nature. She was only a child, and what I saw in her wasn’t calculated deceit but the simple, raw vulnerability of someone who had lost before and didn’t want to lose anything again.

And now Roxy was feeling it too. Admittedly, I took perhaps a bit too much satisfaction from watching the bizarre woman fall for Sylphiette’s charms—so firm and stalwart yet so easily undone by a child.

I then idly wondered if this is what I had looked like from the outside, and the amusement disappeared.

Roxy coughed into her hand, and Alice caught the hint, giving the woman a final grateful smile before gently grabbing her daughter and reuniting with Laws.

"Apologies. I'm not quite used to receiving such gratitude for my services." Alice's expression softened with understanding, while Laws looked like he wanted to say more. However, Roxy seemed to gather herself, deliberately turning away from the family's warmth and back to business.

Her cloak swished as she walked towards Paul, who looked at her expectantly. "I found little evidence that the monsters are mounting another attack after last night. As we suspected, any remnants of the horde from yesterday seems to have been completely scattered, assuming there are even any stragglers in the first place," she said wryly, and though she was facing away from me, there was little wonder who that comment was directed towards.

Paul hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting. And what about the reason you came here for?”

Roxy shook her head. “Nothing of note. I believed that I had tracked it down to this general region, but I have seen nor heard anything about it since arriving. I consulted the local captains at the Citadel of Roa and at Ars, and the soldiers have not noticed anything especially strange. The rumor mills at the taverns haven’t revealed anything useful either.”

The swordsman gave her a terse frown. “So there’s a dangerous monster somewhere in the Asura Kingdom—”

“It could actually have gone past this village already, or perhaps have even crossed east through the mountains.”

Paul gave her a blank look before sighing. “Okay, so there might be a dangerous monster nearby. We just have no idea how to find it, so the best we can do is just sit on our ass and pray it doesn’t come here?”

Roxy contemplated his words for a few seconds. “Perhaps if you phrase the situation in that manner, then yes, it does seem rather hopeless, doesn’t it?”

“Is there a ‘but?’ coming?” Paul asked.

“Naturally. I’ll be staying in this village for a few days, if you don’t mind. Don’t worry about lodging, I can camp somewhere nearby.”

“M-Mom! W-We get to see more of Miss Roxy…!” Sylphiette whispered enthusiastically while tugging on Alice’s skirt. The woman replied with a small smirk and ruffled the little girl’s hair.

"Not that I particularly mind," Paul said, "but doesn’t it make more sense to try and pick up the monster’s trail again?" His tone wasn’t one of skepticism. If Paul had truly doubted her, last night’s reunion wouldn’t have gone as smoothly. Still, there was a difference between offering the benefit of the doubt and granting true trust. Paul had shown a willingness to place his faith in Roxy the night before, but that had been under duress, relying on the confidence of Laws and me. Paul was someone who valued personal experience, and while the elven man and I had made our choices, Roxy had yet to prove herself to him directly. To Paul, the magician was still largely an unknown, and as the knight responsible for the village’s safety, cold logic had its place in such decisions.

“Perhaps, but there’s an equally likely chance that it come return to this region if I try to hunt it down. I know the monster has been heading North for a while now, but I’ve long since lost track of it. The fact that I even went this far was purely out of desperation,” she explained.

“God bless you did,” Laws chimed in.

“Some might even call it fate,” Roxy agreed. “Regardless, coming here was an unexpected boon. I encountered more of the corrupt monsters that seem to be my main extermination targets nowadays. I might even be able to get some clues on the monsters’ movements in this area and find out where my target is heading.” She looked like she had more to say but frowned when her eyes fell upon the basket of food that had been forgotten in Paul’s hand. “Ah, my apologies, I didn’t realize I had interrupted your meal. Sorry, I’ll leave. I will stop by another time, Paul, to discuss this matter further.” There was a faint flush on her cheeks, and she pulled down the wide brim of her hat to partially obscure her face before spinning on her heels and making her way back towards the forest.

However, a thin arm shot out, grasping onto Roxy’s shoulders. The mage looked back, surprised at the appendage restraining her.

“Don’t worry, you were most certainly not being a bother,” Alice said with a charming smile. “I assure you that the safety of the village takes precedence over some food. Besides, there’s no rule that says we have to eat without you. In fact, you saved my husband, so this meal should be for you as well.”

Roxy stared at the woman with a conflicted woman, pools of blue melding together as the magician wrestled with indecision.

If I may—” a stern voice interjected, Lilia rooting the two in place with an even look “—while politeness is certainly admirable, the food is getting cold, and perhaps such matters would be better discussed inside." Her eyes flickered briefly to both Sylphiette and I, the slightest tells of conflict flashing across her features before vanishing.

Lilia was a professional, as she said so herself earlier. The discourse of the village’s plans to combat any possible threats were beyond the scope of her responsibilities, so she had mostly kept quiet this entire time. However, her propensity for stepping beyond her boundaries was becoming more and more apparent. Her intervention now wasn't surprising. After all, this was exactly the type of situation where Lilia tended to shed her servant's mask—when she believed something needed to be said, regardless of her station. She had done similar things two nights ago in that stifling room with Paul, Zenith, and myself, acting as a guide and mediator.

Paul blinked a few times. “Yeah that sounds good. We can eat while we’re talking.”

The maid accepted his words, nodding curtly before walking back to the Greyrat household.

How strange. I had observed her subtle changes before, but her words just now were bordering forceful, a stark change from the normally passive woman. Had I underestimated the magnitude of development? Or was there something else pushing the woman, an invisible factor I had not accounted for?

Well, it didn’t matter, though it was nice to always be able to rely on the maid to guide matters as necessary.

The other adults began making their way over. Sylphiette briefly looked at me, who had stayed behind, with a questioning look. Alice briefly paused and did the same, the briefest of questions flickering through her eyes before she continued.

I wondered how exactly I should approach the upcoming conversation. One part of me just wants to up and leave, making some false pretense about training and return later once the uncomfortable discussions were over. However, a much larger—and currently winning—part of my mind knew that there would be immense value in staying. Information was critical, and there was bound to be a lot revealed. Not to mention that the others would no doubt inquire about my encounter with the monsters since aside from possibly Roxy, I had the most personal experience with them of anyone in the village in my brief skirmish with them last night.

In the end, I let out an exhausted sigh and made to follow Paul. I was already in unknown and uncomfortable waters. Then again, perhaps that was exactly what I needed.

A pleasant and savory aroma filled the room, the adults surrounding the table looking at the marvelous pile of treasure at the center of the table as if it was an oasis in a desert. They had the tact to not be so overt about it, of course, but the desire was plain as day within their eyes.

Surprisingly enough, it was actually Roxy who had the strongest reaction. I would have guessed the disciplined and somewhat stoic woman would have been the least affected, but it was strange to see the opposite.

However, from the snippets of her past I could glean from her behavior and words, the woman was clearly not someone was treated with much hospitality anywhere. Furthermore, judging from her demeanor, she was not someone who was getting homecooked meals often, if at all anymore. In fact, if I concentrated a bit, there was the undeniable feeling of longing from within the woman, an unquenchable yearning for what was lost.

The feeling was simple to trace. There was little doubt I radiated the same aura, after all.

Laws and Paul were handling themselves with a bit more composure. The former must have built some resistance considering he was married to the chef, and as questionable as Paul was, even he could restrain himself from slobbering all over his guests’ gifts.

The basket from earlier had been filled with sandwiches, compact rectangles of thinly sliced bread layered with precision. The shredded protein—fresh chicken from the village farms, I assumed—still glistened with delicious juices, and the lean meat was resting on top of a bed of crisp lettuce, the image punctuated nicely by a bright slice of cheese.

Alice had obviously spared no small amount of effort, having taken great care of delicately craft each one to perfection. The consideration of her choice of food was not lost to me either; the ingredients were nutritious but not heavy. In tandem with how she had made the food into sandwiches, it was the perfect midday meal for a warrior in the midst of training.

The inclusion of meat was something Roxy in particular enjoyed thoroughly, the mage citing that such ingredients were a rarity nowadays.

While Alice’s food probably still paled in comparison technique-wise, I didn’t need to have a taste to know it was superior to mine. Despite the excellence in all other areas, the dishes I made these days all lacked the vital component that had no substitute.

Lilia was not present, having taken her leave after preparing the table for us, presumably because she felt that the upcoming matters were not necessarily for her to hear. Just as she knew when to step forward, the maid knew when to step back as well.

Well, I doubt anyone would have minded if she had stayed. After all, in a way, the discussion would be relevant to her and her safety. Still, I couldn’t fault Lilia for her choice. However she made sure to take Sylphiette with her as well, enticing her with the offer of additional tales of adventuring from Zenith’s younger days, an offer that was very quickly and enthusiastically taken by Sylphiette. Naturally, her mother followed, concerned about the other woman’s well-being and feeling slightly out of place in the discussion.

Lilia was always the most perceptive of the Greyrat household. It was clear that having a child around during the discussions would only be a hinderance. Of course, it wasn’t necessarily Sylphiette’s fault; she was smart enough to not ask questions and to just quietly observe. The issue laid in the fact that the adults, especially her own parents, weren’t keen on talking about possible impending mortal perils when children were around.

Which made it all the more ironic with my current position, sitting at the far end of the table and opposite Paul. Laws and Alice were sitting on either side across from each other, and had Zenith and Lilia been here, every seat would have been occupied.

There was a bitter sort of satisfaction with how none of the adults questioned just why exactly was there. Alice had given me a sad smile earlier before she left but ultiamtely said nothing.

I would have been lying if I said that it brought me happiness. Despite shedding the guise of a normal four-year-old, things didn’t seem to get any easier. In fact, it looked to have done the opposite.

"Well, to pick up where we left off," Roxy said, her words cutting through the quiet sounds of their meal. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, though she missed the few breadcrumbs that clung stubbornly to her cheek. The sight was almost amusing, though her next works banished any such levity. "The monster I am tracking is a dragon that ravaged the kingdom of Shirone."

Paul's fork clattered against his plate. "A dragon? In Shirone?" His brow furrowed as he leaned forward. “That can’t be right. There shouldn’t be any dragons in that area. The closest ones are in the Dragon King mountains, but it’s still a bit out of the way for them.”

“The Cataclysm changed everything,” Roxy said with a shrug, her tone as even as her gaze, though her words carried the weight of a harsh truth. “Monster movements have been utterly unpredictable ever since. This dragon is no exception—but its strangeness is far more than that. Not only is it a species I have no knowledge of, but it’s one of the tainted monsters we saw last night.”

A heavy silence fell over the table. I could see Laws' hand trembling slightly as he reached for his drink, no doubt remembering his brush with death against those corrupted wolves.

“When you say ‘devastated,’” Laws said hesitantly, his voice softer, as though afraid of the answer he might receive, “what exactly do you mean?”

Roxy's face darkened, shadows seeming to gather in the depths of her azure eyes. "I arrived after the siege, but the witnesses' accounts were... consistent, at the very least. It came from somewhere in the North, perhaps from the Red Dragon mountains, but it was like no Red Dragon ever recorded. They described something more serpentine and flightless, like a bastardization of the Snow Drakes that dwell beyond the northern peaks. But the size—that's what truly set it apart. The beast was as large as one of the castle towers itself, coiling around them like a giant snake.”

The vivid image that her words conjured caused me to frown. I pictured a titanic wyrm coiled around the soaring spires of the Einzbern castle and frowned. If something like that attacked the village, then it could easily wipe out most of the settlement and displace countless people.

Such a massive being should have been impossible to lose track of, and yet that is exactly what happened.

“…And what happened after?” the elven man asked hesitatingly.

Roxy caught the man’s eyes in an even stare. “… It left.”

Somehow, the simplicity of her response was more unsettling than any elaborate explanation she could have said.

"That can’t be true," Paul said bemusedly, shaking his head. "It must have tried to claim Shirone as its lair. But if that’s the case, why would it leave? Dragons are greedy creatures—they don’t abandon their prey or their prizes. And Shirone? It’s a small kingdom. They wouldn’t have been able to drive off something like that without outside help.”

Roxy sighed, taking a small bite out of her sandwich. “A good point, one that I had considered. The dragon must be acting under some sort of influence, that much is obvious. Unfortunately, I have no answers as of yet.” Blue eyes flickered towards me, a gesture that went unnoticed by the other two men. “Well, it’s not as if this mystery is the only unfortunate circumstance. Much of Shirone was ravaged during the attack, and the kingdom is in great peril due to the numerous monster attacks it must endure. They’ve sent for requests for relief from neighboring nations, but the countries in that area are not keen on helping others, especially when they’re already struggling to make do as is.”

“Then shouldn’t you be down there and helping them recover?” Laws asked.

Roxy gave him an icy smile, her words as sharp as the edge of her tone. “I could have stayed, and I offered, but we all decided my efforts would be better spent ensuring the dragon doesn’t return. Shirone is holding on by a thread, yes, but the people there are strong—they have to be to survive in this world. As long as nothing major interrupts their recovery, they’ll make it.”

The energy seemed to drain from Laws at her words. He leaned back in his chair, his hand absently drumming on the table as he mulled over her reasoning. "I suppose you're right," he said finally, his tone subdued.

I watched his expression shift, recognizing the change all too well. The initial shock of learning about the dragon had given way to a sort of resigned acceptance—the kind that comes when you realize just how little control you have over the forces shaping the world. It was a look I'd worn myself, back when I first stumbled into a war waged by beings far beyond the mortal realm.

That memory brought with it a fresh wave of guilt. After all, wasn't I now one of those forces shaping their world? Unlike Paul and the others, Roxy knew the strange effect that my magical energy had on the monsters in this world, either repelling or attracting them in large numbers. It was a small detail I had neglected to mention to the others, not keen on adding “potential monster magnet” to their list of growing worries.

Still, even I couldn’t ignore the thought that my presence here might be exacerbating the danger. The fact that we weren’t under constant attack offered some small reassurance that the monsters weren’t overly sensitive to my magic—at least not at my current output. But that explanation felt hollow, more excuse than certainty.

Or perhaps it wasn’t certainty I lacked but courage.

“So now we’ve got a dragon possibly wandering these parts, and no clue why it’s here or what it wants,” Laws said grimly, his voice breaking the silence like the crack of a branch. He rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw tight as he stared down at the table. “This keeps getting better and better.”

The room settled into a heavy quiet, the weight of his words pressing down on all of us. My gaze shifted to the faint scars etched into the wooden table, tracing their lines as I gathered my thoughts.

I wasn’t particularly surprised. Dragons were more than just mystical creatures; they alone stood at the top—the very pinnacle of fantasy. Dragons occupied a place beyond mere human comprehension, and they were less akin to living creatures than they were more facets of the world itself. What exactly was a “dragon” was complex, at least from Tohsaka’s and Illyasviel’s lectures. Some were demons, others divine beings. Some could see the threads of fate itself, while others were living incarnations of human concepts like greed or drought. However, to put it simply, they were almost mana itself, an extension of the world given intelligence and cunning. The mere act of their breathing could destroy armies and kingdoms, and just their words were enough to actualize mysteries that transcend a lifetime’s work of a regular magus. Hell, just having dragon blood inside a human was enough to propel them far past their mortal restraints, Saber’s abnormal mystical constitution proof enough.

To face one wasn't just a battle - it was to stand before something that existed outside the normal bounds of reality, a true battle against fate itself.

However, if dragons in this world were anywhere nearly as dangerous, then the kingdom that was besieged by the dragon should have been wiped out already. Still, a dragon is a dragon, and I wasn’t arrogant enough to take such a threat lightly. If a dragon was truly in the vicinity, then I would need to prepare accordingly. In my current state, I was ill-equipped to take on the kings of phantasmal beasts. My body was developing faster than a normal person due to my soul shaping its vessel, allowing me to take on a questionably-serious Paul in melee combat with reinforcement, but my greatest weapon was still my projection magecraft. Emiya Shirou was a magus, first and foremost, and the luxury of range was one that Archer and I were afforded and used extensively.  

However, I doubt a storm of meager swords like I had used last night would be sufficient against a creature of a dragon’s caliber. Perhaps a weaker one, but from Roxy’s report, it seemed that the dragon she was tracking was far more dangerous than its usual kind in this world.

"This dragon... how long have you been tracking it?" Paul asked, leaning forward slightly.

Roxy rested a finger on her chin, her expression contemplative. “Hmm, about half a year or so. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time doubling back through the Strife Zone. The trail has a habit of disappearing, only to resurface in entirely different regions. It’s an elusive creature, no doubt.”

“Hang on,” Laws interjected, raising a hand. “When you say ‘track,’ what exactly do you mean? Somehow, I doubt you’re crouching in the dirt looking for footprints.”

Twin pools of azure, sharp as cut glass and just as cold, regarded Laws from over the rim of a weathered clay cup, the magician taking her time with each deliberate sip as she weighed the weight of the man's words. Next to her, Paul's lips dipped in a terse frown, his weathered hands clasped together on the table as he waited for her response.

The silence stretched, broken only by the soft clink of Roxy's cup being placed back onto the table. Her fingers lingered on the porcelain rim, tracing its edge as she wrestled with her thoughts.

“I am fairly adverse to sharing such secrets,” she said, her lips straightening into a thin line. “After all, there’s no shortage of unsavory individuals who could turn that information against me. I’m already quite infamous, you see.” Another sip of her cup, another bead of sweat dropped from Paul’s forehead.

Of course, perhaps it may have been the advantage of having interacted with her alone last night, but I already knew her decision.

Roxy sighed, putting down the cup before affixing the two adults with an even stare. “Well, normally that would be the case. However, I seem to have found the only group of people in this world naïve enough to trust me.” She paused a bit, ruminating on her next words. “How familiar are you all with Demon Eyes?”

“Only the absolute basics,” Paul said. When Laws raised an eyebrow at him, Paul elaborated, “Zenith and I are friends with Ghislaine, remember? Hard to adventure together when you don’t know your allies’ capabilities.”

“Ah, I forgot your uncanny ability to be connected to all the important people in this world. My bad,” Laws quipped, eliciting only a roll of Paul’s eyes.

“Sword King Ghislaine is a user of Demon Eyes, I’ve confirmed,” Roxy agreed. “I’m sure you already know this, but Demon Eyes—”

“Wait wait wait—what do you mean, ‘confirmed’?” Paul cut in.

Another sigh. “I had a meeting with her before, during the journey to this area,” the magician explained. “She’s stationed at the nearby kingdom of Roa as the bodyguard to the youngest daughter of the nobility ruling there, the Boreas Greyrat family.” Blue orbs suddenly glinted with something between amusement and scrutiny. “Imagine my surprise when not only do I find an heir of the Greyrat family in this remote village, but he also happens to be a former member of Ghislaine’s adventuring party.”

Paul scratched the back of his head, laughing awkwardly while trying his best to ignore Laws’s grumbles. “I guess when you put it like that, it’s a bit weird, yeah,” he sheepishly admitted.

Roxy nodded, taking another sip from her cup before continuing. The coincidence was worth noting, but she had more pressing matters to discuss. “As a Sword King, her skills with the sword are nearly without compare, perhaps only short of the Sword God himself, and her reputation is known throughout the world due to her exploits as an adventurer. I had initially sought her out due to her familiarity with the region, but rumors of her Demon Eye led me to believe that she could help me better understand my own… condition.”

“Condition? Please don’t tell me you’re terminally ill,” Laws said wryly, letting out a slight chuckle to lighten the mood.

Roxy gave the man a dry smile. “Fortunately, my condition isn’t quite so drastic as that. Simply put, my Demon Eyes are, from what I can tell, quite unique. Normally, you are born with the Demon Eyes. Either that or they can be bestowed upon you by Kishirika, the Immortal Great Emperor herself. However, I awakened mine just a few years ago, right in the midst of the Cataclysm. If I had to make a hypothesis, it would be that the extenuating circumstances of the ordeal as well as the close proximity to the tainted energy mutated me in some way. Of course, like I said it’s purely conjecture; Demon Eyes are not exactly a well-documented phenomenon.”

Paul hummed in thought. “Well, I guess I never asked Ghislaine where she got her demon eye from. All I can say is that she’s had them for as long as I’ve known her.”

“She was born with hers,” Roxy explained, her tone steady and clinical. “The issue with my Demon Eyes is that I cannot turn them off. It is similar to most people, however unlike them, covering my eyes does not diminish their effect. By now, I'm able to reduce their rate of mana consumption to near negligible levels, but I can never completely eliminate the strain they have on my mind” She paused, her fingers brushing idly against the rim of her clay cup. “As for what they actually do…”

Roxy closed her eyes, and immediately the air grew heavy with an invisible pressure. A tingling sensation permeated the room, like the moment before a lightning strike. Paul's reaction was subtle but immediate—his body tensing like a coiled spring, years of combat experience screaming at him to move, to act, to do anything but remain still. Yet he held himself in check, though I could see the terse frown settling on his lips.

Laws's reaction was far less controlled. Beads of sweat raced down his cheeks as tremors wracked his frame. His knuckles went bone-white as his fingers dug into his palms, his entire body rigid with instinctive fear.

When Roxy's eyes finally opened, they glowed with an otherworldly light—brilliant sapphire orbs that cast the same ethereal glow I'd witnessed during our moonlit encounter. "Ghislaine is able to see the flow of mana with hers. Mine is not dissimilar," she continued, her voice steady despite the power radiating from her gaze. "They allow me to perceive and sense the energy of living creatures and the world around me. It's that level of ocular prowess that gives me such fine control over my own mana flow, increasing the efficiency of my spells such that my mana usage is near zero."

Laws’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment, his jaw slackening, while Paul let out a low whistle, his tension easing slightly as he leaned back in his chair.

Their amazement was well-warranted. The idea of refining magic to the point of minimal cost was something I had trouble wrapping my own head around. If we were on Earth, her Demon Eyes would be equivalent to Mystic Eyes—a fact that would have instantly earned her a Sealing Designation from the Clock Tower.

"So that's how you were tracking the dragon?" Laws asked, his voice steadier now as he pieced the puzzle together.

Roxy nodded. “Correct. The dragon’s magical energy signature is… unique. Its unnatural and distorted nature leaves a distinctive trace, one that can warp the land if it lingers too long. The local flora and fauna are devastated, and its passage often spawns groups of corrupted monsters like the ones we encountered last night.”

Paul leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “Another point to the dragon being nearby, then.”

"Yes, though it's also possible those monsters were here before." Roxy's brow furrowed in thought. "You said you've seen them near here before, right?"

“Yes, a few years ago.”

“A few years ago?” Roxy echoed, her brows furrowing in thought. “That lines up with the timeline of the Cataclysm. The question is whether those monsters originated from the same area and took time to migrate here… or if the local population mutated on its own.”

I frowned at Roxy’s words. That term again—Cataclysm. Even without knowing the specifics, the name alone carried a sense of foreboding. From the way she spoke of it, the event had more than earned its ominous title.

From the fragments I’d pieced together yesterday, the Cataclysm referred to an event where a vast swathe of land was rendered inhospitable due to a sudden eruption of corrupt magical energy. The description struck an unsettling chord in me. It sounded eerily similar to the aftermath of the Fourth Holy Grail War—the tainted mud of the grail overflowing after Kiritsugu’s desperate but failed attempt to destroy it. That cursed mire had scarred the land, creating an area so defiled that ordinary people instinctively avoided it, and even Saber had been too unsettled to patrol its edges for long.

If the grail was indeed in this world—and all evidence pointed to that conclusion—then it was almost certain that it was the direct cause of this Cataclysm.

Paul had also mentioned that the area of contamination was expanding. The grail’s accursed contents were not infinite, which meant it was drawing energy from somewhere. If the grail was situated on a major leyline in this world, then it could have been sustaining itself all this time… and that thought carried grim implications.

I scowled.

If something like Angra Mainyu had unrestricted access to this world's magical energy network, it could have been poisoning the planet's very essence for years. The Cataclysm that had Roxy so concerned wouldn't be an isolated incident—more and more of the grail's corrupted essence would overflow from the leylines, spreading like a disease through the world's magical veins.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. The grail wasn’t just a vessel of corruption; it was a wish-granting device, its purpose tied to the realization of desires. Given enough time, it would almost certainly try to restart the ritual—to begin another war to fulfill its function.

My brows furrowed.

Could it even do that here? This world was likely an alternate universe, and the grail had somehow transported both itself and me across dimensions. There was no Throne of Heroes here, no vast repository of Heroic Spirits for the grail to draw upon. The massive amount of energy required to realize a wish and open a gate to the root would have to come from elsewhere.

Or perhaps the Servants were merely a means to an end. The Greater Grail itself was nothing more than a colossal battery of magical energy. If it drained this world’s leylines long enough, perhaps it could bypass the war entirely and proceed directly to the wish-granting process.

But whose wish would it grant? Angra Mainyu couldn’t realize its own desires; it could only twist and corrupt the wishes of others. If that were true, then the grail might remain inert unless it found a wish to grant—a condition that could either delay disaster or trigger it in the worst way imaginable.

I clicked my tongue.

There was no point in entertaining optimism. I had to assume the worst. No matter the circumstances, the grail could not be allowed to complete its ritual. It had already nearly destroyed one world; responsibility and morality bade me to make sure its attempt here would be unsuccessful as well.

The timeline was crucial. I'd only existed in this world for four years. Roxy mentioned the Cataclysm appearing "a few years ago"—which might coincide with my arrival. Best case scenario, the grail had only been active as long as I'd been here. Worst case, the Cataclysm was merely a sign of the grail overflowing with accumulated energy, meaning it could have been poisoning this world for far longer.

On Earth, it took sixty years for the Greater Grail to gather enough energy to restart its ritual. The one I participated in, however, had occurred in just ten years due to Kiritsugu’s intervention.

There hadn’t been a true victor at the end of the Fifth Holy Grail War. Illyasviel and I had been the last remaining masters, but no wish had been granted. The grail had been shut down by Illyasviel’s use of the Third Magic.

My heart skipped a beat.

No—wait, that was wrong.

Something tugged at the edges of my mind, a half-formed thought that refused to fully materialize. Like trying to grasp smoke, it slipped through my fingers even as I reached for it.

"Hey Shirou, in your next life, remember us, remember me, would you? I hope you finally find your own happiness. But for now, this is goodbye. Thank you... for everything."

Illyasviel's parting words echoed in my mind, her voice achingly familiar, carrying the warmth of a final farewell. But there was something else there too, something I hadn't understood at the time. The careful choice of words, the strange inclusion of "next life," the wish for my happiness...

Could it be?

The reason the Holy Grail was able to save itself... Illyasviel's wish...

A cold numbness spread through my chest, the weight of realization sinking into my gut like a stone. The pieces were there, had always been there, waiting for me to see the pattern they formed.

Was there something deeper in those words, something beyond what I'd dismissed as a sister's final blessing? Had she understood all along what would happen? Had she seen this path stretching out before us, even then?

"—rou!"

A panicked voice pierced through my thoughts like a blade through silk. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, shaking me back to reality. The world swam into focus, and I found myself staring into Paul's face, his features tight with worry. His usual easy-going demeanor had vanished, replaced by an expression I couldn't quite read, his eyes searching my face with an intensity that made me want to look away.

The scene around me slowly crystallized. Paul's chair lay toppled at the far end of the table, as if he'd thrown it aside in his rush to reach me. Laws stood frozen, his hands braced against the table's edge, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with a mixture of uncertainty and something deeper, more troubled. He seemed caught between approaching and retreating, his usual confidence strangely shaken.

Only Roxy maintained her outward composure, still seated with that characteristic air of detachment. Yet even she betrayed subtle signs of disturbance—her eyes fixed on my face with an unusually gentle attention, the ghost of a frown touching her lips as if recognizing something in my expression. Her staff remained untouched against the table, a detail that surprised me, as she tugged the wide brim of her hat lower while her azure eyes remained steadily on mine.

The drop of a pin could have been heard in the resulting silence of the room, all three adults staring at me as thoughts raced through my mind.

"Shit, it happened again."

Like when I'd accidentally injured Paul, emotions had carved through my defenses, dredging up memories better left buried. At least this time they weren't combat-related—that would have led to an entirely different kind of disaster.

"Sorry, it was nothing," I managed, forcing evenness into my voice.

"Shirou," Roxy's voice floated across the room, gentle as falling snow, "… You’re crying…"

I furrowed my brows, one hand rising hesitantly to my cheek. The warm wetness beneath my fingers made me flinch. A single tear had carved its path down my face.

“… It’s nothing.”

Of course, my words couldn’t even begin to convince the three concerned people in front of me, a natural expectation considering I couldn’t even start to believe in them myself.

The words rang hollow, convincing no one—least of all myself. I quickly wiped away the evidence, willing my features back into their usual stoic mask. Within seconds, all physical traces had vanished, but their gazes remained. Yet their expressions continued shifting, reservation and hardness melting into something softer.

Something shifted in my periphery, but Paul shifted closer to my side, my vision completely taken up by the large man. I cocked my head questioningly at him but soon felt a heavy hand fall on top of my head, calloused appendages gently ruffling auburn tresses.

Paul shifted closer, filling my field of vision. His hand settled gently on my head, rough fingers carding through auburn strands.

"Are you okay?"

The words came barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder could cause me to shatter like glass. Green eyes searched mine, trying to pierce the walls I'd built around my thoughts. His expression was unreadable—unusual for a man who typically wore his emotions so openly.

“… I am.”

His eyes continued to bore into mine for a few more elongated seconds, until finally with a quiet sigh, Paul nodded once, the same hand that affectionally played with my hair falling onto my shoulder instead. He firmly squeezed, the gesture of reassurance not lost on me before he fully stood back up, looking pointedly at the two visitors.

Paul's attention turned to Alice's half-eaten food offering. "Why don't we all take a break before we continue talking? It'd be a waste for this food to get colder."

I cleared my throat lightly, drawing three sharp looks. "Before we do that, can someone please tell me what I missed while I was distracted?"

Though my mind still churned with possibilities about Illyasviel's final moments, the present demanded attention. Roxy suddenly stiffened, finding great interest in her plate.

"Oh that? Well, I guess it depends on when you... stopped paying attention," Paul said, awkwardness creeping into his tone. "Let’s see… dragon… Demon Eyes… monsters… But the last thing we talked about..." He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, Roxy said she wanted to stick around to make sure the village is safe, but she also brought up an interesting proposal."

I raised an eyebrow, trepidation creeping up within me.

“Seeing as you did… quite well yesterday—and with the possibility of even more dangerous threats later on…” Paul trailed off, his gaze shifting to the side, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes before he sighed heavily. “Look, I need you to know that this is entirely your choice. No one’s going to force you into anything. If you say no, that’s it. I won’t push, and neither will anyone else.”

I frowned, my brows knitting together as I studied him. “What are you talking about, Paul?”

"I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the gesture. "You're strong, Shirou. Stronger than any child has a right to be. You could help a lot of people with that strength. But..." His eyes met mine, fierce with sudden conviction. "You're my son first. Whatever else you might be capable of, that comes first. So I need you to understand that this choice has to come from you. Not from any sense of obligation or duty."

“… Go on.”

“Do you remember what we talked about a few days ago, about Zenith wanting you to have an instructor for magic lessons?”

I nodded. It was a strange suggestion by the woman, since I would have assumed that she would have been against me straying further from a typical childhood, but I couldn’t complain in the end, the possible benefits outweighing any grievances I had with the idea.

Paul’s lips curved into a conflicted smile. "If you're interested in becoming stronger... I think we've found your new magic teacher."

Chapter Text

The afternoon light poured through the window of Zenith's bedroom, bathing the room in soft, golden hues. The panes were open, letting in the cool afternoon breeze into the room and causing Zenith’s limp blond strands to softly tickle her face. The idea had been Lilia’s—the dark and musty room needed to be aired out, the maid had said—she needed some sunlight, Lilia had insisted—but Zenith wanted nothing more than to just shut the window, close the curtains, and dive back into the comfort of her bed sheets.

It was only out of knowledge that her friend was ultimately correct that had stayed her hand, though Zenith wished that such logic had come to her before, before she had been reduced to this state.

She made for a pathetic sight, and if her mother was here, she would have jeered at Zenith’s helplessness, citing that she had been wrong to run away all those years ago. The thought of that made Zenith bristle, but the anger left her as soon as it entered, vanishing just like the stale air that circulated out the window.

Ah, Lilia turned out to be correct. She tended to be when it came to matters such as this.

Outside, there was only the soft chirping of birds and animals to interrupt the silence inside the room. It made for a comforting melody, she supposed, a nice reprieve from the dark whispers that inhabited her mind the past few days. Of course, such solace was quickly wrenched away from her trembling grasp when exhaustion inevitably won and a singular blink was all that was needed for Zenith to be swallowed by a storm of sensations and emotions, flashes of places she had never been to before, voices of people she didn’t know, pain and suffering of a life that wasn’t hers.

And then Zenith would jolt awake, matted hair clinging to her face, her frail shoulders shaking and quivering as frantic eyes scoured the room for something—anything.

A few times, Lilia or Paul had been there, sitting at her bedside with thinly veiled concern on their faces. They would ask her what was wrong, what she saw, and Zenith had told them eventually after enough pestering, the nightmares plaguing her dreams coming more often and vivid until it was almost like she was less of a spectator and more like a participant.

Of course, they couldn’t do anything. At best, they could only listen, and venting her frustrations did help to an extent, but they couldn’t fully assuage her worries. After all, even if she told them everything, they could only know, never understand.

Perhaps she needed to go to Millis or Ars to see someone. Travel was dangerous nowadays, but with Paul, as long as they used more commonly traveled roads, there was a good chance they could make it safely.

But even if the nightmares went away, they were only symptoms of the issue. The true root of her issues would still be unresolved, and while perhaps her mind might be clearer after treatment, the clarity she gained was only temporary relief, and the persistent sense of failure and ever-present ache of loneliness would gnaw at her until she was back where she was started.

Of course, there was also the possibility that the nightmares were natural, simply a sign of her degrading mind. In some morbid way, perhaps staying ignorant was a blessing.

“Lady Zenith, you have guests.” a stern voice called out from behind the bedroom door.

“… Come in…”

Lilia had mentioned that Paul’s friend had brought his family along. On some level, she was prepared to greet them, but whether or not she would be able to actually do so was another question.

Well, despite her reservations about her upbringing, she had been raised as a noble, and hiding behind a mask was the basis for her training. She was more than accustomed to it by this point.

The door opened with a languid creak, and Lilia entered first, followed by two figures—a tall brunette, Alice, if Zenith remembered correctly from Lilia and Paul's descriptions, and a small girl with green hair—Sylphiette—who stayed close to the woman’s side.

The small smile that blossomed on her face came naturally, not requiring any deceit from Zenith. Sylphiette was good company, and despite her initially shy demeanor, the girl’s easily fascinated curiosity was something Zenith had enjoyed.

In some ways, it was the exact thing she had expected to do with her own child, but that was a dangerous line of thought to follow, and there was little point in doing so anyway.

Zenith straightened in her bed, years of noble training automatically adjusting her posture despite her fatigue. The afternoon breeze stirred the curtains, sending shadows dancing across the wooden floor as formal introductions were made.

She was warm, Zenith noticed. Not in the obvious, physical sense, but the other woman’s kindness was glaringly obvious. From the way she spoke to the gentleness of her features, she radiated a certain sense of… comfort, almost like she was a miniature sun that Zenith instinctively crowded around, basking in her warmth.

Zenith welcomed the woman with a fragile smile, one that she hoped would hold.

She did the whole song and dance, a routine explanation for her unfortunate state that Zenith had rehearsed in her head for a while now. Zenith’s health had always been in a poor state for the past few years, and while she had not outright been sick, the constant exhaustion had taken its toll on her over time, leaving her in a state of brittleness that finally prevailed over her a few days ago.

There were no lies in that explanation, and it was for that reason that Zenith had some confidence in her ability to maintain it. Lilia had been its first recipient, though by now, the maid had known Zenith for long enough that she had seen through half-hearted words, a side-effect of Zenith not having had the courage to truly lie to her friend. Then again, Lilia was a perceptive person, and she would not have been surprised if the caretaker saw through her lies regardless.

When Zenith tried the same with Alice, she could immediately tell that the woman wasn’t entirely convinced, but she had the tact to not call out the bedridden woman in her own house. Sylphiette, on the other hand, was none the wiser, accepting Zenith’s explanation with nothing more than a sad frown and almost heartbroken eyes. The sight of it was like a metaphorical punch to Zenith’s gut, but she was more than used to it by this point, and it was not nearly as painful as the ones she had received from the other child in her life.

Still, that did not stop Zenith from entertaining the little girl, entertaining her with adventures before she settled down.

It was nice, she admitted, having a taste of the normalcy that had been deprived from her. A cute, young girl whose expressions lit up with wonder at the simplest recounting of Zenith’s adventures—it was a balm for her frayed nerves. Sylphiette was sitting on some chairs Lilia had pulled over some at some point, her large, curious eyes fixed on Zenith as though the older woman were spinning the most captivating tale ever told.

The little girl’s eyes sparkled with admiration. “Wow, Lady Zenith, you’re so brave! I wish I could go on adventures like that one day.”

Zenith’s heart clenched at the earnest declaration. There was an innocence in Sylphiette’s words that felt both heartwarming and painfully nostalgic. It reminded Zenith of herself when she was younger, a time when she herself had been full of dreams and aspirations. Unfortunately, the stories she shared were so far removed from her present reality, it was as though they belonged to another person entirely. Was this what her life had been reduced to? Living in memories, entertaining children with tales of a time when she’d felt alive and free, before reality’s weight had pressed so heavily upon her shoulders.

It made the contrast with her own child all the starker. Where Sylphiette's reactions were childishly genuine, her son's responses always felt calculated. Where this girl showed natural childhood awkwardness, Shirou moved with unnatural grace. Even their curiosity differed—Sylphiette's questions about magic came from innocent wonder, while Shirou was content to sit back and accept things as they were, almost as if most things simply disinterested him.

However, despite the multitude of what-could-have-been’s lingering in her mind, Zenith’s mood was still noticeably brighter. Even if it was just a little bit, the weight in her chest felt just a bit lighter, the ever-present pressure on her mind just slightly weaker.

Enough so that she was feeling just the slightest bit adventurous.

“L-Lady Zenith, please lay back down,” Lilia warned, her face twisted in concern. True to the woman’s caution, Zenith’s legs wobbled and shook, their lack of use lately weakening the muscles and causing her balance to shift precariously. “Whatever it is you require, I am more than able to retrieve it for you.”

Ah, it looks like she wasn’t quite strong enough yet.

“Sorry, I just thought maybe by now I would be able to do something.” The words almost came out in a slur, a sudden wave of vertigo crashing into Zenith. The world slowly spun around her, the attempt leaving her disoriented.

“Alas, please wait until you recover more.”

It was a sad fact, but one Zenith accepted with a nod.

“I-I hope you get b-better, Mrs. Zenith!” Sylphiette stammered out.

Zenith blinked once, almost perplexed, before her eyes crinkled in a smile. “Thank you.” She turned to Lilia with a pleading expression, a wordless request exchanged between the two.

Lilia raised an eyebrow before letting out a silent sigh. “Sylphiette, if you would like, I believe there’s a chest in the storage room with some old trinkets. I may not quite be as well-traveled as Zenith, but there are quite a few interesting stories I could tell if you would like.”

Predictably, crimson orbs lit up in with interest, those same eyes turning up towards Alice with a pleading glint.

“Of course, just make sure you don’t break anything. We’re guests here.” Alice said with a gentle smile.

Sylphiette let out a cry of gratitude before turning to Lilia. The maid’s eyes lingered ever so slightly on the girl’s mother before leaving the room with the curious girl in tow.

Zenith watched the two exit with a faint curve on her lips. She would have been lying to herself if the loss of the little girl’s presence didn’t bother her. Truthfully, she would have been more than happy to continue reliving better times, but her health did not seem to allow for it.

“She’s a lively one, isn’t she?”

Zenith turned towards the other occupant of the room. A satisfied expression bloomed on Alice’s face, and she wondered just how outwardly obvious the stark difference between the two was.

“She is. You’re raising her well.”

The woman giggled softly at the words. “Laws and I try hard to make sure she becomes a good kid. Of course, it helps that she’s very amenable to it. With how much she’s been through, it would have been easy for her to be a bit more problematic than she is. Then again, she’s always been a smart child. Maybe she would have turned out fine anyways.”

A surge of envy rose up within Zenith’s chest again, but she forced it back down. “Well, you know what they say—nature and nurture. It’s always a good split of both. You need a parent who knows what to each and a child that is willing to learn. Without either of the two, it just doesn’t work.”

Alice mulled over her words with a contemplative look. “That’s true.” Alice crossed the room and pulled the chair closer to the bed, sitting down with graceful ease. “Still, I have to thank you for appeasing her. Sylphiette’s always been a bit shy, but she opens up with some time and effort.”

“She’s a nice girl. It’s hard to imagine someone not wanting to talk to her.”

“You think so?” The smile on Alice’s face came just a bit more brittle. “I personally agree. She’s a sweet girl, but that hasn’t stopped the local village boys from bullying her.”

Zenith’s eyes narrowed at the memory and the one associated with them.

“Because of her lineage and the nature of kids, she has a hard time making friends—or even getting anyone her age to speak with her, for that matter.”

“Her lineage? You don’t mean—”

“The fact that she’s part demon, yes,” Alice confirmed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. People are hateful, little creatures, after all. Always dividing. Always scheming. Always so emotional and impulsive. Often times, I wonder if the true monsters are actually the prowling beasts that destroy cities and towns of innocent, hard-working people, but then I remember that people do that to each other anyway, and my answer becomes all the more clear.”

It was a surprisingly cynical response from the jovial, upbeat woman. But then again, the brightest lights always did cast the darkest shadows.

She wondered just how much this woman had gone through, the burden she carried silently and without complaint all this time. If she had not revealed herself, Zenith would not have known any better, simply taking Alice at face value.

Another point of envy, she mentally noted.

“How pessimistic,” Zenith said. However, she did not refute Alice’s claims. Zenith had encountered her fair share of unsavory groups, and one did not adventure as much as she did without seeing the nasty, perverse side humanity had to offer.

“Surprised?”

“… No.”

Alice’s grin grew. “It’s hard, keeping up the act. Pretending like every day doesn’t weigh on you just a bit more than the previous. But unfortunately, that’s just how life goes. It doesn’t make my words less true, mind you, but sometimes my faith in them just becomes a bit weaker.” The woman’s eyes drifted back towards the door where her daughter left from. “But then I remember just what it is I’m fighting for, why I try so hard every day, and I can hold together for just a bit longer.”

“… How lovely.” This time, Zenith couldn’t quite disguise envy in her tone, how the widening pit in her heart caused her voice ever so slightly, how her knuckles were bone-white underneath her sheet, how the ocean-blue of her eyes hardened into icy orbs.

Alice regarded the other woman with an appraising look, not put off by the sudden hostility. “It is,” she conceded. “However, from my perspective, I don’t believe your own situation is lacking in any way.”

“My own situation…” There was no attempt to hide how Zenith’s face abruptly lost its amicable expression, her lips straightening to a thin line. “Just what are you getting at?” she accused.

“I think it’s obvious, Zenith, but if you want me to be direct, I’m referring to your son.”

The tight line became a full-on scowl.

“What’s there to talk about?”

The woman stared at Zenith for a few seconds before giving her a disappointing shake of her head. “You’re making this hard, you know. I assure you I just want to help.”

“I don’t need help.”

Alice raised a dainty eyebrow. “You certainly have seen better days. A question, then: why haven’t you used your magic to cure yourself of your illness yet?”

The question might as well have been a spear, piercing through Zenith’s chest and cutting the wind from her sails.

Zenith remained silent, casting a frosty glare towards Alice but otherwise offering no response.

It wasn’t that the idea had never crossed her mind before. Zenith wasn’t stupid, despite what people from her past might have said. However, the silence of an empty room, just her and her thoughts, not having to deal with what laid beyond that door, it was almost an easy choice.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect—nothing ever was. In here, she was left alone to wrestle with her thoughts while she was awake and her nightmares when she was sleeping. However, it was better than the alternative, a small reprieve from the chaos—just a break where she could gather her wits and steel her resolve for later.

Or perhaps she was running away. She was quite good at that by now, surely. Just like when she was younger, when she stormed out of her family’s house in a fit of youthful rebellion.

“There’s just some things you don’t understand,” Zenith finally said, her tense posture deflating slightly.

A pregnant silence filled the room, the tension between the two women almost palpable enough to cut with a knife.

Alice watched Zenith carefully, her sharp blue eyes never wavering, as if searching for something beneath the exhausted, withdrawn exterior. Her lips quirked in what might have been amusement, though the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Things I don’t understand?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly. “I think I understand quite a lot, actually.”

Zenith’s eye twitched, irritation flashing through her. “Do you, now?” she muttered, “How can you? You don’t know anything about me,” she hissed.

Harsh ice met soothing blue, Alice regarding the other woman’s sudden rage with nothing more than a small smile.

“You’re right, I don’t know much of anything. I don’t know what has happened to you all these years, what has caused you to suffer so much, what has hurt you to the point that you’d rather stay in this room instead of walking out of it and healing, facing everything you’ve been avoiding.”  Alice gracefully crossed the room, her dress fluttering in the gentle breeze as sapphire pools followed her every step with curiosity.

Finally, she sat herself at the foot of the bed, blue orbs piercing through Zenith as Alice looked at her expectantly. “I don’t know, but I’m not blind, and I can see when someone is trying to disappear.” Her lips pressed together for a moment before she let out a quiet breath. “I’ve seen it before. People retreating into themselves, letting their pain fester because at least then it’s familiar. At least then, they don’t have to deal with the uncertainty of what’s outside.” Even though their eyes were locked together, Zenith could tell Alice’s gaze was far past her, looking off somewhere in the past. After all, it was a look she had seen plenty of times in the mirror, something she tried her hardest to hide. “So you’re right, I don’t know, but I understand.”

The words gave Zenith pause, her throat suddenly becoming dry as the sound of her own heartbeat loudly pounded within her ears. “What… do you mean by that?” The question came out barely a whisper, hesitation heavily laden within her voice.

“I’m a mother too, Zenith, and I’ve experienced my own fair share of tragedy. Whatever struggles you are going through, I assure you that there is no one in this village who can relate to you more than I can.” Alice placed a hand on Zenith’s shoulder, the contact making her flinch in surprise. “I may not know much right now, but only because you haven’t told me anything.”

The heat from the appendage was a soothing one, and Zenith couldn’t quite find it within herself to pull away.

“You make it sound so simple, so easy,” she murmured.

“Maybe you’re afraid—” Zenith’s head snapped towards Alice, lips pulled back in a threatening snarl as wrathful ice bore into her “—okay, okay, not afraid. Sorry, that was the wrong choice of words,” Alice placated with a disarming smile.

Zenith held her gaze for a few more seconds more relaxing. “You’re not entirely wrong—”

“But saying you’re afraid diminishes the effort you’ve put in until now, doesn’t it?” Alice finished.

Zenith blinked bemusedly at her, the woman’s words cutting through her. “… I suppose it does.”

The difference between knowing and understanding, Zenith reminded herself. It was something that Lilia, despite all their talks, had never quite realized. Neither had Paul, for that matter, and he had shared similar reservations as she did now when their child was first born.

It was no fault of either of them—Zenith wasn’t able to truly resent them for something she could scarcely explain herself. Whatever mysteries and intricacies laid within her heart weren’t something she could even properly enunciate to herself within her thoughts, never mind verbalize to another person.

Could this woman, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, truly understand her? Was she able to do something her confidant of several years and husband of even longer couldn’t?

Alice hummed in response, her fingers giving the slightest squeeze against Zenith’s shoulder before retreating. "You’re still skeptical," she observed, her voice carrying no judgment, no pity, only quiet certainty.

Zenith exhaled slowly, raking a hand through her hair. "… Of course I am," she admitted. "You come into my home, sit by my bedside, and act like you understand me better than people who have known me for years. You're asking me to trust you despite the fact that we've only just met."

Alice tilted her head, the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on her lips. “I suppose that’s reasonable. Trust isn’t something that should be so easily handed over. I do wonder, though…” Alice leaned back, a finger touching her lips as the woman contemplated. “Is the worth of a relationship measured by time alone?” she asked after a moment.

Zenith frowned, a retort on her tongue but one that she herself couldn’t even believe in. “No,” she begrudgingly conceded.  

The smile grew. “You know, I saw something quite extraordinary the other day. It was after your son saved my daughter the other day. He stopped by our house to drop Sylphiette off, making sure that she didn’t run into any more trouble on the way home. Oh, before I forget—thank you, by the way.”

“What for? I didn’t do anything.”

“For raising such a good son.”

Zenith let out a scoff with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Spare me the flowers. He’s always been like that.”

Alice cocked her head questioningly, a knowing look on her face. “Perhaps, but nature and nurture go hand in hand, no? I can’t imagine some of your kindness didn’t rub off on him over the years.”

Memories over the years raced through her head, all the interactions she had with her child permeating to the surface of her mind as she analyzed each scene.

Was Alice right? No, she couldn’t be. Zenith knew that he had always been like this. In fact, it was one of the things she had tried to teach out of him.

But a small part of her, its whisper far louder than it had any right to be, couldn’t help but shake the feeling that there was some merit to the woman’s words.

Alice took the silence as her cue to continue, “I haven’t known him for very long. In fact, we’ve only had two conversations so far, but I think even the densest person in the world can see that your son isn’t the kind of person who opens up very easily, correct?”

Zenith stared at the woman before nodding once, an impatient glint in her eye.

“He’s a strange one, I’ll give him that. The difference between him and all the other children—no, everyone else—is clear as day. I’ve seen my fair share of broken children, but he is by far the worst case I’ve ever seen in my life. You can’t miss the constantly haunted look in his eyes, as if he’s constantly being chased by something. Or how everything he does seems just ever so slightly… forced, like a wagon being pulled by a horse that long since died. Or how his face is like broken glass—I look at him one moment and he seems fine, I shift a bit, and I catch a glimpse of something that perhaps I shouldn’t have.”

“… Did you come here to just spout poetry at me?”

If Alice was bothered by the acidity in Zenith’s voice, she gave no indication of it, the smile on her face remaining unperturbed. “Zenith, your son doesn’t truly smile much, does he?”

Said woman’s eyebrow rose. “Is that your grand observation? You said it yourself—anyone could’ve told you that.”

Ocean blue glimmered. “Which made it all the more surprising when I finally did see it.”

“… See what?”

“His smile. It’s very beautiful, by the way.”

A pregnant pause passed. “… It was…?”

“I believe he was reciprocating Sylphiette’s gratitude from when he saved her.”

A storm of emotions engulfed Zenith’s heart, and the constant ache in her chest intensified.

Shirou’s smile? Of course, she had seen him smile before. The boy was too polite and kind not to. Yet, in all the years she had raised him, his smile had never once reached his eyes. His smiles felt like a mask, a calculated maneuver that only deepened the dissonance within her.

Could she even dare to imagine a genuine smile on his face? She pictured the contours of his face stretching, his lips curving upwards, and the skin around his eyes crinkling with mirth as happiness shimmered within his emerald orbs.

Zenith’s mind wandered through the tantalizing possibilities, each more elusive and enchanting than the last, leaving her heart aching with a blend of hope and uncertainty.

Or maybe—

Flames. Fire. Corpses piled high all around her. A vessel radiating death and evil morphing. A face so similar to her son’s yet paradoxically far more different staring back at her.

The vision lasted only an instant, but the chills running down her spine lasted for far longer.

No, she couldn’t quite imagine it.

“Well, that’s good at least. I’m glad he found something to smile about.”

Alice studied her expression for a few seconds, and it took Zenith a considerable amount of effort to not squirm under her stare. “You’ve never seen it before,” the woman outright stated without a shadow of a doubt.

Ah, perhaps she was a poor actress.

“Yes,” Zenith spoke plainly, her voice deadpan. “Go ahead and flaunt it if you want.”

“Oh, no I’m not here to do that,” Alice quickly said. “I had my suspicions, but still, I assure you I just wanted to make a point.”

Whether or not her words were truthful, Zenith couldn’t tell. What she did know is that the small flicker of irritation she had felt towards the woman was rapidly growing to bitter, smoldering embers. “Just get to it already.” Icy mirrors bored into Alice, urging the woman to finally get to damn purpose of this conversation.

Alice stood up from her spot at the foot of Zenith's bed, the mattress slowly rising from where her weight had pressed it down. Each step towards Zenith was measured, deliberate, her skirts whispering against the wooden floor. She stopped just at her side, where the afternoon light streaming through the window caught her figure, casting the other woman in a dazzling spotlight of gold. Dust motes danced around her like tiny stars, stirred by each graceful movement of her body.

"Let me help you, Zenith." A small, pale hand was thrust in front of her face, slender fingers extended in invitation. "Not as someone who knows everything, but as someone who understands enough and wants to try."

Zenith stared at the offered hand, her own fingers twisting in her sweat-dampened sheets. The gesture was so simple, yet it carried a weight that made her chest constrict. From below, voices began to rise—a commotion that sparked her curiosity despite herself. Through the floorboards, she could feel the vibration of movement, the house itself seeming to pulse with life she'd been hiding from.

Alice's hand remained steady, waiting. The afternoon light caught her wedding ring, sending small rainbows dancing across the bed sheets between them. The gold band gleamed like a promise, reminding Zenith of her own ring, now sitting dull and untouched on her bedside table.

"You’ve fallen down," Alice suggested softly, her voice barely louder than the breeze stirring the curtains, "but it’s only natural to get back up afterwards, right?”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Zenith's gaze shifted from Alice's hand to her face, searching for any sign of judgment or pity. She found neither - only that same steady resolve, that quiet understanding that had somehow pierced through all her carefully constructed walls.

“Pointless,” Zenith murmured quietly, but there was no heat behind the words, and the woman herself wasn’t even sure if she believed in them.

Alice did not move, did not withdraw her hand, only giving her a crooked grin. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem if we try anyway, right?”

Zenith studied the woman before her. The afternoon light caught Alice's hair like a halo, but it was the unwavering steadiness in her eyes that held Zenith's attention.

Here was someone offering help, real help, not just the well-meaning but ultimately helpless concern Lilia showed, or Paul's awkward attempts at comfort. And yet... Zenith had spent so long building these walls alone that the idea of letting someone else within them made her hesitate.

Her fingers twitched slightly, the smallest motion, as if testing the idea of reaching out before she fully committed. She let out a slow breath, sinking further into the pillows, allowing herself a moment of quiet contemplation.

"Earlier," Zenith said slowly, each word carefully chosen, like testing ice to see if it would break, "you said something about the worth of a relationship not being measured by time." She paused, watching Alice's expression. It wasn’t a challenge, nor was it a rejection. It was an invitation. A final question, not meant to push Alice away, but to see if she truly understood the weight of what she was asking. "Tell me, Alice—in your eyes, what determines the weight of a relationship?”

The woman didn’t hesitate. “Time isn’t what makes a bond meaningful.” Alice’s smile widened, not in amusement, but in something knowing, something warm.  Her voice was quiet, but there was a certainty in it that made Zenith’s breath hitch. “When Shirou first helped Sylphiette, they'd known each other for less than an hour. Yet in that brief moment, he’d done something far more impactful than the time they spent together had any right to be." Her extended hand remained steady as she spoke. "The things we share, the way we impact each other, the moments that stay with us. That’s what matters.”

Zenith's fingers twisted in her sheets as she absorbed the words. They were good words, powerful words, and they struck something deep within her. Her eyes fell to Alice's still-outstretched hand, then back to that knowing gaze. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“… And you believe you can help me?”

Alice's response carried the same gentle certainty that had marked all her words, the same understanding that had somehow slipped past Zenith's defenses. “Our children showed me that was the case. Is there a reason why it can’t apply to us as well?”

Zenith exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders loosening ever so slightly.

Maybe… just maybe…

“Why do you care?” The words came out sharper than intended, but Zenith didn’t take them back. Her mind was still clouded with exhaustion, with lingering doubt and the weight of too many unanswered questions. “It’s true that you might be able to help me, and I accept your wishes of wanting to do so despite our abrupt meeting. But still, why are you so determined to help me? What do you get out of this?”

Alice blinked once, then twice, and a playful glint shone within her eyes. “Of all the questions you’ve asked, this one is by far the easiest.” The outstretched hand receded, a finger resting on her chin. “Our children get along quite well, and I think that it is in their best interest if we also keep things amicable between us. But to be frank, the biggest reason is …” Alice broke out into a large smile, and with the sunlight behind her, Zenith could’ve sworn she was looking at an angel. “It’s—"

"—not wrong to help others.”

The familiar words struck a chord within Zenith, hitting her with all the force of a spear being rammed through her chest.

Back then, it wasn’t that she had disagreed with him. It was just that… it seemed so sad, as if he was trying to prove something.

Zenith stared at Alice. She knew that she had to keep trying, but when the crushing sensation of defeat was still so fresh, would anyone blame her for having just a bit of time for herself?

But this woman... this stranger who spoke of bonds and understanding with such conviction... Zenith could feel the remnants of her courage gather themselves again, and the weight on her shoulders seemed to be just a bit lighter.

A sudden burst of voices from below made them both pause. Something in the urgent tone made Zenith's heart skip. Then came the sound of Paul's voice, sharp with concern she'd never heard from him before: "Shirou!"

The screech of a chair being thrown back echoed through the floorboards, followed by the heavy thud of rushed footsteps.

Zenith’s breath hitched, and her heart skipped several beats. Before she knew it, her feet had already carried her out of her bed in a frenzied rush, her body almost teleporting in front of the closed door of her room. A frail hand rested on the doorknob, and it was only the sudden realization of just exactly what she was doing and what it entailed that stopped her from pushing forward.

Fractions of a second later, Zenith bursted out the room. Despite having been bedridden for a few days, the ache in her weak muscles barely even registered as an afterthought. Right behind her, Alice also moved forward with similar urgency, the concerned frown on her face marring her beautiful features. From further down the hall, Lilia emerged from the storage room, raising an eyebrow at the two women in front of her while Sylphiette closely followed the maid with a confused yet curious expression.

They gathered at the top of the staircase, and Zenith almost stomped down the steps in her urgency. She made it down a few steps before the woman stopped dead in her tracks, the abruptness of it almost causing Alice to knock her over.

A stifling tension fell over the household. Every sound seemed magnified in that moment - the creak of floorboards beneath their feet, Alice's quiet gasp of surprise, Sylphiette's sympathetic whimper of distress, Lilia's sharp intake of breath.

Shirou was sitting at the end of the dining table, Paul knelt before him in a fatherly manner, his large frame bent with unusual gentleness. There were two other strangers, one she assumed to be Alice’s husband, and the other the magician than Paul had mentioned before. However, Zenith regarded them with only passing glance, her focus squarely on the small child.

A single tear tracked down his cheek, catching the light like a diamond. His shoulders trembled slightly, though she could see him fighting for control even now. That desperate grip on composure, that eternal struggle to maintain his mask—it was all there, but for the first time, she could see what it cost him.

Shadows danced across the floor of the dining room, the afternoon light streaming through the windows. The scene had a certain ethereal likeness, almost like it was from a dream, and Zenith wondered if this was another nightmare disguised as reality. However, life always seemed to be stranger than fiction, and the scene Zenith had stumbled into was no exception. She stood frozen at the top of the staircase, one hand gripping the banister so tightly her knuckles whitened. The wood felt rough beneath her fingers, grounding her in a moment that otherwise felt surreal.

It was as if some cover over her eyes had finally been pulled, the light of revelation almost painfully blinding her to some truth she had been ignorant of all this time. For the first time, she saw past everything – past the force her dreams warned her about, past the cracked mask he wore, past her own fears and doubts. Her dreams had shown her many things—flames, death, despair, agony, monsters beyond her comprehension, flashes of lives she knew did not exist in this world, her son emerging from the filth and muck of darkness. However, she had never been shown this—the fragility of her son in full display, someone who was nothing more than a child in pain. Not a threat, not a mystery, not a force of nature. Just a little boy who, despite all his strength and all his strange abilities, was just that, a boy.

The maternal instinct to rush down and comfort her child warred with the paralyzing fear that had kept her isolated for so long. She was dimly aware of Sylphiette subconsciously pressing herself closer to her mother’s side, the girl's eyes wide with concern for her friend. Even the normally stoic maid's composure had cracked, her professional expression replaced by a terse frown and half-lidded eyes.

The sight only lasted a brief moment before Paul’s body moved and covered the scene, but for Zenith, it might as well have been stretched out to eternity, more than enough time for the image to sear itself into her mind, the storm of emotions within her branding themselves onto her soul.

“Mom, why is Shirou crying?” Sylphiette quietly asked, tugging on Alice’s skirt. The little girl seemed distraught, and she looked like she was torn between racing down the stairs and remaining frozen in shock.

“I… I don’t know…” Alice’s uncertainty spoke volumes, and for once, the woman wasn’t entirely sure what to say. However, she wasn’t quite as immobilized in disbelief as the other women, and her eyes glinted with tinges of pity and sadness as the woman observed the child below.

“I must say: even for the young master, this is a surprising development,” Lilia noted softly.

The comment, delivered in Lilia's typical understated manner, somehow broke whatever spell had held Zenith motionless. The world seemed to tilt beneath her, the staircase stretching impossibly long before her eyes. The churning in her chest intensified, shame, confusion, helplessness—each one crashing over her, pulling her under until she could do nothing but turn away and climb back up the stairs in silence.

She took one step back, then another. A part of her was screaming to go to him, to race down those stairs and gather her son in her arms. Yet her body betrayed her, moving away instead of forward.

"Lady Zenith?" Lilia's voice seemed to come from far away, but it couldn’t quite disguise the confusion nor the slightest bit of judgement in the maid’s tone.

Alice turned toward her. "Zenith—"

But she was already retreating, her fingers trailing along the wall for support. Memories over the years crashed into her with the force of a tidal wave, the story of her life in its entirety flashing through her mind in an instant, the weight of it all driving Zenith back towards her bedroom.

Why wasn’t she happy?

Wasn’t this what she had wanted?

She had done it. Finally, a crack in his carefully maintained facade, a singular teardrop escaping from the mask of stoicism and perfection. Even at birth, he had defied expectations—his first sound not a baby’s cry but a name—someone else's name, not hers or Paul's.

In hindsight, perhaps she should have known then and there that it was merely the first sign that he was never hers to begin with, but that had never stopped her from trying all this time, the tenacity and perseverance that had served her well all these years something she was more than willing to pit against her own child, to reach out and grasp the dream of family she sought more than anything.

And just where had that left her? Burned and scarred.

But now she had taken the first step towards her victory, one mark against the countless that had been made against her.

So why did her heart weigh so heavily still?

Why did the victory she had worked so hard for ring so hollowly?

Guilt gripped her heart, her languid stride coming to a halt as she rounded into her bedroom. A feeble hand opened the door, and Zenith could hear some hushed whispering behind her, perhaps some directed towards her, but she paid them no need regardless, pushing through into her sanctuary and closing the entrance behind her. A few more swaying steps brought her to the foot of her bed, and the woman proceeded to collapse onto it, her face nuzzling into her sheets. However, what usually brought her a small modicum of comfort instead elicited nothing.

Zenith heard more hushed voices before the door creaked open, and familiar footsteps bound across the wooden flooring. Zenith made no attempt to acknowledge or greet the person, choosing to remain face-down on her bed.

The two remained silent for quite some time, time blending together for Zenith as she let the weight of her circumstances press down on her ribcage like a vice.

Of course, at some point, there was a need for action, and the feelings surging through Zenith’s chest were suffocating.

“Tell me: how much of a failure am I?” Zenith flipped herself over, her eyes boring into the ceiling. She didn’t need to confirm who the visitor was; the answer was painfully obvious.

“… I think you’re being far too harsh on yourself.”

Zenith frowned at the words. “Alice, I ran away. Just like before, I stepped back when I should’ve moved forward. He…” Zenith choked on something, the words stuck in her throat, but she forced them through regardless. “… He needed me there, and all I could do—all I’ve ever done—was run.”

A pause. "Is that really what happened? Or did you see something that overwhelmed you—something you weren't prepared for?"

"What difference does it make? The result is the same. He needed me, and I wasn't there."

“… He’s a special child. You’re being unfair to yourself if you expect things to go perfectly.”

Zenith let out a bitter chuckle. Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, tracing the familiar patterns of wood grain she'd memorized during countless sleepless nights. “I failed the singular duty of a mother. A child cries, and a mother comforts. It's the most basic instinct, isn't it? And I couldn't even manage that. My own blood cried, and I sit here doing nothing but wallowing in self-pity.”

“If you phrase everything like that, then I suppose you’re right, and you really are a failure. Is that what you would have me do, Zenith? Would you prefer it if I scolded you? Would you like it if I said you ran away from your problems, how you failed when the one who needed you the most was right in front of you?”

Each word lanced through Zenith like a spear, and the woman could feel her anger spreading like flames, simmering at each accusation hurled at her. The blonde mother grit her teeth, her jaw clenched tightly as she focused on the unjustness of it all.

However, instead of letting it go, the woman instead let the emotions continue to permeate throughout her being. The agony was suffering, and Zenith felt like she was flagellating herself, the words echoing in her mind stinging as much as a real whip.

She let out an exhale. “… I think I would, actually.” With the admission came clarity, something she sorely needed right now.

“… I suppose we all have our own answers.” The voice almost sounded surprised.

Zenith turned her head slightly, finally looking at the other woman. Alice was leaning against the windowsill, a thoughtful expression on her face. The afternoon sun filtering through the window cast long shadows across the floor, serving only to further highlight the dark circles under Zenith's eyes and the sickly pallor of her skin that years of fitful sleep had caused.

“I’m not some princess that needs to be coddled. I’ll take the truth, no matter what it is.”

“Is that so?” Opposing blue met hers in an even stare, and after a few moments, a small smile blossomed on Alice’s face. “I see. Sorry, looks like I misjudged you.”

Zenith scoffed. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Not pity,” the other woman shook her head. “It’s just that some people respond different than others. Looks like you’re the type of person who would rather face their problems head on.” Zenith didn’t disagree, and Alice took the opportunity to continue the conversation, “Tell me, when you looked downstairs, what did you see?”

Even though it had only occurred just a few minutes earlier, dredging through her memories felt like a herculean task. Her eyes fluttered, her hands tightening into fists as she summoned the courage to reflect upon the past. The world shifted around her, the familiar bedroom fading away to reveal the scene earlier, a lone child sitting on a chair.

The single tear tracking down her son's cheek, the slight tremor in his shoulders that he tried so hard to control, they stung as harshly as they did before, and Zenith averted her eyes with no small amount of shame. The way Paul had moved to comfort him while she had stood there, paralyzed by a wave of emotions she couldn’t begin to untangle, brought with it pangs of jealousy and frustration.

However, parsing through the vivid memory, Zenith noticed details that, in her confusion and haste, she had not seen before.

Eyes were windows to the soul, an old expression that a poetically inclined individual had once said in a sudden rush of creativity. Zenith did not believe it was false, however, and it was here that the phrase proved its veracity.

Within the golden orbs of the small boy she called her son, she saw it clear as day: the quivering of his pupils at the shock of some realization, those same pupils narrowing into small dots, surprise turning into an ugly blend of anger and confusion, the most expressive she had ever seen him been.

And it was with that admission that Zenith could finally see the truth that had been hiding in plain sight all along.

"I... I never really knew him..."

The child she had given birth to, it was even more obvious that he had not been some blank slate for her to grow and nurture from the start. However, in her arrogance, she had disregarded that fact and instead continued steadfastly as she always wanted to do, blind to the consequences of her actions.

Her son had been fighting his own battles this entire time, battles she couldn't see because she'd been too focused on her idea of motherhood and the visions in her head. Whatever burdens he carried, whatever pain caused that tear to fall, he'd been shouldering them alone—maybe not because he was incapable or reluctant of sharing them, but because he felt he had no one he could turn to, no one who truly saw him as he was.

Her own nightmares had shown her fragments of what she feared he could become—visions of blackened flames consuming everything, of swords raining from the sky to skewer armies into bloody gravestones, of her son standing amid the devastation with empty eyes. But she realized now that she had let those dreams become a lens through which she viewed everything about him. She had been so fixated on preventing a future her dreams warned of that she had neglected the present that was right before her eyes.

Zenith’s jaw clenched, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, grinding until she tasted blood. The sharp, metallic tang jolted her from the spiral of her thoughts. “I look at him and I see this… this incredible, impossible child. And I love him—I do. But sometimes…” She shook her head, voice faltering. “Sometimes I forget he’s just a child. I see the things he can do, the way he speaks, and it’s like… like he’s something else entirely.”

Her breath hitched. “And then I hate myself for even thinking that—because he’s my son.”

She covered her mouth as her voice cracked, tears spilling freely now.

“Today, I saw him crying, and all I could think was… I’ve failed him. I couldn’t protect him from whatever it is that’s hurting him. And I don’t even know what it is.”

Alice’s gaze softened, and pushing herself off the windowsill, she sat down on the bed next to Zenith and placed a hand on her shoulder, reminiscent of their conversation earlier. “Zenith…”

Zenith shook her head, her voice rising in desperation. "I dream of him, Alice. They’re not clear, but I can see and feel enough. Swords and fire and death, and Shirou is just in the middle of it all. They’re not just nightmares. They feel... real. Like memories that haven't happened yet."

She glanced at Alice, expecting to see skepticism or confusion. Instead, she found only steady attention, the woman not denying her words as the ravings of delusion.

Alice pursed her lips in thought. “It’s not uncommon for dreams to mean more than what they actually are. Receiving visions of the past or the future is not something truly out of this world, especially nowadays, but that doesn’t really make the situation better, does it?”

“… No it doesn’t.”

Alice let out a contemplative hum. “Did I ever tell you what I did before Laws and I settled down here?” Zenith shook her head, and Alice continued, “I think I already told Shirou, but we were always on the run. It was hard to find a place to stay when we were constantly shunned away by everyone due to Laws’s heritage. One of our longer stays was at Shirone. There, I helped run an orphanage, taking care of children that had nowhere else to go to and no one to depend on.”

Zenith blinked. “Can’t say I’m surprised. It suits you.”

Alice smirked. “You think so? I don’t disagree; I was certainly better at taking care of the children than the actual owner of the orphanage, though she was unnaturally savvy on the logistical side of matters.” The woman chuckled at some untold memory before turning back to Zenith. “The place wasn’t anything special, just a small building on the outskirts of the city, run by a few overworked caretakers doing their best with what little they had. Most of the children there were young, ones displaced by their homes being overrun by monsters, but we had some older ones as well, those who were still not quite old enough to try and make a living in the kingdom.”

Zenith’s stomach twisted. She knew where this was going.

“Of course, the goal had always been to try and find them better situations, a more permanent home than an ever-growing group of hungry and rowdy mouths. That was ultimately just wishful thinking. In the end, we could never actually manage to convince a family to take even one of them. Do you know why?”

Zenith swallowed, her throat tight. “Because they weren’t easy.”

Alice’s lips curled into a jaded smile full of teeth. “Exactly. The owner once said they were ‘broken goods’. Too much trouble. Too difficult to fix. They were children who already had families beforehand, mothers and fathers that had raised them from birth. That experience isn’t something that can be easily erased, assuming the children were even willing to let that happen, of course. Considering how their old lives were ripped away from them, I wouldn’t blame them.”

Alice’s eyes hardened, and Zenith felt herself shrinking in the woman’s presence. “The owner never quite told me how she kept finding all these children. She often just disappeared for a day or two before showing up with a child. There were exceptions though, children who had managed to find us on their own, ones who had managed to survive in the wilderness and brave through battlefields to reach the orphanage. I don’t think I need to tell you that kind of experience fundamentally changes a person, especially ones so young. While they’re stronger because of it, I can’t help but think they may have lost pieces of themselves on the way there.”

“I’m guessing they were the hardest one to try and rehabilitate?”

Alice let out a bitter chuckle. “No one wants a child who couldn’t fit seamlessly into their idea of a perfect little family. They didn't want the complications of a child who'd seen too much, who carried burdens they couldn't understand." A hint of frustration colored her words. “After all, if you had the power to choose, why wouldn’t you make a choice that was better for you?”

Zenith let her lips split into her own cynical smile. “People want the gratification of doing good without the complications.”

Human selfishness was something Zenith was more than familiar with, especially when it was cruelly disguised as genuine altruism. She had seen it in the noble houses of her youth, where charity was a performance to enhance reputation rather than a genuine desire to help. She had witnessed it among adventurers who claimed to protect villages while extracting exorbitant fees that left those same communities struggling. Even in her own family, where her parents' insistence that their rigid control was "for her own good" had eventually driven her away.

Of course, she couldn’t completely fault them. After all, she had fallen into a similar trap. For all her judgment of others' false altruism, she had chosen the easier, more selfish path in raising her son, forcing her idea of motherhood over a child who could never be molded by it.

Zenith continued, “And you think Shirou is one of these children?”

Alice met Zenith's eyes directly, giving her a solemn nod. "Your son reminds me of them. Those children weren't broken. They had simply adapted to survive impossible circumstances. Their behaviors—the things that made others uncomfortable—were the very things that had kept them alive.”

Zenith remained silent, letting the woman’s words sink in. Her wisdom was useful, especially since Alice was able to put into words some of the feelings that eluded Zenith’s grasp.

She had been with Shirou since birth. Whatever trauma had shaped him, whatever life-altering event had broken him, it couldn't have occurred under her watch—and yet the evidence of damage remained undeniable.

The answer lay somewhere between his strange behavior and her unsettling dreams, perhaps even connected to the mysterious changes rippling through the world itself. These were pieces of a puzzle scattered before her, clues to a mystery she hadn't chosen but was nonetheless hers to solve.

And the key to it all laid tantalizingly close to her. Her son knew more than he revealed—that much was obvious. Eventually, she would ask him directly. Despite everything, he possessed an odd, selective honesty. It had been one part consideration and two parts fear that had stopped her until now.

Those answers would come in time. But for now...

“I think… I finally understand what I have to do now.” She sat back up, her body almost springing itself upright. Zenith raised her arms over her head, letting out a quiet moan as she felt her bones popping from her inactivity.

“Do you now?” Alice asked with a small smirk, warm eyes watching as Zenith quietly muttered a few words before being covered in a shower of golden motes. Almost immediately, color returned to her pale cheeks, the sickly pale complexion giving way to a healthy flush. The dark circles beneath her eyes lightened, then faded entirely. Her breathing, previously shallow and labored, deepened and steadied with each passing moment.

The persistent ache in her joints dissolved as the healing magic flowed through her limbs. Her muscles, weakened from days of disuse, firmed and strengthened. Even her hair seemed to regain its luster, the dull strands brightening as vitality returned to every cell. The illness that had given her an excuse to hide away broke completely, Zenith’s body feeling lighter than it had ever been in years.

“I had enough moping around. It’s time for me to actually do something worthwhile.” Zenith stood back up, looking at Alice with a grateful and firm gaze. “Thank you. Your little pep talk is exactly what I needed.”

Alice softly shook her head. “I helped, but I think you would have eventually broken through on your own. I can only give you ideas. It was up to you to know what to do with them.”

The comment raised Zenith’s spirits just a bit higher, but she made sure to reign herself in quickly.

“So, what’s your plan now?” Alice asked.

“My mistake was forcing my own expectations onto him. Maybe at some point I can help him how I originally wanted, trying to gently steer him towards a better path, but right now, that’s not what he wants or needs. Doing something without compromise won’t work here.”

Alice nodded thoughtfully. “I see. That’s a good approach. The tree that bends in the storm is better than one that stands rigidly, as they say.” She paused, her gaze drifting for a moment before returning to Zenith’s face. “It won’t be easy, but it sounds like you’ve thought this through.” A pause, and then Alice continued, “Ultimately, you’ll be the driving force behind this. No one can make your choices for you. Still, just remember that you’re not alone. You have Paul, Lilia—”

“And you?” Zenith said with a small smile.

Alice’s eyes glinted. “We’re friends now, right?”

Zenith hummed. “I guess we are.”

“One last piece of advice—I don’t know much about your son or magic, but I do know this: he’s not an ordinary child, and it’s unlikely he ever will be. As for those dreams… I think they’re definitely more than just simple dreams, probably signs of something greater. You should speak with someone more knowledgeable in such things—a high-level magician, or perhaps an expert in divination.”

It was sound advice, one that came from a place of good intentions. “There’s just one problem though: where can I find quickly someone like that?”

“I do believe that there is one such person right below our feet. You should introduce yourself to her anyway. I haven’t seen much, but it sounds like Shirou and her took quite a liking to each other.”

Ah, the mage that Paul mentioned. As for Alice’s last comment, Zenith wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it, but she could definitely feel something complicated brewing within her chest.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Accepting Zenith’s words, Alice made to leave the room. However, before she opened the door, the woman paused to look back, a sly grin on her face. “Of course, if you think you can’t do all this, I wouldn’t mind taking him off your hands. My family already owes him so much, and he seems comfortable with us. Sylphiette clearly adores him, so I doubt there would be any issues.”

This time, Zenith could definitely define what exactly she was feeling, and her lips curled back into a snarl. “Funny. Weren’t you about to leave?”

“Haha, sorry, I just had to try,” Alice said, her hands raised in mock surrender. “That’s a nice look on your face, by the way. Very fiery, it’s a good change of pace. It’s the look of someone who as an inkling of what she wants.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Zenith allowed herself to smile—a small, fragile thing, but genuine, nonetheless.

Chapter Text

“I must say—this performance is quite appalling.”

“Perhaps the fault lies with the teacher and not the student?”

“Only because my expectations were too high, it seems.”

Another quip was on my tongue, but I swallowed the words before I could give another retort. Despite whatever I could say, the fact of the matter was that she was not wrong in the slightest.

I held out my left hand, closing my eyes once again before focusing on the deep well of magical energy reserves within myself. Slowly, as if I was using magecraft for the first time, I willed that energy to flow through my body, pouring through my magical circuits in order to actualize the mystery I pictured within my head.

“Let the great protection of water be on the place thou seekest. I call a refreshing, burbling stream here and now. Water Ball!”

Roxy’s eyes narrowed slightly in anticipation, but the bated breath that she had been holding in the past few dozen attempts was no longer present. It wasn’t a surprise; considering the lackluster results, any hope that she might have had before was now surely and utterly crushed. The only thing keeping both of us going was the obligation to at least try as many spells as we could.

Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of the spell materializing in front of my palm. There were no droplets of water, no moisture being condensed, and I couldn’t even feel my magical energy responding to the spell I was trying to cast.

Roxy let out a sigh of disappointment, sapphire orbs dulling as she flipped through the weighty tome in her hand—the book of magical spells that Paul had mentioned beforehand.

After my accidental display of emotion and Roxy's timely offer to become my magic tutor, we had agreed to begin our first lesson today. While we were making arrangements, Alice and Sylphiette returned from visiting Zenith upstairs. As they prepared to leave, Alice gave me a knowing smile, and Sylphiette confirmed our training session for tomorrow before the family departed.

Once they were gone, Lilia had busied herself preparing dinner while Paul retrieved a spellbook for my magical education. After checking on Zenith, he then left Roxy and me to our lesson, giving us space to begin my formal instruction in magic.

The very beginnings of dusk were starting to set in, the afternoon discussion with Roxy and lunch with Sylphiette’s family having taken much of the day. Lilia was cooking dinner while Paul had left to check in on Zenith, leaving Roxy and I alone for our tutoring session. Before we had even started any demonstrations, Roxy had begun explaining the foundations of this world’s magic system.

Much like magecraft, magic was the manipulation of magical energy—this world not creating a distinction between energy from within the body, od, or energy from the world, mana. It was not nearly as guarded as it was on Earth, the denizens of this world merely accepting magic as a part of life, though people capable of using mana were relatively uncommon and those who could master its usage even moreso. Regardless, magic wasn’t treated as some taboo secret that required the assassination or memory manipulation of any witnesses, something that I would have appreciated some years ago before having had a demonic spear rammed through my chest.

Magicians had categorized magic spells into three main types: Attack, Healing, and Summoning. Each one was divided into seven different ranks of proficiency: Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, Saint, King, Emperor, and God. It was the same terminology that Paul had used when describing the classes of swordsmanship, and based on his comments about this Ghislaine figure, a king-level opponent was someone who was truly exceptional.

The spell categories were rather self-explanatory, though the concept of Summoning magic caught my attention in particular. The techniques she described bore similarities to the ritual of the Holy Grail War—specifically those used to invoke Heroic Spirits from the Throne of Heroes. If my suspicions about the grail were correct, it wouldn't need to create something new or re-establish the connection it had with its previous world; it could simply twist this world's existing systems to serve its purposes.

Unaware of those unsettling implications, Roxy had moved on to the demonstration portion of her lesson. Magicians in this world seemed to rely mainly on incantations, confirming my theory from when Zenith had first healed a minor injury of mine. The woman had used a rather lengthy aria to create the healing effect of her spell, and from Roxy’s explanation, it seemed that such incantations were standard practice. Reciting the incantation was a necessary step to facilitate the manipulation of the caster’s mana, and the higher ranked the spell, the lengthier the incantation was, though the chant could be shortened into a smaller phrase depending on the skill of the caster.

"Observe carefully," Roxy instructed, stepping away from me and pointing her staff towards a tree on the far side of the clearing we were situated in. Azure orbs steadied on her target, and I felt the invisible pressure of her Demon Eyes intensifying, proceeded by the formation of water droplets spiraling into a ball of clear water at the tip of her staff.

"Let the great protection of water be on the place thou seekest. I call a refreshing burbling stream here and now.” Her voice rang through the forest, clear and melodic, and with each word she uttered, the effects of the spell became more and more pronounced until where thin air had been one moment, rippling water had condensed into a sphere the size of her head.

“—Water Ball."

Like a horse galloping at its master’s call, the spell was let loose. The liquid projectile flew through the air, shooting forward like a bullet, and with a sharp crack, it completely shattered the midsection of the tree’s trunk, the top half crashing down to the ground with a loud thud. Behind the tree was another like it, and there was a sizable chunk taken out of it, the power of the Water Ball having carried through the first target.

“The potency of that spell is significantly stronger than the average Water Ball,” Roxy said, seeing my raised eyebrow at the destructive power of the Beginner-level spell. “Still, it will suffice for a demonstration.”

I couldn’t quite tell if her nonchalance was genuine. Seeing what was supposed to be a trivial spell match the power of one of my projections gave me some food for thought, to say the least.

However, even more interesting than the spell itself was Roxy’s method of casting it. She had said earlier that incantations allowed for the desired effect to be produced without the need to focus on the mana coursing through the body, but Roxy’s spell had actualized before she had said a single word. From what it looked like, the incantation seemed more like a focusing tool rather than a trigger—a mental framework that helped her solidify the image of the desired effect.

How curious. Was this an effect of her Demon Eyes? It would certainly explain Roxy's extraordinary ability as a mage. Whether due to her innate talent, her Demon Eyes, or both, her mana responded to her intentions even before she verbalized them.

In that way, incantations in this world seemed almost equivalent to the arias I was familiar with—a form of self-hypnosis that catalyzed the manipulation of magical energy. Hell, it was even similar to my own magecraft, seeing as both fundamentally relied on clear visualization of the intended outcome.

If incantations primarily served to create a spell's mental image while subconsciously guiding the user's mana toward the desired effect, it made sense why such a technique had become the standard method of spellcasting here, the incantation almost automating the process. However, if my theory proved correct, it might be possible to bypass incantations entirely with sufficient training and focus. Roxy herself seemed to be already halfway there.

My musings were then interrupted by the petite mage. My capability to control mana and cast spells was already answered last night, and after her lecture and demonstration, all that was left was to piece together everything she had placed into my hands.

Suffice to say, the current results were rather disappointing, leading to my current situation.

“Try this one,” Roxy requested, handing me the book while pointing towards a specific line.

Ah, denial—hopefully acceptance would be soon.

“Supple spirit of water and princess of streams that flow through the earth, sweep away all things with your hidden inner might. Water Canon!”

Of course, I already knew the result, but regardless I still held out my hand, pointing it at a large pile of destroyed lumber where a group of trees once stood. The splintered remains were evidence of Roxy's additional tutorials—well-intentioned but ultimately futile attempts to help correct my spellcasting, clearly believing I needed more demonstrations to grasp traditional spellcasting.

Predictably, nothing happened, the gust of wind that blew through the forest only driving home my lack of success.

“So higher level spells aren’t compatible with you either…”

“I guess swords are all I can make after all.” Another proverbial nail in the coffin.

“It’s quite interesting,” Roxy said. “You have no issues with circulating mana through your body and forming them into solid objects. I can see it for myself when you create your swords. However, when it comes to traditional magical spells, it’s almost as if your mana refuses to respond to the incantations.” She fiddled with the brim of her hat. “A miko that specializes in Attack Magic that conjures physical objects and nothing else… I must say—throughout all my travels, this phenomenon is a first for me. Should you choose to venture there later, I’m sure those old men at the Ranoa University would love to conduct some research on you.”

“Ranoa University?”

“An institution further North from here. If you wish to further your magical studies, Ranoa is the ideal place to do so. I myself am an alumnus from there, and I can personally vouch for the quality of their education.”

Roxy’s face cringed slightly at the last remark, but I paid it no mind. What caught my attention more was the university she mentioned—it reminded me of the Clock Tower, the institute of magical research Tohsaka had spoken about more than once.

“Hey Emiya-kun, when this is all over, you’ll come with me to London, right?”

“What makes you think I’d be so eager to drop everything and follow you across the world?”

“The fact that you can’t say no to me,” the magus said slyly. “Besides, how else am I supposed to continue your rehabilitation if you’re not at my side at all times?”

“You make it sound like I’m your pet,” I muttered, feeling my ears heat up but not denying her words.

"You’re right—pets don’t argue nearly as much," she said, clearly enjoying herself. "But don’t worry, we’ll bring the others too. I don’t mind a little competition~"

I coughed, trying to hide the blush spreading across my cheeks. "You really think I belong in a place like that?"

She paused, her teasing smile softening. Her gaze locked with mine, and then she spoke, her voice steady and sincere:

“I think it suits you far more than you realize.”

“I’ll pass. I stand out enough as is,” I said, perhaps a bit too hastily from the way Roxy raised an eyebrow. Still, the magician let the matter go with a shrug.

"Fair enough. Pursuing higher learning isn't for everyone. Some people need to throw themselves against the world rather than sit in lecture halls or research laboratories." Roxy's eyes took on a distant look. "There's a certain... hollowness to it all after a point. I sense you're not someone who'd be content with mere academia when you could be doing something.”

I remember our conversation last night, about Roxy’s arrogance in her youth and her recklessness in trying to prove herself.

“You understand,” I stated.

Dangerous, I reminded myself. And I wasn’t exactly referring to her abilities.

Blue orbs pierced through me. “After my brief stint in adventuring and the Cataclysm, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do. I finally got the recognition I wanted, but it felt nothing like I had hoped it would. The goal I always longed for ended up being no prize at all.” Roxy let out a lethargic sigh and leaned back, sliding down the tree behind her until she sat down on the ground. “I tried to teach, you know, see if I could find what I had left behind. Went back to Ranoa, made some amends, applied to be a professor.” She gave me a wry look. “Obviously, that didn’t last long.”

“… You never moved on.”

She gave me a biter smile. “That’s always the advice, isn’t it? Move on, be better, don’t let what happened be for nothing.” There was a wistfulness to her words, and she looked up at the heavens, watching the sun slowly dipping below the horizon and bathing the world in an amber glow. “Some eventually do… but not me.”

Naturally, I had no words for that, letting out a deep sigh as I tried to fight the torrent of memories swelling up inside of me.

“Don’t sigh like that. It makes you sound like a jaded old man,” Roxy quipped, blue eyes following me as I sat at the foot of the tree across from hers.

I resisted the urge to correct her. “Should you really be one to talk?”

Roxy gave me a dry smile. “Maybe not, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

A fair point, one that I conceded. After all, I was very much a practitioner of the same philosophy—doing as one says, not as they do. Taking my own advice was something I never excelled at.

There was a rustling of the bushes, and a pale leg stepped through the edge of the clearing next to us. A familiar skirt followed, and then Zenith emerged from the tree line, a small basket clutched in her hands. Her presence wasn't unexpected—both Roxy and I had sensed her approach—but what surprised me was her appearance.

She had been ill for a few days, and the woman had retreated to her bedroom since our last meeting in order to recuperate. At that point, she had never looked quite unhealthy, but there had always been a sort of... tumultuousness to her presence, a certain unease that seemed to radiate from her very being.

The change in her now was subtle but unmistakable. The constant undercurrent of anxiety that had characterized her for as long as I could remember had diminished. She moved with a newfound steadiness, her steps a bit more purposeful, her posture straighter. The shadows beneath her eyes had lightened, and her gaze, when it met mine, held a clarity that I found both unexpected and somewhat disconcerting. Whatever internal storm had been raging within her seemed to have abated slightly, its tides calmed to more manageable swells.

How strange. For years, I had grown accustomed to navigating around her fragility. At least, that was always what I had told myself, citing that my presence and words may not necessarily be the solution to her problem.

"I brought some food," Zenith announced. “Lilia mentioned that it has been a few hours since you started training. I imagine you both must starting to be hungry.”

She approached and set the basket down on a flat stone between Roxy and me. Steam wafted through the air, a delicious aroma filling the clearing. From the smell, I could tell that the remnants of Alice’s cooking from earlier were in the basket, but there also seemed to be some fresh stew as well.

Roxy stood up immediately, the muted and melancholic air around her gone before nodding appreciatively. "Thank you, Lady Zenith. That's very thoughtful. I am Roxy Migurdia. It's a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance,” she said with a polite smile.

Zenith returned the gesture. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Migurdia. Paul has spoken highly of your abilities. I heard that the monster attack on the village was stopped before it even truly began in no small part to your efforts." Her eyes flickered briefly to me before moving towards the crown of blue hair on Roxy’s head. If she had any prejudice, she hid it perfectly. "Paul said that you agreed to tutor my son. Thank you—we had been meaning to find a suitable instructor after seeing some of Shirou’s talents.”

"It’s no burden, I assure you. His potential is remarkable. He’ll grow up strong for certain. I have not met or heard of anyone who could match his capabilities at his age," Roxy replied.

“That’s good to hear. The world is a dangerous place. Knowing that he’ll be safe is a great comfort to me.”

…I was impressed. The firmness of her words and evenness in her tone was surprising. It was almost like when I first met her instead of the woman I had seen her regress into over the years.

Was this a sign? A few days of withdrawing from me, and the bulk of the mental deterioration she had sustained was now healed. How interesting—perhaps my presence truly wasn’t part of the answer all along.

An awkward silence fell as Zenith and my gaze accidentally met each other’s. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the weight of the entirety of my early life freezing my tongue and sending my thoughts into a jumbled mess.

"You… look better," I finally said, immediately cringing the bluntness of my observation. Of course, I was not talking about her illness, not having had the proper reason to go see her during that time. However, it looked like Zenith knew that fact, and there was no illusion to what I was referring to.

Zenith paused, then offered a small smile. "I feel better. I've been resting properly and... I've been sorting my thoughts."

There was a momentary hesitation in her eyes, something unreadable passing across her features, but I saw her determination push through it. "How is the training progressing?" she asked, looking between Roxy and me.

“He is doing quite well,” Roxy answered, her eyes shifting over to me before returning to Zenith. “He grasps concepts very quickly. People tend to be far more malleable when they’re young, but his cognitive skills are remarkably advanced, even compared to an adult’s.”

“I’m not surprised,” Zenith said with a small smile. True to her words, Zenith looked like she fully expected Roxy’s response, and while I could see the hints of reservation on her face, it was a sharp change from what it had been before. “He has always been perceptive. He is the son of two S-ranked adventurers. Talent is in his blood.”

Hesitation flashed through Roxy’s face. “… I suppose so.”

If Zenith saw it, she made no comment. The conversation hit a slight lull, and I could see Roxy almost start squirming in discomfort.

"Paul and I, we would like you to join us for breakfast tomorrow, if you would like,” Zenith said after some moments of contemplation. “We can further discuss our arrangements then. Truthfully, we never expected to find a tutor so quickly, so I apologize that we might seem unprepared.”

“N-No, I assure you that’s not the case!” Roxy denied with a placating wave of her hands. “Your family has been very accommodating of my intrusion. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”

The two women looked at each other, and Zenith let out a quiet chuckle. "Well, I guess we can both agree to let bygones be bygones. There's no need for either of us to apologize."

Roxy nodded, visibly relaxing at Zenith's warmth. "I look forward to breakfast, then."

"Actually," Zenith added, a thoughtful expression crossing her face, "we have a spare room that's hardly used. If you would like, you're welcome to stay with us. It would be more convenient for breakfast as well."

Roxy seemed momentarily taken aback by the offer. "That's very kind of you, Lady Zenith. I wouldn't want to impose­—"

"It's no imposition at all," Zenith assured her. "It seems only right to offer accommodations to my son's teacher. Besides," she added with a small smile, "I heard from Paul that you planned on camping outside. It would hardly be proper of me to let someone who helped the village not even have a roof of her head. Not to mention you two might train until it's quite late. It’s a bit more convenient to return to the same place afterwards, no?”

"I see… In that case, I gratefully accept," Roxy replied with a slight bow, wilting under the pressure of Zenith’s insistence. Generosity seemed to be a weakness of hers, it seemed.

"Excellent." Zenith's gaze drifted back to me, lingering for a moment with an expression I couldn't quite decipher. There was something searching in her look, but without much of the usual apprehension. "Well, that’s all I had to say. We can talk more tomorrow. I’ll let you two return to your training.”

She turned to leave. However, after a few steps, she paused and looked over her shoulder. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Migurdia. I'm glad my son found such a capable teacher."

Her eyes then shifted to me, lingering for just a moment longer than usual. "And Shirou… Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

The simple question carried a quiet weight to it, like a door being carefully, tentatively left ajar where before there had only been walls.

“… I will…”

Her eyes crinkled from the small smile on her lips, and despite the banality of the conversation between us, the air between us felt just a bit lighter.

“Then I’ll be off.” With a nod, Zenith left the clearing, leaving Roxy and I alone once again.

We weren’t far from the Greyrat house, quite near where Paul and I had been training earlier, actually. Still, I tried to feel around for any nearby monsters just in case, though Roxy’s own magical sensory abilities probably surpass my own, and seeing how she kept quiet, I doubt there was any danger.

Roxy waited until Zenith was definitely out of earshot before turning to me with raised eyebrows. "Your mother is quite different from what Paul described," she said quietly. "He made her sound more... brittle."

I considered her words as I reached for the basket Zenith had left. Inside were the sandwiches Alice had made earlier, reheated and warm to the touch, alongside slices of cured meat and a covered bowl of stew.

"She had been ill recently," I said finally, grabbing one of the sandwiches, "But she seems better now. However, Paul’s assessment is not necessarily incorrect.”

“Oh? That’s a strange remark to make about your mother.”

The sandwich paused in this ascent before I bit down on it. “My presence tends to cause issues. I never quite knew how to remedy the situation, but it looks like things have sorted themselves out. After all, the results speak for themselves,” I said, waving a hand towards the direction Zenith had left towards.

Azure orbs pierced through me, and Roxy grabbed one of the bowls in the basket and poured some of the stew into it. The food was freshly made, and Roxy took in a deep whiff of its scent before grabbing a spoon from the basket and helping herself to her dinner.

“I find you so very fascinating,” she said after lowering the bowl.

I raised an eyebrow at her words. “Oh? I’m glad I could be of some entertainment to you.”

Roxy rolled her eyes. “I find it fascinating,” she repeated, “how your mind works. It’s obvious you’re not normal, but even with our brief time together, I continually find myself surprised at how you subvert my expectations.”

“Then I hope I’ll continue to surpass your expectations,” I said dryly.

“Subvert, not surpass,” she corrected. “There’s a difference. Not necessarily a bad one, mind you. I suppose it all depends on the situation. Like I said, I find it fascinating. In this case—the conclusion you drew earlier.”

“Is what I said really so offensive?”

“… Saddening, is the word I would use.” Roxy looked like she had swallowed a lemon. “And… you should be nicer to your mother.”

How strange. In our short time spent together, Roxy had not made a request as overt as this one. She had always let me handle things as I saw fit—covering for me last night, letting me decide when and how to reveal my powers. This was different. This was a plea, subtle yet serious, that crossed the invisible line we'd both carefully danced around until now.

I studied her face. No anger. Just concern. Maybe disappointment.

“Well, that depends,” I said, voice cool. “What does being ‘nicer’ entail? I already help out around the house, doing chores, making meals, cleaning clothes. From an objective standpoint, I’m quite nice, actually.”

Roxy cocked her head curiously at my statement but said nothing, content to let me continue.

“Does it mean I should smile more? Should I speak more childishly? Should I refer to her as my mother? Should I tell her everything is fine, that things will magically sort themselves out at the end?”

I understood Roxy's perspective. From the outside, my treatment of Zenith must seem cold, perhaps even cruel. A child distancing himself from a mother who clearly sought connection. But what Roxy couldn't understand was the weight of deception that hung between us—the fact that every gentle moment, every maternal gesture from Zenith was directed at someone who didn't truly exist. The child she wanted to nurture had never been born.

More than that, I knew the pain of false hope. I had seen firsthand how reassurances built on lies could destroy people when reality finally caught up to them. I had promised to save them all once. Instead, I brought only oblivion.

Memories flashed through my head, and this time, the grimace on my face was something I couldn’t hide.

The forest around me was gone, replaced by that damned cavern. There was barely any light, the only illumination coming from the source of the nightmare further within. But I didn’t need to see that far anyway, the focus of my gaze squarely on the five bodies standing before me.

Their corpses had decayed since I last saw them, but their features were still easily recognizable even in this state. Their eyes were gone, nothing in their sockets except for black holes that seemed to suck in my very soul and endless streams of blood that slowly pooled around our feet.

And then their mouths opened.

“Just come back, Saber. Back to us, back to me,” the one in the center said. However, its voice was not the one whose appearance it copied but was instead my own.

"Fine. I'll save you, then I'll save her.” This time, the voice came from the far right, the tall corpse with clumps of purple strands clinging to its skull. However, just like before, its voice was my own, and I cringed at the reminder of what I had said and the result of it.

"But for now, just live." Middle-left, standing next to her sister. Just like before, it was another one of fate’s cruel tricks, placing them together only in death and in this twisted vision.

“You're going to die! Doesn't that mean anything to you?! Don't you want to live?!" The emotion in the words were exactly the same as when I had said them myself, sharply contrasting with the blank expression on the short body’s face.

I turned to the last one, who had not yet spoken, the corpse that was supposed to represent the twin-tailed magus, but no words left its mouth, its jaw remaining open but nothing else as bloody holes stared back at me.

I scoffed.

Another painful reminder that I had not been in time for her.

I blinked hard, forcing the vision back to where it belonged—in the past. Roxy was staring hard at me, her lips pulled into a tight line but otherwise allowing me the space to recollect myself without comment.

“Don’t you think you’re being too arrogant?” Roxy asked finally after a few moments of silence.

Her words caught me off-guard. “Oh? Do tell.”

"You're not as good an actor as you think you are," she said, her voice matter-of-fact rather than accusatory.

It was a valid point. I knew from my effect on the Greyrat family that I was never particularly good at giving them the comfort they wanted.

Roxy's gaze remained steady. "You perform the role you think others want to see, but your true self shows through the cracks. Maybe more than you realize." She paused. "We all wear masks sometimes. It's how we navigate the world. But the best performers know when to set the mask aside."

She looked up at the darkening sky, her expression softening and her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “It’s a dangerous line to tread. Play the role enough, and you might just become the very mask you wear. Then, when the world itself tells you you’re one thing, at what point do you finally become what it wants you to be?” Roxy continued.

For someone like Roxy, who had to continually weather the storm of curses and suspicion directed towards her, I’m sure she knew just what exactly it meant to wear a mask.

"It's hard, finding yourself, staying true to your identity, making sure that you're you because of you and not because of what people tell you that you are. It's like reaching into a pond, grasping for your reflection beneath the surface, but the waters keep rippling, and every time you think you've found it, someone throws another stone, and you have to start all over again."

Her eyes took on a distant look, gazing beyond the trees surrounding us. For a moment, I glimpsed the weight of her own experiences behind her words.

"When you spend too long like that, you start to vanish little by little until one day, you look in the mirror and realize there's nothing left behind the mask you've been wearing."

I took in her words underneath a deep silence before feeling my lips quirk. “… How profound. Did you practice that speech while looking at that same mirror?”

Roxy blinked at my comment before letting out a chuckle, her eyes regaining their focus as she regarded me with unexpected warmth. "No, but I'd be lying if I said I never gave it a substantial amount of thought."

There was Roxy the Adventurer, the lone survivor of the closest thing to hell this world had experienced so far. There was Roxy the Demon, someone who wandered around the outskirts of human society, unable to truly fit in. How many more did she wear? How much did she favor each mask? Or perhaps the most important question—which one was I talking to right now?

“What I'm trying to say is that even if you do try to act around Zenith, I doubt you'd succeed. Your personality is far too distinctive to hide completely behind any mask. There's something... unmistakable about you that shows through regardless of how you present yourself."

“… Thanks…?”

"Regardless, there’s meaning in trying to stumble through these matters with your mother, and she might appreciate the attempt. Of course, it's not as if I don't understand your concern. I agree that what’s best doesn't always mean being agreeable. Sometimes people need to be able to stand on their own two feet, and sometimes people need the honest truth instead of placations.”

"… But…?" I prompted, sensing her unfinished thought.

Roxy studied me for a moment, her blue hair swaying gently in the evening breeze. "But the issue here isn't that. You said that Zenith was more fragile before, right?” Her gaze flickered to the basket of food Zenith had left. "It must have taken an extraordinary amount of courage and strength to have patched herself together enough to give you a small gesture such as this."

She tapped her staff against the ground, emphasizing her next words. "Don't you think a show of faith deserves to be reciprocated with a genuine response?"

The question hung in the air between us, the implications of her question weighing heavily on me, whether Roxy knew it or not.

"…Even if it's not what she may want?" I finally asked, my voice quiet.

"… I think she wants the real Shirou more than anything else."

I met Roxy's gaze directly. "Do you think she can handle it?"

"You underestimate your mother if you believe her to be some weak piece of glass. She's trying even now, isn't she?" She gestured toward the basket again. "But let's just say that this attempt fails miserably and nothing is achieved. Does the idea of failure prevent you from trying in the first place?"

Roxy’s eyes narrowed, her voice taking on an intensity I hadn't heard before. "Life gives nothing to those unwilling to fight for it. To gain anything worthwhile, you must risk something in return. That's how it's been since the beginning of time and how it will be for all of eternity." Her eyes locked with mine, unyielding. "If you can't handle something like this, then you can forget succeeding in anything."

I shot Roxy a sharp glare, and for a brief moment, a look of panic crossed her face.

Then, just as quickly, her expression softened into a smile. "Ah, there it is. I liked that look on your face. It's good to see that stoic expression being pulled back more and more, though I would appreciate it if you calmed down a bit more. You’ll bring down another horde on our heads at this rate.”

I scoffed but didn't deny her words. What Roxy said was correct, as much as I disliked admitting it. Back in that cavern, my dream had shattered under reality's weight, but in clearing away those broken pieces, perhaps I had discarded things worth keeping as well.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked, though there was no real heat behind my words.

The magician shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling with casual grace. "Anger sometimes helps to clear your emotions. I would know; it's how I awakened my eyes, after all,” she said, fingers brushing briefly against her face.

However, there was one thing that bothered me, a question that had lingered since she first broached the subject of my relationship with Zenith.

"Why are you so invested in this?" I asked, studying her face for any reaction. "Should a magic tutor really be interfering with familial matters like this?" There was no anger in my voice, no accusation, just pure curiosity.

Roxy was far too invested for someone who had only recently entered our lives. It was almost like there was something personal at stake for the magician. I doubt it was anything malicious, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

She met my gaze directly, her expression thoughtful as she seemed to consider how much to reveal. The evening light caught in her blue hair, giving it an almost ethereal quality as she thought of her response.

"…There was a girl once," Roxy said at last, voice low, almost distant. "Born in a village where everyone spoke without words. A quiet place. Peaceful, by most accounts."

I didn't speak. Her tone made it clear this wasn't a story just for me.

"She was different, though. She couldn't hear the voices that weren't spoken, couldn't speak in the way her people did. So the silence around her… wasn't peace. It was a prison."

Her fingers curled around the hem of her sleeve, just slightly.

"She stayed for a time, trying to listen, trying to pretend she didn't notice the glances or the pity. But when you live in a place where you're always looking in from the outside… eventually, even home began to feel like an exile. And so she left, chasing something she didn't have a name for. Freedom, maybe. Or a voice."

"…Did she ever find it?" I asked in a whisper after a few seconds.

"… She found magic," Roxy answered, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "And she was good at it. Too good. People started calling her things—genius, prodigy. Titles like that don't mean much, you know. But to someone who's spent their whole life unheard, even empty praise can feel warm."

I nodded once.

“By that point, she felt she was ready to take on more of the world. She joined a group and made friends. For a time, she thought maybe that was enough. Even if she didn't belong at the beginning, maybe she could carve a place for herself out there."

Her voice softened, barely audible now.

"Then there was a job. Investigate the unknown disturbance, they asked, along with a reward great enough that it would have been stupid to turn it down. She felt that it was the next milestone in her life, something to stoke the fire within her. She gathered her friends once again, along with many other adventurers, and accepted."

A beat of silence.

"They never returned."

She didn't elaborate. She didn't need to.

"Only she survived, and the silence she had always ran from followed her."

I looked down at the dirt. "And after?"

"She wandered, looking for something she still couldn't name. But eventually… she realized something."

"What?"

"That the place she had always wanted to, she finally found it," Roxy said. "It was the home she left behind."

She paused.

"She wanted to go back to the ones she had left behind, to the parents she had abandoned, to tell them she was sorry, that there was nothing out there in the world but misery and suffering, that the only place she could feel at ease had been the very place she had deserted. And the greatest irony?”

Blue orbs cast a heavy gaze onto me.

“She couldn't go back, not anymore. It was only when she had found a piece of her answer that it was wrenched from her grasp just as quickly."

“… And you couldn’t bear to see something similar happen again, huh?”

Roxy gave me a small smile. “Perhaps that. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see something so sad. Is it really a sin to intrude on something like this?”

I took a deep breath, recalling just what had brought me here in the first place. It was a singular choice made, images of God and the shadows of his church looking down upon me as I swore to fight in a war no one knew existed, all to perhaps save lives who would never know my battles, all without being granted any sort of reward.

The choice that I made, the decision that had given me everything I had lost… What it a mistake?

“I suppose not,” I said, and sapphire orbs twinkled in response.

“Why? Do you have issues with me trying to intrude more into your life?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” I said with a roll of my eyes. How cheeky. It reminded me of Tohsaka. Then again, perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing.

Another pregnant silence overcame us, my mind racing to navigate through the labyrinth of emotions around my heart.

The obligation of seeking out the Holy Grail superseded everything else, and time was not a luxury I was afforded. It had been for that reason that I was paralyzed when it came to trying to help Zenith. She wanted someone who didn’t exist. The person who had the capacity to change, to be more had died in that cavern along with everyone else—No, perhaps he had never existed in the first place.

I could have lied and pretended, that was for certain, but that in itself was its own form of cruelty. Even if the performance was flawless, one day I’d be gone—and she would be left wondering what she did wrong.

But what I was currently doing also had its own faults. Namely that it didn’t solve the problem, only postponing one issue while exacerbating another.

"And thank you… for everything…"

“—Thank you… for forgiving me.”

The words echoed in my mind—Paul’s pained gratitude, Sylphiette’s soft sincerity. Moments where I had reached out instead of turning away, had chosen to answer the call from my heart instead of warnings in my head.

If I resolved myself to amend things with Zenith, it would mark the third promise I’d made in this new life. Another bond, another weight. Another thread tying me to this world—not as an outsider, not as a wanderer passing through—but as someone rooted here. Someone living here.

But could I truly bring myself to keep pushing her away? To pretend my indifference shielded her from hurt? I had answered Paul’s offer. I had listened to Sylphiette’s plea. And now, when Roxy had asked me not to repeat her mistake, how could I pretend that I didn’t hear?

At this point, I had to be honest with myself and admit that I could never truly turn people away. And perhaps I never could.

I sighed.

The hero's journey was a solitary one—one devoid of meaning or reward, an eternal march towards an impossible ideal. Archer had shown me that truth, and in my quest to prove him wrong, I had stumbled and fell to the harsh earth.

Yet here I stood, despite everything I experienced, already bound by more promises.

A life without compromise.

It was an insane idea, one Archer had condemned as madness when we faced each other across the bloody altar of our shared ideals. To surpass heroism’s curse—whatever that meant—that was the impossible mission he had entrusted to me.

In the end, I failed him. I failed all of them.

Another sigh.

What had I even learned in that cavern? Nothing? It certainly felt so.

I didn't have the answer. Not yet. Perhaps I was truly doomed to fail over and over.

But as I gazed toward the house where Zenith waited, I knew I couldn't continue as I had been—suspended in indecision, causing pain through inaction.

To walk the impossible line once again. To write the ending Archer and Kiritsugu never could. To fulfill an ideal that never could be. To defy fate and spit in destiny’s face.

It was arrogance of the highest order, believing I was the sole exception, that I could succeed where a stronger, more determined version of myself had already failed once before.

"That was your third sigh in a row. Does the idea of trying to be a better son to your mother pain you so?" Roxy called out across from me. Her eyes gleamed with mirth, lips curled in a wry smile.

"It's not that, just—" I sighed again, catching myself too late "—just something else."

Roxy studied me with an intensity that made me wonder if I'd revealed too much of myself in these unguarded moments. "You speak like someone much older than you appear," she observed quietly. "Well, I won't pry. After all, it's not as if I'm some kind of saint. I tend to hide my fair share of secrets as well."

I tensed involuntarily. Her expression held no suspicion—only that same penetrating curiosity.

"I wouldn't have guessed, considering how you've treated us."

"Only because I was shown kindness first. It's a rarity nowadays." Her voice softened. "It would have been poor form to not return it. Honesty goes a long way. You and I are proof of this, no?"

I didn’t respond immediately. My thoughts drifted to yesterday—to that fateful meeting between where, where the weight of my choice hung on my shoulders

A simple gesture. One small choice.

And yet…

Had I turned her away, had I remained closed off and silent, as I always had… what would have become of it? It had only been a single day, and still, her presence had carved a space in my life that felt much older.

As always, the future is built on choices made in moments that feel small. Decisions I could be making right now could eventually turn the world upside down.

“I suppose,” I said plainly.

Roxy's eyes lingered on me for a moment before she abruptly shifted her focus back to the task at hand. “Well, we should be getting back to the topic at hand. It’s quite dark, and our first magic tutoring session is about to end,” she said, standing back up and noting the darkness above us.

“Is there anything left to even cover? I believe we’ve well established that I cannot cast any traditional magic.” Attack, Healing, and Summoning spells had all proved incompatible with my magic circuits. I already knew the futility of this exercise, but if Roxy wanted to continue, it would only be a waste of time and energy. “Actually, speaking of that, why did you tell Zenith that we were making good progress in my magic studies? I can understand commenting on my potential, but you made a rather overly optimistic assessment, no? It seems rather insincere.”

"I didn't lie. We are making good progress," Roxy replied, her fingers absently tracing patterns on her staff as she spoke. "As it stands, I have instilled within you the fundamentals of our current understanding of magical theory."

Roxy then vaguely gestured towards me with a wave of her hand. "In any case, you're four-years-old, Shirou," she reminded, her tone matter-of-fact. "The fact that I did not have to re-explain or rephrase my lecture at any point is a miracle in itself. While admittedly I expected a bit... more considering your capabilities with your own brand of magic, it is only our first session. You are already an established magical prodigy by any reasonable standard. Truthfully, you could remain as is, unable to cast any orthodox spells, relying solely on your sword magic, and you would still be a better magician than all but a handful of people."

Being labeled as a prodigy was still incorrect, but from their perspective, it must have been anything but. Ultimately, my current abilities were simply the advantage of retaining my memories and soul along with my magecraft.

"That's a lofty complement. You certainly have faith in my capabilities."

"It's not a complement, just a frank observation," Roxy disagreed with a shake of her head. She tilted her head slightly, humming contemplatively before her expression shifted and she closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, I felt the now-familiar sensation of the magician pouring mana into her eyes, the air around them shimmering slightly with magical energy.

"Here, produce one of your swords, please," she requested.

I raised an eyebrow but didn't question it, wordlessly holding out a hand. Blue motes of light coalesced, and an instant later, the handle of a steel longsword hit the palm of my hand with a satisfying weight.

It was nothing special, just the favored weapon of some soldier of a time long ago. It was as ordinary as could be, nothing remarkable of note—a standard sword with a simple cross guard and leather-wrapped hilt.

Roxy peered at the projection, and I could see her illuminated eyes darting along its length just like last night, her Demon Eyes no doubt showing her details that were completely invisible to anyone else.

"Take this for example," she gestured to the blade. "For you, this is a completely ordinary weapon. You conjured it as easily as you took a breath. For all intents and purposes, it's just a regular sword. However, if you take a deeper look..."

Roxy held out a hand, and I placed the projection in her grasp, eager to see where she was going with this. The magician failed to withhold a smile, looking like a child that had just received a new toy.

"Honestly, it's nothing like any traditional Attack or Summoning spell. It's not fully composed of mana. There's… something else in there," Roxy said, studying the blade with her luminous eyes. "The sword is more like a vessel, holding whatever magic you've imbued it with. It somewhat resembles barrier magic, but with countless layers intertwined in ways I can't fully comprehend." She turned the weapon carefully in her hands. "This is more of an artifact than a weapon—more fitting sitting in a research facility in Ranoa or Millis than being slung around at monsters.”

That… was an eerily accurate assessment of my projection magecraft.

"If I try to examine just one of these layers—" Her face tightened with concentration, a single bead of sweat tracing down her temple. "—the sensory input becomes overwhelming. The complexity of the layers is too much." With a slight wince, her eyes panned away, massaging her eyeballs with her free hand.

I dismissed the sword with a gesture, the projection dissolving into motes of blue light.

"And you do it all without incantations," Roxy observed, composing herself. "You're manipulating mana consciously through your body. Silent casting alone is rare enough, but this level of complexity without verbal focus?" She shook her head slightly. "If that doesn't qualify as genius, I don't know what would."

There was a slight fault in her analysis, but the reasoning was still sound enough. The tracing process was automated by my reality marble; what Roxy saw was merely the end result of me bringing the projection from my soul into reality.

“Well, it’s rather backwards, being able to cast such high-level magic with ease yet left unable to use the most basic of spells. I suppose the world loves to indulge in this sort of irony.”

Truer words had never been spoken.

"If I had to guess, the irregularity of your soul and body are what allow you to cast your magic—magical energy runs through the structures embedded within you, and you've instinctively created a method of spellcasting to work with these unique pathways," Roxy said matter-of-factly. She pursed her lips in contemplation before glancing up to meet my gaze.

…

Wait what the—

The spellbook slipped from my grasp, landing on the forest floor with a dull thud. The clearing fell eerily quiet—no rustling leaves, no distant birdsong, not even the whisper of wind through branches, the world itself pausing while Roxy's words echoed through my mind.

I forced myself to speak, my voice emerging strained. "What exactly do you mean about... irregularities in my soul and body?"

"Oh, that?" Roxy said innocently before her expression shifted, confidence giving way to sudden embarrassment. "Ah, it's one of those secrets I mentioned earlier." Her cheeks flushed slightly as she averted her gaze from mine. "During our discussion about my Demon Eyes, I wasn't entirely forthcoming."

Roxy's fingers found the brim of her hat, tugging it downward to partially shield her face. "They allow me to sense mana flow even in their passive state, yes, but that's merely their basic function," she explained, words coming more rapidly than her usual measured pace. "When I channel energy into them deliberately, the effect strengthens—I can perceive magical currents at greater distances and with finer detail."

Her voice lowered, taking on a more confessional tone. "However, if I pour enough mana into them—"

The air between us seemed to shiver, and sapphire orbs deepened into twin moons, radiating light just like when we first met last night.

I couldn't suppress a frown as those luminous eyes fixed on me, my jaw clenching involuntarily in discomfort.

"—and I start to see even deeper. This level is where your unique status becomes obvious." Her voice took on a reverent quality, as if she were describing something holy. "Your body is completely covered with lines of magical energy. Where everyone else's mana almost ebbs and flows, yours travels along defined channels. They appear to function as conduits, allowing you to control and circulate your energy with remarkable precision, though that's merely my theory."

The petite magician tapped a slender finger against her chin.

"It makes perfect sense now—it's an entirely different magical system," she continued, confidence building in her voice. "No wonder traditional spellcasting doesn’t work for you. You've been subconsciously using these pathways all this time, so adapting incantations to work with your unique structure will require significant experimentation. However, even this peculiarity pales in comparison to what else I can see within you."

Suddenly, Roxy stepped forward, closing the distance between us. I tensed, but she paid me no mind, pressing her palm directly against my chest.

"Everyone has a soul composed of mana," she said, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. "Normally, I perceive them only as faint impressions unless I focus intently as I am now. But yours..." Her eyes narrowed, the blue glow intensifying. "Yours isn't made of mana at all, but something else entirely."

Her fingers splayed slightly against my chest, as if trying to capture more of whatever she was sensing. "From what I can tell, it’s the same as the darkened aura of the monsters you fought except on a magnitude even greater, the same filth that came pouring out of the site of the Cataclysm."

A chill shot down my spine. My blood ran cold, my pulse pounding so loudly it almost drowned out her words.

Soul. Filth. Cataclysm.

Was she saying what I think she was saying?

The implications were heavy. I played every exchange with the mysterious woman over the past two days over and over in my mind—every glance, every gesture, every word now cast in a new light. This woman, she—!

“And all this time, you knew?” My voice was quiet, almost choked out of my throat.

Roxy tilted her head at me. “If you’re referring to your strange composition, then yes, I knew from the start. I assumed that you wanted to hide it, so I never brought it up.”

The questions that had haunted me through two lifetimes came crashing forward. The reason why I was so different, the cause for the bottomless void within me, an explanation that eluded both Tohsaka and Illyasviel, the most knowledgeable magi I knew.

Was it only now, in this new world, that I could finally able to find my answers?

"My soul… what does it look like to you…?" There was an almost desperate edge to my voice, like a dying man seeing an oasis in the desert.

Roxy raised an eyebrow before answering, her expression softening with something like wonder. "Like the night sky."

She stepped back, studying me before tilting her face upward. Following her gaze, I noticed the evening had deepened around us, the sky transformed into an inky canvas where the first stars had begun to emerge, scattered diamonds against velvet darkness.

"It's like a hazy black mist, nebulous and mysterious," she continued, her voice taking on a contemplative quality. "I can't get a proper grasp of it. Even with my enhanced vision, I can’t fully analyze its nature. Perhaps with greater focus I could see more, but I don't need to peer that deeply to see what matters."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, though it carried an edge of fear. "You know, when I first glimpsed you and your soul, I was genuinely shaken. The darkness, it reminded me of back then, when I was so weak and powerless, watching as everything all around me burned down to ashes and corrupted monsters ripped and tore apart people I had drank and laughed alongside with limb by limb. Truthfully, I was moments away from trying to blast you away with my magic."

A natural reaction to a living weapon. I couldn't blame her. However, I was still stuck on her earlier words.

The taint of the grail, the essence of Angra Mainyu, infused into my soul.

The thing that ruined Sakura. The curse that twisted Tohsaka’s fate. The nightmare that haunted Illyasviel and consumed Saber. The fire that had forged me.

And it was inside me all along?

She had no reason to lie. But still—I didn’t want to believe her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe her eyes saw something else. Maybe there were similarities, but no connection.

That strange source of mana within me that I discovered in my first training session? No, it didn’t feel anything like the Persian god of darkness.

Maybe, maybe, maybe—

Each explanation tried to hold, but I could feel them crumbling, one by one.

There was an itch in my chest. A slow, creeping sickness. The kind that settled in when denial no longer worked.

… It wasn’t impossible. The summoning of Angra Mainyu was a product of the Third Magic, the manipulation of souls. Corrupting my soul during the reincarnation process wasn’t farfetched.

No, there was a far simpler explanation.

"… What stopped you?"

If her words were true, then I was the very thing that had ruined her life and a part of the spreading disaster of this world. In her shoes, I would have—

“If I disappear, would you be okay with that?”

The image came unbidden—Sakura’s pale face turned toward mine, her smile so heartbreakingly brittle in the moment she had given up. That small, trembling figure, sinking into despair, into the dark.

I saw myself reaching for her hand, refusing to let go.

“Even if you’re covered in sin… I’ll still save you.”

Bile rose up from my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing the burning sensation back down as memories threatened to overwhelm me. How many times would I face this same choice from different angles?

Unaware of the turmoil within my head, Roxy paused for a few moments. “Because you looked trustworthy,” she said finally.

I furrowed my brows, a grimace spreading on my face. “You would overlook everything just because of that? Even if I could be a threat?” My voice rose into a slight hiss in incredulity at her words.

Roxy remained silent for several moments. The night breeze intensified, sending ripples through her blue hair and causing her robes to dance around her slender form. A look of melancholy crossed her features, tinged with regret and pity.

“If you were truly some monster, then I doubt that there would be much of a village left when I first arrived here. And yet here you stand, a child barely to my chest, looking like the weight of the world is crashing on your shoulders. Really, it’s hard to see you as a threat when you look like you want nothing more than to cry,” Roxy answered softly. “It’s only our second day together, but in that time, you’ve show me your courage, your strength, and the bonds that you’ve created in your short life. It’s not perfect—nothing ever is—but what you’ve built here is hardly the work of a monster.”

Faces flickered through my mind, one after another.

Paul’s tear-streaked face during our reconciliation.

Laws’s crooked grins.

Alice’s teasing smirks that always carried a knowing edge.

Sylphiette’s trembling voice, thick with gratitude.

Lilia’s rare but earnest nods of approval.

Even Zenith—her gentle, tentative smiles—rose to the surface.

Each image struck like a blade, and with every word Roxy spoke, the weight of their trust carved deeper into me.

“That doesn’t explain it,” I denied, eyes narrowing. “You met me first, before you saw me with them. So why didn’t you turn away then?”

I hadn’t meant for it to sound accusatory, but a part of me needed the answer—needed to know what she saw that made her stay.

Roxy didn’t flinch. If anything, her expression softened.

"Because within the darkness... there is light,” she said, her voice quiet, almost reverent. “Like countless stars, scintillating and twinkling with desperate determination—each one pushing back against the endless darkness. On their own, they seem so small, so fragile, but together… they form something so much more. A canvas of infinity. A backdrop of limitless possibilities. Like watching the birth, life, and death of a thousand stars unfolding all at once across the boundless night.”

Those azure orbs fixed upon me with quiet intensity, the smile of her cherry red lips causing them to crinkle into slivers of moonlight.

The silence between us stretched, filled with unspoken weight as I absorbed what she had revealed and what to do next. In contrast, Roxy seemed perfectly at peace, a small smile on her face as she gazed upwards, the stars reflected in her eyes.

"You know, there's a certain irony to my life," she said, breaking the silence. "I left my village because of a gap I could never bridge. Then I gained these eyes, and suddenly I could see the world in ways I couldn’t have imagined before.”

She extended her palm upward, as if trying to catch starlight in her hand. "But they turned out to be nothing more than a curse.” A bitter smile crossed her lips as she lowered her hand. "I can never truly turn them off, so over time, I began to see people as their magical signatures than themselves, the patterns and flow of mana in their bodies more familiar to me than their faces or voices.”

A shadow passed over her features as she clenched tightly onto her staff. "A different kind of blindness, perhaps more dangerous because its insight is ultimately fake, nothing more than an illusion. When I realized that, these eyes became another wall, another prison of isolation, and the understanding I always wanted became forever out of reach.”

The difference between knowing and understanding, I thought once again. For Roxy, who wanted to connect with people, her eyes were only a hinderance. There would always be some sort of imbalance between her and the people she around her, the same one between her and the people of her village, and no genuine relationship could come out of that.

The sounds of the forest fading to a distant murmur as her voice grew softer and more intimate. "At least, that’s what I thought. Then I met you. I can see your magical energy—even the light and darkness of your soul—but nothing more than that. And yet, somehow, that blindness lets me see you more clearly than anyone else."

Her gaze returned to mine, searching, as if trying to find confirmation of her theory in my expression.

"Isn't that ironic?" she continued, faint amusement entering her voice. "I always felt like I was an outsider, seeing things others couldn’t—even before I received these eyes. But now, for once in my life, I feel like I’m finally standing beside someone, even in spite of what I am.” She tilted her head, blue locks falling across one eye. “It’s… different, more genuine than anything I’ve felt before.”

I didn't disagree. Maybe for her, it started with what she saw with those eyes of hers—but for me, the pull always went beyond that from the very beginning. Whatever had brought us together, we had both silently acknowledged that our connection had transcended the reach of her vision, becoming something neither of us could explicitly name.

The realization settled between us like the dew forming on the grass—quiet, gradual, yet undeniable in its presence.

And it was with that fragile warmth blooming within my chest that I made my decision.

“I want you to make me a promise.”

A dainty eyebrow rose, its owner staring evenly at me. “Oh? Pray, do tell.”

Emiya Shirou had never been normal. The emptiness I always felt, the void that my ideals had filled—it was something more fundamental, something woven into the very fabric of my existence, and if Roxy was to be believed, then maybe I finally knew the reason for it.

Angra Mainyu had always been a part of me, that much I could say with growing certainty. Its corruption had become so thoroughly diffused through my soul that I could no longer distinguish it from myself. That was why I couldn’t feel it. At this point, it was simply a part of my own nature.

But the others had always sensed it. Even in this new life, that darkness hadn’t vanished. It was hard to forget Lilia's dark looks, Paul's frank suspicion, or even Zenith's fragile smiles. They pushed back their reservations, but now it was up to me to make sure that trust was not ill-founded.

"In the future, in case I lose myself… I want you to stop me."

To be my sheath, that was what Saber and the others had promised, never faltering underneath the weight of the wishes I carried. For someone whose life was saved by the sword, who merged with a sword, and lived their life as a sword, it was an oath made in accordance with the ideals that bonded us together, almost a deal made with the devil they themselves had sworn to destroy.

But they were gone now. Or maybe, not truly. Perhaps their memories alone would be enough.

But Emiya Shirou had never walked alone—another lesson I had lost in that cavern.

Roxy's eyes bore into mine. For a moment, she was perfectly still, weighing the gravity of what I'd asked. Then with a lethargic sigh, she twirled the staff in her hand and softly bumped its tip against my head.

Bonk

“Was that supposed to hurt?” I asked flatly.

"Really," she said, her eyebrow raised, "asking me something like that—you should stop being so dramatic." She shook her head in disbelief. "A four-year-old asking me to kill him in case he can't control his powers. Now I've really seen it all,” she scoffed.

I gave a noncommittal shrug. “So is that a no?”

Roxy groaned and rubbed slow, deliberate circles against her temple, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, “Ah, we were doing so well... I even said I didn’t like sad things…”

Then she straightened, sighing again. “Well, regardless I understand what you’re saying, even if I disagree with it. If you feel that strongly about it, then I suppose as your teacher, it’s my responsibility to keep you in check, even if your request is wildly unreasonable. But—” she held up a finger, eyes sharpening “—there’s one small, glaring problem with your request.”

“What’s that?”

"You're a combat specialist," Roxy stated bluntly, gesturing at me with her staff. "It's only a matter of time before your name is counted among the Seven Great Powers. You already have the speed and strength of an elite swordsman like Paul combined with the range and firepower of a high-tier mage. How can you expect me to keep up with you in the future? Even if I’ve been in my fair share of fights, I’m an adventurer first and foremost, not a warrior.”

She brought up a good point. From what I'd observed, magicians in this world seemed limited by their lack of physical prowess and their current understanding of the magical casting process.

If that was the case, then the solution was obvious.

"Earlier, you said that the underlying structures in my body and soul let me have a specific way of casting spells, right?" I asked, the beginnings of a plan forming in my mind.

Roxy nodded, curiosity replacing her earlier concern.

"I disagree," I said. "I think it's something you can learn."

The petite demon raised an eyebrow, surprise evident in her expression. "What do you mean?"

I met her gaze, traces of a smirk tugging at my lips. "How would you like to learn how to silent cast?"

Chapter Text

Sylphiette wasn’t sure how to feel about Roxy Migurdia.

On one hand, she had a deep respect for the woman. Roxy was an adventurer, like Zenith and Paul—but on a different level entirely. Titles aside, the difference showed in the kinds of stories they told.

Zenith and Paul’s tales were light, often whimsical, and usually ended in some kind of comedic disaster. Their group had been a strange mix of personalities, and their adventures came across more like lively misadventures than serious quests. Sylphiette didn’t need much context to understand, for example, that the famous Sword King Ghislaine probably needed constant supervision lest she be tricked into spending their funds on overpriced junk by the first merchant who spotted her inability to do basic math. And Paul… well, there were plenty of absurd situations that had arisen from his—and apparently another woman’s—inability to not sleep around.

Truthfully, Sylphiette believed if the man had chased commissions as enthusiastically as he chased women, the Greyrats would be living in a mansion in the capital instead of a quiet house in Buena Village. Then again, that might’ve been Zenith’s decision—hard to chase skirts in a place with no skirts to chase. In any case, Sylphiette was more than thankful they decided to settle here.

As Sylphiette heard more stories of the group, it was quickly apparent that they were a walking disaster one step away from exploding, and one of the few reasons they didn’t was for a man named Geese, a man of useful talents. Unlike the rest who mostly specialized in hitting things, he prevented them from getting lost, starving, or being poisoned in some remote forest.

In comparison, Roxy's stories were... different—much more intense. The magician was clearly trying to soften the details for Sylphiette's sake, but she wasn't stupid. She could read between the lines. Still, she had enough manners not to point it out, letting Roxy tell her stories however she wanted. It wasn't that Roxy didn't have funny adventures too, but she'd already shared all of those. What remained were her recent exploits—the real tales of Roxy Migurdia, the SS-ranked adventurer.

And those stories always had one thing in common—monster exterminations.

As an adventurer, it was Roxy’s job to take on commission work. These days, that mostly meant dealing with monsters: clearing out dense nests, reinforcing militias during attacks, escorting supply caravans through dangerous terrain. All vital, all urgent.

But Roxy could only be in so many places at once. Whether help arrived in time was up to chance, and luck was a scarcity these days. By the time the requests made it to the cities, it was often already too late.

And most of Roxy’s stories were detailing the aftermath of those instances.

It made for grim listening, but Sylphiette didn’t mind. She wasn’t naive—not anymore. Not after everything she and her family had gone through, being chased from place to place just for existing.

And of course, the vivid imagery of sweeping elemental magic and heroic last stands against swarms of monsters didn’t hurt either. Those parts made her chest flutter, the woman’s words inspiring her to be braver, stronger, better.

Yes, Sylphiette definitely admired Roxy Migurdia. That much was undeniable.

The only problem was…

“Excellent work, the both of you,” Roxy said, lowering two cups of fresh water toward them.

Sylphiette groaned as she peeled herself off the dirt, accepting the drink with a grateful smile and a winded thanks before downing the whole beverage in one go.

Shirou, meanwhile, looked like he hadn’t even broken a sweat. He was still standing, posture straight, not even breathing hard. Sylphiette was fairly certain that the faint gleam on his forehead came from the sun than any actual exertion.

He accepted his cup from Roxy with a simple, wordless nod—cool and composed as ever.

If the magician minded his lack of response, she didn't show it. No complaints. No hesitation. No nothing, just settling beside him without missing a beat, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sylphiette’s eyebrow twitched.

It wasn’t that Sylphiette was jealous. Absolutely not.

She was well aware that she didn’t have any kind of special claim to Shirou. That would be ridiculous.

For starters, she’d only met him a few days before Roxy did. A few days! If she’d known him for years—then maybe, maybe, she could say he was hers. But it wasn’t, so she was stuck.

And then there was the whole “saving the village” thing. According to her father, Shirou and Roxy had first met while fighting side-by-side to protect everyone. A swordsman and a mage, joining forces to fend off a monster horde? That wasn’t just a bonding experience—that was storybook material, perhaps something her mother or father would read to her at bedtime when she was younger.

Compared to that? Her and Shirou’s relationship was… training sessions. Sort of.

“Training” was a generous term when most of it was Shirou lecturing her while matching every improvement or breakthrough she made instantly, a mountain with no peak.

And she didn’t even have that to herself.

Seriously, it wasn’t fair at all.

Sylphiette had asked him for help first. She'd been the one to open up to him, to trust him with something very important to her. He… He was her first real—and only—friend, and she’d thought... well, she’d thought their training time would be something special.

… And they didn’t even make it to their second training session before he’d already invited someone else along.

Maybe it was her fault. She hadn’t said they were supposed to be alone.

So no, Sylphiette wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t like other kids, emotional and childish. She was realistic, rational, like Roxy or Shirou. She knew from the beginning that it was a losing battle.

It’s just… well...

Did they really have to be that close? Surely there was a limit to this whole “unspoken connection” thing. Honestly, Sylphiette thought that it wasn’t that big of a deal anyway. Sylphiette had even told her dad that once—with a full explanation, a perfectly logical speech she had practiced the night before—and he just gave her a look and one of those annoying grins that made her want to huff and stomp her foot.

Still, last she checked, she was the one who had asked Shirou for help first. She was the one who took his lessons seriously and actually improved. Roxy had those fancy glowing eyes, sure, but when it came to results, Sylphiette was clearly doing better.

And wasn’t Sylphiette also the one who first met Shirou? Who he helped when she needed it most? That whole meeting had felt like something out of one of her mom’s hidden books—the secret ones her father pretended he didn’t know about.

So it wasn’t like their bond didn’t matter. It did! She and Shirou had their own connection. A real one.

Sure, maybe Roxy had the adventurer thing going for her, and yes, she was technically Shirou’s tutor, but if anyone was being taught, it was definitely Roxy. Honestly, if she was getting paid, then Mr. Paul was getting swindled out of his money.

Anyway, Roxy was just visiting. Eventually, she’d leave—adventurers always did. And once she was gone, things could go back to how they were supposed to be.

Of course, Sylphiette didn’t say any of this out loud. Roxy didn’t deserve that—she’d been nothing but kind, always offering help and never treating her badly even though Sylphiette looked… well, the way she did.

Apparently, Roxy understood how it felt to be judged by how you looked. Maybe that was why she was so nice to her.

But still, that wasn’t going to stop Sylphiette.

The world wasn’t fair. Her dad used a different word for it when he thought she wasn’t listening—something bad—but she understood what he meant.

She had spent her whole life moving from place to place, being stared at and whispered about, never feeling like she really belonged. Her family had grabbed hold of Buena Village like it was their last hope, and even though monsters were getting closer and Roxy said something big was lurking nearby, her parents didn’t let go.

And Sylphiette understood that feeling.

Because she was holding on too—just as tightly.

When she was with Shirou, she finally felt like she belonged somewhere. It didn't make much sense, but she couldn't help how she felt. Maybe it was silly, but the happy feeling in her chest was real.

And that's why she didn't want him to go away.

He didn't smile very much, and when he did, as strong as the flutters in her chest were, he always looked so sad underneath. Shirou always seemed like he was fighting something she couldn't see, carrying something heavy that made his shoulders slump when he thought no one was looking. Her parents often wore the same look, and Sylphiette imagined that she herself looked similarly as well at times, so while the elven girl didn’t know specifically what weighed on him, she knew it wasn’t anything good.

Sylphiette remembered when they first met and she'd asked him why he fought so much. It was plain to her the depth of his determination, the strength of his resolve. Even just being near him caused her to stand up just a bit straighter, inspiring her to be just a bit braver. If his will was that strong, then surely the boy must have had a grand cause he was fighting for, right?

However, Sylphiette never got a real answer. He'd just said he had to, like it wasn't really his choice. Even back then, she could tell he wanted to leave and do something important, but something kept making him stay.

Whatever it was, she was glad for it. Not just because he was her first friend, or because he made her feel normal instead of cursed, but because she knew—somehow, she just knew—that if he left now, she'd never see him again. Good things don’t happen very often. When they did, you had to hold on tight.

Sylphiette could feel tears starting to form, and she quickly blinked them away before anyone could see. The girl peered over the cup of water, making sure the two other people next to her were none the wiser.

Fortunately, they weren’t paying attention to her at that moment, though maybe that wasn’t what she wanted at all. She withheld a sigh, the only sign a slight drooping of crimson orbs, wishing he would look at her instead of now sitting next to Roxy. Maybe if she wished hard enough, he'd come sit by her instead.

But of course, that didn’t happen.

“S-Shirou, you’re really going to Roa, right?” Sylphiette asked, her voice just loud enough to break the peaceful quiet that had settled over the group.

The boy stopped whatever musings were going through his head, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “I am. Unfortunately, Paul has deemed it important to ‘continue my progression’ and wants me to be mentored by one of his old adventuring friends, a famous sword master. He’s actually been pushing it for months now, but I think he’s had enough of me dawdling, and it was technically a part of our agreement a while back anyway,” Shirou said with a roll of his eyes.

Of course her friend would consider personal training from a Sword King something not worth his time, Sylphiette thought funnily.

“Anyway, what of it?” he continued, though from the slight frown on his face, he already had an idea of what she was going to say next.

“C-Can I—” Sylphiette almost slapped herself. She couldn't be so meek and timid. She had to be confident. As her mother said, the best way to make a man do what you want them to do is to never give them a choice in the first place. “I'm… I'm joining you!”

Her words stumbled out before she could lose her nerve, and for a moment, she wanted to hide behind her cup or sink into the earth. No, she couldn’t do that. She had to sound serious. She couldn’t afford to be brushed off right now.

Shirou blinked at her, letting the silence hang for a few seconds before sighing softly and folding his arms across his chest. His face didn’t change much, but his next words came with that familiar tone—one that made him sound much older than he was, the same one that her father used when lecturing her.

“Sylphiette,” he said slowly. “Do you even understand what that would mean?”

“Yes!” she blurted out, just a bit too fast.

His expression barely shifted, but it was practically screaming that he didn’t agree with her.

“Well, think of your parents, for one. Do you really think they would agree to sending their only child to a city that's constantly under monster attacks? And the only way to get there is through a several day trip through dangerous, unguarded roads, I might add,” Shirou explained.

Sylphiette fought hard not to puff her cheeks at his tone.

Still, Sylphiette was ready. She’d gone over this moment a hundred times in her head and dozens in front of a mirror ever since Shirou first mentioned Roa. She’d rehearsed every argument, planned every answer. If this was a spar, she would get her first win here.

“They already said yes,” she said proudly. “I asked them before.”

That part had been easier than expected. Her mother had seen right through her almost immediately, giving her a smile that said, “I know exactly what this is about”, and told her that if Shirou and the others agreed, then she could go.

Her father had been a bit more reluctant, though not for the reason she expected. Of course, like any good dad—and hers was definitely one of the best—he’d raised a fuss at first about safety. Something about the dangers of getting torn apart by monsters. That part didn’t surprise her.

What did surprise her was how fast he changed his mind. As soon as she mentioned Shirou would be going too, he relaxed instantly and muttered something like, “Honestly, I’m more worried for the monsters.”

Rude. She could fight too, almost certainly—probably—perhaps after a few rounds of supervision.

No, her father’s problem was different. He kept saying stupid things like “What if you like traveling so much you never come home?” and “What if you decide the village is too boring after seeing a big city?”

Sylphiette had rolled her eyes at that. Of course she'd come home! This was where her family was.

She loved her dad. She really, really did, but sometimes he could be a bit much. And maybe, just maybe, a bit of space wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Still, in the end, he'd said yes. He'd muttered something about how she needed to see more of the world anyway, and that staying cooped up in the village forever wasn't good for anyone.

“Why would Alice and Laws even agree to that?” Shirou asked, his eyes narrowing before realization struck him and he sighed. “Never mind, they would definitely be the kind of people to do that.”

She grinned.

Ah, he was learning.

“Why do you even want to come, anyway?” Shirou asked. There was a faint edge to his voice—not quite angry, but definitely uneasy.

“It would serve as a valuable learning experience,” Roxy replied before Sylphiette could answer. “She’s trained a lot, but it’s ultimately just training. Paul’s already drilled into you the importance of real combat experience, hasn’t he? With you around, there’s little risk of serious harm, and she can finally apply what she’s learned against something else besides you.”

Shirou frowned.

She knew that look on Shirou’s face. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He was just… being Shirou, which was normally not a bad thing, but right now, it was starting to get just a little bit annoying.

“Oh, you’re on her side now?” he asked, glancing at Roxy.

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Roxy said. “I’m simply stating the truth. Sylphiette wants to go, her parents have already approved, and knowing Paul, he’d probably be fine with it if Laws agreed too. The man values independence, remember?”

Sylphiette nodded along, grateful for the support.

It was true—she’d never had the chance to properly test her skills. The depths of the forest were far too dangerous, and Shirou definitely didn't count. He was way too good for her to even touch, let alone hurt.

Shirou rolled his eyes, arms crossed. “Do I really need to explain why bringing another kid on a dangerous training trip is a bad idea?”

“Yes, you do,” Roxy retorted. “You’re going, after all. And if age is the issue, I believe Sylphiette is older than you, correct?” She glanced at her.

“Y-Yes!” Sylphiette perked up. For some reason, Roxy was backing her up… and she didn’t really know how to feel about that, but that didn’t matter right now. “S-Shirou, I’m not helpless. I’ve trained a lot. If it’s only a few monsters, I can handle it!” She puffed out her cheeks a little, trying her best to look determined and not scared at all.

She wasn't actually sure she could handle even a few monsters, but Shirou didn't need to know that.

Shirou gave her a long look—conflicted, quiet—but didn’t say anything.

That was a good sign. Maybe. Hopefully.

Finally, he let out a sigh. “This is different,” he muttered, his eyes shifting toward Roxy. “And you know exactly why.”

Roxy cocked her head innocently. “Is it different though? You both feel the need to fight. That’s why you work so hard to get stronger, but from what I see, the only difference is Sylphiette trusts you while you’re still trying to protect her.”

Sylphiette felt her cheeks heat up, and her heart started beating faster. Her lips almost broke out into a smile, and she had to bite down on her lip to keep it in.

Shirou let out a low hum, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“I can’t believe I’m actually considering this,” he said with a shake of his head. The boy stood up, brushing the dirt off his pants before placing a hand on his hip, gazing down at Sylphiette. “You’re aware this is not some sort of vacation, right? Roa is a fortified city, but according to Roxy, it withstands constant monster attacks. I’ll be around to protect you, of course, but you’ll have to be careful too.”

Golden orbs pierced straight through her, and Sylphiette shivered. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, louder than it had during any sparring match.

She stood up quickly, trying to look as brave and determined as possible. “Don't worry! I'll be really careful. You won't even have to worry about me!” The words left her mouth before she could second-guess them—and maybe that was for the best.

It felt like a promise.

All those months of training, all those afternoons spent dodging Shirou’s strikes and trying to land her own—it hadn’t just been about getting stronger. It had been about this. Proving that she could stand beside him, not behind him.

She had enough of being a burden. She spent years running with her parents, nothing more than a burden for them to carry, trying to find some place worth staying for. If she became someone he had to protect instead of someone he could trust, then she would spend her entire life as nothing more than a scared little girl.

That thought scared her more than any monster ever could.

She would not let him regret choosing to believe in her.

“Well, if that’s how you feel,” Shirou said at last, “then I won’t stop you. Far be it from me to deny you your choice.”

Her heart practically leapt out of her chest. A second later, so did she.

Two quick steps, and she threw herself at him, pulling him up with a strength that surprised her and wrapping him in a hug.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Her words came out in a rush, heart working faster than body or mind, her arms squeezing tighter around him like she could trap this moment in place.

“D-Don’t thank me… I’m just saying… yes… gah… you really are stronger…”

“Sylphiette, I do believe he cannot breathe.”

“Ah! I’m sorry!”

She let go at once, and Shirou flopped to the ground like a ragdoll, groaning as he landed in the grass.

“…Well, at least your physical strength is progressing nicely,” Roxy praised, standing up and looking down at the boy before gently prodding him with the butt of her staff.

She tried not to smirk, but it snuck through anyway.

Just months ago, she would’ve been winded just from running across the field or a few exchanges in a spar. She wasn’t strong yet—she still tired out faster than she liked—but she could feel the difference. Her body wasn’t the same as before. She could move faster, hit harder, train more without needing to sit down and catch her breath every few minutes.

It was small, but it was progress, and for now, that was enough.

And if it allowed her to spend more time with a certain someone? Well, she wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

“Well, if you have my approval, then you just need to talk to Paul before we leave tomorrow,” Shirou said from his place on the ground. He waved off Roxy’s staff and stood back up, brushing loose grass from his sleeves.

Sylphiette blinked twice, her head tilting slightly. “Wait, why would I need to talk to Mister Paul? Shouldn't I be asking Roxy instead?”

A delicate eyebrow arched as confusion flickered across Roxy's features. “Me? No, I won't be joining you on this trip.” She shifted her staff to her other hand, Sylphiette’s eyes drawn to the shining gem at its tip. “It's better for me to remain here and help protect the village in case more monsters arrive—or worse, that dragon I've been tracking.”

The words hit Sylphiette like cold water. Her crimson eyes widened as she processed what she'd just heard.

“Besides,” Roxy continued, seemingly oblivious to Sylphiette's growing shock, “if the goal is to meet Sword King Ghislaine, Paul would serve as the superior guide given their shared history. The roads are well-marked enough for an experienced adventurer to navigate without issue, and I doubt safety would be an issue for obvious reasons,” she said wryly.

Sylphiette's lips parted slightly, her voice barely a whisper. “S-So... you're... not going with Shirou...?”

Azure eyes regarded her, half-lidded and unimpressed. “Yes, as I just explained. If you wish to accompany him, Paul will be your final hurdle—though I suspect it's merely a formality at this point.”

Silence stretched between them like a taut bowstring. Sylphiette stood frozen, her small frame rigid as a statue while her mind struggled to catch up with this unexpected turn of events. Roxy and Shirou exchanged a bewildered glance, both clearly at a loss for her sudden stillness.

“Are you... okay, Sylphiette?” Shirou asked carefully, waving a hand in front of the young girl.

The moment stretched longer, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves in the afternoon breeze. Then, like dawn breaking over the horizon, Sylphiette's frozen expression melted into something radiant.

Her lips curved into a bright smile. “Why yes,” she said, her voice practically singing with barely contained joy, “yes, I am. Everything is just... wonderful.”

And then the girl spun around and left, heading back towards the village not towards her own home, but for the other one that felt just as much hers these days.

Chapter Text

Golden eyes lingered at the girl’s retreating figure, a slight frown on my face as I recalled Sylphiette’s expression.

“You caused this,” I accused when the girl was finally out of sight, pointing a finger at the magician next to me.

Roxy tilted her head with practiced innocence, her expression the picture of feigned innocence. “Is it really my fault if Sylphiette created her own misunderstanding?”

I sighed. Perhaps Tohsaka had rubbed off on me more than I realized. “No, it isn’t.”

Sylphiette inviting herself on my trip to meet Ghislaine was an unexpected development, but I couldn't find it within myself to fault her for it. In some ways, this situation was actually my responsibility. After all, I was the one who had been training her all these months, nurturing her desire for both strength and companionship. While perhaps my actions were against my better judgment, I could never bring myself to turn her down—not even once, something I was beginning to worry that Sylphiette had started to pick up on.

“Do you think she’s ready?” Roxy asked, finding a nearby tree and sitting down at its base.

“Strictly skills wise, she is. She’s rather scary for her age. It’s hard to find a child who can use a sword with any amount of proficiency, never mind one as skilled as her. With how quick and smart she is, and if she ever figures out her magic, it’d be a formidable fighter.”

Roxy scoffed at my words but said nothing. Her eyes were still directed straight ahead, but her gaze was probably in another plane altogether.

I watched as she began the five-step framework we had been developing together—a fusion of my personalized approach to projection magecraft and the hypothesized steps of traditional magic in this world. The magician took in a deep breath, going silent then extending an arm, her hand spread wide open as she started focusing. Her eyes brightened, and I could sense her magical energy swelling within her, rapidly circulating as she tried to materialize a spell.

“Conceive the phenomenon,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she moved through the first step.

The air around her hand began to shimmer as her magical energy responded to her focused imagination.

“Shape the core form,” she continued. “Sphere... contained... dense and stable...”

I could sense her mana beginning to gather, responding to her mental framework, but the flow was still uncertain.

“Attune to its essence...” Her brow furrowed as she tried to connect with something deeper. “Water’s nature... fluid yet forceful... forever flowing…”

Her magical energy swirled, and for a moment I thought I saw the faintest shimmer of moisture beginning to condense, but it wavered almost immediately.

“Bind with purpose...” Her voice grew more strained as she pushed through the fourth step. “Imbue it with my will… Command it to move…”

The energy around her began to destabilize, her concentration flickering, her abilities reaching a wall.

“Manifest the effect...” she breathed out, pouring her remaining focus into the final step.

But the magic collapsed entirely, her mana dispersing harmlessly into the air. The magician huffed, her arms dropping in defeat and slouching further into the tree behind her, the brim of her hat falling down and covering her face.

“It's almost like trying to grasp smoke,” Roxy said in a quiet voice tinged with frustration. “I can feel the sensation of trying to actively shape my mana, but as soon as I try to build something with it, the process falls apart.”

“It might be because you're treating them as separate steps rather than a flowing sequence,” I said, settling down across from her. “Besides, you’re trying to form water, right? Water inherently takes on whatever shape it’s given, but you have to maintain that structure. It’s not like earth; water will just flow back into nothing if you let it.”

Of course, it was only conjecture, but it was the best advice I could give.

“Easy for you to say,” she huffed. “Your swords practically form themselves, no?”

I gave her a dry look. “It’s automated to an extent, sure, but it only accelerates the process.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe the steps themselves need revision? The structure is very helpful, but I fail at the middle step. Really, what does it even mean to ‘attune to its essence’, anyway?” Roxy asked.

“It means to sympathize with what you’re trying to create. By doing so, you deepen your understanding of it, and the image in your head becomes clearer.”

Roxy peered at me from underneath the brim of her hat. “Is that what you do?”

I considered my answer for a second. "Yes. More specifically, I empathize with its nature—almost becoming whatever I'm projecting, to a certain extent."

Azure orbs held my gaze, and a silence stretched between us. Her face was its usual calm mask, but I could tell my words had unsettled her just a bit.

“How… unnatural…” she murmured.

“How so?” I asked, though I already knew where this was going.

“Attuning myself with water… empathizing with swords…” She shook her head slightly. “Those ideas are completely foreign to me. They’re just objects, not people. Trying to bond with them is…”

“… Is…?”

Roxy looked conflicted, and her eyes darted away from mine. “… It’s wrong…”

I didn’t have a response for her, content to let her words linger in the air. After all, it wasn’t as if she was mistaken. It wasn’t the first time I was told as much, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

"In that case," I said finally, "you should probably be more concerned about Sylphiette."

"Her immediate success with your method is a bit worrying…" She mulled over the thought before shaking her head. "Well, at least she’s getting results," she finished with a grimace.

“Like I said before, Sylphiette’s talented in her own right.” I remembered how she’d found one of my hidden training grounds, following the faint traces of my magecraft like a child following a trail of candy. Not to mention how she continued to track me on an almost regular basis, emulating a degree of Roxy's sensory capabilities through pure talent alone. “And she learned first from me. It’s always easier to build something new than to break old habits and start over.”

“… I suppose,” the woman conceded, but she still didn’t seem satisfied about her progress.

As her... teacher—at this point, I wasn't entirely sure who was teaching whom— some of the blame fell on me. I simply didn't know how to properly explain and translate my magecraft into this world's magical framework. As expected, Emiya Shirou made for a poor instructor. I could barely understand my own origins and abilities, so helping others with theirs was difficult.

Still, there was value in what little insight I could offer, and despite Roxy's belief that her growth was lacking, her development was far superior to my own early attempts at magecraft. Unlike me, she wasn't risking death every time she channeled mana.

Knowing her, it wouldn't be long before she finally broke through and mastered silent casting. It was simply a matter of finding the right "trigger" to jumpstart her breakthrough. Sylphiette had managed it, but when I'd asked how she was able to create a strong enough mental image to conjure flames—and only flames, apparently—she had clammed up and deflected the question.

“Still, I can’t help but feel that I went backwards using your method.”

She wasn’t wrong. With incantations, Roxy could instinctively alter spells before the words even left her mouth. Without them, she couldn’t recreate that same effect. Even my suggestion about using some sort of mental trigger or personal aria to actuate her mana hadn’t helped much.

I shrugged. “You’re more than welcome to try another method.”

Roxy sighed. "It was a joke. There's merit in your approach. Even though I can't materialize spells yet, learning to consciously circulate mana throughout my body and into the surrounding space is invaluable. Observing your own mana flow has been particularly helpful in that regard."

In an effort to accelerate her progress, I'd asked Roxy to use her Demon Eyes to watch my magical energy while I trained. I'd hoped that seeing me deliberately channel mana—whether filling every gap in my body for reinforcement or flowing it outward for projection—might trigger some breakthrough in her own magic.

Admittedly, it wasn’t the best way to handle her training, but I was only mimicking my previous teachers. Archer had done much the same, showing me the proper tracing process while offering only vague words as advice when he wasn’t trying to skewer me. Saber had quite literally hammered the basics of swordsmanship into me, expecting me to grasp the subtleties of her swings and the precision of her forms while she—lovingly, she claimed—slammed her shinai into my ribs over and over.

“Well, hopefully you can retain your progress while I’m gone.”

“Speaking of which,” Roxy flickered a glance my way, “how long are you planning on staying in Roa?”

I sighed. “I’m not sure. Like I said, it’s mainly Paul’s idea. I assume that I’ll just meet this woman that he wants to train me, we’ll spar for a bit, and when both of them are satisfied, I can come back.”

Of course, how long that would take wasn’t something I could easily determine. I suppose I could cheat a bit if I really wanted to though.

Roxy scrutinized my face. “You don’t sound particularly excited. Most people would be begging for a chance to be mentored by a Sword King.”

And that was really the root of my reluctance.

If I truly needed a teacher in swordsmanship, I didn’t have to travel all the way to Roa to find one. The blades of countless warriors were already embedded within my soul—and along with them, the memories of everyone who had ever wielded them.

The skill inside those weapons was almost inhuman. Each hand that once held them had stood at the peak of humanity’s potential—the very definition of a Servant. In terms of battle experience and technique, there was no better mentor I could ask for. Even now—unable to reach the full depths of my tracing—my current level was more than enough.

As skilled as this Ghislaine might be, I doubted she could rival that.

And even setting aside my magecraft… I’d been trained by arguably the greatest sword master in all of history. Years had passed since I last saw the brilliance of her swordsmanship, but those images stayed sharp in my mind—forever seared onto me.

“Unfortunately, I’m not most people.”

"Well, that much is true." Roxy's expression grew more serious, her staff shifting in her grip. "Still, do be careful with your abilities. Your typical empowerment seems fine enough, but doing anything like when we first met..." She gestured vaguely toward the forest where we'd fought the monster horde. "That's bound to bring every monster within the area straight to Roa's gates. You may be able to deal with it, but you're only one person."

How right she was.

"I will, don't worry. What about you, though? What if that dragon you've been tracking finally shows up?"

Roxy's smirk returned. "Then I'll deal with it, just as I promised. I may not be able to silent cast yet, but my rank isn't for show." Her confidence wavered slightly. "I'm more worried about what it brings with it. The weaker monsters stay clear of the village—your magical energy sees to that—but the stronger ones… It’ll be difficult fighting off monsters while ensuring there are no casualties among the villagers."

The irony wasn't lost on me. My very presence had turned the village into both sanctuary and target. That first night when I'd met Roxy, watching monsters flee from weaker traces of my energy while the corrupted ones grew frenzied—it had been our first clue.

Months of careful experimentation had confirmed our theory. The stronger the monster, especially those tainted by the grail's influence, the more violently they reacted to my presence. Perhaps there was some sort of resonance between us that turned them rabid.

It explained a bit—why the village hadn’t seen monster attacks until this year, and why the stronger ones only showed up after I pushed deeper into the forest on that first patrol, drawn by my direct presence. Roxy figured the dragon in the area was part of it too, luring the most dangerous creatures to it subconsciously.

“Well, not much you can do in that situation. Have you at least memorized the evacuation plans?” I asked.

The petite mage rolled her eyes. “One ring means monsters have been spotted and to mobilize the available militia. Meanwhile, non-combatants are to return and stay within their homes. Two rings mean that the situation has escalated, and villagers are to evacuate to the main forest hideout using the underground tunnels. Three rings mean that the underground has been compromised and to use the main road to get to the forest hideout.”

“And four rings?”

Roxy sighed. “Four rings means both avenues of escape have fallen or are unfeasible, and the village is almost certainly lost. In that case, all villagers are to retreat into the secondary shelters deep within the woods. With any luck, any largely dangerous monsters will remain in the village due to the remnants of your magical energy. Finally, I will stay behind and remotely trigger the network of magic circles I’ve created below the village, detonating them and hopefully killing a large portion of the monsters.”

I still had reservations about Paul allowing a system of explosives to be built in the village, but I could see the pragmatism in it. Homes could be rebuilt. People couldn’t.

The fact that the villagers had accepted living on top of what amounted to a massive bomb spoke to either Paul's persuasive abilities or their desperation. Thankfully, only Roxy as of now knew where the activation circle was—a security measure to make sure no one accidentally triggered it.

Since she’d arrived — and apparent decision to stay for the foreseeable future — Roxy had made it her mission to plan for possible monster attack scenarios. She and Paul had spent weeks planning out defenses and evacuation routes and then months actually creating them.

“Well, thankfully you remember your own procedures. Now come on, I want to check on something.”

Roxy raised an eyebrow but didn't protest, getting up and walking past me.

As I turned, something caught my eye—sunlight glinting off the grass that Roxy had been sitting near. I reinforced my eyes, revealing small droplets of water clinging to the blades of grass, sparkling like little stars.

I glanced at the magician’s back, then at the sun blazing above us, then back at the grass before a dry, quiet laugh escaped my lips.

Without a word, I followed her.

The walk through the village revealed how much had changed since her arrival. What had once been a sleepy farming settlement now bristled with subtle preparations—wider paths for quick movement, reinforced doors and windows, and a subtle sense of anxiety within the villagers we walked past.

The most obvious change loomed ahead of us: a wooden watchtower that towered over every other structure in the village. It was several stories tall, sturdily built with thick wooden beams. A narrow staircase wrapped around its outer wall, leading all the way up to a small cabin at the top.

“Unconfident in your craftsmanship?”

I rolled my eyes at the woman. I didn’t build it, only supplying trivial supplies like nails and other supplies that didn’t come in large quantities this far out from the kingdoms. Of course, I had to explain why exactly I could just create random objects—not just swords—from thin air, but hand-waving my abilities was a well-practiced routine by this point.

“Just making sure it’s still here.”

I didn’t bother elaborating, making my way up the stairs and to the top of the watch tower. The cabin housed a large bell inside—my main interest for coming here.

“Oh, hello, Shirou. What brings you here?”

Cedric, one of the village militia, looked up from his post by the window. He was a decent enough guard—reliable, if unremarkable. By this point, I had met with most of the militia members that worked underneath Paul.

“Hello, don’t mind me. I was just checking on this thing,” I said, pointing a thumb at the bell.

Cedric blinked, confused. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“Probably not,” I said, sidestepping the question as I stepped closer and rested my palm against the cool metal. “Just routine.”

I let a trickle of mana seep into the bell, feeling out every groove, every seam in the metal’s shape — searching for the smallest sign of magical degradation.

Footsteps climbed the stairs behind me, followed by the soft brush of hair against my neck as Roxy peered over my shoulder.

"U-U-Uh, hello Miss Roxy!" Cedric's voice cracked slightly.

"Greetings."

Silence filled the cabin for a moment — except for the faint creak of Cedric shifting nervously. “… Is something supposed to happen?” he asked after a beat.

I ignored him, maintaining my focus. The bell's structure revealed itself to me layer by layer, not a single detail escaping my vision.

After a full minute of analysis, I stepped back, satisfied.

"Seems fine," I said, turning to the magician next to me, who had been studying my face intently.

"How interesting," she replied. No doubt she'd been trying to observe how my magical energy interacted with the bell, perhaps hoping to glean something useful for her own training.

So far, it seemed stable. My projections didn’t decay on their own—not on Earth and apparently not here either. Still, for something as important as this bell—the village’s first alarm—it didn’t hurt to double-check.

Setting up a proper communications system had been the first thing Roxy and Paul agreed on, and it had started with this bell—a simple object I projected and reinforced. Its chime could be heard from every corner of the village and even a bit beyond the tree line, a simple ring setting forth any evacuation procedures into motion.

“Well, yeah, but… it’s just a bell, right?” Cedric said, laughing nervously as he scratched the back of his neck.

I let my lips curl upwards.

“You’re right. It’s just a bell.” Leaving him on that note, I spun on my heels and walked out of the cabin.

Behind me, I heard Cedric speak up. “U-Um, Miss Roxy — if you’re free tonight, maybe you’d like to—”

“Busy.”

A heartbeat later, I heard her light steps catch up with mine on the stairs.

“Is it really necessary to check on your projections at the shelter?”

“Would you prefer if I didn’t?”

A pause. “Always so meticulous,” she said, her tone laced with wry amusement.

Such a remark was nothing but a complement from Ms. Technical herself.

I didn’t reply, letting the silence stretch between us as we stepped outside.

Buena Village only had a few paths for navigation. However, in the months since Roxy's arrival, a new addition had been carved into the landscape: a wider, more deliberate road that ran completely through the village and branched off into another that led deep into the forest.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, our footsteps muffled by the packed earth. Eventually, Roxy's curiosity got the better of her—as it usually did.

"When you create those swords," she began, "what exactly do you picture? I mean, beyond just the shape."

"Everything," I said simply. "The weight, the balance, how it was forged, who wielded it. The more complete the image, the stronger the projection."

"And the reinforcement? How do you strengthen your entire body so thoroughly?"

"Practice." The non-answer earned me an unimpressed look. "You find all the small gaps and cracks within the structure of your body and fill them with your mana."

It wasn’t the first time she asked these questions, but sometimes having the same answer reframed could be beneficial.

"I see… And how are things at home?" Roxy asked afterwards, her tone carefully casual.

“… Well enough. At least, nothing meaningfully different since the last time you asked.”

Much of that old tension—Zenith’s anxious hovering, her insistence I stay “normal,” her need to be my shield—had faded. These days, she was more hands-off, content to let me do as I pleased and support me as necessary.

Was it healthier? I couldn’t say. The Holy Grail War proved I was a poor judge of people. Zenith’s acceptance made things easier for me, but that didn’t mean it was the right answer. Her new behavior could simply be a bandage to a festering wound.

Still, what was undeniable was that Zenith seemed far more vibrant nowadays. Her smiles came easier now, her laughter more frequent, almost becoming a different person.

Of course, I wasn't arrogant enough to think that I alone was the main cause of this change. Her renewed energy was mainly due to Alice—Sylphiette's mother having become her closest friend. The two families were practically inseparable now, sharing dinners and conversations almost daily.

The dynamic between them was fascinating to observe—Alice's mischievous and spirited personality complementing Zenith's more measured but increasingly outgoing nature perfectly. Their friendship had blossomed in ways I hadn't anticipated—a competitive streak during their cooking collaborations, a surprising talent for gentle teasing, and an almost girlish delight in shared secrets and inside jokes.

Meanwhile, caught in the middle of their growing friendship was Lilia, the eternally composed maid who found herself the frequent target of their combined attention. What had once been a household where Lilia could somewhat maintain her professional distance had transformed into something far more chaotic. Alice seemed to view the maid's stoic demeanor as a personal challenge, constantly attempting to crack her facade with outrageous suggestions or pointed observations.

Paul, for his part, seemed bemused by the transformation of his previously quiet and anxious household into what could only be described as organized chaos. However, Laws's frequent presence meant that he wasn’t entirely against the new development in his life. At the very least, both men vastly preferred each other’s company as opposed to dealing with their wives.

If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought that they were all one big happy family.

“But what about you? Are you happy?” Roxy asked after I finished summarizing everything I had seen as of late. Notably, I had not mentioned myself once in the entire conversation.

I mulled over that thought for a few seconds before answering frankly, “No.”

There was still the grail to worry about. Unfortunately, the same paradox that plagued me before—how to approach this new life I was given—was still present. The reservations I had when I was first reincarnated here still weighed on me, but at least now I realized that my previous distance was only doing more harm than good.

Would it hurt when the time for separation eventually came? Almost certainly so, but that wasn’t a sufficient excuse. At least, not anymore.

… Yes… For now, that would have to be enough.

Roxy peered at me out of the corner of her eye before smirking and lightly bumping the tip of her staff against my head. “Well, at least you seem better now than you were back then.”

I glared at the woman, but there was no real heat in my gaze, instead letting her words linger in my head.

Better.

Was that what this was? The weight of my past hadn't disappeared, nor had the looming threat of the grail and what it represented.

But standing here, walking alongside someone who knew the worst parts of my nature and chose to stay anyway... perhaps "better" was as good a description as any.

“… We’re here,” I noted, eyeing the large structure that loomed ahead of us. It looked like little more than a rough within the forest—uneven earth and patches of grass blending it into the surrounding forest—but up close, the seams of shaped stone and packed clay revealed what it really was: a bunker.

"Not bad for a few weeks' work," Roxy said with obvious satisfaction, running her hand along the curved earthen wall. The shelter had been made as an extension of a small mountain. From a distance, it would be nearly impossible to distinguish from the surrounding landscape.

“It certainly looks natural,” I praised, examining the cleverly concealed entrance—little more than a narrow gap between two boulders that opened into a wider passage beyond.

It wouldn’t allow any monsters to easily enter, but by extension, it didn’t make for the best exit. That’s why the shelter was deemed as a last resort; it was meant for survivors to stay here until help arrived. Having a large group of people trying to leave or enter through the small opening was a plan doomed to fail. The idea was that most of the villagers would stay here while a small group left and ventured to Roa or Ars for assistance.

It wasn’t the most foolproof plan, but it was better than nothing. Certainly better than having a group of civilians trying to make their way through a monster-infested forest, that was for sure.

With my small stature, I didn’t need to consort my body to enter the crevice. Neither did Roxy, though I refrained from making that particular remark. There was a small connecting room we had to go through first, the space allowing for possible chokepoint defenses to dispatch any monsters that found the hideout. For now, it looked like a simple armory, light leather armor and more spears and swords hanging on the walls.

The actual interior was more spacious than the outside suggested, with multiple chambers branching off from a central area. There were several storage rooms full of basic supplies as well as large quantities of food and water. The large majority of the remaining space was sleeping accommodations, many beds and sleeping bags lining the perimeter of each room. Roxy had even included ventilation shafts disguised as natural crevices as well as a training room to make sure people had somewhere to deplete their energy while waiting for help.

I knocked experimentally on a wall with my knuckles, pressing an ear to the stone surface.

"Each wall is as thick as a person is tall," Roxy explained. "It should hold against most monsters from this area.”

I continued looking around a bit more. There were several of my projections in this shelter, namely the beds and the barrels for food and water. Just like the bell and other weaponry I’ve traced, these too were indistinguishable from the real thing, showing no hints of disappearing any time soon.

“Well, satisfied?” Roxy asked after we finished looking at the last room of the hideout.

“Very,” I said. “It’s well built.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Have you considered getting into the construction industry? I hear that housing is in high demand nowadays.”

I didn’t need to look at Roxy to see the blank, unamused expression on her face. Instead, I simply walked past her, opening a door that led into a dark tunnel. I silently walked down into the darkness, reinforced eyes letting me navigate it unbothered.

“What’s this?” I asked, pointing at a magical circle embedded into the wall.

“It’s the trigger for a smaller magical circle system,” Roxy explained, walking past me and tracing the lines carved into the stone. “It’s designed to use a minimal amount of mana, so hopefully any one of the villagers can use it. The other magic circles will produce several Earth Walls that will block this area off. Useful for making sure you can’t be chased, but I can’t say the idea of blocking off one of two exits is a very appealing idea.”

Fair. Roxy already was thinking of it, but there was a high possibility that this hideout could become more of a tomb than a shelter if things went awry.

“We can use the tunnels to get back,” I said.

Roxy hummed in agreement, and I continued walking forward until I saw a trapdoor on the floor. I nudged it open with my foot then crouched down to peer inside. The faint scent of stale air and fresh earth rose up to meet me. The ladder seemed to descend into a deep pit of black, but if I squinted a bit, I could see the bottom a few dozen meters down.

I swung my leg over the edge of the trapdoor and grabbed the ladder's sides before letting myself drop. My hands slid along the smooth wooden rails as I descended rapidly, the reinforcement in my body easily absorbing the impact of my feet hit the tunnel floor below.

There was a rush of air next to me, and then I heard a voice.

“Wind blast.”

And then the blue-haired magician dropped down next to me with a graceful plop of her boots.

Without a word, Roxy brushed her hands against the wall until she found a torch mounted on a sconce. She picked it up, and the torch suddenly blazed to life, lighting up the tunnel.

“It’s a magic tool I made,” she explained, lowering it towards me and showing me a pattern inscribed on one of the sides of the wooden stave. “The magic circle creates a tiny fireball that ignites the tar at the top. It’s a self-sustaining lighting solution that requires minimal mana compared to a regular magic tool.”

“How scientific,” I drawled. Should I have offered to project some matches instead? Then again, maybe that wasn’t the best of ideas. Perhaps some flint and stone would have been better.

The tunnel we walked through was broad—about as wide as the forest road we’d taken to reach the hideout—spacious enough for several people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder without feeling cramped. The packed earth underfoot was firm but slightly damp, giving off a cool, mineral scent that clung to the air. Rough-hewn wooden beams braced the ceiling at regular intervals, each one wedged snugly into the stone walls to keep the passage stable. Here and there, unlit torches rested in simple iron sconces, their shadows dancing with ours whenever Roxy’s torch flickered past.

It wasn’t fancy—just sturdy, practical, and surprisingly clean. The sheer scale of it all struck me every time I really paused to think about it. Entire tons of soil, excavated and shaped by nothing but Roxy’s earth magic and sheer stubbornness.

"Impressive work," I said.

“Stop sounding so surprised,” Roxy grumbled ahead of me, her voice echoing lightly off the tunnel walls. “Anyway, we’re in the main tunnel now. I assume you want to get back to the house—it’s further down.”

It wasn’t a coincidence that the hideout had been built far from the Greyrat household. That side of the village was soaked through with my residual mana, the lingering echo of countless hours training alone. If monsters broke through, Roxy had reasoned, that would be where the biggest threats gathered, so it was better to lead any evacuation the opposite way.

I tilted my head at the dark side passages splitting off the main tunnel every so often. “And these?”

“Branch tunnels,” Roxy explained, giving the nearest wall an absent pat as she passed it. “Most will eventually connect straight into the houses above, so people don’t have to risk being outside to access the tunnels. There are a few entrances directly from the village proper, and some open out into the forest.

She stopped at another intersection, pointing her staff at a faint magical circle carved into the stone. “Controlled collapse points in case monsters get in. It’s not perfect—just like the shelter’s wall trap, you risk cutting off your own escape if you’re not careful.”

I nodded, running my fingers along one of the rough-cut walls. “How long did all this take?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “A few months. Finding where to put all the soil was a challenge. Not to mention doing all this in a manner that wasn’t disruptive to the villagers. Of course, there was also someone taking up a large portion of my time as well.”

“Consider it payment for my tutoring services.”

Roxy let out a dry laugh but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned and gestured at another tunnel branching away from the main corridor. “We’ll take this route. The Greyrats’ trapdoor is locked, obviously, so unless you want to knock until someone bothers to open it, we’ll just use a forest exit.”

I shrugged, falling in step behind her as the tunnel swallowed our footsteps. “Fine by me.”

We walked deeper into the network, our footsteps and the occasional water droplets falling from the ceiling almost sounding like thunder in the quiet, confined space.

After several minutes, we reached another vertical shaft. A wooden ladder disappeared upward into darkness, ending at another trapdoor.

"If I recall correctly, this leads to one of your old training spots," Roxy said, tilting her head back to examine the exit above us.

"Was it really necessary to place an emergency exit here?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Who knows—even you might need saving one day."

…

"Well, up you go," she continued, gesturing toward the ladder with a slight smirk. "And please do try to use the ladder as intended this time."

I rolled my eyes but grabbed the rungs properly. "It was more efficient."

A few seconds later, Roxy and I were both standing in the light of the early evening sun. The entrance had been hidden in some bushes, and as we brushed off the vegetation and dirt clinging to our clothing, I surveyed the area.

True to her words, we emerged near what had once been my primary training area, located some distance behind the Greyrat household. Admittedly, calling it my main training grounds was no longer accurate. These days, I preferred a spot closer to Sylphiette’s house for the sake of convenience whenever we met. Still, as Roxy had mentioned before, my magical energy practically saturated the clearing despite the extended period of disuse. It was strange how I'd never noticed it myself; perhaps familiarity had made me blind to my own magical signature, or maybe it was simply impossible to sense something so fundamentally a part of yourself. Much like how I never noticed my reality marble until Archer had demonstrated, or as a more recent example, Roxy pointing out the traces of a Zoroastrian god within me.

The area still bore subtle signs of my past training—gouges in tree trunks from projected weaponry, felled trees and destroyed boulders littering the clearing. However, what caught my attention most was how the vegetation itself had changed. The local flora seemed... off. Not dramatically withered, but wrong in ways that took a moment to notice.

Patches of grass had thinned in irregular patterns, their edges fading to a sickly yellow. The bark on several trees showed faint discoloration, subtle rot spreading from where my projected weapons had struck. A few of the smaller saplings were bent at odd angles, the structure of their trunks bending and breaking underneath their weight. Even the wildflowers, while still colorful, carried a brittle quality to their petals—beautiful from a distance, but fragile to the touch up close.

It was more than simple damage but less than outright rejection. Not dead, not thriving—just quietly unraveling.

Perhaps that made it fitting, in its own way.

Still, it felt oddly nostalgic seeing this place again. I’d spent many nights here alone, carving up tree trunks or hammering away at boulders or swinging at an invisible memory, replaying my life over and over and over. Back then, it felt like the only thing I could do was keep moving, even if I was unsure of myself or what to do or what I wanted or where to go.

Now, my training sessions were rarely so isolated. Sylphiette and I met quite often now, the little girl deeming that twice a week was insufficient and demanding more, stubbornly mirroring my swings with that determined look on her face, like she could close the gap between us if she just tried hard enough. Roxy was an even more constant presence, always watching and observing my movements with those eyes of hers, occasionally giving a lecture or two about magic or even asking me about mine. Even Paul would occasionally drop by to spar or offer unsolicited advice, and it wasn't uncommon for Alice and Zenith to appear with packed lunches either.

I must’ve let something slip, because when I turned, Roxy was eyeing me with that knowing look that she liked to pretend was subtle.

“Is there something on my face?”

She raised an eyebrow, her voice dry as she tapped her staff lightly against my shoe. “No, but you’ve also been staring at that tree for the past three minutes. Don’t tell me you’re about to get sentimental. Should I leave you here to brood in peace? Or maybe you’re going to start writing poetry in the dirt?”

"It's nothing," I said, turning away from the overgrown clearing. There was a teasing edge to her words, but I caught the genuine curiosity underneath. "Just thinking."

Roxy stared at me for a bit longer before sighing and walking towards the direction of the village. “Come on then, oh great lone swordsman,” she called over her shoulder. “You can agonize later. It’ll be dark soon, and Sylphiette’s probably at your house right now. You might want to save her.”

I shot her a flat look, and the corners of her lips curled into a smirk. Still, I didn’t protest, catching up to her side.

Some things, at least, hadn’t changed.

Chapter Text

Sylphiette was practically skipping down the dirt path, the little girl humming a melodious tune as her head softly swayed to an imaginary beat.

“Oh? Someone’s in a nice mood today. Good news?” a voice interrupted her thoughts.

Sylphiette looked to her left towards the fields of crops that made up most of the village. There was a man down on his knees, dirt and sweat staining his clothes as the afternoon sun bore down on him. Sylphiette had to cover her eyes just to see who it was exactly.

“Ah, M-Mister Taguchi! How are you?” she greeted excitedly.

“Haha, I’m just alright, thank you. Just loading some of the leftover crops from the harvest onto this wagon,” he said, gesturing to the bundles of grain already loaded into the wagon behind him. “Shirou and Paul are going to Roa tomorrow, so I figured this could be a good chance to sell some food. Who knows, maybe the extra money will come in useful if we ever move to the city?”

She didn’t know many of the specifics, but her father had once explained to her that because of where the village was, merchants weren’t common, the only ones that showed up usually just on their way further north to the larger cities. However, because the village produced more crops and livestock than they needed, the excess was usually traded other goods like luxury items or tools or even magical artifacts. Coin itself held little value in a community like Buena Village where traveling to the kingdoms to spend their currency was not worth the attempt.

“I-I’m actually going with Shirou and Mister Paul to Roa tomorrow, so we can help sell your crops,” Sylphiette said.

Whoops, she was getting ahead of herself. She still had one last person to ask.

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Well, make sure you kids stick with Paul the entire time, alright? It’s dangerous out there, and as strong as Paul is, anything can happen,” he warned. Then his face morphed into a more teasing expression. “At least I don’t have to worry about my goods not selling. Between you and Shirou, there’s no way you guys can’t convince some merchant to take these supplies off your hands.”

“R-Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed. “You two got… ah, how do I put it?” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Opposite vibes? It’s funny to see. You guys work well together.”

Her heart fluttered. “Y-Y-You think so?” she stammered out.

“I know so,” he said with a warm smile.

A few minutes later, and Sylphiette was back walking towards the Greyrat household. By now, she was familiar with the route, the trek almost like a daily routine she made. Not every visit was for training, since Shirou tried to give her as much rest as he could, but that hadn't stopped her from seeking out his company whenever possible. At some point, she'd stopped asking permission altogether and just started showing up. She wasn’t quite sure when she had started feeling confident enough to start doing such things, but she was glad for it, nonetheless.

And if Shirou wasn't at the house, she could always track him down anyway. Like right now, Sylphiette wasn’t really following the dirt trail through the village. Instead, she was focusing on sensing those faint traces of magical energy that she'd learned to recognize as distinctly his. The signature lingered along this route, probably because he walked here so often. Or maybe his magic was just that potent that it never completely faded.

Her thoughts broke as her feet stopped right in front of a familiar wooden door, the modest abode of the Greyrat family looming over her. She couldn’t believe it looked so intimidating when she was first brought here, but now it might as well have been a second home.

Her knuckles lifted to knock, but voices drifted from inside. She heard her parents mixed in with Paul and Zenith. Not surprising. With how close everyone was, sometimes it felt like the families blended together.

A delightful aroma wafted through the cracks of the door, and from the sound of clattering pots and pans, Sylphiette guessed that her parents were helping with making food—probably a celebration before they leave tomorrow. That sounded exactly like something her mother would organize, and the thought made her feel just a bit guilty.

Two quick knocks, and the door creaked open to show Miss Zenith standing there with flour on her cheek and a bright smile.

“Oh, Sylphiette! Just in time. Come in, come in—dinner’s still coming along, but we could always use another taste-tester.”

“Hello, Miss Zenith!” Sylphiette greeted, beaming at the woman and stepping inside. The woman’s warmth reminded Sylphiette a bit of her own mother’s, and it made the smile on Sylphiette’s face come easily.

The scent of seared meat and herbs drifted from the kitchen, making her stomach rumble. She blinked, then added, “It smells really good.”

Miss Zenith chuckled. “Think so? Considering we might not be seeing some people for a while, your mother figured we should get everyone together and go all out.”

There was a scream followed by a curse word that Sylphiette probably shouldn’t have heard, and then the sharp clang of a pot falling down. Curiously, Sylphiette took a peek around the corner only to be greeted by what looked like a battlefield.

“Ugh! Laws, I told you, stay on that side! I’m working on the stew, and you are working on ingredient prep and plating! You can’t keep coming over here and getting in our way!”

Cooking was something her mother took quite seriously, and it was one of the few things that could cause her to become irritable.

“Yes chef!” her father exclaimed, already fumbling to go back to his area.

“Paul, the potatoes are going to be overcooked. Why did you put them in before I told you to? Take them out and put in fresh ones.” Miss Lilia’s normally soft voice cut like steel, and despite not yelling, Sylphiette fought the urge to stand up a bit straighter.

“Yes chef!” Mister Paul replied, hastily dipping a ladle into a large pot and digging out some awfully mushy looking potatoes.

Miss Zenith sighed with fond exasperation and stepped aside. “As you can see, dinner is a… disastrously collaborative effort tonight.”

“Laws, I thought I told you to julienne the peppers—those are diced!”

“The hell does julienne even mean—Yes chef!” he quickly corrected after her mother raised the ladle in hand threateningly.

Meanwhile, Miss Lilia hovered over Mister Paul’s shoulder, watching him peel more potatoes.

“You’re getting more potato than skin. You’re wasting valuable food,” she criticized. “I would have thought that an Advanced-level swordsman would know his way around a mere kitchen knife.”

“Yes chef!” Mister Paul exclaimed, though Sylphiette could see his expression starting to crack.

The scene made for a funny sight. Seeing the knight of the village and her own father reduced to kitchen assistants was too much, and Sylphiette couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips.

“Ah, there’s my favorite daughter!” Her mother finally noticed her at the entrance to the kitchen, waving at her while dumping a large pile of chopped onions into a soup. “Are you done training with Shirou?”

“We finished, yes,” Sylphiette said.

“Did you hit him finally?” her father spoke up.

The elven girl could only give him a sheepish smile and a shrug. “The usual, unfortunately.”

“Master Shirou is quite gifted. Do not be discouraged, Sylphiette. I’m confident that with your talents, you will match him eventually,” Miss Lilia chimed in.

The words boosted her confidence slightly, though Sylphiette wasn’t entirely sure how true they were. Still, for what it was worth, Shirou himself said the same thing.

“You can say that again. I have no idea how to actually beat him in a spar ever since he started throwing swords at me,” Mister Paul cut in, his face the expression of pure and utmost focus as he worked his knife around a potato. “Even without them, it’s a pain. The punk even pulled out some nonsense from the North God Style that I practiced a while ago. Ever seen a kid moving around like he’s some kind of spider? Yeah, me neither.”

“You know what they say, children are quite impressionable when they’re young,” her mom said, tossing in some spoonfuls of seasoning into a pot. “It’s quite amazing how he’s able to pick up your moves just by seeing them once.”

“Well, at least he’s learning from the strongest swordsman around here,” Paul said smugly.

“More like the strongest swordsman available. Anyway, why don’t you check on the bread that’s in the oven,” her father reminded as he hunched himself over a pile of vegetables.

“The bread? I thought we weren’t doing that until later?”

“Then it will not be ready by dinnertime,” Miss Lilia responded with an unimpressed stare. The maid checked the stone oven at the corner of the room, and sure enough, there was nothing cooking over its fires. The realization sunk in, and Lilia let out an exasperated sigh. “We will require Miss Roxy’s assistance later, I fear,” she quietly said, shooting the knight as glare out of the corner of her eye, who responded with a sheepish smile.

Well, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Miss Roxy had to help with random tasks around the village. When she wasn’t following Shirou around or patrolling the local area, the adventurer was also helping grow and harvest crops as well as building more houses and repairing equipment. From what Sylphiette heard, the magician was even more of a busybody than Shirou, mainly since he preferred training in his free time nowadays.

“Take a seat, sweetie,” her mother said, pulling over a chair at the dining table. “I’m afraid we won’t be done for a while. We should still have some soup if you want though?”

“Yes please,” Sylphiette accepted. By now, the excitement of training had faded, leaving behind only a slight hunger.

“Plenty of food builds strength,” her father advised.

Her mother rolled her eyes. “With vegetables, I hope,” she said, putting a bowl in front of Sylphiette.

Sylphiette held back another giggle. The whole kitchen was loud and messy, but it didn’t feel bad. It felt… happy. Like one of those silly tavern stories travelers told, except this was real, and she was sitting right in the middle of it.

So much had changed, and maybe that was the part that made her happiest of all. It meant things could change. People could change. And maybe… maybe that meant she could too.

Her first visit to this house, the air had been thick and heavy, like before a thunderstorm. She'd been so worried Shirou would get in trouble for helping her that she'd barely been able to breathe. The second time was worse—seeing Shirou's tear-streaked face, her only friend brought to tears, Sylphiette had shed her own tears into her pillow that night.

Back then, she'd been scared that his family situation was all wrong for him—that they were the reason he was so hesitant whenever her conversation with him turned to them.

But watching her parents laugh with the Greyrats now, like they'd been friends forever, she wondered if maybe she'd been wrong about everything, that maybe she was just a stupid kid that thought too much for her own good.

The changes hadn't happened overnight—more like watching a flower bloom so slowly you didn't notice until one day it was completely different. Miss Zenith wasn't the same fragile woman she'd met months ago, the one who'd seemed like she might shatter at a loud noise.

If she went on this trip, she risked losing this. A loving family, a comfy home, things that a lot of children her age couldn’t say they had.

But… if she didn’t go, she’d never know.

She shifted slightly in her seat, heart thumping in her chest, and coughed lightly, causing five pairs of eyes to turn to her.

“Actually, I didn’t come here just for dinner. I came to ask about Shirou and Mister Paul’s trip to Roa.” The unease swelled up within her, but the young girl pushed it back down, turning to the brown-haired knight. “I asked my mom and dad, and they said yes, so I just need permission from you,” she said, looking at the man pleadingly with big, doe eyes.

Mister Paul didn't even look up from his potato peeling. “I know.”

As per usual, Roxy was right.

“I already told him,” her father said dryly, also not even bothering to pause in his knife work. “Figured that it was probably better if it came from me first, but I still wanted you to ask him yourself.”

“Teaching initiative,” Mister Paul noted. “Smart.”

“I try.” When Sylphiette shot her father an accusing look, the elven man could only shrug. “Forgive me for wanting to talk to the man who will be in charge of keeping my daughter safe for the foreseeable future.”

Like she said, her parents were the best.

“Well, since you’re here—” Paul stopped his task, a small grimace on his face at seeing the shoddy work in front of him before looking back at Sylphiette “—I need to do the whole spiel, but I’m guessing Shirou already did that. Sound about right?”

“Umm… yes…” Even though it wasn’t exactly a secret, Sylphiette still felt bad at outing her friend like that.

His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Figured. Still, you get to hear mine too." He walked past Miss Zenith and Miss Lilia, settling into the chair directly across from her. "First question: why do you want to come?"

“For myself,” Sylphiette answered firmly, the words rolling off her tongue. “Shirou says that your friend will teach him how to fight. That woman is strong, so I want to learn from her too!”

Mister Paul's green eyes studied her intently, and Sylphiette found herself fidgeting under his gaze. Her hands twisted in her lap, and she glanced toward the kitchen where the adults were still cooking—though their voices had gotten quieter, like they were trying to eavesdrop.

"Strong doesn't begin to cover it. Ghislaine's a Sword King—you could count the people stronger than her on one hand," Mister Paul said with a chuckle. "But if you want to be strong, wouldn't magic training with Roxy make more sense? You're already pretty good with a sword for your age, and I know you can silent cast like Shirou. But you don't use magic much. This would be a perfect chance to practice with Roxy. She might not be able to skip incantations like you can, but she's got years of experience with magic and adventuring."

He had a point. A really good point, actually. Logically, focusing on magic made more sense. She was small and probably always would be—she wasn't going to overpower anyone with a sword any time soon. Magic could give her options, and Shirou had taught her that having more tools meant more ways to win.

There was just one tiny problem.

She couldn't actually use magic. Well, except for fire magic, and every time she tried, her hand would burst into flames, and she'd see flashes of her old home burning, smell that awful scent of charred wood and worse things, and then she'd panic, and the spell would fall apart completely.

Magic was about visualization, Shirou said. If she couldn't concentrate and hold the right image in her mind, it was no wonder she couldn't cast anything properly.

"Well, isn't Roxy going to be in the village for a while? I could always ask her some other time, but the chance to meet a Sword King isn't very often…"

Mister Paul leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight as those sharp eyes continued studying her. Even the kitchen had gone quiet—everyone was definitely listening now.

"That's fair," he said finally, giving an acquiescing nod. "It's not easy to find another Ghislaine, that's for sure. She’s one of a kind." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Then again, SS-rank adventurers don't grow on trees either. We might be in Roa for a while. Who knows if Roxy has to leave to find that dragon she's been tracking?"

Adventurers always leave, Sylphiette's thoughts from earlier echoed in her head.

She tugged at the hem of her dress, knowing he was making sense. She could always visit Roa when she was older and stronger. Any training would probably be more effective then anyway. Magic, on the other hand, could be learned at any age and might even be easier while she was young.

All the logical arguments were stacking up against her, each one more reasonable than the last.

"Ah, b-but I like swords more than magic though," Sylphiette said.

Well, logic was never her strength anyway.

Mister Paul blinked once, then twice, and then a crooked grin spread across his face. "Well, well, well. Hear that, Zenith?" he called over her shoulder. "Looks like we've got another sword person instead of a magic person. I wonder where they could possibly get that idea from?"

The sound of a wooden spoon being set down with perhaps more force than necessary echoed from the kitchen.

"I resent that," Miss Zenith's voice floated back, tinged with exasperation. "Shirou literally makes weapons from thin air, Paul. That hardly counts as traditional sword work."

"Details, details," Mister Paul waved dismissively, though his grin only widened.

"Besides," Miss Zenith continued, walking out of the kitchen and looking at the man in question, "there's still plenty of time for her to change her mind. She only learned how to cast spells a few months ago."

The woman turned to Sylphiette, gentle blue pools—much softer than when she had first saw them—peering at her. "Speaking of which, dear, how have your magic lessons been going? I hope Roxy hasn't been pushing you too hard."

Sylphiette's stomach twisted slightly. "No, no, Roxy is wonderful! She's patient and explains everything really clearly. Besides, I can’t really complain since I’m the one who joined in on her lessons." Her voice dropped, disappointment creeping in despite her efforts. "I-I’m still having trouble though."

The admission hung in the air for a moment. Sylphiette's eyes drifted past the blonde woman, landing on her parents who had paused in their cooking to glance meaningfully at each other. Her gaze then wandered specifically to her mother's back, crimson orbs focusing on what she knew lay hidden beneath her dress—old scars that told their own story about the cost of being different.

"Oh, it's perfectly alright, sweetheart," Miss Zenith said. "Magic is very complicated. I can only manage healing magic, and even that took me years to learn properly. Most people can't even sense mana to begin with, so you're already far ahead of most of the world."

"That's right," her mother chimed in. "Well, regardless of what she does or doesn't accomplish with magic, I'm still proud of her all the same. Our little girl looks much happier nowadays."

Sylphiette's lips curled upward at the remark, but the smile felt strained around the edges. She hadn’t proven anything yet, so the weight of their expectations pressed down on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. Still, despite the burden, Sylphiette strangely didn’t mind. After all, the one she looked up to cast a far larger shadow than this.

"Strength comes in many forms," Miss Lilia's calm voice cut through the moment as she emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her dark eyes assessed Sylphiette with that same perceptive gaze that always made the young girl feel like the maid could see straight through her, yet there was a certain warmth in that that Sylphiette could feel. "Physical prowess, magical ability, and mental fortitude are all valuable in their own right."

"Exactly." Her father’s voice boomed from his position near the stove, where he was still dutifully dicing vegetables under her mom’s watchful supervision. "Look at me—I'm can’t use magic, barely decent with a sword, but I can track a rabbit for hours in the forest and put an arrow through its head a dozen trees away,” he gestured enthusiastically with the knife in his hand, earning a sharp look.

"Laws, please don't wave that around while you're talking," her mother sighed.

"The point is," her father continued, obediently lowering the sharp blade, "everyone's got their own talents. Some people are born to swing swords, others to sling spells, and some—" he waved at Sylphiette "—are stubborn enough to try and do both."

Mister Paul laughed. “Honestly, what’s with children nowadays and trying to do so much? Is it something in the water around here? When I was you guys’ age, I wasn’t training or anything. I think I spent more time picking my nose and chasing animals with sticks than learning anything useful.” The man let out a few more chuckles before a sterner expression crossed his face. “Still, I have to ask, why do you want to be strong? Surely, if you just want to protect yourself, you don’t need to go this far. All you need to do is grow older, keep training what you’ve learned, and I’m sure you can whoop anyone that tries to mess with you.”

Along with the question came the sensation of four other pairs of eyes boring into her.

His words hung in the air like a sword.

Why do you want to be strong?

The kitchen around her seemed to blur, the edges of the room expanding and fading as older, darker memories clawed their way to the surface.

Smoke. Thick and black and choking. A sea of red and orange all around her. Tongues of flames licked at her. An intense heat that almost seared her eyes shut.

"Get down, Sylphiette!”

Strong arms circled around her, pressing her into something large, something comforting, lifting, running. A heavy cloth wrapped around her, and the fabric felt cool in the midst of the heat.

There was a groaning, splintering sound before something heavy came crashing down in front of her in a shower of embers. Shards of hot timber bounced and rolled, leaving smoldering trails across the wooden floor.

Something upstairs collapsed with a sound like breaking bones. A scream tore through the air from somewhere behind them.

“Alice!”

“… Mom…?” The words came out hoarse between a harsh cacophony of coughs.

But when her mother finally stumbled out, her dress was smoking. Red trickled down her arms, and dark stains spread across the torn fabric of her dress. When she turned, Sylphiette saw the raw, bloodied skin across her shoulders. And the smell—

Then they were stumbling out into the cold night air, gasping, and the heat followed them like a hungry beast.

But the air outside wasn't safe either.

Faces in the darkness. Too many faces, twisted with something ugly. Their features seemed wrong in the flickering firelight—sharp angles where there should be curves, eyes that glittered like broken glass.

Rocks sailed through the air. One struck her father’s shoulder. Another shattered against the wall beside her mother’s head.

"Demons!"

The voices blended together into one hateful roar.

Ruby orbs stared at the angry mob, then panned towards the remnants of their home, swallowed whole in a twisting conflagration, illuminating the pitch-black sky in a morbid red.

"Demons!" they screamed again, and the word burned itself into her memory—but standing there in the flickering firelight, Sylphiette thought they looked far more demonic than her family ever had.

Why did she want to be strong?

Sylphiette’s fingers twitched.

“I… I want…”

The words cut through the silence of the room—or perhaps the thumps of her heart against her chest drowned out everything else.

Mister Paul's green eyes looked at her curiously, and his face crept closer to her as if she was about to tell him her biggest secret.

"… I will…"

Will what? To who? To what? How would she do it?

Images flickered through her mind—twisted faces in firelight, her mother's burned skin, the taste of smoke and terror. The heat inside her flared brighter, and for a moment, she thought she could see flames dancing between her fingers—and along with it, her answer.

“I will set—”

The loud creaking of hinges stopped her words. Behind her, the sound of the front door opening made everyone's heads turn.

"We've returned," came a drawling feminine voice.

The spell shattered like glass. Sylphiette's head whipped around, crimson eyes finding a familiar pair of figures in the doorway.

Roxy stood with a hand on her hip, idly brushing off her cloak. Stray strands of her blue hair clung to her cheeks, slightly mussed from… whatever they’d been doing.

As the magician lifted her gaze, she noticed a patch of dirt on the boy’s shoulder, and without missing a beat, the taller woman brushed the offending smudge away with a certain casualness.

When she finally stepped back, satisfied with her work, golden orbs blankly regarded her as if he were calculating the most efficient way to make her disappear.

“Ah, welcome back, you two,” Mister Paul called, waving at the pair with his usual easygoing grin.

“S-Shirou! And Miss Roxy!” Thankfully, it seemed that there was no indication that something strange had happened, and whatever strange feelings had surfaced moments before vanished almost as fast as they had come.

The blue-haired adventurer shot her a small smile, while Shirou responded with a firm nod.

“Perfect timing,” her mother chimed in as she stepped out from the kitchen with a mischievous smile. “Sylphiette was just trying to convince Paul to let her tag along with you. I’m sure you don’t mind bringing her, right?”

Shirou's expression shifted to one of mild exasperation. "I'm more curious why you're even allowing this in the first place."

"Well, it seems like a wonderful opportunity for her, and if my daughter wants to go so badly, then who am I to refuse her?" Her mother’s voice carried that particular tone she used when she’d already made up her mind. "Besides, you'll protect her, won't you?"

Shirou said nothing—his amber gaze, laden with unimpressed silence, offering plenty. Those honey-colored eyes then shifted towards her father, and the man immediately raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“I mean, how can you say no to that face?” he asked with a nervous chuckle, gesturing vaguely in her direction.

“Huh?”

Shirou paused, his gaze flicking briefly to Sylphiette before returning to her father. Finally, he sighed—a long, tired sound that seemed to say he knew when he was beaten.

"I already said yes anyway," he said with begrudging acceptance.

"Even the young master is not immune to his nature,” another voice commented, Miss Lilia appearing next to her mother.

This time, he leveled a look at the maid that landed somewhere between resigned and betrayed.

"Are you two hungry? We have some soup ready if you would like," Miss Zenith asked. The blonde woman briefly went into the kitchen before emerging with two more bowls of steaming food, blue orbs peering at her son across the room. There was a certain… restraint that Sylphiette could sense the woman, but it was hard to place the feeling into exact words.

For a moment, Shirou said nothing, his eyes fixed on the offering with an unreadable expression. Then, with what looked like conscious effort, he gave the slightest incline of his head. "Thank you," he said politely, as he always did.

Sylphiette shifted slightly in her seat, watching the exchange with curious eyes before they widened slightly as Shirou sat down next to her.

"Thank you, Lady Zenith," Roxy replied with a polite nod, grabbing a bowl for herself and sitting down next to Paul. Sharp azure pools scanned the room, taking in the assembled group with an analytical gaze. "I was unaware that there would be so many guests. I apologize for coming so late then. We could have provided assistance."

“Speaking of which, what were you two doing anyway?” Mister Paul asked. Then his lips split into a mischievous smirk. “Don’t tell me you two were off having fun while making poor Sylphiette walk back here all by herself?”

“I would hardly call it fun,” Shirou responded with a wry look. “I was just checking on the objects I created to make sure they wouldn’t disappear. Looks like it’s not something we’ll have to worry about.”

Mister Paul leaned back in his chair with an inquisitive hum, the wooden legs creaking softly under his weight. Steam from the soup bowls curled upward in the air between them, creating lazy spirals in the air. "Well, you're the expert here. I don't really know how your magic works, but if you say it's fine, then that's all I need to hear."

Shirou's spoon paused midway to his mouth, studying Paul's face with no small amount of scrutiny. After a moment that stretched just a beat too long, he took another measured bite. "I see," he said quietly. "And what about Sylphiette? Have you made a decision yet?"

A full grin spread across Mister Paul's face, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table with a satisfied aura around him. "Don't worry, your little friend here is coming along if she wants." His eyes flicked meaningfully between the two of them. "Everyone else seems on board with the idea, and it should be good for both of you anyway."

Sylphiette wasn’t quite sure if the fluttering butterflies in her stomach were from the confirmation that she was coming along or something else, but regardless, it took everything within her to not jump out of her seat in celebration.

“… That settles it, then.” Shirou didn’t look surprised at his father’s blessing, but he also didn’t look particularly happy or sad. Well, that didn’t matter much to Sylphiette. That was just Shirou being Shirou, once again.

Off to the side, she could see her mother giving her a wink and a small smile as warm as sunlight. Her father wiggled his eyebrows and scrunched up his face in such an exaggerated expression of approval that she had to press her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound.

"T-Thank you, Mister Paul!" Sylphiette said gratefully, her voice pitched higher with excitement. Holding down the smile on her face was a losing battle, and she wondered how awkward she must look right now.

"Now remember, Sylphiette, you're to do whatever Paul says. No back talk, okay?" The words carried the weight of parental authority, but her mom’s eyes sparkled with pride even as she tried to look stern.

Sylphiette's head bobbed up and down with such enthusiasm that her green hair bounced around her face.

“Oh, but make sure you eat and sleep properly," she continued, her voice shifting into that familiar tone of motherly worry. She glanced meaningfully toward the man, one eyebrow arched in playful accusation. "I know Paul isn't a good cook—"

"Hey!" came an indignant cry from across the table, Mister Paul's spoon clattering against his bowl as he looked up with mock offense. "I'll have you know my cooking is perfectly edible!"

“… Barely…” Miss Lilia quietly said.

"—so make sure you're taking care of yourself," her mother finished with a knowing smile, completely ignoring the interruption. Her fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from Sylphiette's face with gentle warmth. "And if you're going to train, try not to overdo it. You’re still growing.”

Off to the side, Sylphiette could see Shirou and Mister Paul make eye contact before quickly looking away from each other.

Her dad cleared his throat, grabbing their attention. “Well, your mother covered everything I wanted to say, so I’ll spare you my lecture. Just know that even though I wish you’d stay a little girl forever, this is just how things are, I guess. However, I do have a question.” He turned to Mister Paul with a slight furrow in his brows. "Isn't this Ghislaine hired by Greyrats? Doesn't that mean she's going to meet nobility?"

Her mother stiffened at the realization, and a thoughtful, tense expression crossed her face. "Just... keep your head down, sweetie” — The words came out slowly, and the grip on Sylphiette's shoulder tightened ever so slightly —”be respectful, and try not to draw too much attention to yourself."

“We’re going to get dragged out of the village and forced into servitude, aren’t we?” her dad muttered hauntedly.

Mister Paul sighed before slapping her dad on the back. “Calm down. Philip isn’t the kind of person to do that… I think,” he added with an uncertain grimace. “He’s conniving for sure, and I wouldn’t trust him to not involve people in his schemes…”

“… But…?” her father asked.

“… But he’s my cousin…?” the man consoled with an awkward smile.

Her mom looked at the knight with a blank expression. “How reassuring. And I’m sure that he’s not the type of man to indulge in sick fantasies, like perhaps ensnaring my daughter in some deal where she has to work as a maid to pay off a debt, all so he could watch her strut around in some lewd outfit?”

Paul coughed uncomfortably. “Well, of the… vices he partakes in, I don’t think pedophilia is one of them.”

If anything, her mom’s face scrounged in disgust. “Do I want to know what those are?”

“Probably best left unsaid, but I think Sylphiette is safe. Regardless, I’ll make sure nothing happens to her, you have my word on that.”

Miss Lilia, Miss Zenith, and Shirou all silently raised an eyebrow at the statement but made no comment.

Her mother let out an acquiescing hum. “Well, if you say so. You’ve been good to us, so no reason to not trust you now.” Next to her, her father nodded in agreement.

Mister Paul gave them a small smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

The table settled into a brief lull, the warmth of their words lingering in the air. It was in that calm pause that Roxy finally set her now empty bowl down, folding her hands neatly in front of her.

"So," Roxy interjected, her clear voice cutting through the silence and gathering the attention everyone in the room, "when exactly are you departing? I assume you’ll want to leave early to make use of the daylight.”

"Dawn," Paul confirmed. “You traveled from Roa to here, right? It’s been a while since I’ve wandered outside the village. Is there anything we should know?”

Roxy cocked her head inquisitively. “Hmm, well there’s always the threat of bandits on the roads. They tend to try and stop smaller caravans when the shakedown is quick and easy. Anything more than that, and they risk attracting monsters. There are the monsters themselves, but with enough discretion, I doubt there’s many threats in this area that would be truly concerning.”

Of course, the implication was left unsaid, but every adult in the room made it a point to look at the other child on the table, who only raised an eyebrow at the curious glances sent his way.

Mister Paul turned to her. “Well, make sure you have everything packed tonight. We have plenty of rations to share, but you’ll want some clothing for yourself. Don’t pack too much though—it’s important to stay light, so we can move as much as possible.”

Sylphiette nodded at the sagely advice.

“Do you have basic medical supplies? Neither Roxy nor Zenith will be coming with you, so any injury is going to be a problem,” her mother suggested with a concerned tone.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Shirou?”

Her friend sent a tired gaze at his father but didn’t protest. With a wave of his hand, blue light appeared in front of the boy before slowly condensing into a few familiar shapes, the glow dissipating to reveal a variety of supplies.

The knight gestured almost proudly. “Our personal medic. He does it all!” the man exclaimed almost wryly.

“We have gauzes, thread and needle, bandage rolls, and even healing salves. It should be good enough until we find an actual healer in Roa if we need it,” Shirou explained before noticing a certain glint in the man’s eyes. “No, I’m not going to create things just for you to sell,” he firmly said, though Sylphiette could’ve sworn she heard him mutter “Not again” underneath his breath.

Sylphiette considered his words, then mentally shrugged.

It wasn't that she wasn't curious—she was—but Sylphiette understood these weren't topics you could just bring up over dinner, and honestly, she didn't really care that much. Between staying in the dark and staying close to him, or learning the truth but pushing him away, the choice was obvious.

At least for now.

“Damn, I guess he’s just a general goods store too, huh?” her father said with a chuckle, walking over and giving Shirou a playful nudge that made the boy stiffen slightly.

The room broke into small snickers—her mom most of all, her shoulders shaking with unrestrained laughter. Even Miss Lilia cracked a smile behind her hand, though Shirou just gave his usual unimpressed stare that only made everyone laugh harder.

"More like a walking armory," Mister Paul followed with a grin. "Though I have to admit, it's convenient having someone who can just make whatever we need on the spot."

“Speaking of what we need,” Miss Lilia started, “Miss Roxy, could you please assist us in the kitchen? Someone” —Mister Paul suddenly looked very guilty— “forgot to place the bread inside until very recently, so they will not be ready until well past dinnertime.”

The magician raised a petite eyebrow, her lips curling into an amused smile. "Of all the things I've used my magic for, baking bread faster is certainly a first." She paused, considering. "Though I suppose it's more dignified than the time I had to use wind magic to dry someone's laundry because they forgot to bring it in before a rainstorm."

"That was one time!" the knight called after her as she stood up from the table.

"It was three times, Paul," his wife corrected with a sigh and a shake of her head.

Nevertheless, the adventurer disappeared into the kitchen alongside Miss Lilia.

The conversation continued to flow around Sylphiette as the adults shared more stories and gentle teasing. Her mother told embarrassing tales about Sylphiette's childhood—much to her embarrassment—while Mister Paul and Miss Zenith recounted even more tales of their misadventures in their younger days.

Sylphiette couldn't help but smile, watching how naturally everyone seemed to get along. It felt surreal, being able to feel and experience a scene like this. When she was younger, scenes like this would have felt like a dream, one that she hoped she would never have woken up from.

Back then, evenings meant huddled conversations in cramped rooms, her parents speaking in hushed tones about where they might go next, which roads were safe, whether the next town would welcome them or drive them away before dawn. Dinner had been whatever they could afford or forage, eaten quickly and quietly.

The contrast hit her like a physical force, making her chest tight with emotions she couldn't quite name. Here she sat, surrounded by people planning adventures instead of escapes, sharing stories instead of fears. Mister Paul's booming laughter, her mother's teasing voice, Shirou’s timely quips, and even Miss Zenith's gentle smile—it all felt impossibly precious.

When Roxy and Lilia returned with cooked golden bread and a large variety of other dinner platters, the group's appreciation was obvious, and the satisfying meal and conversation that followed only added to the warm ambience of the household.

Sylphiette felt a bittersweet ache in her chest. The laughter, the smell of warm food, the golden glow of candlelight—she wanted to hold it all close. Tomorrow might mean goodbyes, but for tonight, everything still felt whole.

After a time that felt far too short, her mother finally stretched and looked beyond the windows and into the dark evening outside. "Well, I suppose we should head home. Someone needs her rest if she's getting up before dawn. Thank you all for your hospitality. I swear one of these days, we will be the ones to host you instead.”

“Ah, no need, it’s our pleasure,” Miss Zenith politely replied with a warm smile.

Her father nodded in agreement, getting up from his chair in the living room. "Still, I’d like to make sure we don’t ever take this for granted,” he said, walking over to her to ruffle her hair. “Early start tomorrow means early bedtime tonight, my little adventurer."

Sylphiette nodded, soon they were all gathered near the front door, saying their last goodbyes. "G-Good night, everyone," she squeaked, "Thank you for dinner, Miss Zenith."

"Sleep well, dear," she replied warmly, though there was a hint of barely suppressed mirth in her voice. "Tomorrow's going to be a big day. Don’t worry about being nervous. I was like that too at more than double your age. You’ll be fine."

Coming from an experienced adventurer, her words definitely dispelled some of her nervousness, but it couldn’t quite fix the churning within her stomach.

As they turned to leave, Sylphiette managed to grasp enough courage to glance at her friend.

Shirou looked rather annoyed at the magician beside him for some reason, but when his gaze met hers, the irritation softened. He gave her a firm nod and a small wave, and his lips parted in a quiet message.

They were too far away to hear each other properly, but she already knew what he said.

“See you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. A new day. A new chapter in her life. More possibilities. Her first step for something she chose herself.

Her own smile tugged its way onto her face.

“See you tomorrow.”

The chilly midnight air brushed against her face, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. Above, the stars burned sharply, a scattered sea of cold fire that stretched endlessly across the sky. The moonlight filtered weakly through the canopy, casting long, fractured shadows along the forest floor.

The village lay behind her, wrapped in the peaceful silence of sleep, windows dark and doors closed. She should have been asleep too, tucked safely in the spare room Zenith had so graciously provided, but something had pulled her from her bed—a familiar nagging feeling that by this point was rather routine.

Roxy drew her cloak tighter around herself as she stepped carefully between the trees, the hush of the night broken only by the crunch of her boots on the undergrowth. Her breath formed small spirals of mist in the cool air as she walked, each breath lazily rising before disappearing into nothingness in the darkness.

It was quiet here—too quiet for most people to feel comfortable—but she had grown accustomed to this stillness. A forest at night was its own kind of paradise, solemn and heavy, away from possibly unsavory individuals and allowing her to contemplate many things: herself, the world around her, her past, her future, just to name a few.

However, the forest she was in right now, the one that encompassed Buena Village, was rather unique. There was no one she was trying to hide from here. In fact, it was actually the opposite.

The deeper she ventured into the woods, the more pronounced the magical disturbance became. It pulsed through the earth beneath her feet in irregular rhythms, sometimes gentle like a sleeping giant's heartbeat, other times sharp and volatile like lightning trapped in amber. Her Demon Eyes, even in their passive state, could perceive the waves of mana that flashed through the air like invisible aurora, all flowing from a single point deeper in the forest.

She stopped at one tree in particular, a small hand coming up to brush her fingers against its bark. The rough texture felt wrong beneath her touch—not physically, but something deeper, something that didn't quite agree with her sense of soul. The wrongness tugged at her consciousness like a leech, yet what should have made her recoil only served to confirm that she was drawing closer to her destination.

Without a second thought, she continued her way through the foliage, each step drawing her deeper into that strange, oppressive aura that seemed to saturate the very air around her.

Then she heard it—the harsh screech of steel clashing against steel, punctuated by the solid thunk of blades biting deep into wood. The sound cut through the forest silence like a sword through silk, each impact sharp and precise, driven with an almost inhuman force—and knowing the person behind it all, it very well could have been. She followed the cacophony through the trees, parting bushes and low-hanging branches until the undergrowth finally gave way and a clearing opened before her.

The familiar glint of cold, ethereal steel greeted her immediately—dozens of projected blades catching moonlight on their edges, their surfaces reflecting silver radiance like shooting stars flying through the darkness. They adorned the space like decorations, some hovering motionlessly while others traced lazy arcs through the night air, waiting for their moment to strike.

Shirou stood at the center of it all, still dressed in his dinner clothes despite the autumn chill that made her own breath visible in small puffs. The faint sheen of perspiration on his skin made him glisten in the moonlight, and in his hands, two small curved swords moved through the air in brief, deadly flashes—their black and white blades nearly invisible against the darkness until they caught the light just so.

Each swing struck with frightening speed and power, every blow landing with a thundering crack that echoed through the forest as he batted away his own magical weapons in brilliant showers of sparks. His movements were relentless, the boy nothing but a blur as he darted through the clearing—so fast that Roxy found herself tracking him more through his unique magical signature than her own eyesight. His projected arsenal hovered ominously overhead before launching at him like arrows from a taut bowstring, only to be dodged with impossible grace or swatted away.

Roxy sighed.

From the sheer amount of gouges on the ground and the surrounding trees, the boy had been at this effort for a while now. She wasn’t sure when exactly he had disappeared, but at this point, no one in the household really bothered to make note of it, accepting it as just a fact of life.

It was a sad thing, really, but she wasn’t exactly the person who could fix it. That would ultimately have to be themselves.

It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t try to help though.

The petite magician chose a tree with a decent enough view of the pale moon and shimmering stars and leaned against its trunk, not particularly worried about any stray projectiles that could hit her. If they did, their wielder would be getting an earful from her.

It had been quite an interesting several months. Dare she say it, the time she had spent in this village was… peaceful. To a certain extent, she could understand the boy’s reluctance to stay put and behave. It was almost… parasitic. A life of stability and normalcy? For most people, there was no greater reward in life. For others, it might as well have been a curse.

In certain respects, she was much the same. Unable to stay put, chasing something she couldn’t quite figure out for herself, waiting for something to click in her head and all the answers to reveal themselves.

Still, there was what she was doing… and whatever the hell the boy in front of her was putting himself through.

“How long have you been awake this time?” she asked after several minutes of just watching the spectacle, sensing something landing on top the branch above her head.

“15 days, 22 hours, and 47 minutes,” the voice replied immediately.

Almost half a month? Well, that was an improvement from the past, she supposed. Apparently, he had a nasty habit of using his magic to ignore his body’s natural sleeping and eating patterns, using that time instead to do what he was doing now.

She had made him very aware of her concerns—using magic in such a manner was bound to have severe ramifications on his growing body—but he had reassured her that he would be fine. Whether or not that was true or he was merely dismissing her wasn’t clear, but considering the monster attack when they first met and the curious effect his magical energy had on them, he wasn’t entirely wrong to prioritize improving his abilities. Still, to start so young and so vigorously was unheard of.

Regardless, he did make an effort to get more proper rest. However, it was not due to Roxy’s warnings but for the sake of combat effectiveness. According to him, fatigue had caused him to sustain more damage than necessary in the attack preceding their first meeting, causing him to realize the importance of rest.

“And are you going to continue your current streak?”

A pause.

“No. I’ll sleep later.”

A small figure landed in front of her in a shower of leaves, golden orbs peering at her over one shoulder.

Roxy felt the corner of her lips quirk upwards. “Reaching your limit?”

He scoffed and looked away, and she could sense him rolling his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He sat down next to her, watching the floating swords in the air above the clearing. “The first time I left the village, I nearly brought a horde of monsters on our heads. If it weren’t for you, I’m not sure I could have found Laws in time, and I certainly wouldn’t have been able to heal him. In all likelihood, there was a chance he could have died there.”

The words themselves implied remorse, and yet despite discussing the idea of someone he was well-acquainted with dying, the boy’s tone showed no change, talking as if the words came directly from a book.

“And you think something will happen again?”

“Of course it will. The first time I left, I met you, I had to use my powers, and now the village feels like constantly on edge. Afterwards, a lot changed.”

The village? His family? The little girl that clung to him? The magician herself?

“Then maybe we’ll see more of your powers.”

There was a sigh next to her.

“The secrecy isn’t the issue. The real problem is that any situation that requires more extensive use of my abilities is a situation I’m not entirely sure I can safely handle.”

He fell silent though his final words leaving her with more questions than answers.

That was always the thing with him. As soon as she felt like she had one facet of the mystery figured out, he would casually drop some tidbits that sent all her carefully constructed theories into disarray. On one hand, it made for an amusing game of cat and mouse—each conversation a puzzle to be solved, each answer leading to three new questions. On the other hand, she preferred her mysteries to have some hope of eventual resolution and perhaps some lower stakes.

“You think fate has a vendetta against you?”

“… Always.”

Well, it’s not as if she hadn’t thought to ask the boy directly. Questions like, “How did you start to know about your powers?” or “Just how strong are you?” or “How are you so coherent at your age?” or “Why do you sound so much older than you are?” were deflected with silence, half-truths, or minimal answers. Then again, she hadn’t tried very hard either, accepting the first response she got and not trying to pressure the boy further.

Trust is a fragile thing. It is not earned in a single gesture but assembled slowly, almost painstakingly, like laying bricks one after another. And yet it is delicate—one careless word, one wrong step, and the whole thing could collapse in an instant, rendering everything they built for naught. The boy was a puzzle, yes, but he was still a human—a child, even.

Besides, she knew more than anyone the annoyance of overbearing adults, and truthfully, there was no need to rush. Time, if nothing else, was on her side, and what mattered more than answers was the fragile thread of trust stretching between them—a thread she had no wish to sever. She had already committed to being his partner to whatever destiny had in store for them, and he had proven himself benevolent in action, reliable in crisis, and despite the literal darkness she could perceive within his soul, he posed no conscious threat to those around him. Even his reluctance to answer seemed more out of protective instinct than any true intent to deceive.

His family though? Perhaps a different story.

"Is all... this really necessary?" Roxy gestured toward the constellation of floating weapons, their edges catching moonlight like scattered stars. "Seems rather excessive, no?"

“There’s no such thing as being too prepared,” he answered, and Roxy couldn’t help but begrudgingly agree. “There’s almost someone stronger, someone faster, someone better. When that time comes, I’d at least like to have a fighting chance.”

To be fair, it was quite hard to reign in her curiosity when he constantly dropped hints like that. One might wonder if he was doing it intentionally, practically begging her to just tie him down and wring answers out of him. Or maybe it was subconscious, a cry for help that continuously fell on deaf ears, pleading for someone to share his burden.

Or maybe it was none of those and she was overthinking things.

"Maybe decrease the collateral damage though?" She nodded toward the gouged earth and scarred tree trunks. "You're going to run out of forest at this rate."

“Why? Were you going to use this area?”

"It would make for decent stargazing. I'm just worried a stray sword might end me."

“Then nothing of value would be lost.” He paused, amber eyes studying the area around him with some consideration. “Maybe you have a point though.”

The clearing lit up in a breathtaking display as dozens of suspended weapons began to dissolve. Steel transformed into countless motes of brilliant cerulean light, each particle faintly glowing with residual magical energy as they drifted upward through the cool night air, almost like fireflies performing one last ethereal dance before surrendering to the darkness.

“It never gets old,” Roxy quipped. She had studied his creations countless times, but each blade remained a mystery, her Demon Eyes catching glimpses of complexity that told no answers, only a bottomless pit of questions. That, and a mild headache if she looked for too long.

“… I suppose it wouldn’t.” Whatever that statement meant, he didn’t clarify, instead choosing to turn right at her. “So,” he continued, “what did you come here for?”

"Partly curiosity. I wanted to see if you'd break routine before your departure."

“Why would I do that?”

“To conserve your energy. You never know what could happen on your trip. I’d assume with your paranoia, you’d want to conserve as much energy as you could.”

He waved a hand dismissively at her concern, turning away. “You don’t need to worry about that. Nothing I’m doing in these training sessions is extensive enough for fatigue to become a factor, and I’m going to stop soon anyway. Besides, if I go harder than this, I risk having more monsters attracted to this area, not to mention I’d rather not accidentally destroy the village from a stray projection.”

Such words may come off as the typical fantasies of a child, but from first-hand experience, Roxy knew that there was more than a sliver of truth in his caution.

“Anyway, you already knew that.” Narrowed amber eyes watched her over his shoulder, unblinking. “You want something else,” he flatly stated.

 Roxy studied his profile in the moonlight, weighing her next words carefully. “I should be asking you that.” When Shirou gave her a non-impressed look, Roxy continued, “You’ll be leaving the village soon.”

“… And…?”

"Some might worry about what you'd do while outside."

He scoffed. “You make it sound like I could just walk away from everything here.”

“Not easily, I admit,” Roxy explained. “But if given sufficient motivation, would you not? If you’re going to do it at some point, now would be the time.”

Shirou's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, the moonlight caught in his eyes like a glint of steel. For the briefest instant she saw the truth flicker there, raw and unguarded—the instinct to move forward, to chase no matter the cost, as if his life had always been a pursuit of something just beyond his reach.

For a long moment, the only sounds were the distant rustle of leaves and the faint whisper of wind through the trees. When he finally spoke, his voice held a tone of rare fragility. “If I was going to do so, I would’ve done it earlier. At this point…” he let a pregnant pause fill in the air for a few moments “… I don’t think so.”

He had thought about it—of course he had. The question of what he was, why he possessed such frightening abilities at such a young age, his link to these monsters—if he wanted answers, then a peaceful life in this village would do nothing to get him closer to them. He would need to venture out to grab them himself.

Still, Roxy could only smile at his words, letting the pause linger for a beat longer. “That’s good. Then I wouldn’t have to talk to Paul and Zenith about why their son decided to play detective.”

Unlike their usual banter, there was not a cheeky response waiting for her. Instead, he peered at her again, but instead of the usual hardness, softened bronze met cerulean pools.

“… What about you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“If we were in my position, if you had to give everything up, would you?”

Now it was Roxy's turn to fall silent. Before meeting him, the answer would have been simple. She had already forsaken everything once—another time wouldn’t have been out of the question.

Memories rolled forth from her mind—years of empty wandering, pulled forward by obligation and obsession, faces blurring from her grasp.

Her teammates were dead. Her parents were impossibly far away. Her home was nothing but a fantasy—the so-called acceptance she had sought turning to blackened mud.

There had been nothing for her in this side of the world, and months ago, her response would have been immediate. But now, as she considered these past months—watching people grow, feeling useful again, having a place to return to—the certainty she'd once felt crumbled away.

"… I don't know."

Shirou remained quiet for a long time after her admission. He tilted his head back against the tree trunk, amber eyes reflecting the scattered starlight above. Roxy watched the subtle shifts in his expression, the way his jaw tightened and relaced, how the weight of unspoken thoughts seemed to press down on his young shoulders.

… Perhaps now was the time to probe. She hated bending her own principles, but there were just too many questions spiraling around in her head now. There was a chance that they could be separated for quite some time, and she needed to know some things before she could proceed.

"You told me to stop you if the worst happened," she said, her voice cutting through the night air. "Tell me—what's this great threat you're preparing for? Is there some grand enemy you need to fight? What could be important enough that you'd even consider abandoning everything?"

Her cerulean gaze fixed on him as he turned away, amber eyes avoiding hers. Trust was one thing, but it couldn't be entirely one-sided. They were partners, and partnerships required mutual understanding. She didn't need to know everything—that would be hypocritical given her own secrets—but she needed enough to work with.

"The source of the monsters, this 'Cataclysm' you mentioned," he spoke in a measured voice, "It's obvious I'm connected to it somehow. Everything points in that direction. I can stand guard over this village all I want, but that won't solve the real problem." He paused, his hands clenching into fists. "At some point, I’ll need to make my way down there. Tell me, knowing that much, could you really stand back and try to live a normal life?”

The challenge hung between them. Of course, it was purely rhetorical, both of them already knew each other’s answer.

"I have to be strong enough,” he continued, “for whatever's waiting, whatever the world has planned.”

Well, that was enough. She got what she wanted out of him, and while she regretted the necessity, the pieces of his puzzle were finally taking shape. Combined with her discussions with Zenith and Paul, a clearer picture was emerging.

"You can't face everything alone," she said gently. She'd witnessed countless people disappear into that nightmare, and that was during its early stages. The thought of what it might have become since then only made her shudder. Extraordinary as he was, he was fundamentally human.

"I know." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "That's what I’m scared of."

The night air grew colder, and Roxy noticed his eyelids growing heavy. Sixteen days without proper rest was finally exacting its toll, even despite his impressive self-control.

"You'll protect the village while I'm gone?" The question came out more vulnerable than he'd probably intended.

"Of course. I've grown rather fond of the people here," she replied, offering an easy smile.

Shirou hummed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Good. I'd be shocked if nothing happened while I was away."

"Ah yes, the classic tale," Roxy mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "The hero departs on his grand quest, only to return and discover his enemies having struck at his undefended home. Overcome with grief, he realizes that for all his power, he cannot be in two places at once, leading to him questioning the true meaning of strength." She cast an innocent look his way. "You said fate has a vendetta against you—perhaps you were terrible in a previous life. Maybe this is your chance to make amends."

Shirou stared at her as if she'd sprouted a second head, blinking slowly at her words. The silence stretched long enough that Roxy wondered if she'd overstepped, but then she caught the slight upward curve of his lips.

"Hilarious," he said dryly, though the small smile lingered. Good, that expression suited him far better.

The weight of it all seemed to settle on his shoulders then—the exhaustion, the fear, the impossible burden he'd placed on himself. Roxy could see his carefully maintained control beginning to fray at the edges, and her chest tightened with a storm of emotions she couldn’t quite name.

"You’re not fooling me, by the way. Come here,” she advised softly, beckoning with her head and shifting to make space beside her. “Sit for a while at least.”

He looked ready to argue, but the logic was sound. With no small amount of reluctance, he moved to sit beside her, leaning back and letting his shoulders slump. Together they watched the stars wheel overhead in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts as the whistling of chilly winds and gentle rustling of trees formed a soothing symphony in the background.

The boy’s head dipped once before he caught himself, then twice, and his posture started to soften bit by bit. After several minutes, his breathing deepened into a steady rhythm, and his head tilted back to fully rest against the trunk of the tree.

 Roxy wasn’t surprised; magical warrior prodigy or not, even he could not outlast his own body. What she was surprised by was that he had relaxed enough to actually drop his guard in the first place.

Moving carefully to avoid disturbing him, Roxy shifted him onto her back, securing his arms around her neck and supporting his legs. She stood slowly, testing her balance and took a few experimental steps, surprised by how easily she could move.

Despite everything he was, all the power and knowledge he carried, he still weighed just as much as any other child.

Zenith would be envious if she could see this scene—her son, peaceful and vulnerable in sleep, finally looking like an ordinary kid.

Not that Roxy minded keeping this moment to herself.

Before leaving the clearing, with a flare of mana, she cast one final glance around, detecting the dense concentration of energy that saturated the area. How many weeks had he been training here? This was just one of several such spots she'd discovered throughout the forest. His dedication was almost inhuman—she doubted he'd missed a single day.

Looking at his serene face, she felt that familiar mixture of admiration and melancholy. Compared to him—who broke himself again and again to push forward every single day—she felt wholly inadequate. The trauma of the Cataclysm, the bitter truth that home was far beyond her reach… instead of making use of her so-called gifts, she had stagnated, like a puppet repeating the same motions long after its strings had been cut.

"Soon, you will be stronger than anyone else," Roxy murmured to the night wind, her voice tinged with certainty and resignation.

Yet even as the words left her lips, a quiet dread coiled in her chest.

"But that… will only be the beginning."