God Slayer Blade Works

Chapter 1: Prologue: The Report

Disclaimer: The works of Type-Moon and J Taketsuki are their own
despite my most fervent wishes. This is a fan work and if anyone does
pay me for it the only thing it will accomplish is to get me into trouble.
This is being done purely for fun, constructive criticism is welcome, and
flames will be ignored. Please be gentle though, this is the first fanfic
I've put on the net.
Prologue
A report on the appearance of the Eighth Campione, delivered to the
Witenagemot two weeks after the Naples Incident.
There is no known information on Emiya Shirou or, his companion, prior to their
appearance in Naples. All attempts to learn more have as yet yielded no success,
though observation of the pair has provided some information.
Both are magic users, though the exact schools of spells that they use remains
undetermined. Observation has determined that the youngest of the pair is the
more experienced and knowledgeable of the two, having displayed a wide array
of abilities such as hypnosis and mystic threads. From what we have been able to
determine it would seem that Emiya Shirou is less well versed in general ability
but instead possesses a greater skill for specialization. His own abilities seem to
lie best in the realms of self augmentation and the creation of constructs in the
form of various bladed weapons. While the precise mechanics behind his magic
are unknown we currently believe these constructs to be possibly ectoplasmic in
origin.
Given the very limited information available at this time our current theory
(which is subject to change as more information comes to light) is that the pair
are the apprentices of some hermetical mage and have been raised and trained
far from any conventional contact.
Whatever their origins may be what is know is that two weeks ago an unknown
Heretic God manifested in the streets of Naples. Though only manifest for
approximately seven minutes the result was a death count of eighty seven
victims. The causes of death ranged from heart attack to spontaneous
combustion to suicide. Whichever Heretic God was the cause of this was
malignant to the point where its mere presence began to corrode its
surroundings on physical, mental and spiritual levels.
Again the details of the incident remain largely unknown due to the lack of any
mage witnesses. What is unquestionable is that Emiya Shirou through unknown
means was able to kill the Heretic God and so became the Eighth Campione.
Under any other circumstances the new god-slayer would have been approached
to determine what manner of person he was, however attempts to do so were
thwarted by his companion who succeeded in escaping with him and evading all
attempts to find her.
Further attempts to find the pair were curtailed by the arrival of the Heretic God
Perseus. When questioned by one of the investigators in the city he claimed to

have been drawn by the aura of one of his great enemies. All attempts that were
made to dissuade him met with failure and the hero god remained firm in his
course.
Three days after the original incident Perseus succeeded in locating Emiya Shirou
and immediately challenged him to combat. On this occasion there was one of
our agents present to witness the conflict. According to his report the new
Campione made every attempt to prevent a fight only rising to the challenge
when the hero god made threatening motions towards his companion.
According to the report Perseus possessed an immediate advantage in combat
suggesting that the god defeated earlier by Emiya was one possessing a
disadvantage to Perseus, a weakness inherent in the Authority that the
Campione had gained.
Despite this Emiya Shirou was able to stab his opponent with a sword. Exactly
how this wound proved to be debilitating to a deity is as yet undetermined,
whatever the case may be it was able to slow the god enough for Emiya to deal
another successful blow. Each such strike was able to further weaken the deity
sapping his speed and power until the newest Campione was able to slay a
second god.
Once again our agents were unable to make contact with the new god-slayer as
his young companion once more aided her wounded comrade to evade all
attempts to find them.
Two nights later one of our agents was able to spot the pair flying away from the
city on a white Pegasus similar to the one Perseus had been observed riding
during his search. Attempts were made to follow them and eventually managed
to catch up to them on a small island of the coast further south from Naples.
The reason for them being able to catch up was that the pair had been
intercepted by another Heretic God. Once more Emiya Shirou sought to avoid
conflict, but the deity, who identified himself as Hades, stated he was only
interested in the elimination of what he described as an 'abomination' and
attacked.
In this confrontation the new Campione was able to match his divine foe more
evenly than he had Perseus, possibly due to whatever new Authorities he had
been able to gain. The combat took a turn against him when the Heretic God
began to summon dead souls as servants to aid him as well as turning invisible.
Emiya responded to this by manifesting a great many swords and casting them
about him at random, decimating the servants and inflicting enough chance
damage upon his enemy to disable him. With his foe crippled Emiya seemed
content with this victory and indicated that he would have left peacefully. Hades
opted to literally throw himself on the Campiones sword instead, and did so with
a sneer on his face stating that he would prefer death to owing a mortal his life.
It was at this point that Emiya Shirou and his companion became aware of our
agent and demanded that he explain what had been going on. It has been
judged by the questions that they asked that they had no idea of what Heretic
Gods were nor of the existence of Campione and what being such entailed. After
obtaining the answers they desired the two remounted the Pegasus and left.

However before they did so our agent was able to overhear the pair mentioning
their plans to go to Japan.
So in the final analysis we have a new Campione who has succeeded in the
almost absurd task of killing three deities in the space of a single week. We know
next to nothing about him only that he is travelling towards the same country as
the other most recent Campione to have appeared. In the worst case scenario he
intends to face Kusanagi Godou in battle and lay claim to his lands. While such a
battle could prove catastrophic it is this agents belief that it is unlikely. In both
the battle that he was observed in Emiya Shirou attempted to avoid conflict, or
even dealing the finishing blow in Hades' case.
Still it remains a concern that Japan is now about to become the home of two
Campione. History has shown that two kings cannot rule the same lands without
inevitably coming into conflict.

Chapter One
Shirou was feeling a bit lost.
No, that wasn't quite right, there had been times in his life that he had felt lost,
in fact feeling lost was one of his earliest memories. No, what he felt right now
could best be described as shell shocked. It was hard to believe it really had
been only a month ago that his life had been so . . . uneventful. He'd just been
the 'fake janitor' at school, Tohsaka Rin had been the school idol and Sakura had
been just a friend that he had finally realized was also now a beautiful young
woman.
Then the Holy Grail War had come to Fuyuki and everything had changed. Rin
had been revealed to be a magus of a level he'd never even been aware of,
Shirou himself had been dragged into the death matches that were the Heavens
Feel ritual and Sakura had been revealed to contain far darker depths than he
could ever have dreamed of.
It still boggled his mind of just how fast everything had spun out of even the
illusion of control. He'd been killed by Lancer, only to be saved by Rin (even
though he only found out about that later). When the spear wielding Servant had
returned to finish the job the only reason he'd survived was through the
accidental summoning of Saber. He'd almost been killed by Berserker in his
second meeting with Illya as well. But despite having a sizable chunk of his side
blasted off him by a mere glancing blow from the mad Servant his contract with
Saber seemed to have granted him the healing needed to not only survive but
also to recover in short order.
By that time he had thought he had something of a handle on the situation. He
might have been in totally over his head but at least he felt like he had some
idea to the scale he was dealing with. Saber had given him some basic lessons in
combat and he had insisted on going out on patrol with her. That was when they
had found Shinji feeding his Servant a living victim. Even the memory of it still
carried a small sting, after all Sakura's brother had been as sort of estranged
friend to Shirou for years. But that night the sheer ugliness of spirit that hid
inside the boy was laid bare for him to see. Cruelty to his victim, cruelty to Shirou
even cruelty to his Servant when she fell to Saber. It had all spilled forth from his
cracked veneer of coolness like filth from a broken sewer pipe.
From there things had only spun further out of control. Zouken Matou had made
his appearance in the war and saved his grandson by seemingly destroying his
Servant. He'd let Shinji go, assuming him to be harmless. Things even began to
look up, in a way, after they were able to take out Caster after finding her
standing over her dead master. Things seemed to go even better after that,

despite Sakura getting sick. He'd managed to start a friendship with Illya and had
had something of a truce with Rin after they seemingly killed Zouken.
Then everything had started to go to hell. Saber died during an investigation of
Ryuudou temple and the only reason Shirou survived was due to Riders
unexpected aid. Shinji kidnapped Sakura leading to her being revealed as Riders
true Master as well as just what she had been forced to endure at the Matou
household. He then was forced to choose between his ideals and his friends life
when he learnt of what Sakura could become. In the end he chose Sakura.
From there things had become a tangled mess of both good and bad. Rider was
no longer his enemy and his relationship with Sakura had progressed with
surprising speed. The Shadow made more appearances consuming Berserker
and regurgitating a corrupted version of Saber. The fight involving the rescue of
Illya from that mess had left him sans an arm and with a replacement that could
well kill him if not restrained.
There had been so much after that, Sakura's corruption, his and Rin's desperate
plan, Rider a constant unknown in just what she'd do, him having to use the arm
even though in doing so it began to kill him. Eventually it all came down to the
cave under the Ryuudou temple where a maddened Sakura, under the influence
of the darkness within the Grail, sought to complete the Greater Grail and
unleash her pain on the world. With aid from Rider Shirou was able to send Saber
back to her death while Rin faced her sister. Though he didn't see what took
place between them he arrived in time to find Rin on the ground bleeding and
out cold and a Sakura restored to her senses but losing control of her power.
Despite her pleas for him to kill her Shirou had instead used a traced version of
Casters Rule Breaker to sever the link between her and the unborn Avenger
within the Grail. Rider had shown up and was able to take the unconscious
sisters out of the collapsing cave while Shirou stayed behind to see to the Tainted
Grail.
That's when Kirei had shown up and tried to stop him leading to a fight between
the two dying men, Kirei with his artificial heart giving out and Shirou with his
body and mind being eroded by Archers arm. In the end it had simply come down
to who could outlast the other, and the victor had been Shirou.
He'd forced himself over towards the boiling mass of the Grail, his body little
more that a mass of swords held together by barely living flesh. His senses had
turned to steel, his mind had begun to break apart as memories had cracked and
faded away. All he could remember was a small almost insignificant promise, a
promise to see some flowers with a girl whose name he couldn't remember and a
face he could no longer recall.
But that had been enough, enough to keep him alive, enough to keep him
moving.
He didn't know what it was that had happened next, by that point there simply
hadn't been enough of him left to store the information his failing senses were
receiving. Illya had been there though, running desperately to catch up to her
onii-chan before his body gave out.

She was far more knowledgeable in the mysteries of thaumaturgy than he was,
not that that was very difficult, but even so she wasn't sure of just what it was
that had taken place. Her best guess was that somehow the Grails original
function, the corruption of Angra Mainyu within it and Rin having made liberal
use of the Kaleidoscope had all come together to form some sort of uncontrolled
gateway. The Greater Grails original purpose had been to bore a passage all the
way to the Root of Existence, given how twisted it had become and how other
dimensions had already been brought into play near it Illya guessed that
somehow it aim had become . . . off.
Whatever the case she had arrived just in time to see the vast roiling corruption
of the Grail somehow flowingdownwardssidewaysinto
itselfthroughthefrontreverse dbyleftover, doing something that defied
rational understanding. Even as his adopted sister had tried to make sense of it
though the unborn Angra Mainyu had vanished, disappearing into the distortion
about itself. She had just had time to reach Shirou's side, as he stood
uncomprehending as his target had faded away, before the same distortion
swept over them.
He'd asked her what it had been like during the travel, she'd answered him by
saying it had rather like smelling what the colour purple tasted like. When he'd
told her that he didn't get it she'd smiled and said that that was exactly right.
Whatever the transit might have been like she had had no trouble describing
what it was like when they arrived in the new world. Illya had guessed that there
was some sort of dilation effect so that while the trip had only been seconds for
them the servant Avenger had had minutes or even hours there before they
arrived.
According to her Angra Mainyu had been birthed from the Grail and had assumed
the form of a fifteen foot tall toddler covered in wounds and blood. The very air
around the being had felt corrupt and the nearby statues had wept bloody tears
while the stone of the streets and building had cracked to bleed blood and fire.
Around them had been screams, cries for mercy and maddened laughter. Quite
simply it had been a scene from Hell.
The young Einzbern had not been ashamed to say that she had been terrified.
She'd been ready to give her life so that the mistake of her family could finally be
laid to rest, but this . . . this was every evil of mankind given form and set loose
before her. Faced with something like that terror and powerlessness were the
only sane responses.
However Shirou was not in a state that could be described as sane.
His mind was in tatters and his body was only alive because the blades that were
impaling it from the inside out were also holding it together. He only stood
because those blades had locked his legs into place as the ground against each
other. He was impervious to fear because he had no emotions left to him. He did
not feel the heat of the flames because his nerves had become solid unfeeling
steel. There were no thoughts, no memories, no emotions; all there was was the
overriding imperative that drove the machine that had once been Emiya Shirou.
End that which threatened her.

Under any normal circumstances tracing Excalibur would have been as beyond
him as the moon was from his touch. Even though Archers arm had supplied the
blue print his mind should have broken in trying to do it.
But his mind was already in ruins so that was no problem, instinct and will had
sufficed.
Under normal circumstances using that traced Excalibur would have been as
impossible as touching the sun. Simply drawing forth that much of his od should
have killed him on the spot.
But his body was already dead so there was no problem in drawing forth every
scrap of the power it held.
So as his last act the ruin that had once been Emiya Shirou whispered one word
with its last breath and brought the traced weapons full force down on the
abomination before it.
"Excalibur."
According to Illya both Angra Mainyu and the entire length of the street in front
of them had been obscured by the blast of golden light that Shirou's final act had
unleashed. When the light faded all that was left was a decimated length of land
that had once contained buildings. That and the slowly disintegrating form of the
god of evil.
She had turned to Shirou then, expecting to see the last of his life slip away from
him, to see his corpse fall. Instead she was greeted by the sight of a sleeping
young man lying on the ground and completely restored to the peak of health.
His clothes had remained torn and bloodstained, proof of just how wounded he
had been, but beneath those cloths skis was unbroken and flesh was restored.
Illya had no idea how it had happened, but somehow Shirou was completely
healed.
Of course since she was a sensible girl, at least when it didn't get in the way of
her anger, or something she wanted, or something cute, or something annoying,
or . . . Well most of the time she was a sensible girl. So she had realized that
standing at the end of a clear blast zone while next to an unconscious boy and
wearing a powerful mystic code like the Dress of Heaven was not a good idea. Of
course any normal twelve year old girl would have had a hard time escaping with
an unconscious seventeen year old boy, but the young Einzbern was not normal,
she had been raised for almost her whole life to be the ultimate Master. While
not raised as a traditional magus Illya had been physically and spiritually
modified in various ways since even before her birth to act as the best possible
Master to a Servant and vessel to the Holy Grail. As a result she could generate
massive enough levels of Prana to sustain even a Berserker Heracles before the
Holy Grail was there to lend aid. When you combined this with even the
somewhat lacklustre education she had received in the Einzbern style of Alchemy
then you got some interesting results.
During the course of the Holy Grail War that she had been involved in Illya had
never had to employ her skills in thaumaturgy, with arguably the strongest
Servant in the war as her obedient tool she had had no need to. One or two
bonded fields, a prank or two on Shirou, that had been the full extent of her use

of mage craft. But back then she had need something to help her move her
insensate adopted sibling, so she had used the same mystery that her mother
had employed in the forth Heavens Feel.
Shortly thereafter a small girl in a dazzling white dress had made her getaway
while being followed by a vaguely human form, composed entirely of glowing
blue strings, carrying an unconscious redheaded teen.
Illya had no knowledge of the Italian language, but her English had been good
enough to find them a hotel where someone understood her. A rather liberal use
of hypnosis later and she had been able to secure them not only a room, but also
a change of rather ill fitting clothes that had once belonged to the hotel owners
own son and daughter. They might have been a bit big on the snow fairy like girl,
almost to the point of being comical, but it had been less conspicuous than her
families' mystic code. Once they were safe Illya had set up several simple
bonded fields around their room, crude but powerful ones designed to hide them
from scrying and searching spells. She had figured that with the amount of
damage that had been done whomever was in charge of the mystic aspect of the
world around here would be looking for someone to blame. And Illya had no
intention of making it easy for that someone to be either her or Shirou.
He could still remember coming to in that room, in fact the memory was branded
into his memory quite effectively. He'd had the poor luck of regaining
consciousness just as Illya had set about the task of changing him out of his torn
and bloodied clothes. To be more specific he'd come to just when she was taking
of his trousers.
He could still remember it, waking up shirtless to see the snow haired girl
dressed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts fiddling with the buckle of his belt.
"Illya . . . what are you doing?"
Hardly the most inspired words to say first thing after having so narrowly
escaped deaths clutches, but it had been the only thing he could think of at the
time.
Illya had frozen and then looked up at him while looking extremely guilty.
"Err . . . this . . . this isn't what it looks like you know?"
"So you're not trying to take my pants off?"
"Ah yes, I mean no, I mean . . ."
"..."
"..."
"If I promise never to speak of this again will you as well?"
". . . yes?"
"Good, now Illya . . . where are we?"
In the end they had decided to stay in the spacious hotel room and wait while
one of Illya's hastily made familiars tried to make it to one of the Clock Tower
branches that existed in Italy. She quickly explained to him that since this

country housed the Vatican it was one of the nations in the world where the
Church held the most influence. Consequently while there was no official tension
between them and the mages association most sensible mage craft users kept
their heads down and their noses clean while in the country.
In this case they had inadvertently unleashed a demonic god onto the streets of
Naples and then proceeded to reduce a number of those streets to ash and
rubble. As far as Illya was concerned the sooner they got out of there the better.
Shirou had felt slightly . . . off for those first two days after he had woken up. He
just hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he had somehow forgotten
something, something important.

-()-

He fell towards the shattered stones of the street. This was the end, there was
simply nothing more left to give. His last attack had taken everything he had
left, in the space of time it took for him to hit the ground the last of his life would
fade and vanish. Just as his body had broken, just as his memories had
dissolved.
And yet . . .
There was one memory, one single image, that of a beautiful young girl with sad
but caring eyes and a soft smile.
The tiny wrecked fragment that was all that remained of Emiya Shirou refused to
surrender that one memory. He forgot his name, he forgot his fathers face, he
forgot the colour of blood, he even forgot how to breathe, but that one small
recollection it clung to with all the savage intensity of the desperate.
He didn't want to die. He wanted to see that girl again, to hold her, to see her
smile, to smell the scent of her hair, to keep the promise they had made that he
could no longer remember.
He wanted to LIVE!
"Ano . . . this is a most difficult choice you know . . ."
What was that voice, it sounded vexed, like a child puffing out their cheeks in
frustration at not knowing the answer to a question at school. And yet at the
same time it sounded so sweet, so loving, the sound of a mother using the voice
of a child.
"Both you and him. You're both breaking the rules for this. He was not at his full
strength, so I should say that this victory won't do. But look at you. Your body
breaks, your memories whither and your mind collapses, and yet you still struck
that last blow even though there should have been nothing left of you to do the
striking. How can a maiden's heart not be moved by such magnificent
foolishness?"

Hadn't he been falling just now? Why was the back of his head now lying on
someone's soft lap? How could he even feel anything? Hadn't his nerves already
transformed into steel?
"And yet though the kill was grand I'm not sure about the slain. He is god enough
to fall beneath the ritual of I and my husband, and yet can such a creature truly
be called a god?"
He felt . . . warm, at peace. It was similar to being held by his father he
supposed, but different, softer, warmer. What was this feeling?
"I have decided. I, Pandora, the witch who brought forth all disasters and a shred
of hope, do now declare this child to be my new son."
Soft hands caress his face and warm lips touch his forehead. He was a son? Was
this what it was to be held by a mother?
"Let everyone present grant their blessing and their hatred to this child! The
eighth Campione - possessing the destiny of the strangest of the devil kings,
please bestow the sacred spell words upon this child!"
As though far in the distance he could hear a dull roar, not words or shouts, just
a mindless enunciation of raw never-ending hatred. It should have chilled him, it
should have angered him, but here in this soft and gentle embrace he felt as
though nothing in the world could bother him.
"Hohoho, rage all you want, but I have made my choice. Then Emiya Shirou, I
grant my blessing to thee who has been reborn as the new god-slaying king!
"By the black art that I and Epimetheus left behind this is the sacred birth of an
illegitimate child, shrouded in darkness, born of a fool and a witch. A secret of
usurpation only made possible through the sacrifice of a god.
His eyes managed to drift open. He managed to see a blurred image, a sweet
face, far too young for such a motherly tone, pale purple hair that reminded him
of someone he couldn't remember, but who had fought at his side. And such a
warm smile.
I, the all-giving woman Pandora, declare that you shall be reborn as a Campione.
The god-slayer, the king of kings, the Campione."
Again she leaned in to place a kiss on his brow and at the same time he felt
something gently but insistently push INTO his chest.
The world gently faded into white.

-()-

Shirou knew he was forgetting something important, but for the life in him he
couldn't remember what it was.
So much had happened since then, first Perseus, his strange new powers, Hades,
finally learning just what it was that he had become. Still despite the bizarreness

of all that had taken place the first time they had learnt they were in a
completely new world had possessed its own unique form of shock.
It was on the same day he had woken up, the day before he had faced Perseus,
Illya had been getting annoyed that her familiar had not yet returned with an
answer to her message, annoyed and bored. Their room had a bookshelf on it,
one with a number of different subjects, but sadly all in Italian which neither of
them could read. Wanting to do something to relieve her restlessness his
adopted sister had pulled a picture book of animals off the shelf and started to
flick through it gasping in delight at the odd animals within. Then she had found
one that she hadn't recognized and had brought the book over to the still
bedridden Shirou to see if he knew which it was.
He'd simply glanced at the picture and answered her without thinking.
"That's a Cantor's Giant Soft Shelled Turtle."
"Wow, onii-chan knows his turtles."
It had been hearing that from Illya that had made Shirou realize that he did not in
fact know the answer to her question; he had just glanced at the page and read
the caption under the picture.
Which had been in Italian.
And he had read it.
Getting up of his bed in a rush he had grabbed another of the books off the shelf
and opened it on a random page. It was in Italian, of that there was no doubt,
and yet he had no trouble in understanding it. Once he'd explained it to Illya they
had begun to experiment, she'd written a few words in German and once more
he had no trouble in reading them. She'd then used what little she knew of
French and Spanish to experiment further and found that it didn't seem to matter
what the language was the red head could now intuitively understand it.
They had no idea where this strange new talent had come from, but had seen no
point in not putting it to use. Illya had borrowed that day's paper from their hosts
and brought it to Shirou so they could learn what was being said about what had
happened the day before. As was to be expected it was all blamed on some
terrorist group or other, in fact several different such groups were already trying
to claim credit for it. However that was not what had caught Shirou's eye, what
had done that was the year at the top of the front page.
2012.
But as far as he knew the year was 2004.
They'd checked other papers and found them to be the same; Shirou had then
gone onto the internet, after more hypnosis had been used on their hosts, to
further verify it. In the meantime Illya had been trying to work out if there was
away to get in contact with the Clock Tower that wouldn't lead to them ending up
as research subjects since it looked as though they had experience the Fifth
Magic, time manipulation.
It had been when Shirou went to his schools website in an attempt to learn what
had happened to Sakura that the full scale of what had happened was brought to

light. The website hadn't been there so he had tried to look up his school. No luck
there either. He'd tried to find other places on the net that might have had
records of Sakura or Rin, but either found the sites not to exist or to have no
record of them. In frustration he had simple tried to find out if Fuyuki city had
been damaged by the Grails disappearance. The answer to his search had
caused his mouth to drop open in horror.
Fuyuki city did not exist.
In fact it seemed that it had never existed in the first place. As he started looking
Shirou had found other differences; cities he'd never heard of, politicians with
important roles who had never appeared, new celebrities, the list went on and
on.
It seemed that it had not been the Fifth True Magic to which they had been
subjected. It had been the Second.
So much had happened since then, but now here he was. Back in Japan, but not
a Japan that he had ever been in. And for the life in him he wasn't sure what he
should do next. Oh he had some general goals, protect Illya, find a way home, try
to get a better handle on the changes and powers he now possessed. But those
were so far off, he simply had no idea how they could be linked into the now.
And so here he was, sitting on a grassy bank outside Tokyo watching the sun set
over the city while a sleepy Illya leaned into his side. He supposed he should be
thankful that it was late spring and the nights would be warm, as such they could
stay here a little bit longer before having to worry about finding a hotel. Money
was no problem anymore, not since acquiring Rule of the Underworld, all he
needed to do was find a halfway honest pawn shop and he'd soon have enough
money to keep himself and Illya comfortable for a good long time.
And he felt lost.
For so long he had known what he wanted to be, an ally of justice, someone who
saved everyone. Then he had faced a choice between the 'everyone' he didn't
know and the 'one' that he care for.
And he'd chosen the one.
He wasn't sure if that counted as betraying his ideals, or if he had cast them
away or even simply modified them. He just knew that he did not regret his
choice, even after all this. Sakura was safe and Rin and Rider would take care of
her until he found a way back to her.
And he would, he would accept no other outcome.
But for now he was content to sit where he was, his sister dozing against him,
and watch the sun set.
Let the future bring what it wanted, for better or worse he was the Eighth
Campione and the technical victor of the fifth Holy Grail War, he would match
whatever it threw at him and persevere.
Really, how hard could it be?

Chapter Two
"Neh, Shirou? What are we doing here?"
When Illya had heard that they were going to Tokyo she had been very excited.
Growing up her entire life had been confined to the Einzbern manor in which she
had lived. The furthest she had ever gone from there had been to walk through
the woods, though never beyond the outskirts of the bonded field that had
shielded the great house. But since she had known that she would take part in
the Holy Grail War she had been raised to be knowledgeable of Japan. After all it
would hardly do for the representative of one of the Grail Wars founding families
to miss the war due to getting lost because she couldn't read the signs that were
in the native language.
But during her studies she had seen so many things about Japan that had struck
her as strange and exciting. She wanted to climb Tokyo tower, visit Osaka castle,
play in the famous arcades, shop in the infamous otaku stores. These were just
some of what she wanted to do when she came to Japan, but hadn't been able to
due to the responsibilities heaped on her by her family. Still during the
development of her friendship with Shirou she had been able to do one thing
she'd always wanted, visit someone else's home.
Now though she didn't have those burdens upon herself, she was free of her
families expectation, and right now Shirou could arguably be called the richest
man in the world if he so chose. They could be eating in a restaurant where each
dish cost more than an average mans weekly salary. They could be at a fun fair
riding a rollercoaster like she'd always dreamed of, then eating cotton candy and
riding the merry go round. They could be at a cinema, stuffing popcorn into their
mouths while watching an exciting film. Illya's face reddened as she realized that
all the situations she had just thought of could be considered dates by those who
saw them.
The point was that with the resources available to him Shirou could have taken
them anywhere he wanted, so why were they here?
In a cemetery.
"Well, you see Illya," answered Shirou without looking up from the piece of paper
he held, except to glance at the names on the headstone they were passing, "the
thing is that we've got gold and jewels, but that's it. So far we've been able to
get away with just selling a few bits here and there in places that don't ask
questions and are probably used to buying from thieves. That's okay once of
twice, but sooner or later someone's going to start asking questions. And when
they do they'll find that we've got no ID, no records, no documentation of any
kind. And if we get noticed by someone official then even you using hypnosis
might not be enough.

"So when we stopped at the library earlier I looked through their records to find
the grave of someone who might be just what we need. If we can get this guy to
agree to be my servant then most of our problems will soon disappear and we
can start to focus on the important stuff."
Illya nodded her understanding as she trailed behind her adopted brother. It
seemed that he was going to use Rule of the Underworld to try and recruit
someone. She really should have thought of it already, why else would they
come to a grave yard? But she still wasn't used to thinking of the strange new
powers that Shirou had gained since coming to this new world.
The others he had were incredible in there own ways, curses that no magus
could have equalled, physical powers equal to strong Servants, the summoning
and controlling of a true phantasmal being, such fetes were well outside the
reach of even the most advance magus. But it was the ability he had gained by
defeating the god Hades that was of special interest to her. The ability to simply
materialize true wealth, not illusory or fake but the real thing, out of nowhere
and in seemingly endless amounts was something that most magus families
would have been willing to sell their heir for. Total liberation from financial
concerns as well as being able to purchase the best resources for their research,
who could refuse that? But it was the other aspect to it that fascinated her.
The Einzbern family had been desperately trying to recover the lost Third True
Magic, Heaven's Feel, for almost a millennium. There every effort had failed and
eventually they had invested all their hopes into the creation of the Holy Grail
system. However while it should have theoretically worked the change of the
system into a war had resulted in them failing to attain the Grail in every single
war. Then with their own errors leading to the Grails corruption by Angra Mainyu
the resurrection of the True Magic had been placed it even further out of their
reach, even though they continued to try. Both her mother and herself had been
sacrifices in that mindless pointless search.
And now Shirou had come into possession of an ability that very closely
resembled the lost Heaven's Feel. Rule of the Underworld might not allow for the
soul transfers that the Third Magic did, nor did it allow for implanting a
materialized soul in a new vessel. What it did allow though was for something as
close to true resurrection as made no odds, Illya had seen the results and one
brought back in such a way as Shirou's best efforts allowed was even closer to
fully incarnated than a Servant.
As she skipped along behind the young Campione she amused herself with
thoughts of just how her grandfather would react if he ever learnt how close the
adopted son of the hated Kiritsugu was so close to that which he so sorely
wanted. If he ever found out she guessed it was an even gamble as to whether
he'd die of a heart attack from shock or be killed by cardiac arrest caused by
extreme rage. Either way she would like to see it. That'd teach the old goat to try
to get her to kill her onii-chan.
But she wondered what kind of person would be able to make most of their
problems disappear. When she'd had problems the best person she had ever had
to deal with them had been Berserker. Just point him at any big problems she
had and they soon became a great many small problems in short order. VERY
small problems now that she thought about it. Still she doubted that there would

be someone of Berserkers class available for recruitment in one of these graves.

So maybe Shirou wasn't looking for a Berserker, but more for an Assassin?
Maybe some Yakuza killer who could take out targets in the dead of the night,
just like in those old books she'd found in her fathers old things.
That made sense in a way, with all his new powers Shirou might have been able
to beat Berserker even when he was at his best. But even if he was so strong
then he couldn't just use that strength to destroy all who bothered him. So an
assassin was called for, someone to take care of things quietly and without fuss.
As she thought of this an image rose up in her mind. Shirou dressed in fine black
and white Italian clothes reclining in an ornate business chair while another man
in black knelt before him. Oddly enough the image of her adopted brother as a
young mafia boss had a certain appeal. If things did go that way Illya wondered if
she could pull of the look of a black dress and sunglasses. Oh and she'd have a
ring so that subordinates of her onii-chan could kiss it when they paid their
respects to her. Hmmm, would she get a Tommy gun . . .?
"Ah! Here he is."
Shirou's exclamation of triumph brought her out of her fantasy and back to the
present. The red headed teen was standing in front of a medium sized headstone
that had been carved into a pattern of surprisingly detailed flowers. On it was a
simple epitaph.
Yamada Yusuke
A fine mentor
A good friend
A loved husband
A missed father
1951 2008
"That doesn't sound like a Yakuza assassin." Complained Illya, feeling a tad
disappointed at having her expectations let down.
"Huh? Yakuza assassin? What do you mean Illya?" asked a perplexed Shirou.
"Well I thought: 'What would be the best way to get rid of all those problems?'.
So I thought about Berserker, he always got rid of any problem I had. But then I
thought: 'But there can't be any Berserkers here so what's Shirou looking for?'.
Then I guessed that if you couldn't get a Berserker then you must be looking for
an Assassin, and the only ones you could find here would be Yakuza or Triad or
something like that." Illya beamed at him proudly as she explained her flawless
logic.
"By the way onii-chan, when we set up our familia can I call my bodyguard
Berserker and dye his skin dark, if it isn't already?"
Shirou simply stood there and blinked at her. Then he blinked again. Then he
gave himself a shake and grinned at her.
"Close. Close but not quite right. We do need a crook, you got that dead on, but
we don't need a fighter or a killer. What we need is an accountant."

"EEEEEH!" Illya exclamation of confusion caused the smile of her companions

face to spread even wider.
"What we need is someone who knows how to play the system, someone who
knows who to contact to set us up with all the false documents and history that
we'll need to walk into a bank and set up an account without having to worry
about anyone noticing something's wrong. Someone who'll know how to get the
best price for the treasures he can sell for us and who can manage that money
into more resources for us in a legitimate way.
"And Yamada-san here is just who we need. Apparently he managed to keep his
best friends company running for six years after it technically went bankrupt.
And he even managed to make a profit out of it. It took all kinds of shady
backroom deals to pull it off, not to mention some creative bookkeeping that
sounds like it was on a par with True Magic. All in all he sounds like just the
person we need."
He waved at the grave as he spoke.
"Now, let's give Yamada-san here a call to see if he's up for a new job."
The young Einzbern nodded as she watched Shirou turn back to the burial plot.
That made sense she guessed, Shirou wouldn't be sending off some shadowy
servant to slay all who opposed him. That just wasn't his style, even after
choosing Sakura above everyone he still held onto some of his old dream of
being a superhero.
Well now he had the superpowers, maybe she should see about buying him a
cape as a joke.
She quickly put such thoughts aside as Shirou began to chant the spell words
that were part of his new power. He didn't need to use them, but Shirou said that
using them seemed to make it a bit easier.
"Past the jaws of Cerberus, down the twisting path to the kingdoms three, before
me lies the domain over which I am monarch. Beneath the earth, beneath the
darkness, all within is my possession."
As he spoke Shirou extended his left hand palm outwards towards the grave, as
though reaching out to grab something only he could see. Illya strained her own
prana senses as far as she could, trying to spot any part of the workings behind
the strange and wondrous power.
As she watched faint sparks of power started to gather before the headstone.
Slowly but surely the tiny lights met and merged, flowing together until they
became the image of a thin man in his early sixties with a neat simply trimmed
beard that came to a sharp point under his chin.
"Oh ho, I wondered who it was that had called me up, but I didn't expect it to be
a mortal. You shouldn't be able to call me like this, so how are you doing it?" he
asked in an amused tone.
"I got told that it's because I managed to kill a god, since I managed that I
received some of their power, in this case what I'm doing now."

"Ah, well that's something you don't see every day. Well then why have you
called me back? I'll admit it's a nice to have a change of scenery, but I don't
think that that's why I'm here."
Illya could see Shirou carefully putting his words together in his head. She knew
that it wasn't really his strong suit; he was a direct kind of guy, not really suited
to speechifying or rhetoric. Still he was giving it his best.
"I find myself in need of someone like you, someone who knows who you know,
who can do what you can do, who can think like you think. I can return you to a
close semblance of life, one that-"
"Okay kid, you've got a deal." Yamada-san cut of the rest of Shirou's recruitment
pitch with an enthusiastic nod of his head.
"Eh? Don't you want to know what I need from you? What I'm willing to give you
in return?" The eighth Campione asked in confusion.
"Kid I can feel this power you're using. You don't have to ask me for anything,
you could order me to stand on my head and sing off colour songs about my own
mother and I'd have to do it. But you are asking, not ordering, and I know enough
about people with power to know that that says something about you. Something
good too. Besides I might have played a bit fast and free with the money when I
was sucking air, but I never did it to hurt anyone and it was never for myself.
That seemed to even out to me going to the Asphodel Meadows, not too bad a
place but it gets a bit dull pretty quick. So if you're offering me an alternative
then my answers yes."
"Ano," Illya could no longer contain her curiosity and spoke up. "If you're
Japanese then why are you in the Greek afterlife?"
"I have absolutely NO idea. One thing I can tell you though is that this . . ." and
here he gestured down at himself with his transparent arms, "Is not all of me. No,
hold on, that's not quite right. This me is full and complete, but it's not the only
me, you know? I don't get quite how it works but there's a me that got judged in
the Greek afterlife, but there are other mes out there, and yet at the same time
there's only one me. I know that doesn't make a lick of sense but that's the best
way I can put it."
Even as he finished speaking Illya's mind was already clicking away trying to
analyse what she had heard. Did it mean that the afterlife was divided into
multiple realms rather than the wheel of reincarnation and rebirth that she was
more familiar with? But by the way he described it is soul seemed to exist in
multiple afterlives at once, did that indicate a divided soul? Or perhaps multiple
afterlives were all holding the same spiritual location so as to allow a soul to
experience them all simultaneously. But if that was the case then what did it
mean when Shirou brought one of them back like this, did he then disappear
from all the afterlives or just one? AHHHH she just didn't know enough, this world
seemed to be constantly out to give her a hard time.
"Alright then, here I go."
Shirou's outstretched hand visibly tensed and the glow that came from Yamada
Yusuke's transparent form grew in intensity. Brighter and brighter it became until

the young Einzbern had to bring up her hands to shield her eyes from it. Then, as
though a switch had been flipped, the light went out.
There standing in front of them, on top of his own grave, was the distinctly more
solid and fleshy form of Yamada-san. He was dressed in a nice but simple
business suit and seemed to be fascinated by the act of touching his new body
as though to check that it was in fact real. As she watched he looked down at his
gravestone and then started to sway from side to side while waving his arms in
opposite time to his hips.
"Err, what are you doing?" asked Shirou, sounding every bit as confused as Illya
felt as she tried to work out the man's odd behaviour.
"I'm dancing on my grave. Hah, I wonder how many other people can ever have
been able to honestly say they've done that?"
Illya goggled at the mans antics, and then brought her hands to her mouth as
she tried to contain a giggle. It looked like her onii-chan had managed to choose
a very . . . singular individual to recruit.
Shirou had a grin of his own showing, but waved for the man to come of the
burial sight. Yamada-san ceased his gyrations and stepped off the small mound
of earth and grass that marked the place his earthly remains had been laid to
rest. Then to the surprise of both the other worldly magus' he went down to one
knee before the red haired Campione.
"I thought you were some mage or something when you offered to do this to me.
But I saw it in your power when you used it. You're a king, a ruler supreme. This
Yamada Yusuke acknowledges your sovereignty and pledges his service to you as
thanks for my delivery." The words were not mocking and were delivered with
quiet seriousness and solemn dignity.
Needless to say Shirou started panicking. Almost wildly flapping his arms he
waved for the newly incarnated man to stand up.
"Look I'm no king, I'm no ruler, I'm just someone in over their head that could use
your skills. If doing this is the price needed to get them then that's all, I don't
need your pledge or anything."
The older man smiled as he got to his feet, but shook his head in a respectful
denial.
"You don't know it yet, but I think you will in time. It's written right there into your
power, authority, rule, dominion, I could feel them all in there as easily as I can
see the sun on a clear summers day. Trust me on this lad, you're a king, you just
don't have a throne or crown yet."
Illya watched Shirou with interest. Something like this had happened when they
questioned the magus who had been watching the fight the red head had gotten
into with the god calling himself Hades. He'd also called Shirou a King, a supreme
ruler. The more that she heard about it the more she felt there was more to this
being a Campione than either of them was aware of.
Shirou seemed to decide to just ignore the exchange that had just taken place
and stepped around his new servant as he traced a small chisel.

"What's that for?" the resurrected man asked in curiosity as he watched his
newly of stone of one of the carved flowers of his head stone, then seal the small
fragment into a plastic pod the size of his thumb. Once done he pulled out a pen
and wrote Yamada-san name on the pod in clear letter.
"Shirou is using his own strength to maintain the body that you're in right now,"
explained Illya as Shirou put the pod back into the small rucksack he'd taken to
carrying around. "Most of the time it's no trouble for him to support you as well
as a few more, but if he gets into a fight with someone strong enough for him to
need his full strength then he'll have to cut the feed. If that goes on too long then
you'll fade back into the afterlife and he'll have to call you again after he wins.
"When he calls someone he needs something connected to them so that he can
make the link. Today we used the bones in your grave to do that, but if he has to
do it again then it might be difficult to come back here. So onii-chan is taking a
piece of your gravestone with him. If we should need to call you back then that
should prove to be enough of a link no matter where we are."
"Oh." Was all the answer Yamada-san could give in reply to the comprehensive
answer.
"Okay then Yamada-san," Said Shirou as he shouldered his bag once more,
"We've got a good hotel room with internet access and a fast courier system
available. We've also got just over 250,000 yen in cash. How long do you need to
get started?"
"About five minutes longer that it'll take me to get a good computer up and
running."
The Campione, the homunculus and the resurrected soul walked out of the
graveyard as they happily made plans.

It was early morning in Naples, that time of the day just after the sun has come
out, but when everybody else is still doing their level best to stay in bed. A few
cars were out as the earliest risers got to work. For the most part thing were
quiet.
In Naples there was a square, it wasn't a famous one like Time square or
Trafalgar square, it was just a place where a number of large roads met and
someone had decided that a small open area with a fountain. It was a quite
place, lined with small cafes and restaurants were people came to relax during
their lunch breaks or after work.
Only a week ago this square had been the sight of a battle between a famed
Heretic God and the youngest to the devil kings.
The square had been sealed of with police tape and had remained so as the
investigation was bogged down by the Mage Association working to cover up the
details of what had happened. All things considered and given the scale of the
powers that had clashed there the damage the square had sustained was
surprisingly light. A few craters here and there as though some sticks of
dynamite had gone off, a few store fronts smashed by shock waves, a stone
fountain cut in two by a sword sharp beyond mortal means, and one big hole

blasted into a hotel overlooking the square. Hardly the apocalyptical wastelands
that some such battles had left in their wakes in ages past.
However despite the odd hour and the police signs declaring the area sealed off
three figures were meeting by the devastated fountain. All three were young girls
who couldn't be more than thirteen or fourteen, yet all carried themselves with a
grace and composure that would have laid most royalty to shame.
The first was a slight pale skinned girl with grey-white hair and purple eyes,
dressed in a school uniform with a knit cap on her head. She was the goddess
Athena who had recently returned to Italy after her defeat at the hands of the
Campione Kusanagi Godou. Since her return she had had the good fortune of
stumbling across a large grimoire called the Heraneion during her investigations
of what had happened here. She'd broken it open and immediately absorbed the
dragon that it had released into herself. As a result the land had lost none of its
vitality and she had managed to regain a small portion of her lost power.
However it had been while doing this that she had met her current company.
They, like her, had come to investigate both the birth of the new Campione as
well as the strange burst of baffling power that had briefly appeared at about the
same time. That power had been felt by every Heretic god on the planet,
something completely new to even the eldest of them. Most had dismissed it out
of hand, choosing to not be bothered by it. Others though had set out to learn
more, and that was what had led to this meeting.
Unlike her Athena's companions were not Heretic Gods but rather were Divine
Ancestors, great earth goddesses who had been defeated by heroes and lost
most of their Divine Power. Though still mightier than mortals could ever hope to
be they were so much less than they once were.
For the most part the Heretic Goddess found such beings to be both pitiable and
contemptible, or at least she used to. To be vanquished to the point where ones
memories were lost and you became the loving bride of your own defeater, the
mere thought of it had once made her feel disgust.
Now though she had herself been defeated by Kusanagi Godou and she found
that one tiny piece of her wondered what it would have been like if he had
elected not to let her go or to kill her, but instead to administer that final defeat,
seal her recollections and take her as a loving and willing bride. To both her
horror and amazement she found that that tiny part of her didn't find the idea to
be too unpleasant.
Banishing the idea from her mind and fighting down a slight blush Athena looked
at the two with her once more. Even before her defeat she would have respected
these two despite their status. Both had regained their lost memories and were
already working towards reclaiming their lost powers. Such will and
determination was worth admiration and respect, but she had to be careful not to
forget just how dangerous the two could be. Neither of them was above using a
fellow goddess as a sacrifice if it meant reacquiring what was lost.
The one on the right spoke first, running a hand through her long strangely
coloured red and blue striped hair, the locks of clashing colour making strange
waves.

"I still can't believe that HE fell to a child of Pandora not even five days old. And
in such an unimpressive battle too. So many years of planning, and then this. It is
like a plot development in some mediocre play."
Her companion shook her head causing her own cascade of golden hair to
shimmer like a waterfall of riches.
"Is that why you tricked Hades into attacking him? That was unwise, the king of
the underworld was powerful, but never a fighter. All you've done is lose a
valuable pawn and further strengthened the subject of your ire."
"Don't sound so wise with me!" the first snapped back her sea blue eyes
narrowing in anger as they met steel grey, "Not when you did the exact same
thing when one of Epimetheus' illegitimate children slew your target. Who was it
that you sent to his death? I can't quite remember."
The second broke her gaze with the first and instead turned her eyes upon
Athena.
"I know you recently fought the Seventh Campione, honoured Mother, what can
you tell us of his strength."
Athena approved of the respectful address, even a fallen goddess like herself
stood above these poor crippled divinities, it was only right that they
acknowledge her status.
"Strong. Very strong and tenacious. He won't die even if you kill him."
"Aaargh! The sixth would have been problematic enough from what I had heard,
but now we've got to deal with the eighth as well. And to top it all off he's made
his way to the same city as the Seventh from what my worshippers have told me.
So now we have THREE Campione to deal with. THREE! There are days like this
that I know that the fates are mocking us."
Athena listened to the Divine Ancestors angered rant with interest. She knew
that these two had been working together to regain their full power for some
time now. However both had held the method that they would use as a tight
secret from even other deities. From the sounds of it the Campione born in
recent years had accidentally thrown those plans off by slaying these witches'
targets. How interesting.
"I . . . might have some options available to us." Commented the blond
hesitantly; as she held out her had which in turn held a softly glowing crystal
sphere. "HE will be ready to emerge from his myth soon, and when he does he'll
be eager to face the one who defeated him. If we aid him to emerge sooner then
perhaps he'll aid us against our own foes. After all they'd serve as excellent
practice for him before he goes after his real target."
Athena could recognise the power that emanated from the sphere in golden rays.
Yes, he would be eager for his rematch and would be more than happy to grant
them a boon if they helped speed that up by as much as even one day.
"Why didn't you mention this before?" demanded the first girl as she gazed at
the shining sphere with a calculating look in her eyes.

"We don't have enough power between us to make it work, however if honoured
Athena would be willing to lend us her power . . . "
Both of them turned to regard her.
"Well Athena? Would you be willing to join us in this? I'm willing to swear any
oath you desire of me that once our own power is restored to its fullness then we
will aid you in regaining yours."
That sounded interesting. There were vows that could be made that would bind
even a goddess at full strength. With two fully restored Heretic Gods fully
committed to her own restoration then she guessed it would not even take her a
year to gather the power needed to complete her even without the use of the
Gorgoneion.
And there was also the fact that if she aided them she might be able to meet
Kusanagi Godou again very soon.
Turning away from them slightly, in order to hide her blush, she looked at the
slashed fountain as though considering their words. She'd already made up her
mind but she took that chance to school her features back into their customary
blankness.
"Agreed. You will both swear upon your own names?"
A powerful oath, that one, to violate it would probably leave them even weaker
than they were now even if they first regained their full strength.
"Agreed!" declared the bicolour haired girl immediately.
"Agreed." Followed the steel eyed girl after a slight hesitation.
It was still early in Naples, but something of great import had already taken
place.

The attack had come without any sort of warning. One moment Shirou had just
been reclining against the wall idly flicking through a book on the sights to see in
Naples. The next the wall had exploded behind him throwing him forwards, but
before he could fly very far an arm clad in pure white clothe emerged from the
smoke, seized the back of his shirt and pulled him back through the newly made
hole.
He'd been sent tumbling towards the centre of the square, but had instinctively
reinforced his body to absorb the impacts with a skill he hadn't known that he ad
possessed. All about him he could hear people crying out in alarm at the sudden
eruption of sound and force, running towards it running away from it. And above
it all he could hear one voice that rose in triumphant exultation.
"I have found you! I have found you my old foe and now we may battle."
He had scrambled to his feet and cast about for the source of that voice. It had
only been after glancing right and left several times before he thought to look
up. There standing upon nothing but glowing blue light was a tall blond man
dressed in white clothes and a long cape and holding a long slightly curved
sword.

As soon as he laid eyes on it Shirou could feel his Reality Marble immediately
start to analyse and recreate it. It was a nameless sword, a blade brought into
existence not by forges or smiths, but by the sheer steel divinity of. . .
". . . Perseus?"
"So you recognize me. Splendid! Now demon lord let us match our blades as is
our karmic destiny!"
That was all the warning Shirou had to move before the god in white attacked.
The young magus barely had time to scramble sideways before the swordsman
slashed through where he had been just a second before. The dodge had been
almost entirely luck rather than skill, but having missed his target Perseus had
slashed onwards and instead sliced the stone fountain in the middle of the
square in two.
No time for thoughts, a longsword was traced into each hand in the blink of an
eye. These were not powerful weapons such as Caliburn or Excalibur, they were
simply nameless blades drawn from the knowledge he had assimilated from
Archer. E rank Noble Phantasms that could easily be drawn and cost little energy,
that's all they were.
Still even if they were low rank they were still legendary weapons possessing
power the likes of which conventional arms could not hope to equal. As such it
was quite the shock when the blond gods sword severed through one as though
it had been made of cheap tin, then brought the sword back to shatter the other
with enough force that it sent Shirou tumbling again.
Getting back on his feet as swiftly as he could he faced his foe; fortunately
Perseus seemed in no hurry to pursue him. He stood at the centre of the square
and struck a heroic pose as he levelled his sword at the red haired teen.
"So you old demon, it seems that you have picked up a few new tricks. Still they
shall serve you no better than your old ones for it is always the fate of the
villains to fall before the valorous hero!"
"Huh? What are you talking about? Look, I don't know why you attacked me but
I've got no reason to fight you." Answered a bewildered Shirou.
"Your lies shall not swerve me from by course old demon. We shall fight until
your Defeat!"
Again the white clad deity charged forward, hi sword swinging is wide but
powerful arches. Shirou was more prepared this time though, again his hands
were filled with swords, but this time the weapons he used were Kanshou and
Bakuya. Archers favoured weapons were only C- rank, but they were strong
blades and held against the divine weapon brought against them. Shirou lashed
out in an immediate repost, but his foe easily dodged back without losing the
confident smile on his face.
"I'm no demon damn it!" the Campione shouted at the hero god. "I don't want to
fight you. Look, I'll even lay down my swords."
The two Chinese twin swords dissolved into motes of light as Shirou stood with
his hands open and free of arms. True the gesture was more symbolic than

practical give that he could trace new weapons in an instant. But he was doing
all he could to avoid a meaningless fight.
"Shirou?"
Illya's voice caught his attention and dragged it away from his enemy. It seemed
that she had rushed down the stairs as fast as she could to see what was
happening. On seeing her adopted brother engaged in combat she immediately
lashed out with her our mage craft to aid him.
"Leave Shirou alone!" She shouted as a bird of fine glowing blue wires threw
itself at the white clad swordsman. It was a spell similar to the one used by her
mother in her short conflict with Kirei. This version was deadlier using razor wire
instead. Illya had not had any real opportunity to use it in the Grail War since
when she had had Berserker he had been far more effective as a weapon. After
Berserker had fallen she had never encountered an enemy against whom it
could be successfully employed.
Unfortunately that remained the case as a mere flick of his sword allowed
Perseus to destroy the shining construct and completely negate its thaumaturgy.
"Those are eastern blades that you carry my old foe. Is that where you have
been hiding? Where you have learnt your new tricks? It's not where this fine
young maiden has come from though; she looks more of a northerner to me."
Once more he struck a pose, this time with his sword brandished above his head,
and levelled a smile that seemed to be entirely too familiar at the young
Einzbern.
"Very well! I shall defeat the demon lord and rescue the imperilled maiden! After
all that is the role of the hero. It has been quite some time since I took a bride,
perhaps now's a good time . . ."
That last sentence had been spoken more to himself than it had been to anyone
else, but with his body as reinforced as he could safely manage Shirou's hearing
was sharp enough to catch it.
Ice ran through his veins at the thought. Illya being taken, and him helpless to
stop it, Illya being the helpless sacrifice and him unable to do a thing.
Now he had a reason to fight.
Deep within him something stirred, responding to the resolve to fight this god.
"Touch her and I'll kill you." The words ground themselves from his lips, like
blades scraping against each other.
"Oho? So you have found your spirit my foe, well then let us drink the wine of
war together!"
"Illya, get back inside. I swear he won't lay a finger on you. Not one."
As the white haired girl nodded and retreated to safety both the combatants
charged at teach other.
Traced versions of Kanshou and Bakuya met the divine blade of their foe. The
fake Phantasms would hold for one or two blows but would then shatter under

the pressure. That was no problem; as soon as a blade broke Shirou would
abandon the hilt and immediately trace a new one. The ring of blades and the
clash of steel rang throughout the now deserted square in a rapid staccato beat
of violence. The young magus had never managed to fight this well before,
tracing was placing no burden on his, his magic circuits weren't even getting
warm and his body was accepting the reinforcement with ease. But it wasn't
enough, Perseus' smile never changed and his sword never seemed to miss, to
be too slow, to be too weak. Shirou was throwing everything he had into this
assault and it just wasn't enough.
Again the hero god struck at him and the teen barely managed get both the
blades crossed over his chest in time to block the blow. Both swords
disintegrated back into prana fragments and Shirou was once again sent flying
back opening distance between them.
"Splendid, truly magnificent my old enemy!" The white clad god's compliments
rang across the square. "I do not know what happened to you in the east, but
this is a fine improvement. Gone are your endless curse and instead you now
wield such fine steel. How truly glorious!"
As he spoke his sword disappeared and was replaced by a large golden bow.
Shirou didn't even bother thinking about his action, he simply moved. His wild
dive to the side took him just far enough to escape the explosion that erupted
from where the gods burning blue arrow struck, but its force still sent him rolling.
As he struggled back to his feet he idly noted that he seemed to be spending a
lot of his time today tumbling all over the place.
Still, no time to think about that now. Frantically he dodged again evading
another arrow and just keeping ahead of its blast. The next one though was
coming too fast desperately Shirou flung out a hand and traced the sturdiest
shield he could manage. It didn't come quite as naturally as a sword but an
exceptionally thick roman scutum shield materialized in time to protect him.
As he knelt in the smoke his lips curled into a frustrated grimace. If things kept
going like this then he knew that his only chance to win would be to start tracing
the strongest Noble Phantasms he could. The problem was that nothing weaker
than an A class would be enough to bring this guy down. He had seen the
strength of his divinity when he analysed his sword the likes of Nine Lives Blade
Works or Gae Bolg just didn't have the power needed to drive him back. The
problem was that using the likes of Excalibur here would end up levelling a good
portion of the city if he made the slightest mistake. He needed something else,
something more.
Within him something answered his need.
The words came unbidden to his lips as he charged at his foe once more.
"A mother who sees her child die, a soldier who gazes on his killer, the beggar in
the gutter who stares at the palace. From them I take their bile, their hate, their
curses."
One of his swords swung at his foes blade; damn that blade if it were just a bit
weaker then he could break it.
Weakness

Something moved within him, something that made him think of a maddened
diseased dog, one foaming at the mouth and straining at its leash as it tried to
lash out at the world. The feeling ran from his chest, through his arm and into
Bakuya just as it struck his foes blade.
Both weapons exploded in a shockwave strong enough to break the glass in all
the windows around the square. But both combatants were more than human
and so were undaunted by the eruption. What did take Perseus back was the
sudden destruction of his weapon.
Shirou didn't hesitate but moved solely on instinct. His other hand dropped its
copy of Kanshou and traced a nameless sword, not even a Noble Phantasm, in its
place. The power went into it as it flowed from his centre. He had to slow his foe
down enough to beat him.
Fatigue.
As the power touched it the blade changed. Its sleek lines became jagged and
serrated, no longer a sword for fighting but rather it was now a sword designed
to inflict pain. Before the white clad god could react the sword was thrust into his
side. The next instant Shirou had abandoned the blade and jumped back.
Within him the power changed now that it no longer had a target, where before
it had been a rabid dog now it felt like an abused but still affectionate puppy, one
gaunt with hunger and marked with scars, yet still eager to be patted and told it
was a good boy.
Shaking his head the Campione focused back on his foe. To a human such a
wound would be debilitating, maybe even fatal, but to a god it was nothing more
than an uncommonly painful splinter. The god opened his mouth to speak, but
Shirou gave him no chance. Two more nameless blades appeared in his hands
and the power surged within him. He was vaguely aware of his weapons
changing as he altered his stance to accommodate them, but it was
unimportant. All his focus was on the foe before him.
He was slower now, it was only a fraction but it was enough. One of his blades
slipped past his defence as scored a scratch on his left arm.
Misfortune.
It was just a thin cut barely enough to draw blood, but the surprise of it caused
him to stumble back. As he did so a small piece of rubble moved under his foot
making him stumble. Again it was a small thing, but just enough to let Shirou
score another shallow wound, this time on his right leg.
Confusion.
His defences were showing more holes now, as though he didn't understand
what was happening and was getting rattled by it. More small wounds were
scored.
Ruin.
Failure.
Incompetence.

And now they seemed to be falling apart. The blond god was still so fast, so
strong, but Shirou's attacks were getting through now and the wounds were
becoming deeper and more serious.
Mistakes.
Fear.
Panic.
Doubt.
He just had to do a bit more, just one more attack, just one more . . .
Defeat.
It came to the young magus as a complete surprise when his last thrust seemed
to go right through his foes and effectively nail him right through just below his
heart. This was a killing blow, why had he used it? He hadn't wanted to kill this
deity; he only wanted to drive him off.
As both he and the god fell to their knees Shirou tried to verbalize his confusion
and guilt.
"I'm sorry, I . . . I don't, I didn't, I'm . . . I'm so sorry."
"Ah I see," the voice from the god lacked it previous pride and confidence but
was strangely calm, almost gentle. "Those are not the eyes and words of my old
foe, I was so eager to battle him that I didn't realize. You've already slain him,
and by the grace of Pandora his power is now yours.
"Oh what magnificent foolishness, that I would ride here all set to play the role of
the hero only to bumble my way into the part of the villain. Well you have indeed
killed me now, but do not let your grief overburden you. Gods do not die as
mortals do, in time I shall return and we'll battle once more, this time with both
of us in our correct roles."
The hero god was cracking now, as though he were a statue crimson cracks were
running from where the sword impaled him and were slowly spreading. His hand
came up and grasped Shirou's shoulder.
"I hold no grudge, your victory was without any grace or elegance and yet it was
as grand as a lions roar. Take my Authority young Campione, take it and become
strong, stronger than any. Then when we meet once more our battle shall be the
like from which legends are born."
With a sound like rushing sand the slayer of Medusa collapsed into a mass of
sparkling motes that faded into the air.
There was a sudden odd sensation, like something burrowing into him, becoming
part of him, but not causing any pain or damage. It was such a surprise that
Shirou released the power he had unconsciously been holding.
Pain swallowed his world. Pain pain painpainpainpainPAAAAIIIN! So much pain
and yet he couldn't even cry out. His body felt as though it had turned to rubber,
nothing worked and he couldn't move. Hell, it was all he could do to breath.

As he collapsed to the ground he could distantly hear the sound of Illya's voice
calling to him. Looked like she'd be lumbered with having to haul him about
again.
Wasn't it the guy who was supposed to carry of the fainting damsel damn it!
Shirou sat up in his bed and inhaled deeply. It was that damned dream again,
him killing Perseus even though he didn't mean to. He knew now that when gods
were slain like that then they simply returned to their myths, but for some reason
that just didn't seem to get rid of his guilt.
Hearing a soft murmur of protest from his side he glanced down. Yep, there was
Illya dressed in her Super Samurai pyjamas that she'd brow beaten him into
buying her. It didn't matter that she had her own room n this hotel suite that he
was hiring; she kept on sleep walking to his bed where she treated him as her
own favourite teddy bear. The first two times he'd tried to send her back to her
own room, but eventually he'd just given up. Illya would do what Illya wanted to
do, and woes betide anyone who tried to get in her way.
Deciding he just didn't have the energy to worry about it right now the eighth
Campione lay back on his bed and relaxed as the white haired girl snuggled into
his side. He wondered if this was what it was like to have a little sister, it was
nice.
As his eyes drifted shut he wondered what tomorrow would bring. Tomorrow was
when his plans with Yamada-san would kick into high gear. Serious money was
going to start moving around and the false identities they'd had set up would be
tested by scrutiny.
So much to do tomorrow, and still even more to do further down the line. Like
trying to contact the local mystic community. Like trying to get a handle of just
what it meant to be a Campione.
So much.
Well, at least things weren't going to be boring.

Chapter 3
It was a small room in which they met, one underground and beneath a temple in
a small and unimportant village in western Japan. However it was a special room,
one made by sages in ages long past using secrets and methods lost to the ages.
Within this small chamber they could be assured that their discussion would not
be overheard. Entire pantheons of gods could try to scry what they said and
would only hear meaningless static.
Within this room sat seven figures, four men and three women, all were dressed
in traditional Japanese style, Kimonos, yukata, traditional shrine vestments.
However all their garbs were made form the finest materials, and if one looked

closely you could see were mystic designs had been sewn into the clothing and
were then artfully hidden.
Those gathered here represented almost three quarters of the ruling council of
the History Compilation Committee, the secret organization that had overseen
and controlled all supernatural related matters in the nation since the Meiji
period.
Seishuuin, Kuhoutsuka, Renjou and Sayanomiya, every one of the four ancient
families had at least one representative present.
It was unusual for even one such meeting to be held in as long as a decade, that
this was the second such meeting in less than a year was utterly unprecedented.
But then it was also unprecedented for two such freshly minted god-slayer kings
to be in the same country, let alone the same city. Certainly Campione
sometimes took spent time in close proximity, and this could be dealt with via
duels or diplomacy. Sometimes one of the devil kings would challenge another
for right of some land of country, it had been known to happen in the past.
But never in history had two such young supreme rulers set themselves up in the
same city and then proceeded to simply ignore each other. From the point of
view of the Committee it was like a tiger and a dragon sitting in the same cave
and not noticing one another, an unnatural state of affairs that would lead to
disaster as soon as normality reasserted itself.
On the other hand though it also presented an opportunity the likes of which
they knew had not occurred in the history of their organization.
Two Campione, TWO, were within their sphere of influence. Already Kusanagi
Godou had shown himself to be a reasonable man. His temperament lent itself to
gentle steering, not manipulation of course. There had been those in the past
who had tried to control Campione, and in the places where that had taken place
there were still locations were plants refused to grow.
No, control was out of the question, but the incident with the Gorgoneion and the
Heretic Goddess Athena had proven that Kusanagi-sama was at least willing to
work with them. If they could arrange a similar relationship with this new godslayer . . .
"Very well Gendo, what can you tell us?"
The man who spoke was one of the men, he was the current head of the
Sayanomiya family, and was accompanied by his son in law. The man he was
addressing was the eighth person in the small chamber and the only one not a
member of the ruling council. He was, however, one of their best agents, and
had spent the last week covertly observing the eighth Campione using a variety
of mystical and technological means.
The agent in question was seated in the seiza style at the end of the room's low
table facing the council. In response to the question he pulled out a small laptop
and set it up on the table with the screen facing the council members.
"The first thing that I can safely report is that whatever his plans for the future
Emiya-sama does not appear to be pursuing any kind of aggressive course. Since
arriving in Japan a week ago he appears to have mostly concerned with building

up a largely mundane power base. He has used the Authority gained by his
defeat of Hades to acquire considerable wealth as well as a number of
resurrected servants. So far he has recruited such servants as will serve an
immediate and useful function.
"The first such recruited servant was one Yamada Yusuke, a famed accountant
with underworld contacts. I and others have been able to confirm that he has reestablished his connections under new aliases and has been building fake
backgrounds for Emiya-sama and his companion."
"How does an accountant become famous?" enquired on of the family heads.
"By keeping a bankrupt company running for several years past the point that it
should have collapsed simply through creative bookkeeping. That and by leaving
such a spectacular mess to come out with his death that it held the front page on
multiple newspapers for six days." Answered the agent.
"Why would a King require the services of such a man?" asked another member,
this time affiliated to the Kuhoutsuka family.
"Because as far as we can tell he is trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible
while not overly limiting himself. We have learnt that one of his Authorities grants
him access to enormous wealth, were he to display such riches with abandon
then even our resources would be strained to contain the public fallout. By
employing the talents of this kind of man he can quietly build a fortune in such a
way that only the most detailed investigation would turn up anything suspicious.
It is, in my own humble estimation, a brilliant move."
"So the eighth Campione is an intelligent man? What has your investigation been
able to bring to light about the man himself?" the current head of the
Sayanomiya spoke up again, asking the question that had drawn them all to this
meeting.
"Based on the report that the Witenagemot have published as well as my own
observations I have compiled a report that I shall now present." As he spoke
Gendo reached out and tapped a button on his laptop bringing up a picture of
both the new Campione and his young companion.
"Firstly I feel that the theory posed by the Witenagemots agents is close to the
truth but slightly erroneous. Their belief that both him and his companion as
some sort of hermitical apprentices is only slightly off. Based on my own
observations I believe that it is in fact his young companion who was the heir to
some reclusive mage."
His finger pushed another button and the screen filled with an image of the white
haired girl gleefully running down the roads of a shopping arcade.
"She appears to be by far the more capable of the pair when it comes to general
magic from what we have been able to observe. She also seems to be able to
erect some sort of boundary around any room or building that they are
occupying. This barrier makes them practically invisible to any mystical attempts
to locate them; it was only because they moved to a more industrialized area
that we were able to track them. Without the use of modern methods such as
closed circuit cameras and the like it would have been far more difficult.

"Aside from that she has displayed high level hypnosis, a number of illusion
spells and the ability to use some form of thread magic that we are still trying to
identify. However one thing that we were able to confirm is that her body
contains an astonishingly high amount of magical energy. We are as yet unclear
as to exactly how much she possesses, but from what we were able to scry she's
closer in level to a Divine Ancestor than to a human. She unquestionably has a
high level of divine blood to possess such power, perhaps only four or five
generations removed.
"We are also sure that she has been raised in close to total isolation for much of
her life. She has shown herself to be thrilled by some of the commonest things,
and has proven to be extremely affectionate and possessive of the eighth
Campione."
His finger worked once more and a new picture appeared, this one of the girl
openly glaring at a pretty young woman talking to the red haired teen.
"Emiya-sama is also a mage from what we have determined, however his own
skill set is far more limited than the childs. As the Witenagemot report mentioned
his abilities appear to be purely combat oriented in nature. However unlike his
companion he is clearly more at home in a heavily built up and crowded area.
"It's from this information as well as some other facts that I have assembled by
theory on the origins of the new Campione.
"Emiya Shirou and this girl are clearly the students of some hermit mage as the
Witenagemot theorized. I believe that the girl is the principle heir and originally
both the more powerful and more talented of the two. I believe it is safe to
assume that she has spent almost her entire life away from any major population
centres or heavily built up areas. Emiya-sama, on the other hand has spent the
majority of his life as a part of mainstream society. It's my guess that at some
point the same mage who was training the girl saw that Emiya-sama possessed
some sort of natural talent in the directions of combat. As a result the entire
thrust of his training since his recruitment has been in that single direction, thus
explaining his limited skills.
"I imagine he was trained to be the girl's bodyguard or some similar role.
Regardless he seems to have been the only person to have shown her affection
in her isolated state, a supposition that would explain her possessiveness of him.
It's my belief that there current situation is due to the recent death of their
teacher. Whether due to accident or natural causes whoever was training them is
now no longer a factor. Thus with the authority that previously limited them gone
the girl who is now free is following Emiya-sama's lead in heading back to his
homeland.
"How this led to Emiya Shirou encountering a Heretic God is unknown, just as is
the method by which he accomplished the kill. We are also unaware of how his
becoming a Campione has affected the personal dynamics between the two,
save that they remain close.
"What I do know for sure is that in his last two encounters with Heretic Gods
Emiya-sama has been confirmed as trying to avoid combat, but in both cases
responded with lethal force when either he or his companion was threatened.
This indicates a reasonable individual, not one to engage in open battle without

some serious form of provocation. Simply put Emiya Shirou seems to be a

dangerous but reasonable individual."
His report delivered the agent bowed to his audience, closed his laptop and fell
respectfully silent.
Once more it was the head of the Sayanomiya family that broke the silence.
"I believe the question now is whether or not we shall attempt to approach the
new Campione and if we do decide to do so, then in what manner."
"Perhaps a select group should make contact with him," Suggested the current
heir to the Renjou clan, "They could arrange a meeting to explain who we are
and how we would like to establish some sort of accord."
"I'm not so sure that would be a suitable approach," one of the others said, "Our
arrangement with Kusanagi-sama has proceeded well since Mariya Yuri made her
own contact with him, perhaps we should try something similar with Emiyasama?"
The response came from a member of the Kuhoutsuka family.
"Mariya-san was already known to Kusanagi-sama due to them attending the
same school together before he even became a Campione. Apparently she was
also able to impress Erica Blandelli enough that she decided Mariya-san was
worthy of being the seventh Campione's second wife. In this case there is no
previous connection to use and from what we've seen it seems that his white
haired companion would not be welcoming of any competition for his time."
"Perhaps if we sent someone who possesses similar temperaments to both of
them?" Suggested the Seishuuin Head, speaking for the first time, "My family's
heiress, Seishuuin Ena. Due to her training for her duties she has been, of
necessity, kept in a rather sheltered environment, similar to this girl. Also,
because of her talent for Divine Possession, a great deal of her training has been
combat oriented, something that might act as a rapport between her and Emiyasama."
Silence met that suggestion as all present considered it. Among the other three
houses Seishuuin were distinguished by battle strength and political power,
being both the leaders and the warriors. Ena was arguably the strongest warrior
in several generations, and certainly the strongest in the current one. Her ability
to channel the Divine power of Susanoo as well as her contract with the god
sword Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi made her a force that at least in the short
term could be called a demigod.
"I mean no insult to your granddaughter, but I feel that she might be a bit too
impulsive to be given this assignment," said one of the others in a diplomatic
tone, "Her well known tendency to go with her instincts would serve her well on
the battle field, but in this case it might lead to her inadvertently angering or
alienating Emiya-sama."
The head of the Seishuuin family reluctantly nodded. Truth be told she was
actually of the same opinion, which was why she was planning to dispatch her
granddaughter to serve as an aid to Mariya-san. With her aiding the less combat

capable Hime-Miko might be able to oust Erica Blandelli as the main wife to the
seventh Campione.
"What about Manaka?" Offered the Kuhoutsuka heads aid.
That seemed to merit a moment of consideration. Manaka had no last name due
to being a foundling orphan, left on the steps of one of the shrines under the
Committees influence. Having displayed talents for witchcraft from an early age
she was raised to act as a bodyguard and attendant to others to whom she was
assigned. Unfortunately her skills and talent had led to her suffering from a
rather over inflated ego, the result of which was that she was rather . . . difficult
to deal with.
On the other hand a recent event had led to something of an attitude change for
her, with that in mind she might be suitable for this assignment.
"She'd never consent to leaving Kaida-san in any case." Commented the Renjou
heir.
"Oh?" enquired the Seishuuin matriarch, "How did that come about? The last I
heard Manaka was still bemoaning the fates for not allowing her anyone 'worthy'
of serving. What happened to change her mind about Kaida-san?"
"She managed to make her lose her temper."
"Oh."
No further explanation was necessary. Kaida was a Hime-Miko born from one of
the branch families of the Renjou family. Both beautiful and intelligent she would
have been a fine Hime-Miko, possibly even as talented as Mariya-san.
Unfortunately her gifts had manifested into two powerful but dangerous gifts,
Soul Purification and the Dragons Roar.
Soul purification was normally used by priestesses to purge curses and evil
spirits from a client by a laying of hands. Kaida's ability went far deeper though.
Rather than merely rejecting excess evil it tried to purify the very souls of all that
she touched. While that might not sound bad in theory in practice mortals
needed their small evils for everyday life. Gluttony leads to an appreciation of
food, greed becomes drive, pride leads to self respect and so on. With those
small darkness's banished from their souls the spiritual balance was lost.
Fortunately Kaida was only a mortal and thus lacked the power to fully purge a
soul completely; as such those she affected would in time recover. However
while under the influence of the well meaning but perilous power to both
appreciate and cope with normal life was badly impaired. An early case, back
before her talent was fully understood, had almost committed suicide under its
influence. As a result she had to constantly wear gloves for fear of an accident.
Still as grave as that skill was it paled beside the Dragons Roar.
It was quite simply a release of spiritual power in all directions with Kaida at its
epicentre. The eruption of power would push everything away from her in much
the same way that the similar poles of a magnet repelled each other. However
the sheer force that the young Hime-Miko was able to generate was on par with
certain subordinate gods. It was a potent power that could have made her the

peer, though not the equal of Seishuuin Ena. However Kaida was not a combative
person by nature and so had almost no aptitude for any sort of martial activity.
It was also a power that had an unfortunate tendency to go off whenever Kaida
lost her composure. Normally such episodes only resulted in the release of small
bursts, but when she really lost her temper she had been known to accidentally
wreck entire shrines.
"What happened?" an assistant asked curiously.
"Manaka was being her usual charming self while waiting at Kaida's shrine for
her next assignment. In the end she managed to push our little dragon's buttons
enough to get quite the roar out of her. The end result was our prideful witch
getting blasted through a wall and into the shrines koi pond. After she was fished
out she wouldn't stop raving about how magnificent Kaida's power was. She even
went so far as to request to be permanently assigned as her bodyguard."
"So, that little blade has finally found a hilt suitable to wield her? I'm not certain
if I should be thrilled or afraid." Murmured the Sayanomiya head sardonically.
"It does present us with another option though." Kuhoutsuka heads opined.
"Which option would that be?"
"Assign Kaida to be our envoy to the new Campione."
The suggestion drew silence from the rest of the table as they turned to look at
the suggestor.
"Would that be wise? Kaida has led an even more sheltered life than Manaka.
Due to her abilities she hasn't even been able to attend public school like Mariyasan. To assign her a task like this . . . it might be too cruel."
"Actually, I think this might be more of a kindness than it would be a cruelty. Do
any of you realize that if we do this we may be able to introduce her to one of
possibly the only two boys in our nation that she can safely touch with her hands
without fear of harming them?"
That was a thought worth mulling over. Due to her abilities Kaida was hesitant to
interact with her peers, especially those of the opposite sex, largely due to an
incident when she was only seven. To introduce her to a Campione, one who due
to their famed magic resistance would be to all intents and purposes immune to
her abilities . . .
"She IS a fine young woman," voiced the Kuhoutsuka heads assistant, "Mariyasan was able to form some sort of romance with Kusanagi-san. Might Renjou
Kaida be able to do something similar?"
"If your question means whether or not she could seduce him then I would say
there is no chance at all." Answered the Renjou heir, "She's entirely too awkward
with others to pull such a plan off. She'd probably faint from shyness just
thinking about it. However if we're hoping for her to form a friendship first, that I
think she could manage."
Silence descended on the table as the assembled council members considered
their options.

-()-

"Well my King, does this meet your approval?"

Shirou couldn't do much more than stare at the sight before him. It had been
three weeks since he arrived in Japan and two and a half weeks since he had
recruited Yusuke-san as a servant. Since then the resurrected soul had proven
himself to be a priceless asset setting up false histories and documentation for
not only Shirou and Illya but also for himself. He had also arranged several bank
accounts to store Shirou's wealth and had arranged for a number of auctions
around the country to sell several of the more lavish items of jewellery that the
Campione had provided him with. And all of this had been done in such a short
time that it beggared belief
However a week ago Illya had become tired of living in hotel rooms, no matter
how lavish they were, and had loudly voiced her opinion while Shirou and his
financial vassal were having a discussion. Deciding to take a break the red haired
teen had asked his adopted sister just what kind of house she would like to get.
Illya had immediately begun to list all the features she wanted their new dwelling
to possess, such as a swimming pool, a Jacuzzi, a tennis court, an observatory, a
banquet hall, a ballroom and so on. Shirou had grinned and commented on how
he wanted a traditional Japanese house, a dojo, a workshop, a really big kitchen
and maybe an exercise room since he'd always wanted to try out those weight
machines.
To him it had just been a way to fill a few moments and to relax a bit. He hadn't
noticed Yusuke taking notes.
Now he was standing in front of a large traditional Japanese manor house, one
with large garden ground, a small building set aside that he had been told
contained a swimming pool, a Jacuzzi and a sauna. There were also several
outhouses that could be converted into a magus' workshop if he so chose as well
as a private dojo attached to the houses main building. Yusuke had said
something about some of the rooms being able to be cleared to make a
ballroom, but Shirou had stopped listening at that point.
"This looks just right, thank you Yusuke-san."
That was Illya answering in a perfectly serious and matter of fact voice. He knew
that she'd grown up in the Einzbern castle and that she didn't like small houses
but still . . .
"How . . . how much did this cost?" His voice broke after the first word and he
had to stop to swallow so as to moisten his throat.
"One billion, five hundred million, two hundred and fifty thousand yen." Came the
calm response.
Shirou froze in place, still as a statue, he didn't even seem to by breathing.
Curious as to his behaviour Illya came up to him and gave him a slight push. To
her delight he actually rocked in place as though he were a metal statue.

"You . . . you spent all our money on this place?! JUST HOW MUCH DO I HAVE
LEFT TO PAY!"
The questions started as a whisper but ended in a roar loud enough to make Illya
holding her ears. Shirou was not normally prone to getting angry, but he had
always been quite money conscious even though he didn't really have to be. To
see all the money he had carefully accumulated since arriving in this world fall
into a precipice of debt . . . well, it was enough to tick him off.
However rather than look guilty Yusuke instead appeared to be more confused
than anything else.
"Actually my King, the price has already been paid in full; you are now the legal
owner of this place. Well, technically I'm its owner as your legal guardian, but we
both know whom I serve."
"Okay," Shirou took a deep breath before continuing, "How much treasure do you
need to get back to a safe level?"
Again Yusuke looked confused.
"What do you mean?"
"How much money do I have left?" Asked the Campione in exasperation.
"After the purchase of this manor? I think your full assets come to just over 6
billion yen."
Shirou simply stood in place as the world seemed to slowly spin around him.
"How much?"
His voice came out as a rather embarrassing squeak.
"Six billion, twelve million, three hundred and eighty seven thousand, nine
hundred and fifty seven yen as of this morning."
"Is that a lot?" asked Illya with innocent curiosity.
Shirou blinked at the question, and then realized that due to her isolated
upbringing she had never actually had to buy a thing in her life prior to her
getting lost in this dimension with him. To her money was an intellectual concept
that had never had any bearing on her. As he thought this he extended an arm to
lean against the gate frame he was next to, fearing that if he didn't then he'd fall
over.
"You know that really big polar bear teddy I bought you?" he asked in a voice that
sounded as though someone else was speaking, seeing her nod the voice
continued. "With that much I could buy more than nine hundred thousand of
them."
Illya's eyes went very wide.
"That's a lot of teddy bears." She opined.
"Yeah. I know." He turned to his servant, moistened his throat once more and
asked one word in a strangled voice, "How?"
Yusuke blinked in surprise, and then answered.

"Emiya-sama I don't think you understand just how valuable some of those
treasures you gave me were or how much I was able to auction them for. The
diamond and emerald diadem you gave me alone sold for almost a billion yen.
All of those sales combined as well as my own modest efforts have left you a
very rich man. But at the same time not so rich that you will draw too much
attention."
"Ah, I see." Shirou's voice sounded so far away from him.
"Would you like to see inside the manor?" asked Yusuke.
Still in a state that could only be descried as shock Shirou simply nodded and
followed him and Illya as they went in. As he walked his mind seemed to be stuck
on one question: if that was not rich enough to draw unwanted attention then
why did it seem so huge?

-()-

Erica Blandelli read over the letter she had received once more, as though by
doing so the content of the message would change. Nope, still the same.
This was the kind of information that she should have received as soon as it
became known to the Copper-Black Cross, her uncle, Paolo Blandelli, should have
sent her news about the new Campione within minutes of it passing his desk. Her
irritation faded though as a thought crossed her mind. Ever since she had
attached herself to Godou her orders stature among the many other
organizations that made up the magical community of Europe had risen
considerably.
Her uncle had sent her several messages both congratulating her for this turn of
events, and cursing her for the seemingly endless paperwork that new
importance seemed to generate. If his claims of his new workload were to be
believed it would be perfectly within the realms of possibility for him to have
received a detailed report on the subject, then for it to be so buried under trivial
documents that he would never even see it. In such a scenario he was more
likely to learn about it during his evening at the local bar than from official
channels.
The sad fact was that Copper-Black Cross was a strong organization, and had
always wielded considerable authority, but for all that they had never been a
large group and so lacked a certain level of prestige that such organizations as
the Witenagemot possessed. With their close association to the seventh
Campione that had changed thus bringing an explosion of both recruitment and
correspondence that they had been ill prepared to deal with.
Shaking such thoughts from her mind Erica wondered how she would handle this.
Her original plan was to spend the summer holiday getting closer to Godou
during a trip back to Italy. Of course she was well aware that her beloved would
be a bit reluctant to do so since he still hadn't accepted their relationship. As
such he had planned accordingly and told him of her plans to spend the summer
with him. He'd probably try to flee to Italy, where Lucretia Zola would be

perfectly willing to let him stay. What he didn't know was that Erica had lived up
to her name of the Red Devil and anticipated him. She'd already made
arrangements of her own and would be there to greet Godou when he arrived.
Now though it appeared that her plans would have to be shelved. The arrival of
this new Campione in the territory that had been claimed by Godou (though only
by default since this was his homeland, rather than through him claiming any
authority over them) was troubling.
It had only been a short time since Godou had had his own match up with his
fellow Campione Sasha Dejanstahl Voban. Though technically undefeated the
elder god-slayer had declared the outcome of their match to be his loss since he
was unable to accomplish his goals in the time he allotted to himself.
Godou had also had a match with Lord Salvatori Doni, the sixth Campione,
shortly after his ascendance. That match had ended in a draw despite the older
Campione's superior experience and training.
She did not fear Godou's defeat, not only was he a powerful Campione but he
possessed a certain quality that made her certain he could win even when the
odds were against him. However he had on multiple occasions commented on
how much he disliked having to deal with the supernatural aspects of his life. If
he was told that a rival Campione was challenging him for his territory then as
long as the new King was not a tyrant then Godou would happily had over the
responsibilities with a gift ribbon attached.
Still, it was a wives duty to get her man going when he otherwise wouldn't move.
Erica had total faith that Godou could be the greatest King in the world, and she
intended to see him reach his potential.
Now the only question was what to do? The first step was to ensure that he didn't
end up running of to Italy, not now anyway. Maybe later in the year . . .

-()-

Shirou sat in the dojo of his new dwelling and tried to meditate.
It was difficult, too many things kept on crowding into his mind. He liked this
dojo, it wasn't the one he'd grown up using, but the lay out was the same and
the atmosphere in it was good. But just being in it was a reminder of how things
had changed for him.
Money had never really been a problem for him. Kiritsugu had left all the
considerable money he had built up from the contracts he had taken in the care
of Taiga's grandfather who had in turn used it to see that Shirou was well
provided for. The teen had taken odd jobs and the like mainly to assert some
independence from his adopted father's money, not out of rebellion, but from a
desire to take care of himself. Still for the most part money had not been
something he had concerned himself with to much, his personal tastes in living
were frugal, indeed the greatest drain on his resources was keeping enough food
to ensure Taiga was kept well fed.

Now though, now he richer than he'd ever even thought of being, and if he
wanted to he could be wealthier still. The sheer scale of his newly acquired
fortune still left him stunned. After his battle with the god he had taken some
time in a couple of libraries to do some cursory research on Hades, trying to
learn something about the god he had slain. He'd learnt that one of his titles was
'the Rich One', but he hadn't really grasped what that meant. Even the ability to
pull treasure out of the air hadn't really struck as that valuable, not until Yusuke
told him just how much wealth it had yielded.
So here he sat in the new dojo he owned trying to find his centre once more.
However his mind kept on drifting to Sakura. To her, Rin and Rider, wondering
how they would have taken his current situation. Sakura would have been
supportive he was sure, she would have been pleased not to have to worry about
finances any more, but aside from that her reaction would probably have been
similar to his. Now Rin on the other hand, there was a girl that would have killed
to have his ability with treasure. Since many of her mystic codes were based on
gems she'd probably have him churning out high quality jewels onto a conveyer
belt if she could. Rider though, there was someone he wasn't sure how they
would react. On the one hand he doubted the Servant would have approved of
him killing deities considering that she had once been one, on the other hand he
knew she bore no love for the gods of her time so indeed she might have even
cheered him on. He just had no idea.
Once more his mind drifted to Hades, to how they had fought, to how he had
died.

(-)

He and Illya had been riding his Pegasus when they had first seen him. They had
left Naples only a few hours ago deciding to use Shirou's new mount to get them
back to Japan. It had been less risky than trying to use Illya's skills in hypnosis to
get onto a plane, that and the fact that she REALLY wanted to ride the winged
horse.
He had been amazed at his new ability, the link he felt to the creature he was
riding, the sheer strength that he felt within himself. What was even stranger
was the odd instinct that told him just how to use his new powers. It was
incomplete, he could feel that, but it was sufficient to give him a handle on how
to use these new powers. He'd spent the last day experimenting where he could
and still had some trouble believing the results.
Now here he was, in the sky, heading anywhere he so wanted to. Right now he
has letting the Pegasus set an easy pace so as to give him and Illya a chance to
enjoy the view.
The feeling was indescribable; Shirou had never been on an airplane in his life.
When Kiritsugu had been alive then his failing health had led their few holidays
to being local affairs limited to Japan itself. Since he had passed on his adopted
son had felt no urge to travel abroad and so had had little cause to experience
flight. The wind was in their faces, but some aura that the Pegasus projected

served to protect them from the worst of it. Since given that they were moving
at speeds similar to a slow plane the air pressure should have been like a gale,
instead it was simply a gentle breeze. Below them the lands of Italy lay spread
out from horizon to horizon, so small yet so exquisite. The trees cast tiny shadow
while looking like tiny splinters of wood; rivers were simply tiny, shiny grey rivers
against the brown and green of the land.
"Shirou?" Illya's voice brought him out of his ruminations and focused his
attention on the girl sitting in front of him. When she had first proposed using his
new steed to get to Japan the red haired teen had been less than thrilled with
the idea. His main concern being that while they were flying one or both of them
would slip off the winged horse. Given that they had no saddle or reins for the
phantasmal beast he felt that the concern had some validity.
Still some subsequent experimentation had shown that falling of the Pegasus
was to all intents and purposes impossible. It wasn't so much that its rider stuck
to it or something like that, it was more as if the white creature radiated a
strange kind of personal gravity. If one of its riders did somehow lose their
balance then they would fall back into safety rather than off its back. It was a
strange phenomena, but one that Shirou was grateful for. With the way Illya was
twisting about, trying to look every which way at once, if it weren't for that effect
he was sure she would have gone plummeting to earth long since.
"Hmm? Yes?"
"Have you thought of a name for him yet?"
That was another thing. The playful girl had insisted that she would not get on
the Pegasus until Shirou told her what gender it was. She also cunningly kept her
eagerness to ride the winged horse hidden until after her had performed the
embarrassing task, at the time convinced it was the only way to get her onto the
mystic animal.
Still she raised a good point; a creature like this should have a name. Pegasus
was more of a description these days, a word that meant winged horse.
"What do you think I should call him?" He asked the white haired girl as some
ideas spun through his own mind.
"I think-"
whatever she might have thought was cut of as the pegasus let out a startled cry
and baked sharply to the side to avoid a . . . what? It looked like a huge black
fireball, but as it shot passed them it radiated no heat and seemed to rumble like
tumbling boulders. Even as he watched though the mass of darkness started to
come around and then came charging back at them.
Again the winged horse banked to the side, but this time the dodge was only just
enough and the space between its wing tip and the black seething mass could
have been measured in centimetres. It also threw its passengers around nearly
jostled Illya right off its back despite the safety effect. Cursing under his breath
Shirou leaned forwards to grasp the animal's mane with both hands thus forming
a protective frame around his adopted sister.

Internally he wished he knew how better to control the mythic mount, he could
see that for all its natural power and intelligence the pegasus was not up to
anticipating the moves of its attacker and as a result its evasions were becoming
more and more frantic.
Damn it he needed better control, he neededThe next thing he knew he was no longer holding on the animal's mane but
instead was holding a set of silver reins. Shirou just had time to blink in surprise
before it felt as though a part of his mind had . . . unfolded. It wasn't an intrusive
feeling, more as though something had been added on in some gentle fashion.
Whatever the case may be it was as though he could tell what the animals
senses were telling it. The sensation was extremely strange; it wasn't a case of
him seeing through its eyes, but rather of him knowing what it was seeing. The
information seemed to slide seamlessly into his mind without any clear source.
Whatever the case might have been this development was exactly what he
needed in order to better control the pegasus. Seeing the black fireball roaring
towards them once more he sent the winged horse not into a dodge but instead
into a dive. As the huge orb of darkness sped by above them Shirou took his first
chance to take a good look at it.
In size it was about as big as a large minivan, not quite a ball but rather it was
slightly more oval in form. Also he had been wrong to call it a fireball, that was
an illusion made by the small tongues of . . . darkness? Shadow? That licked up
around it. They moved similarly to fire; enough that it was an easy mistake to
make, but it wasn't quite the same now that he had the chance to play closer
attention. Also the mass of darkness did radiate heat, but it wasn't the same
heat that came from fire, instead he was put in mind of hot rocks or lava, it was
a dull but oppressive hotness.
It turned once more and came at them again, but the brief time in which it had
done so had allowed the young Campione a chance to observe it. From what he
could tell the attacking force seemed to possess greater speed than his pegasus
but suffered from inferior agility. Those turns took precious time whereas
Shirou's mount could easily make them in only a second. Also it seemed his foe
lacked any sort of ranged attack, or at least it had yet to show any. It might be
waiting to see if the red haired teen would show any such ability of his own.
Of course if looked upon from a distance then it was clear to see that those on
the winged horse possessed no weapons of range, meaning the only way for
them to attack would be through spells or powers. But then Shirou had more
options than that available to him.
Reaching into himself the red haired boy tapped the well of information that he
had inherited from Archers arm. It was a reality marbles last imprint, a store of
knowledge he could access like a library. Bocks, or in this case weapons
blueprints, could be borrowed, but that information would never be his and as
such would fade from his mind as it was 'returned' to Archers store of memories.
Of course, as was the case with borrowed books, if he accessed a memory
enough then in time it would become imprinted into his own memories. Once
that happened then he no longer needed to access what he had come to think of
as 'the Archer Storage' in order to trace it. So far the only Noble Phantasms he

had achieved this level of familiarity with were Kanshou and Bakuya. Hardly a
surprise given how many times he had had to trace them during his fight with
Perseus.
However there was one other weapon in that mass of information that had come
to so smoothly, so easily, that it had immediately imprinted itself onto his mind.
It had no name, no history, no legend, it was not so much a Noble Phantasm as it
was a simple mystic code that Archer had traced so many times that the
knowledge of how to do so had become a part of him.
It was a large black longbow, made from a material possessing qualities of
plastics, ceramics, metals and wood. To a normal human it would have been
impossible to use, but for a magus like Archer, one skilled in self reinforcement
that was not a problem. And it also possessed a quality that made it uniquely
useful to someone like Archer, and now Shirou.
"Trace On!"
Inside the teens mind and gun barrel hammer was cocked as prana went surging
through his magic circuits. In a shimmer of light the great black bow appeared in
his left hand.
He had dropped the reins now; he didn't really need them anyway. The link to his
mount remained in his mind; he could feel it eager and ready to respond to his
will. At a mental command the pegasus turned in its flight so that its side was
facing the oncoming enemy. Shirou turned in his place and aimed the bow at his
attacker with his left arm while his right pulled back the string as though aiming
an invisible arrow.
"Trigger Off!"
He knew he wasn't Archers equal yet, not in the expertise of his tracing at any
rate. Having accessed the knowledge within the grafted arm had accelerated his
own development, but Archer had had years to refine his skills. So far the best
Shirou could accomplish was the imperfect recreation of the weapons he saw in
his mind. Certainly the ability to recreate Noble Phantasms was a magnificent
talent. But his future self had been able to do more.
Like this, for example.
"Hrunting, set."
Archer had been weak in comparison to more than half the Servants in the Holy
Grail War. Stats wise Berserker and Lancer had been well above him. Both Rider
and Saber would also have been able to surpass him when they had proper
masters. In effect he only surpassed Caster and Assassin, the two classes with
the naturally lowest physical stats.
And yet despite this he was unquestionably a strong Servant, one able to fight
much stronger foes if he wasn't taken by surprise. He was suited to Saber, but it
had been this ability that had made him so suitable for the Archer class.
Hrunting was the sword of the hero Beowulf, used to slay the mother of Grendal.
But as it was traced Archer's skill was brought into play. In mid creation the
sword was altered and changed. Its characteristics modified to suit his needs
and its form shifted so it would suit them.

As a result it was not a sword that materialized in Shirou's hand, but an arrow.
One already knocked and ready to be released.
This was the other aspect of the bow that made it so valuable to Archer and now
Shirou. Its ability to launch the modified arrows that were Noble Phantasms.
Another bow, one of more mundane construction, would never have been able to
withstand the forces involved. With the black bow on the other hand, Archer had
been able to hit targets at a distance of literal kilometres.
Without a word the young Emiya released the strange black arrow.
Shirou wasn't sure of what powers the Noble Phantasm had possessed as a
sword, that part of the blueprint hadn't been accessible to him as he made the
arrow. However that wasn't important at this point.
What was important was the effect the arrow had upon its release.
The arrow ceased to be a physical object and became what could only be
described as a large red bullet of energy. Like a thing alive the scarlet projectile
shot towards its target. The mass of darkness saw it coming though and swerved
to the side to avoid its impact. It was a small movement, unsurprising given its
lack of manoeuvrability, but still enough to dodge the attack.
Except that it was not enough. Hrunting would not be denied its prey. That was
the power of the sword become arrow; it would pursue its target no matter how
they dodged, relentless as a hunting wolf on the scent of blood.
The red bullet responded to the change in its objective, turning to match the
attempted evasion. Again the black ball of false flames tried to dodge, but this
time it was too late.
With a sound rather like a crate of dynamite going off the crimson projectile
crashed into the attacker and erupted into an explosion of otherworldly power. In
another world another Shirou would have been able to deflect this attack using
an imperfect projection of Rho Aias, but the fact that it required the sacrifice of
four petals of the conceptual item meant that Hruntings power was sufficient to
penetrate a fortresses walls multiple times over.
But whatever the attacker was it was clearly sturdier than mortal materials could
hope to be. Out of the smoke of the explosion it came, its formally indefinable
form cracking like an eggshell. It would seem that the black aura and Hrunting
had achieved mutual destruction on impact. The pieces of the aura that broke off
seemed to float through the air for a few brief instants before fading from
existence.
This didn't interest Shirou though, what was capturing his attention was what
was being revealed by the disappearance of the black aura.
It was a chariot, an old one of Greek style. It was worked in gold and silver but
had large panels of black giving it an ominous look. It was being drawn by two
huge stallions, each easily as large as his pegasus. What was disconcerting
about them was that they had no eyes; instead burning coals that let of tongues
of flames were fitted into their skulls where their eyeballs should have been. The
flesh around them did not burn or roast, the animal simply galloped along,
snorting and shaking its mane as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

However as darkly magnificent as both the beasts and the chariot were it was
the man driving them that held Shirou's attention. He was a tall man with a
closely cut mane of midnight black hair and a trimmed Greek beard the same
black as his hair. He was clad in a flowing toga of black silk and stood as
imperiously as any king.
Though more than half a kilometre separated them his eyes locked with Shirou's.
They were not the eyes of any mortal, the young Emiya was certain of that. No
human could possibly have eyes of that colour, a colour that impossibly held all
the shades of every gemstone at once.
For a moment their stares clashed like crossed weapons, then the dark haired
man jerked his head to the side, still not breaking his gaze, indicating a small
island. It was not large thing, just a hump of sand that rose out of the water
about a kilometre off the shore. It was about the size of a small city block and
had nothing on it apart from a few patches of grass and a ship warning device.
With a nod of his head Shirou turned his pegasus once more and headed towards
it.
"What's happening Shirou?" Illya's voice was quiet but unshaken. This was the
girl who had fearlessly accompanied Berserker into battle after all.
"Someone else seems to want a fight." He replied.
"Do we have to stop? Can't we just run?"
"He's too fast. We can dodge better than he can, but if we tried to run he could
catch us pretty easily. I'll have to meet him here and see if I can calm him down.
You stay with the pegasus, if things go badly he'll get you to safety."
Shirou felt the pale girls back tense against his chest even as the winged horse
released a snort of agreement, but she didn't say a thing.
As soon as the flying beast's hooves touched the sand of the island Shirou was
off its back and striding towards its centre, carefully putting some distance
between himself and Illya. Ahead of him the chariot had come thundering down
onto the sands leaving a trampled furrow in contrast to Shirou's own light
landing. As it rumbled to a halt the tall man in black stepped off it and strode
towards the young Emiya.
"At least you are no coward, abomination though you may be." His words echoed
in an odd way, as though they should have been in some great hall or cavern but
were instead forced to resound in the air like this. They still wanted to echo, but
lacked the means to do so.
"I have no trouble with you," Shirou said calmly, even as his body tensed and his
magic circuits surged, "there doesn't need to be any fighting here, I just want to
leave."
Even as he spoke those words he somehow knew that they wouldn't be enough,
that no words would be. This man had sought him out and there was now
violence between them. Conflict was inevitable; no it was more than that.
Antagonism between them was their natural state, as natural as it was between
the cobra and the mongoose.

Still he had to try, after all they were not animals, they were thinking beings,
nature didn't have to dictate their actions.
"Oh there is trouble between us abomination." The man hissed as he drew a
large black sword from the sheath at his waist. "I can feel it within you, the
usurped Authority of two of my kind. Creatures like you, mortals who dare to rise
so above themselves, you slew my sweet Persephone. Do you honestly believe I
would allow you to leave this place alive?"
From the corner of his eye Shirou saw someone else arrive on the island, but he
didn't ay it any real attention. Right now his focus was on the black sword being
pointed at him. As before, when he had encountered the hero god, his reality
marble began to analyse the weapon before him. Like the blade of Perseus this
was a sword without name or history. It was simply a piece of divine power given
from as a weapon, a weapon belonging to . . .
"Hades!"
"So you know my name. That is right, it is only fitting that one knows the name
of the one who shall slay them."
The space between them was close in an instant and the great black Greek
sword was coming down at him. Immediately Bakuya and Kanshou were in his
hands and blocking the blow. But even as the Chinese blades parried the attack
words sprang unbidden to his mouth.
"A hero endures, a hero perseveres, through adversity and challenge, though
victory and joy. Tempered by life and forged into legend this steel shall slay all
monsters before me."
It was just as when he had fought Perseus, a power stirred within him in
response to the words. However this one was different to the one that had
helped him defeat the hero god. That one had felt like a rabid dog that was
affectionate to its owner, this one made him think of his pegasus. A mighty
power that waited to be ridden, directed. And there was another sensation as
well, on that seemed to hum in tune with his very soul.
Steel, that was it. Whatever this new power was it had a powerful affiliation to
steel. And so did Shirou, that commonality was creating a sort of harmony effect.
The red haired teen didn't know how it was happening but this new force was
totally permeating his entire self, his blood, his muscles, even his prana.
Shirou didn't pause to think about it, thought was unnecessary at this point,
instinct would be more than sufficient. The blow he had blocked with his crossed
swords had been strong, stronger than anything Perseus had managed. As it had
struck his defence he had been able to halt it, but the force had been such that it
had driven him down to one knee as he tried to hold it back.
Now though, as the new force surged through him, he heaved himself back to his
feet pushing the enemy god back with such force that he was actually sent a
stumbling retreat for a few steps.
"I don't want to fight you Hades; I don't want to kill you."
He knew it was a half lie even as the words left his lips. It was true that his mind
didn't hold any animosity to his foe, no reason to fight him. But his very blood

sang with exhilaration at the thought of continuing their fight. He had no idea
where the desire was coming from, but it was almost intoxicating.
"The only one to die this day shall be you abomination, not even the power
stolen from my nephew shall save you."
This time Hades attacked in earnest, not one huge blow, but a series of savage
blows. His every move radiated power and majesty, the kind of strength that
mere mortals couldn't hope to face. It was as bad as facing the corrupted version
of Saber in full combat.
And yet Shirou was not being overwhelmed.
Power and speed roared through him like never before. He was becoming
accustomed to the increased physical abilities that came with reinforcing his
body, but this was on another level entirely. He could feel the strength of Hades'
attacks, simply trying to block them should have been impossible. Even if his
weapons endured his limbs would not, that force should have snapped his bones
and shredded his muscles.
But now he was meeting the blows of the god and turning them aside. Certainly
Hades was still stronger than him by a fair margin. Placed in numerical terms he
guessed that if his own strength was 65 then his foes was about 100. But that
was unimportant. The sensation of facing a stronger foe, one who wanted to kill
him, Shirou was familiar with that. Lancer, Rider, Assassin, Berserker, Saber,
Kirei, Perseus, every single one of them had been stronger than him, some of
them had easily beaten him, but each time he had endured. Sometimes it had
been due to luck, sometimes it had been an ally, sometimes it had been his own
effort, but every time he had survived. Now here he was facing another enemy
that out powered him, and he felt no fear.
CRACK
Both his weapons finally gave way to the pressure that had been placed on them
and broke into shards. That was okay, he could easily replace them.
His magic circuits surged and prana tinged with this strange new power flowed
from his hands. It wasn't the two Noble Phantasms this time though, instead it
was a pair of nameless longswords. He didn't know why he had chosen them
over Kanshou and Bakuya, all he knew was that they felt right.
The strange new power ran through him, chasing the prana into the newly
created weapons. Then he felt it, a ringing as though dozens of metal rods that
had been lying in a chaotic heap had suddenly magnetized and snapped into
perfect alignment.
They had been strengthened, he wasn't sure how, but somehow the empty
blades were no longer empty. It was just like with the other power, the crazed
vicious rabid power that had let him defeat Perseus, both of them seemed to be
able to . . . fill his nameless weapons and enhance them.
As with the previous blades when the other power had touched them the swords
altered as soon as the new power infused them, however this time the change
was not into a weaponised torture implement. Instead the blades became more,
elegant, more beautiful, the hilts became more elaborate, worked into pleasing

designs. The blades were also inlaid with patterns and inscriptions; all in all they
ceased to be just nameless weapons and were instead the arms of a legend.
Again their weapons met, sparks flew as metal clashed, but this time Shirou's
swords did not break. They danced through the air sure and vibrant deflecting
blow after blow. The pair were now constantly shifting, side stepping back and
forth as they each tried to improve their battle position. It came as a complete
surprise to the brown eyed boy when he realized just why he was managing to
match the attacking god. His foe was unquestionably stronger and faster than he
was, but Shirou was more skilled with his weapons. Hades was clearly used to
being able to overwhelm his enemies with pure power. He was unused to fighting
a foe with physical abilities close enough to his own for skill to be a factor.
Shirou could win.
The thought sliced across his consciousness in a thin line of fire. He could do it if
he wanted, he could kill this god. He could see it in his minds eye, it would take
about eighteen more moves but that would place the god in a position where a
sword could be thrust through his heart.
No, he wasn't a murderer damn it. This god might be out to kill him, but by the
sounds of it he had some sort of reason for it. If he could force him to back off
then maybe there was a way to talk some sense into him. Some way for this to
end without death.
Here it was now, his chance at a deathblow. A deflection sent Hades' sword
swinging back above his head. In his original scenario Shirou would have raised
his left hand sword to lock with it. That wouldn't have held for long, the god of
the underworld was too strong for that. But it would have held for long enough to
allow Shirou to stab him with the other blade.
Instead though the young Emiya brought both blades up and slashed at the off
balance sword as hard as his newly enhanced strength would allow.
There was a thunderous crack and silver and black flecks came drifting down. All
three swords had shattered, unable to endure the forces that had driven them.
Cursing sulphurously Hades leapt back, opening room between them. Both his
hand were bleeding from where they had been gripping his sword when it had
exploded into shards. Shirou's hands were also leaking blood, but the pain was
unimportant to him, he was used to worse. Hades was a god though, how long
had it been since he had been wounded? How long since he had seen his own
vital liquid spill onto the earth?
"Is this enough?" Asked Shirou, "We're both bleeding now, are you determined to
continue this fight until one of us is dead. And for what? Perseus said he's not
truly dead, and I have done nothing to you, please end this before it goes any
further."
"You dare?" the voice was a whisper, but one filled with rage. "You dare say this
is enough? Never, it will not be enough until your corpse lies bleeding on the
sands and your soul is mine to cast into the deepest pit in Tartarus.
"RISE! RISE AND KILL THIS ABOMINATION!"

Those last words were a roar, one loud enough that it seemed to make the earth
itself quake.
No, wait, the earth really was shaking. Shirou struggled to keep his footing as
the sands beneath him seemed to shiver and twitch. Then just as suddenly the
movement ceased.
The eighth Campione just had time to wonder what had happened when a
skeletal arm erupted from the sand just in front of him. He had enough time to
stare in astonishment before another arm burst out of the sand. Both arms
heaved against the ground and before Shirou's horrified eyes a whole skeleton
pulled itself out of the ground.
It was happening all around him now, more undead heaved themselves from the
sands and face him. Five, ten, twenty, forty, their numbers kept on increasing.
They were clad in rotting armour, clothes and greaves. All of it was of Greek
design, as were the swords, spears and clubs that they carried. There were so
damned many of them though. Another pair of swords appeared in Shirou's
hands as he prepared himself to fight the numbers massing against him.
"Fitting is it not?" A path opened through the massed ranks of the dead and
showed Hades standing confidently; his earlier lose of temper buried once more
beneath a veneer of icy hatred and contempt. "I should have known I would
need to face you not as a warrior, but as a king. That is where my strength lies,
in the command of my loyal subjects. That and in stealth. Know this cursed child
of Pandora, you are going to die."
As he spoke he raised his left hand, still bleeding though it was, and held it
above his head. For a brief instant Shirou had the impression that the bloody
hand was holding . . . something, a shimmering image that wavered like a
mirage in a desert. Then the hand came down and placed the shimmer upon
Hades' crown.
The god vanished from sight, one instant he was there the next he was gone.
Shirou cursed as the skeletal army moved in on him. He should have been ready
for this, his knowledge of Greek mythology might be limited to a little idle
reading and watching a few American films, but even so he knew that Hades'
item of power was the helm of darkness. An item that granted invisibility.
Any further contemplation was cut off as he was forced to defend himself from
the undead hoard. Old weapons, pitted and chipped but still deadly, swung at
him only to be blocked by the weapons already in Shirou's bleeding hands. Even
though they were the armaments of the dead they were still mortal swords and
spears. The blades that Shirou wielded were magical creations reinforced with
the power of a god's usurped Authority.
As the weapons met those raised against the Campione their arms shattered,
broke and crumbled. The gleaming swords clove through any opposition and
drove deep into the undead that wielded them. He was a whirlwind of slashing
silver, destroying everything that drew too close.
But it wasn't enough, no matter what he did the undead warriors continued to
attack. If he destroyed their weapons then they attacked with skeletal hands. If
he sliced off their arms then they lashed out with their feet. If he cut off their

legs then they crawled on their bellies and tried to bite at his ankles. Were the
situation not so grave it would have almost been farcical.
Suddenly instincts screamed at him, he didn't know where they came from but
he wasn't going to question them. And if they shouted that there was danger
behind him then he wasn't going to argue.
That decision saved his life; even as he hurled himself forward he felt a thin line
of pain draw itself across his back. It was just a shallow cut, but if he hadn't leapt
forward when he did then his spine would have been severed.
"HOW MANY TIMES ABOMINATION?" Hades' voice roared out of the undead army,
"HOW MANY TIMES TO YOU THINK YOU CAN EVADE ME BEFORE I HAVE YOU?!"
He was right. Instinct and luck had saved him that time but he could not really
on such for long. And even as he had that to worry about he still had these
damned undead to fight as well. Individually they were no real threat, but there
were so many of them, and they just wouldn't stop. Even severed limbs were
now dragging themselves along in any way they could in order to get at him.
Then out of the corner of his eye he spotted something. Earlier he had been
unable to find the room for a slash and so had needed to stab a sword into one
of the skeletal warriors in order to push it back enough to get some more space.
He'd left that sword embedded in the undead, but had immediately traced a new
one and continued to fight.
The skeleton was still there, his sword impaling it all the way through. But it
wasn't moving, in simply knelt on the ground as though it had collapsed there.
And there were silver sparks of energy arcing between the blade and the bones
that surrounded it.
Shirou didn't need another hint, another sword went into the skeleton closest to
him while the other stabbed down through a severed arm that had come a bit
too close to his right foot. Both stopped moving, like puppets with their stings
cut they simply slumped in place as soon as they were impaled.
More swords formed in his hands as he slashed about him driving his foes back a
few steps through sheer ferocity. He also heard a stifled curse that suggested his
luck had held once more and his last burst had accidentally managed to offset
another invisible attack by Hades.
The question was what to do now. He had the room he needed, but he didn't
know the best way to impale as many of his foes as he could. Simply stabbing
them would hinder his fighting ability as well as leave him open to further
attacks from the invisible god. For a brief instant he considered using his bow,
but dismissed the idea as impractical. Even if he could release multiple arrows
then doing so in such a manner would limit both his area of effect and area of
awareness. He needed something else, something wide, something . . .
Once again it was as though a part of his mind was unfolding, revealing that
which kept hidden. The knowledge flowed into him was originally Archers, a trick
of his that was part of what had earned him rank as Servant of the bow. This
could work, this WOULD work. A quick glance about him showed that the
pegasus had taken off and was hovering a few hundred metres offshore so he
and his rider could observe how the fight played out. A second glance showed

that the other presence that had arrived had also retreated, it that ones case
they were standing on the water some distance away from the battleground.
That could be ignored for now, what was important was that there were no
innocents to worry about, and that gave him this option.
Above him swords began to appear in the air, hovering above his head in total
defiance of gravity. More and more of them materialized, tens, scores, and then
over a hundred, each and every one infused with his strange new steely power.
They formed a huge ring of steel above his head like the halo of an angel of war.
"HAH!" With an exclamation of effort Shirou sent every one of those blades flying
away from him. But even as he did so new swords appeared and were launched
in turn. This was his option, one made possible by Archer's knowledge and his
own vastly increased reserves of power. No finesse, no skill, simply blanket the
entire battleground with mass bombardment.
The rain of swords lasted for less than five seconds, five nerve wracking
seconds, but by the end of it silence reigned. At the end of it Shirou stood at the
centre of a ring of devastation. All about him were swords, some stabbing into
immobilized foes, some thrust into the ground, some stood in the surf the water
lapping at their blades. All of them lent towards Shirou, as though offering their
hilts to him so that he could wield them as he saw fit.
The silence was broken then by a groan of pain. It was off to the Campione's left
and fairly close. Turning in that direction Shirou saw its source. Hades was
struggling to his feet, visible once more, but was clearly in pain and his
movements impeded by the swords that pierced his flesh.
There were three of them, since he had been so close the king of the underworld
had been unable to dodge or defend in the face of the onslaught. One was driven
through his right shoulder; another impaled him through his left hip while the
third had stabbed him right through his right knee. Any mortal would have been
in shock from pain or unconscious from blood loss, but Hades was a god, and
even wounds like those could only cause him pain, not slay him.
Shirou strode towards him, doing his best to project confidence and surety,
before him the swords that were not impaling and immobilizing Hades' undead
warriors faded from existence giving him a clear path. In his right hand he traced
another sword, a large one this time, a claymore, and let his steely power flow
into it. Inside his head he repeated to himself again and again: he had to do this
right, he had to prevent another senseless death.
He stopped a swords length from Hades and pointed his blade at him, only scant
inches separating the weapon from the divinities flesh.
"This is enough," Shirou forced all the iron and resolve he could into his words. "I
am the victor in this fight, and I say enough. I shall go now, I don't want your life,
and I don't want your power. Just leave me and mine alone."
The god before said nothing, he just seemed to freeze in place with his head
bowed. Keeping his guard ready the red haired teen began to back away.
"NOOO!" the voice was a shriek of denial, a refusal to accept what was
happening.

Hades' face came up and a look of pure venom glared at Shirou. Despite the
weapons still impaling him the god of the underworld leapt forward. The teen
had been ready for this, he'd expected some last ditch attack, that was why he
had prepared this sword. Though large and needle pointed its edges were dull,
too dull to cut. He'd parry the gods attack and then bring his blades blunt edge
down on the wounded knee. Even god would not be able to shake that off. While
Hades was incapacitated Shirou would run to the shore of the island, get on his
mount and be flying away as fast as the winged horse could carry him. With any
luck by the time his foe recovered the Campione would be too far off to pursue.
At least that was the plan.
THUNK!
Shirou simply stared, unable to believe his eyes. The black clad god had seized
his blade with his bare hands and then literally thrown himself upon it. Blood ran
form his mouth and down its length as it impaled his heart.
"Wh-why?" The question seemed to slip out on its own.
"Do you think I would concede to ever owe my life to one of your kind?" The
bloodied mouth curved into a sneer. "I will not accept that, take my power
bastard of Epimetheus, choke on it. And hear my last words, all your kind share
the same fate, no matter how glutted upon your stolen powers you become. You
all die, either by the hands of one of my peers or at the hand of one of your own,
in the end you all die."
With those final proud and hate filled words the Greek god of the afterlife
dissolved into flickering motes of pale blue light. For the third time in a week he
felt something press into him once more, becoming a part of him. However he
couldn't seem to bring himself to care. Another life, he'd been forced to take
another life. More blood on his hands.
Off to the side he could see the pegasus bringing Illya down to meet him, and off
in the other he could see the odd newcomer also making their way back to land.
Whomever they were they could use magic, maybe they could offer some
answers as to what was going on.

-()-

Shirou shook his head as he pulled himself out of his memories. That first week
in this new world had been hectic to say the least. So many unanswered
questions, so many strange discoveries. When he and Illya had interrogated the
magus that they'd found the man had been terrified, almost to the point of
incoherence. He'd kept calling Shirou 'the eighth Campione' and had stuttered
and flinched so much that his answers had been almost gibberish.
In the end Illya had lost all patience with the man and had cast a potent hypnosis
on him and demanded to know what a Campione was. Unfortunately the mans
magic resistance had been far below what it should have been for a magus of his
apparent power, as such the spell was like using an industrial press to crack a

walnut. Total overkill. However before he passed out the magic user had recited a
verse, something that clearly came from a book or some such.
A Campione a Godslayer is a supreme ruler.
Since he can kill a celestial being, he can therefore call on the sacrosanct, divine
powers wielded by the gods.
A Campione a Godslayer is a lord.
Since the power to kill a deity is in his hands, he therefore looms over all mortals
on Earth.
A Campione a Godslayer is a devil.
Since of all mortals who live in the world, none can assume a power to match
his!
That was what a Campione was, what he was.
It was also why Shirou was taking his time in meeting with the local magic users,
why he was making his preparations first. In this world Campiones were powers,
this much was clear. But he didn't know how to use that power, how to be a
Campione.
That was why he was taking care in building his supports, building his strength as
best as he could.
He would keep Illya safe, he would find a way home and he wouldn't let anything
stop him. Hell, it couldn't be that much harder than fighting Gilgamesh could it?
As he stood up and stretched a frown creased his face momentarily. Something
felt . . . off, as though he were forgetting something important. He couldn't
remember what it was; only that he was forgetting it.
Oh well, if it was important he'd probably remember it later.
Walking briskly to work the kinks out of his leg muscles Shirou headed back into
the main house thinking about his various plans for the future.
He wasn't aware of the red eyes that followed him as he moved.

-()-

Ilyasviel von Einzbern watched as her adopted brother made his way back into
the house. She was happy to see his good fortune continue, to see him grow
stronger and safer. It would help him to continue after she died.
Illya knew that her lifespan was extremely limited. As the child of her mother and
father she should have had a lifespan that would have outlasted most humans.
Unfortunately the modifications that she had undergone in order to become what
could be regarded as the single strongest master in the war (baring Sakura after
her sanity failed of course) as well as further changes made to her so she could
serve as the Einzbern white grail had cut that down considerably. As things stood
the white haired girl knew that this time next year she would be dead.

It was so strange; she thought that she had come to terms with that fact. For so
long her only desire had been to destroy the boy that she thought her father had
chosen over her. Once that was done she wouldn't have cared, she would have
won the war and claimed the grail for her family so that they could have their
precious Heavens Feel back, and she would not have cared.
Death had been a part of her life for so long that she had no longer really
thought about it. But now, for the first time in nearly ten years, she wanted to
live. She finally had family again; she had her onii-chan. Shirou cared for her, she
knew that. He'd come to save her, he'd fought for her, he'd stood for her.
Ever since he had gained his new wealth she knew that he had also spoilt her a
bit, letting her use his money to buy toys, games, books, pretty much anything
that caught her fancy. And on top of that he was always making time for her. She
knew he was working on his plans to accumulate what strength he could before
meeting the magic users of this world. And that those plans were taking a lot of
his time. But even so he had taken time to teach her how to swim in the houses
pool, he'd helped her decorate her room as she wanted, he'd joined her in
playing her favourite game on her new games console, even though she kept on
beating him.
For the first time in almost a decade she felt loved, cared for, and she didn't want
to lose that.
However her death was not something that could be avoided, she only hoped
that it wouldn't hurt Shirou too much when she died.
He'd changed so much since coming to this new world, she wondered if he had
even noticed. It wasn't a bad change; one of Shirou's worst points had always
been his acting without much forethought. Admittedly more often than not that
had acted in his favour, but usually due only to blind luck.
Now though he was more thoughtful and prone to preparation. This plan of his to
build his advantages up wasn't something that the old Shirou would have
thought of. He'd probably have immediately tried to hunt down a magic user
without giving much thought to the possible consequences.
And yet he hadn't changed that much, she could see it in his grief, in his guilt at
the fact that he had killed those two gods who had come against him. Illya didn't
quite get it, but in that regard she was her fathers daughter, capable of
ruthlessness and callousness when needed.
With a shake of her head she turned and moved to follow her adopted brother.
However as she took her first steps she stopped and rolled her shoulders a bit.
That was odd, she'd only bought this blouse the same day they'd arrived in Tokyo
and it had been a perfect fit. Now though it felt a bit . . . small, uncomfortably so.
Had it shrunk in the wash? No that couldn't be it, this was her first time wearing
it so it hadn't even been washed yet.
Changing her direction so she could head to her room Illya dismissed thoughts of
her oddly uncomfortable clothes in favour of planning her day tomorrow. If she
was going to die then she intended to live as much as she could in the time she
had left to her. And she also intended to make sure that Shirou had lots of happy
memories of her after she was gone.

What she didn't know, what she COULDN'T know was that the small insignificant
fact that she had dismissed from her mind wasn't unimportant. It was very
important, so much so that in days to come she would look back on this instant
and weep tears of joy.

Chapter Four
Kusanagi Godou was absolutely certain that if someone had told him he would be
in this situation half a year ago he would have asked them if they what they were
smoking in their spare time.
On his right side was Erica, a girl who could be regarded as an epitome of
western beauty. Blonde, busty and beautiful she was what many boys envisioned
when they dreamed of European girls. Right now she firmly clamped onto his arm
and was sinking it into her impressive cleavage.
On his left side was Yuri, the eastern counterpoint to Erica's western appearance.
She was a near perfect example of the Yamato Nadeshiko ideal that was held in
high esteem by the Japanese people. Right now she was holding onto Godou's
left hand and trying to pull him away from Erica with a look of flustered
disapproval on her face.
And in front of him was Liliana, the latest addition to the girls in his life. Another
western beauty her loveliness was more fairy like than Erica's lushness. Her
silver hair, white skin and slim figure made for a third type of beauty. Right now
she was glaring at him with one hand on the hilt of her sword disapproval even
clearer in her eyes than in Yuri's.
This was not how he had planned to spend his vacation. He'd originally thought
about going to Italy, but then Erica had mentioned that she was thinking of the
same thing. He'd halted his own plans in hopes of spending a couple of weeks
without having to worry about the troublesome blonde, only to find out too late
that she had done likewise.
It wasn't that he disliked the witch knight, in fact the level of trust he had in her
was such that he had entrusted his life to her on more than one occasion. He
found her attractive, engaging and quite sexy. There were only two problems,
firstly he found that simply being around her tended to drag him deeper into the
troublesome world of the gods and mystics. Secondly he just couldn't understand
why someone like her was interested in a normal guy like him. She was beautiful,
talented, intelligent and smart, why was she wasting her time chasing a pretty
much ordinary guy like him. He knew her feelings were genuine, not motivated
by political gain with the circles of the magical societies, but he just couldn't
understand her reasoning in chasing him so fervently.
(Yes my dear readers, Kusanagi Godou is indeed a typical action/harem
protagonist, put him up against an invincible foe and he'll pull off something
brilliant, ask him to understand a girls feelings and the guy is thick as two sort
planks of wood and just about as insightful.)

Well whatever the case he had tried to arrange to take a week out camping in
the mountains. Unfortunately Erica had somehow anticipated him despite his
attempts at secrecy, when he'd gotten off the bus that had taken him to his stop
he had found all three girls waiting for him. Apparently the blonde had
mentioned her plans to the Hime-Miko who had insisted on coming along to
ensure that nothing inappropriate took place. Liliana had also caught wind of it
and decided to accompany them in her new capacity as Godou's newly sworn
knight. She'd been blushing and stuttering as she explained her reasoning and
Erica had mentioned someone called Karen which had caused the silver haired to
blush even further and degenerate into a near stuttering wreck, much to Erica's
amusement.
The four of them had all been ready with camping gear, and the three girls had
steadfastly followed him despite his attempts to get away on his own. In the end
he had surrendered to the seemingly inevitable and consented to setting up a
joint campsite. That had led to a few hijinks as Yuri proved to have no experience
with camping whatsoever. After watching her attempt at a tent collapse for the
second time Godou had shown pity and move to help her.
The only problem was that Erica, whose tent had shown no signs of instability,
had then found herself plagued by problems of her own and had asked the
Campione to help her. Not to be outdone by her rival Liliana had also developed
an inability to set up a tent meaning that Godou had to help her as well. Then to
top it off when he finally got round to preparing his own tent he found that a
number of essential pegs and pins had gone missing, meaning that erecting his
tent was impossible.
The perfect image of shocked surprise Erica had happily volunteered to allow
Godou to sleep in her tent. The young Kusanagi had at first been grateful, right
up until he realized that the blonde knight had no intention of vacating the tent
while he was in it. Idly he wondered if she had any idea what had happened to
his missing parts, might they have 'accidentally' found their way into her bag?
Probably not, she was too smart to leave such incriminating evidence where it
could be found.
Which led to his current position, Erica trying to drag him off, Yuri protesting at
the indecency of the suggestion and Liliana looking half ready to run away and
half ready to draw her sword.
"Oh don't be so mean Godou," said Erica pushing herself in even closer to the
beleaguered teen, "It's been so long since we slept in the same bed or even the
same room. Do you really intend to spurn my feeling so?"
"Th-the same bed?" Yuri dropped his hand in favour of bringing both of her own
hands up to cover her mouth in shock. "Godou-san, did you really . . . ? Am
I . . . ? Will you . . . ?" Her delicate features suddenly suffused with a deep blush.
Godou's own face had become rather red, but for some reason his words of
protest were sticking in his throat.
"Or maybe you could just push me down to the ground and get on top of me with
that passionate look on your face." With a smile on her face that could only be
described as playfully wicked Erica continued to pour more fuel onto the fire.

" . . . " It would appear that the imagery of that last sentence had been sufficient
to rob Yuri of the power of speech. Indeed if her blush did not subside soon then
there was a good chance it would also rob her of consciousness as an unhealthy
amount of blood would be diverted from where it would otherwise be needed.
Liliana on the other hand was fighting her own blush and now held the hilt of her
undrawn sword in a white knuckled grip.
The silver haired girl was not unintelligent, but she did have an unfortunate
tendency to be a bit on the gullible side, especially when it came to Erica and her
games. This was why the blonde's words were getting to her more than they
should have. Liliana had come along on this trip because her maid had pointed
out that it was an excellent chance for her to get closer to the young Campione.
Ever since the Red Devil knight had secured herself the position of Kusanagi
Godou's first lover the influence of the Copper-Black Cross had risen in influence
to eclipse their traditional rivals the Bronze-Black Cross, Lillian's own order.
Originally her grandfather had hoped to equal this achievement by ordering his
granddaughter to become the personal knight of the eldest of the Campione,
Sasha Dejanstahl Voban. However, both to her relief and humiliation, Voban had
not even seen her as a potential lover, only as a potentially useful lackey.
Eventually she had broken her allegiance to the self named marquis, due to a
combination of her own morals and Erica's blackmail, and instead sided with
Godou and his companions. However that had left her in a somewhat unstable
position with her own order, one that had been stabilised by her following
Karen's suggestion that she swear her services to the seventh Campione.
Which was why she had ended up following Erica and Yuri here. She still had yet
to make her 'official' pledge to Godou and she wanted to get to know him a bit
better before she went through with it. The problem was that so far he was
proving to be utterly perplexing.
Her first impressions of him had been quite good ones. He was a man with a will
iron enough to stand up to the oldest of the Campione despite the enormous gap
in their age and experience. He had proven himself loyal by standing by Yuri's
side even when it seemed that all hope of victory had faded. Even the fact that
he had won Erica's love spoke in his favour, because while she and the red
knight might clash in almost all major aspects of their personality it didn't
change the respect they felt for each other.
However since then she had just not known what to make of him. He was one of
the king of kings and yet he seemed bound and determined to remain a normal
Japanese schoolboy. In his normal life the seemingly unending will and tenacity
that he had shown in combat seemed to just disappear.
And then there were the other girls. First he'd captured Erica's heart, then he
seemed to have ensnared Yuri's interest as well, and if Karen's information was
to be believed he even had taken the highest ranked witch on earth, Lucretia
Zola, as a mistress. How could she reconcile this apparent determination to build
a lechers dream harem with the boy her own age she had been observing?
Of course right now her belief that Kusanagi Godou was an insatiable womanizer
was receiving some strong reinforcement.

"DON'T SAY MISLEADING THINGS ERICA!"

As his cry of woe echoed through the small clearing the seventh Campione
wondered just why he had to have his live disrupted this way.

-()-

Emiya Shirou gritted his teeth as he struggled to hold control over the curse he
was creating.
In all truth he had rather mixed feelings about using Curses without End in this
fashion. In some ways it was the most . . . eager of his Authorities to respond to
his will. The powers he had gained from Perseus had a feel that put him in mind
of a warhorse made of living steel, steadfast, implacable, and oddly professional.
Rule of the Underworld made him think of a willing but grumpy dragon, one that
would give up its treasure but would always make you work for it.
Curses without End was different, it was like a puppy that had spent its entire life
in the care of a cruel and neglectful master. It was beaten, starved and scarred
and yet it had continued to look for affection and kindness. Now in service to
Shirou it had found such a master, and as such if there was even the slightest
hint that its master wanted to use it then the puppy was practically jumping up
and down while frantically wagging its tail, all eager to be of service.
If that had been all there was to it then Shirou would have been happy to use the
Authority as often as he could, regardless of its costs. After all it was pretty much
the same as saving someone, and with only a few notable exceptions there was
nothing else in the world that he liked more than that. The problem was that
while that battered little puppy seemed to love its new master Shirou was pretty
much the only thing in creation that it did love.
Ever since he had begun to experiment with the power the youngest Campione
had been shocked by the ease with which the hurt little puppy could turn into a
rabid wolf that reeked of bloodlust in only the blink of an eye. As soon as he
turned his Authorities focus outward Curses without End quickly proved to be
more than deserving of its name. No matter what the target was, be it a god, a
conman, a beetle on the road or even a piece of furniture, the Authority wanted
to curse it into oblivion. Through fear, through misfortune, through destruction,
through misery, it didn't care how it just wanted to heap on the curses until the
targets very being was crushed out of existence by the weight of the curses upon
it.
Perhaps the only exception to its unrelenting malice was Illya, Shirou had
somehow been able to imprint it with the fact that the white haired girl was
precious to him and was not to be harmed. As a result the foaming mad wolf
would probably only snap at her half heartedly rather than going for her throat
the moment it saw her.
The other factor that left the young Emiya more than a bit reluctant to use the
Authority was the disquieting sensation that it evoked on his magic circuits when
he did use it. When he had fought Perseus he had been so focussed on the battle

that he had completely ignored it, it had been like pain, an utterly superfluous
sensation. The closest he could describe it was as being like operating a powerful
machine using controls that were at the bottom of a bucket of raw sewage that
smelt of too sweet honey. It didn't matter that the filth didn't have the
overpowering scent that was the signal of its rankness. Just its texture was
loathsome and your mind was aware that it was everything that your body
rejected as poisonous waste or useless excess. The only difference was that
rather than flowing over his skin the sensation was running through his circuits.
Needless to say the first time he had experienced the use of the Authority with a
clear head he'd immediately thrown up everything in his stomach.
The problem was that Curses without End was arguably his most powerful
Authority.
Rule of the Underworld might be mind boggling in its usefulness and the Dragon
Slaying Hero might be vastly compatible with him. However the Authority taken
from Angra Mainyu had a potency that all the others lacked, a quality that had
allowed him to slay a powerful hero god even though he hadn't known what he
was doing.
Right now he did know what he was doing though.
Experimentation had taught him that Curses without End could be manifested in
three forms. The first was as an enchantment. This was the method he had used
to fight and defeat Perseus. The curses were loaded into his weapons, or any
other convenient vessel, and the released directly into the target on contact. This
way had the advantage of being highly compatible with his fighting style as well
as enhancing those same weapons into something resembling cursed Noble
Phantasms. Certainly nothing on the scale of Gae Bolg, but maybe one day,
when his skills with both tracing and this new power were far more advanced.
The second way was as a spell. These curses could be released along a line of
sight, along the sound of someone's voice or action, or through a part of the
target, such as a strand of hair or a drop of blood. His experiment using a feather
from a pigeon he had captured had been . . . messy, but had proved this ability
to work even across a distance of miles. Naturally he hadn't had the chance to
use this version on a god yet, but his intuitive grasp of the power told him that
this version of the Authority would be of little use against a deity. Their divinity,
their godly aura would naturally reduce the curses effects to less than a tenth of
their original power.
However it was the third method that he was using right now. It was also the
method that he felt to be the most dangerous out of the three, true incarnation.
In mythology Angra Mainyu had created monsters in his attempts to do evil to
the world. One such example had been a snake of darkness, a monster that had
met its end at the hands of Mithra. Shirou had found that he could likewise
incarnate his curses into living beings. What made this method so dangerous was
that while the resulting beings were bound to his will he always had the feeling
that that control was constantly being tested. Not overtly or even strongly, just a
slight pressure that hinted at the chance of his losing control if he was careless
enough. Certainly he could easily will such a rebellious creation out of existence
if such ever came to pass, even out of his control they were still dependant upon

his Authority for their continued existence. But he shuddered at the though of
how much damage they could do if they were to go out of his control without him
being aware of it.
So he had made it a personal rule never to have more than eight such incarnated
curses in existence at a time. And right now he was in the process of creating the
last of those eight.
The curse he was using as its essence was WEAKNESS. The curse was taking
form as something that could best be described as a demonic cross of a leech, a
slug and a monkey, all made from a deep red mist. The creature was not that
much bigger than a large housecat, and its misty consistency made one think
that a strong breeze would be enough to brush it from existence. However both
its size and appearance were deceptive.
Since it was a part of his Authority Shirou could feel the information on its
attributes simply appearing in his mind, a useful ability to say the least. This
being wasn't what could be regarded as a frontline fighter; instead it would
attach itself unnoticed to a victim and begin to drain their vitality. After the
energy drain had weakened them to the point of incapacitation then it would
detach and seek out a new victim, only now it would be strong from the life-force
it had drained. Its next victim would fall faster and strengthen it more, as would
the next and so on. If left unchecked it would use the drained energy to fully
incarnate, and its physical form would possess a power comparable to that of a
minor dragon.
Gazing down at the small monstrosity in his hands Shirou carefully focussed his
will upon it.
-Sleep, - he commanded, -Sleep here until I call for you.The creature of crimson mist seemed to curl up in his arms, folding itself into a
ball about as large as a big melon. Satisfied that the curse creature had obeyed
his order Shirou lifted it up and placed it inside a large ceramic jar whose inside
had been lined with cushions. Once he was happy that the small monster was
sleeping comfortably he placed the lid back on the jar and taped a seal over it.
The seal was actually a decoy, the impressive looking symbols on it nothing more
than ominous looking gibberish. Their function was to give the impression, the
true impression really, that something dangerous was sealed inside.
Tracing a knife the eighth Campione scratched one word into the side of the jar.
WEAKNESS
This was the eighth such jar he had prepared. In this small room that was one of
the many basements in his new house there were seven other such jars, each of
them containing a sleeping monster. As he picked the jar up and set it on its
readied plinth he took a moment to glance at the other seven jars.
MISFORTUNE
FORGETFULNESS
TREACHERY

HUNGER
SLOTHE
FEAR
RAGE
These eight sleeping monster represented a force that if left unchecked could
cast the entire city of Tokyo into chaos and ruin in a matter of days. When he had
first conceived of this idea he had been horrified at the prospect, however the
more that he had thought about it the more he had seen its advantages. As long
as he kept control of the beings they would threaten no-one save for his
enemies, and if they did escape his leash he could easily put them down. As long
as he ensured that none escaped his observation then there would be no
problem.
The monsters that slept here represented his last line of defence in the
eventuality of a hostile force invading his mansion. The last and potentially
deadliest.
The first defence was a collection of bonded fields that Illya had spent several
days setting up. Normally inactive, once powered up they would make it very
difficult for a hostile force to force their way in through brute force. The second
line was also the work of Illya, a field of magical mines that were essentially little
more than overpowered flash/bangs. Though unlikely to hurt anyone, except
maybe for a couple of ruptured eardrums in the worse cases, it would leave them
as easier prey for the third line of defence should they not elect to retreat.
The third defence was what Shirou had spent the last week working on. Having a
very fat bank account as well as access to the internet had given him an idea, a
ruthless but useful idea. He'd set about doing a great deal of internet shopping,
buying items related to dead warriors. Bits of medieval armour, roman
arrowheads, Zulu spears, Viking helms, old samurai swords, it didn't matter too
much as long as they were authentic and could be delivered quickly.
In less than a week he had amassed a collection suitable for a small museum,
but it wasn't their historical significance that was of importance to him. Using
Ruler of the Underworld he had tested each purchase to see if they possessed a
strong enough link to bring someone back from the afterlife. Only one in three
possessed such a connection, but given the sheer number that he had bought
that was still a great many.
To each warrior that answered his call he asked the same question. If his manor
came under attack could he summon them up as zombie warriors, not full
incarnations like Yusuke but as skeletal soldiers similar to those Hades had called
up? In truth he didn't like the idea of bringing anyone back in such a state, but
doing so was far less taxing on him. The amount of energy needed to support
Yusuke would have been enough to sustain more than twenty skeletal minions.
To his surprise the greater majority of the warriors he asked were more than
happy to make the agreement. No matter what afterlife they were in, be it good
or bad, almost all of them would welcome some sort of change and so would
have no problem with being summoned in such a manner.

And that was the third line of defence, a small army of one hundred and fifty
undead warriors from more that a dozen different cultures. Certainly none of
them were on par with a Servant, in fact he'd rate them as only slightly better
combatants than Casters dragon tooth soldiers, but they were skilled and very
hard to put down. He could personally attest to that. When combined with Illya's
field of flash/bangs which would have hopefully left any attackers disorganized
the sight of an undead army would be more than enough to break their moral
and send them packing.
However should they break through then the release of one or more of the
sleeping curse monsters was to be the last line of defence before Shirou would
be forced to take to the field himself. Which curse creature he would release
would depend upon the nature of his attackers. Some of the monsters were nonlethal by nature, such as the Weakness creature he had just created. Others such
as Rage or Treachery were almost guaranteed to leave nothing in their wake but
corpses.
Now, with the completion of his final safety measure, Shirou could honestly say
that he was as ready as he was ever going to be. Tomorrow he would begin the
task of trying to find the local mystical authorities and make contact with them.
The question was just how could he go about that? The simplest and most
obvious way was to cause a clearly magical disturbance and then simply wait foe
whoever showed up to deal with it. The downside to that was that it wasn't likely
to paint him in a good first light to those he wished to contact. His next thought
was to go to some remote location on his pegasus then flare his magic up as
high as he could. That should get the attention of anybody with even the most
rudimentary mystic senses. The problem with that was that he might end up
attracting attention that he would rather have avoided. The last thing he wanted
to have to deal with was another god trying to kill him.
That left the safer but more time consuming option of investigation and
deductive reasoning. He'd have to go to several different places that he
suspected of having some connection to the supernatural and see what he could
work out from there. He already had made some basic searches using the
internet and had a few starting points that he could work with. A fortune teller
with a surprisingly good record for success, a shrine that genuinely seemed able
to dispel ill fortune, an antiques store with a rather dark reputation of cursing
would be thieves. All sounded like they might be the real McCoy rather that
simple fraudsters. With any luck one of them might be able to point him towards
the path that he was looking for.
Okay, now for the hard part.
Sitting down on a rug that he had spread in a corner earlier he pulled on a bell
pull to alert Illya that he was finishing. That done he released the power he had
been holding and sent the puppy back to sleep.
His body slumped backwards as muscle control largely abandoned him. He could
still breathe and move his eyes, and thankfully for his dignity bladder control
remained his. Aside from that though he couldn't have moved even if a herd of
bulls were bearing down on him.

Well that wasn't quite true, he knew that if he drew on the power of Curses
without End again then his paralysis would vanish, but doing so only invoke a
heavier toll at a later point.
And right now the toll he was paying was considerable. Pain wracked him, as
though red hot needles were being forced through his every vein. This was the
price of using the power of Angra Mainyu's power, pain enough to drive a normal
man insane.
However Shirou was not a normal man, even before he became a god-slaying
devil king he was different from others. What was pain to him? Pain, despair and
hell on earth were his earliest memories. He'd experience the pain of his own
deepest nature turning against him and trying to destroy him. Heated needles in
his blood? He'd felt himself being impale from the inside out by a limitless
number of swords, he'd felt his memories die and his senses fade into nothing
but steel.
Simply put Emiya Shirou was not an existence that could be broken by mere
pain, not this level of it anyway.
So he endured. He lay on the rug and waited for Illya to arrive and use her string
golems to carry him to his bed where he could recover. In all truth this wasn't as
bad as what he had needed to endure after his battle with Perseus. That time the
pain had been so great that he hadn't been able to remain conscious. This time
though he hadn't needed to use multiple curses strong enough to affect a god.

-()-

It was the dead of night in Naples. Not midnight, there was still plenty going on
most nights at that time. This was about three o'clock in the morning, the time
when the late night revellers were finally stumbling into their bed in the hopes of
catching a few hours of sleep before they had to face the day again.
However there was one man walking the streets. In truth though he was no man,
he was a god, a figure of legend and a being of power beyond most mortal's
comprehension. For centuries now he had been content to rest within his myth,
however recently he had felt something on the mortal plain tug at him. It was
something that was connected to his Authority, and yet it was something that he
had never encountered before despite all his famed legends.
So he had descended to the mortal plane, but he had done so with great care
and stealth. When most of his brethren rebelled against their myth and
manifested upon the mortal plain they did so in so violent a fashion that their
very presence was enough to trigger natural disasters. Of course manifesting in
such a manner was more than likely to draw the attention of any Campione in
the area, and that was something he sought to avoid.
To be sure he was no coward, his legend was filled with mentions of his bravery
and fortitude, however it also held many examples of his cunning and caution.
Where others had thought only to use brute strength he had employed guile,

where others had been reckless he had shown prudence, and where they had
died he had thrived.
Perhaps it was because it was not boredom or frustration that drove him from his
legend, but rather it was curiosity. Whatever the case may be, he had succeeded
in arriving on the mortal plane without stirring up so much as an angry gust of
wind. And now he had finally made his way to the source of the strange tugging.
This was a part of the city that was under reconstruction, a long swathe of it had
been levelled to the ground several weeks ago. He could feel the residual
energies that still lingered in the wake of the destruction. One power as hateful
and vile as could be conceived of, the other force was one that he could only
describe as 'the promise of glory'. Both remnants seemed to be cancelling each
other out so that the mortals working on the area were unaffected by either
influence.
This was the site of where a god had fallen and a Campione had risen.
Still that was of little interest to him. What had drawn him was . . . here, right at
the tip of the swathe of repairing ruin.
His eyes narrowed in concentration as he focussed on the . . . hole? Tear?
Doorway? It was none of those and yet at the same time it was. It was map and
sea and guiding star. He could also tell that it was incomplete; a remnant of a
remnant, but it was SOMETHING.
He had many aspects that were famed, trickster, adventurer, king, however
perhaps his most pronounced aspect was that he was a traveller. His voyages
were the stuff of legends, perhaps even the most famed of their kind.
Throughout his immortal live he had travelled to every point in the world, before
Christopher Columbus was even born he had already mapped the entirety of
what would come to be called America in his mind.
But eventually there had literally been nothing left to journey to, he had seen it
all. So he had retreated into his myth, willing to wait there until the world
changed so much that it would create a new world for him to travel.
Yes, he knew why this broken fragment of power had called to him so. It
represented a way out of this world, it showed him possibilities. It was like a man
who had been trapped in a pitch black room for most of his life finding a
fragment of a key that glowed. With that glow he could finally see the door which
was a way out, and the fragment gave him an idea as to the shape of the key. All
he needed were the rest of the fragments and then he could remake the key.
And then . . . Freedom! Journeys without limit. Adventures without end. Could
there be any sweeter prize?
Reaching out with his power he enfolded the shard of power in a covering of his
power, and then carefully drew it into himself. He could feel it attaching to his
own nature, altering so as to seamlessly blend into his being. It was still
incomplete; it was a start, one that he could build upon.

-()-

She glared down at the small camp below her and contemplated her next action.
The dark haired boy below was not the Campione that she sought; she knew that
her target was a red haired youth. When she had cast a scrying spell to point her
towards the Campione that she sought the signs she received had pointed her in
this direction.
This was both irritating and worrying, irritating in that she had found the wrong
target, worrying in that her spell had failed. She had used that same
enchantment many times over the millennia, and it had always served her well.
That it would her now suggested that the object of her search was somehow
veiled from her.
Certainly there existed Authorities that could have accomplished such a fete,
there were even some long lost human castings that could have done it.
However both those options were indications of an unpleasant development.
Either the boy had acquired even more Authorities in the time since he had
escaped her sight or he was allied to a sage of vast power and skill. And both
options would mean only trouble for her.
Still this accident did present her with a potential opportunity. Below her was the
seventh Campione, the same devil king who had defeated Athena even when she
had reclaimed her lost power. Right now he was unguarded, vulnerable. If she
were to strike now then might she be able to slay him? Or perhaps even wound
him enough that he would be unable to interfere in her plans?
No, the Divine Ancestor shook her head to herself. She had not survived for so
long and regained so much of what she had lost by being reckless. Hers was a
nature that was prone to tempestuous rages and peeks of arrogance, but over
the long centuries she had learnt the control and self discipline that had eluded
her as a full divinity. She had learnt the value of caution; she had learnt the value
of patience. As attractive as the thought of an all out battle was she knew that
her carefully rebuilt power was not on the level of a true god. This was a
Campione, no matter how young or foolish he might seem she had to remember
the fact that he had killed a Heretic God in the full height of their power and had
claimed their Authorities for himself. To fight what could be called the peak of
mortal power in her weakened state was foolishness plain and simple.
But that didn't mean that she didn't have other options available to her, while an
all out fight was out of the question that didn't mean that she couldn't conduct a
little reconnaissance on the boy's abilities. Athena had been reluctant to share
many details on the method by which she had been defeated. If she could watch
him in battle it would expand her own knowledge of his strengths and
weaknesses considerably.
Her mind made up she brought her left hand up to her mouth and bit down on
the flesh between the thumb and forefinger hard enough to draw blood. As
droplets of scarlet fell to the bracken beneath her feet she muttered an
incantation under her breath in a language long forgotten to the modern world.
As the incantation ended she ran her healed hand through her blue/red hair and
pulled out a few stray strands. Dropping them onto the now softly glowing

droplets of blood she watched as the liquid and the hair merged into a fleshy
mass that began to grow at an astonishing rate.
In less than half a minute the mass that had started as no larger than a
caterpillar had swollen to be as big as a large bull. The creature was centaurian,
except that instead of the lower body of a horse this goliath was a gigantic
scorpion from the waist down. From the waist up the monster was a man who
seemed to be clad in great overlapping plates of organic black armour that
matched the hue of his insectile half. In one hand he held an organic serrated
edge sword while the other ended in a vicious scorpion's pincer. The monster
was an awesome sight, one able to strike fear into the hearts of any mortal that
crossed its path.
Looking upon it the former earth goddess could only feel disgust and shame.
Once she had been able spawn such terrors that even gods had recoiled from
them in battle, now this was the best she could do, a monster barely a match for
the diluted creations of the younger gods. Still for this purpose it should serve
well enough. With one had she gestured towards the camp below.
"Slay the boy, scatter the girls, after that your freedom is yours."
It was cruel in a way; to bring this child into existence and then send it against a
foe she knew it had no chance of defeating. Still what was the point of being a
divinity, no matter how reduced, if every now and then you couldn't play god?

-()-

It says a great deal about your life that you are actually happy to see a monster
out of a madman's nightmares come charging into your camp. The mere fact
that imminent mortal combat is preferable to further interaction with ones
companions should generally be taken as a bad sign.
Kusanagi Godou was not most people though.
Right now he was lying in his sleeping bag next to the small camp fire and
thanking his luck stars that the weather was good. In the end in order to both
preserve his own modesty, as well as convince Liliana and Yuri that he did not in
fact plan to ravage them in their sleep, he had elected to sleep outside rather
than share a tent with any of the girls. As a result he was cold and
uncomfortable, but at least his image as some insatiable sexual predator would
not be further fed.
Still despite his neutral positioning he could have sworn that he was been keenly
watched by eyes that could only be described as predatory themselves.
The instincts of a Campione were sharp indeed; the problem was that he was not
only detecting the gaze of the Divine Ancestor who was watching him, but also
the stares of all three of his camp companions.
Erica had been watching him for signs that he would fall asleep. She knew from
personal experience that once Godou nodded off then he would sleep like the
dead. As of yet she hadn't made up her mind as to whether she would slip into

his sleeping bag or whether she would try to use a spell to spirit him into hers.
She'd elected to wait and see how things progressed rather than making any
plans.
Yuri on the other hand was keeping an eye on Godou out of both a sense of
obligation as well as a certain sense of jealousy that she was doing her best to
ignore. The seventh Campione was both someone she admired and someone she
cared for. He'd fought the eldest and most experienced of the God-slaying kings
for her sake, he had faced the tyrant that had haunted her dreams for years and
he had driven him off. The young Hime-Miko felt it was her duty to ensure that
her friend and saviour did not stray onto a path of debauchery and impropriety.
And if a side effect of that was that she kept other girls from paying attention of
an intimate nature to him, well that was just coincidence.
Really.
Liliana, on the other hand, was finding herself a bit unsure of exactly where she
stood in regards to her own feelings. On the one hand she was pleased that
despite her earlier worries it seemed as though there would be no threats to her
virtue from the Campione that she had allied herself to. On the other hand there
was a certain element of pride and rivalry thrown into the mix. Was she less
worthy than Erica? She knew her figure was the less lush of the two of them, by a
fair margin if she was being honest, but she knew that in her own way she was
as beautiful as her rival. So why had the seventh Campione made no move to
add her to his harem?
The fact that the situation bore a rather worrying resemblance to the content of
the latest chapters of the novel that she wrote in her spare time was rather
worrying in and of itself.
Under so many different intense gazes it was understandable why Godou's
instincts had ended up missing the more hostile presence that had been added
to the already volatile mix.
What he did not miss was an eight foot tall scorpion centaur creature charging
into the camp while trampling Erica's tent.
Exactly how something like that managed to get the drop on the magical knight
he had no idea. Normally the blonde was far more aware of her surroundings. He
had a brief moment where concern for her flooded his thoughts as he saw the
spear like points of the creatures leg stab into the crumpled material of the
collapsed tent as the monster charged over it. It was all too easy to imagine
those points stabbing into Erica's white flesh. Then the moment was passed as
the creature was upon him.
The huge organic sword stabbed through the blue sleeping bag and into the
earth below, however no blood was spilt because Godou was no longer there.
Clad in a sweatshirt, his underwear and pyjama bottoms the seventh Campione
rolled to his feet as he recovered from the dive that had gotten him out of his
sleeping gear just in time. Twigs and stones pricked at his bare feet, but he
ignored them.
Words came to his lips, instinctual words that accompanied the activation of one
of the ten Authorities that he possessed.

"For I am strongest amongst the strong. Truly, I am one that holds each and
every victory. I care not whom challenges me, whether man or devil; I may face
all my foes and all my enemies. Regardless, I shall crush all those who wouldst
stand in my way!"
The strength of the Bull surged through his form, raw power that always was
enough to defeat the foes that stood against him.
Of course that didn't mean he was invincible of course. Strong he might be, but
invulnerable he was not. That sword could still cut his flesh, that pincer could still
crush his bones. With that in mind the black haired teen did the most logical
thing, he acquired a weapon.
The boulder had been on the edge of the camp and was roughly the size of the
average armchair. How much it weighed was anyone's guess, but it was the kind
of stone that normally needed industrial machinery to move. With the divine
power running through his limbs Godou had no trouble picking it up and throwing
it at his attacker as though it were nothing more than an oversized beach ball.
Of course his enemy was no simple mortal either. The black armoured monster
simply swung its sword and sliced the oncoming boulder in two with almost
contemptuous ease. Both halves went flying to either side of it to go crashing
into the brush with a thunderous cracking of branches.
However Godou had not expected such a simple attack to be enough to take
down this foe. Such an outcome would have been nice, but the Japanese student
was familiar enough with supernatural foes to know that such a possibility was
unlikely to say the least. That was why he had taken the small window his attack
had offered to prepare a more hefty weapon.
Wood snapped with a sound like a small explosion as an Authority enhanced kick
smashed through the trunk of a tree and sent it toppling. But before it could
complete its fall Godou wrapped his arms around the trunk and heaved.
It was absurd, in total defiance of all natural laws of leverage and centres of
gravity, but that was the power of a gods Authority. To defy the common sense of
the world and simply do as they pleased. And since that power became a
Campione's with their victory that meant that that was Godou's power as well.
Which was why he was wielding the entire tree as though it were a battering ram
as he charged at his enemy. As stated it was absurd. No matter his strength the
brown eyed teen should have lacked the weight to allow him to use the fallen
tree in such a way. The weight of the leaves and branches at the far end should
have made it impossible to carry in such a way as he ran.
But he did it anyway.
Had the scorpion creature had eyes then he might have blinked in surprise as he
saw the huge mass of twigs and leaves bearing down on him like a green
avalanche. He still tried to slash his way through the mass as he had through the
boulder, however against a tangled mess of small branches, twigs and piled
leaves such an action was doomed to failure. The creature had just enough time
to let out an exclamation of surprise and anger before its bulk disappeared into
the mass of foliage.

Godou didn't stop though, even as his foe was entangled in the branches of his
improvised weapon he kept running. He didn't stop until the end of his weapon
drove into another boulder, this one the size of a small minivan, effectively
crushing the scorpion man between it and the trunk of the tree being driven at it.
He paused then, unsure as to what to do next. He knew that his attack was
unlikely to have finished the creature off, but at the same time he was unsure of
what to do next. Switching to another Authority seemed like a foolish choice.
While the Raptor, White Horse and Warrior with a Golden Sword were available to
him given the circumstances, none of them were practical choice to use. The
Raptor would be a step down from the Bull, the Golden Sword was of little use
save as a mundane weapon since this being was both unknown and not a full
god, and the Horse would probably consume his companions if used in such
close proximity to them.
"Your highness, are you unharmed?"
Liliana's question made Godou wince slightly. He knew that as a Campione he
was regarded as one of the supreme powers in the world of human mystics. His
sole responsibility among them was to defeat any Heretic Gods that materialized
on the mortal plane. As long as he fulfilled that duty he was free to do whatever
he wanted.
He didn't like that.
He didn't like the way others acquiesced to him without even arguing their own
opinions. He didn't like the bowing, the scraping and the fear. And he most
certainly didn't like having to deal with all these needlessly complicated
monsters and gods.
But oddly enough the thing that annoyed him the most was that he was called a
king, even though he still felt he had not done anything deserving of the title.
Sure, he had driven off Athena and Voban, but he didn't feel that those
accomplishments merited him being called such by someone so obviously a
knight like Liliana.
Any further musings were cut off as the tree that had just served as his weapon
exploded into a cloud of splinters. With a sound like a thousand crickets being
tortured the black armoured monster threw itself towards the seventh Campione
once more.
Godou had been prepared for this though, at no point had he expected what he
had done to be enough to finish his enemy off. Instead he dodged backwards
from the blow he had been expecting, and then dove back in during the brief
moment of opening that the missed sword swing left. It was only a split second
window, but it was enough to let him deliver a crushing straight right to the
scorpion man's solar plexus.
Liliana was forced to cover her eyes as malformed creature's body was sent
rocketing back with enough force to once more drive it into the same boulder
that Godou had smashed it into with the tree earlier. The difference was that this
time the impact had enough force to pulverise some of the stone into dust. It had
been this small burst of grit and dirt that had forced her to cover her eyes.

Drawing her hands back she took a look at what had become of the fearsome
monster. All the legs on its left side, where it had struck the stone, were clearly
broken. Its long tail still seemed able to move, but was clearly slowed and
seemed to tremble. Most obvious though was the dinner plate sized dent in the
lower torso of the black armoured form.
The silver haired knight was still amazed at the sheer power the youth
demonstrated so easily. She'd spent several weeks in the service of Marquis
Voban, and had also witnessed the battle between him and Godou. But it was
demonstrations like this that reminded her that Campione were the truth that
every spell user tried to imitate without success. Kusanagi Godou was someone
who had possessed not a drop of knowledge about the mystic arts, but by the
single impossible act of killing a god he had become what lifelong mages could
never become.
It was almost galling in a way, but on the other hand . . .
"LOOK OUT!"
There was a sound like a rushing wind Liliana felt something suddenly hit her
around the waist. She barely had time to register the impact though, because at
that very instant the world blurred around her even as a screech that no human
could ever have produced deafened her ears.
The next thing she knew she was kneeling next to Yuri who was herself looking
every bit as dazed as Liliana felt. Between them was Godou, his knees on the
ground, but tensed like an athlete ready to start a sprint.
"Not good." He muttered to himself as he glared across the clearing.
Following his gaze the witch knight realized that she was looking at the spot
where she had just been standing. Both there and where Godou had himself
stood the entire area had been pin cushioned with dozens of long black needles.
Even as she watched the plants near to them withered and died, shrivelling and
blackening so quickly that it could be seen with the naked eye.
Realization hit her like an arrow, Godou had seen the attack coming and had
tried to warn her, however distracted as she had been by her thoughts she
hadn't reacted quickly enough. As a result he had been forced to switch to his
Raptor Authority and use it's godspeed to get her to safety. Silently she cursed
herself for her incompetence; such an error was elementary and inexcusable.
How could she have let herself get distracted like that?
Her thoughts were cut off once more as she felt an arm go around her waist once
again. She barely had time to draw a sharp breath in surprise at the familiar
contact when suddenly the world blurred again and she was once more in a
different place. Instinctively her eyes sought the spot in front of Yuri's tent, the
place where they had been standing just a second ago. Sure enough the spot
was riddled with black spines and what living plants had been there were now
dying.
Her eyes went back to the monster again. This time she wasn't going to make
the same mistake, she'd keep her eyes on the thing and be ready for its attacks.

"Yuri, see if you can find and help Erica. Liliana, please protect Yuri if she needs
it." Godou's voice was calm and collected, but there was a definite edge to it.
This was the voice of the god-slaying king.
Before the silver haired knight could think of responding he was of again, moving
so fast that even her magically enhanced senses could barely keep up.
The scorpion monster was up again now, its broken legs were still immobile but
seemed able to support its weight despite the damage inflicted upon them. As it
saw the Campione heading towards it it raised its left arm and stretched the
black pincer at its end open. Inside Liliana could see a mass of spikes all
clustered together. There was a noise somewhat like a pair of flour sacks hitting
each other and then suddenly the needles were flying as though propelled from
an air cannon.
However when compared to the speed of one using the power of a god those
projectiles might as well have been floating through the air at the velocity of
snails.
Godou easily dodged the attack before slamming into his foe. No, that wasn't
right. The witch knight blinked in surprise as she saw that the Japanese teen had
not collided with his target but had instead RUN ALONG him without ever
breaking stride. As he put distance between them the monster roared in pain.
Seeing the glint of metal among its black plates she realized that Godou had
used their brief moments of contact to drive some of the longer tent pegs into its
joints. Brilliant, under normal circumstances he would have lacked the strength
to force them in, but by throwing them while turning at the speed he had been
going he had lent them the momentum of arrows.
"Go help Godou." The words from Yuri broke into her admiring thoughts and
made her turn to stare at the Hime-Miko.
"Kusanagi-sama asked me to watch over you."
"Godou-san can't use the power of the Bull now. The only other of his Authorities
he can use to fight that monster are the White Stallion, the Goat and the Warrior.
But neither of us knows what divinity birthed that monster so the Warrior can't
be used, he isn't familiar enough with the Goat and he can't use the White
Stallion because he doesn't have enough room." The explanation was delivered
in a rushed gasp.
Liliana's eyes widened as understanding dawned. She knew that the seventh
Campione had received an unheard of number of Authorities from the single god
he had slain. She had also heard that those powers had conditions upon their
use, meaning they could not be used as freely as other Campione could use their
own.
Her mouth drew itself into a firm line as she gave Yuri a sharp nod of her head.
She would not be a burden upon him. She was a knight of the Bronze-Black Cross
and one of the finest witch knights in the world.
"Undrinking blood of murderers, the unretreating bow of Jonathan! Unconsuming
oil of the brave soul, returning the sword of Saul in vain! Alas, the heroes, fallen
in the midst of battle!"

Il Maestro appeared in her right hand, and then shimmered in blue light as under
her breath she recited the Song of the Bow, as the last word was spoken the
sword had become a bow. As she began the second part of the spell four arrows
surrounded by a glowing blue nimbus appeared on the bow ready to be drawn.
"O' bow of Jonathan, with eagle's swiftness and lion's strength, a hero's weapon.
Go forth in assault, upon my fleeing enemies!"
As the words ended she let the shafts fly. Any normal arrow would have been
useless in this conflict, but these were arrows made form the mystic essence of Il
Maestro, a weapon of great potency. Combined with the power of the Song of the
Bow, a spell strong enough to allow a weapon to penetrate the divinity of a god,
they were more than equal to the challenge before them. Against a monster of
divine origin they would have been crippling had they struck true, enough to
secure Godou's victory.
Unfortunately the black armoured monster saw the arrows coming. With an
agility that should have been impossible for a creature that was not only so large
but also so injured it spun in place and took all four of the shafts into it larger and
more heavily armoured left arm. Cursing quietly Liliana took of running, angling
the path of her dash so that the scorpion man would have to turn away from
Godou in order to focus on her. More arrows were loosed, but lacked the Song of
the Bow as she didn't want to pause in one place in order to use it. She had the
impression that if she did then she'd soon end up a poisoned pin cushion in short
order.
The seventh Campione had not been idle during the opening the witch knight's
attack had created. While four arrows were stabbed into the left arm of his foe
more than a dozen tent pegs were driven into various joints and seams in the
natural armour that protected the monster. Individually they were pin pricks, but
their number increased they were slowing the creature down. Enough of them
would hopefully incapacitate or kill it. Normally Godou wouldn't have been so
vicious in dealing with his attacker, but this one had used clearly lethal weapons
against his companions even when they hadn't made a move against it. That was
enough of a reason to deal with it in a permanent way as far as he was
concerned.
But the beast wasn't going down easily, and its endurance seemed to be
tremendous. Forcing its cracked limbs to work it spun place with such force that
it was able to use its tail to smash through two trees and send the trunks
tumbling. Still using the Raptor Godou was easily able to evade the falling tree
limbs. More hampered by mortal limitations as well as being caught by surprise
Liliana was not so able.
Her efforts were magnificent though, worthy of her station to say the least.
However misfortune caused her ankle to get caught in the fork of a root as she
made her last evasion. Losing her balance and unable to make her last jump she
only had time to blink as a branch as thick as her waist started to come down on
her.
What happened next took place so fast that it was even less distinct than the
blurred world she had experienced earlier. One instant the timber was
descending to crush her; the next Godou's form crashed into her carrying them

both out of the falling trees path, then there was a flash of black, then crimson
red splashed the white of her pyjamas.

-()-

(A couple of minutes previously.)

Yuri was frantically pulling at the remains of the tent that Erica had been sleeping
in. Unfortunately the stabbing it had received by the pointed legs of the man
scorpion had driven the fabric into the ground, essentially nailing it in place. The
fact that the Hime-Miko was not blessed with any particular physical strength
was also hindering her efforts considerably.
"No need to be so worried," came a voice from behind her. "I was able to get out
with plenty of time."
Yuri blinked then turned. Standing behind her was a sight that more than half the
boys in Jounan Academy would have been willing to pay in blood to see.
Erica Blandelli was regarded as one of the most desirable girls in the school, a
fact that made Godou one of the most envied boys as the blonde made no secret
of her affection for him. As a result of both her natural beauty and talent Erica
had considerable pride in herself. That combined with her plans for further
romantic escapades with the object of her desire had resulted in her current
state.
Clad in nothing but some lacy red undergarments the Red Devil of the CopperBlack Cross looked like a lingerie model that had just stepped out of a
particularly risqu catalogue. The casual way that she was leaning against a tree
completely unconcerned with her lack of more suitable attire seemed in some
bizarre way to only heighten her attractiveness.
"E-Erica-san? Why are you dressed like that?!" The Hime-Miko's voice came out
in a slightly strangled squeak.
The magical knight turned her gaze away from the battle to give the girl a raised
eyebrow.
"I hardly was given a chance to get dresses before I had to get out of my tent
you know you know."
"No, I mean- why are you dressed like that?"
A smile that could only be described as devilish crossed the blonde
swordswoman's face.
"Well it would hardly do for me to try to seduce my dear Godou in simple
pyjamas no would it?"
The sheer brazen honesty of Erica's calm statement was enough to once more
rob the Hime-Miko of the power of speech.

Ignoring Yuri's shock the magical knight turned her attention back towards the
fight. Liliana was proving to be excellent support for Godou and between them
they seemed to dealing minor but mounting damage to their foe.
"Ano . . . shouldn't you be helping them Erica-san?" Ah, it seemed that Yuri had
managed to overcome her shock and was now gazing down at the battle with
concern.
"There's no need," replied the blonde with casual certainty. "In fact I think this
might have been a good thing to happen. Since she broke her ties to Voban I've
been hoping that she'd form some with Godou, but she's been so shy about it.
This is an excellent chance for her to develop her own feelings for him."
The young Mariya could only stare at the other girl's devilish smile with a kind of
horrified admiration. To think, this girl could look at the attack of such a
monstrosity and calmly analyse the situation for whatever advantageous angles
she could find. How terrifying, and yet how oddly admirable.
"But-but what about Godou-san?"
"Huh? What about him? Yuri, if something like that overgrown arachnid was
enough to kill him then he would never have become a Campione in the first
place."
The Hime-Miko once more flushed, but this time in shame rather than
embarrassment. She knew that she should have known that, she more than most
others knew just how powerful Godou could be. The problem was that he didn't
act it. When she'd first been assigned to make contact with the newest
Campione she had been terrified, sure that she would be faced with another
fearsome tyrant. Instead the young Kusanagi was . . . normal. He was a nice
normal guy, so much so that it was all too easy to forget just how much power he
kept concealed.
Yes, he was a Campione; a monster like this should be of little threat to him.
Her thoughts were by two sudden cries, one of alarm and one of pain.

-()-

Liliana cursed herself once more as she wrapped her arms around Godou and
leapt away from their previous place using a spell to allow her flight. It was a
wise move, no sooner were they gone than the spot where they had previously
stood as peppered by black spines.
In her arms the seventh Campione groaned in pain as he clutched the wound in
his shoulder. That monster had shown that it wasn't simply powerful and agile, it
was also cunning. Cunning enough to have anticipated Godou moving to aid her
when she hadn't been fast enough to avoid those falling branches. Even as he
had pushed her out of the way the hurled sword of the scorpion man had come
spinning through the air and nearly clove his head in two. Only the fact that he
had taken one extra step had made the difference between death and mere
injury.

Even as they landed Godou suddenly clutched at his chest and stumbled as his
legs lost strength.
"Was the blade poisoned?!" Liliana snapped as she immediately took up a
guarding position between the fallen Campione and the arachnid monster. The
burst of movement it had used seemed to have left it drained as it made no
move to follow them, only turning slowly to face in their direction.
"No," gasped Godou, "The swords impact managed to cancel the Raptor."
The seventh Campione was angry with himself. In some ways the Raptor was the
unruliest of his Authorities. The Boar might be the most wantonly destructive,
but for the most part it followed his commands. The Raptor on the other hand
had an unpleasant tendency to slip from his control whenever his concentration
was broken. And having a spinning sword buzz saw through your shoulder could
definitely break one focus.
Once again he was silently thankful for the additional hardiness that being a
Campione gave to his body. Though not quite as bad as being mauled by a tiger
spirit the gash in his shoulder should still have sent him into shock, now it simply
hurt like hell.
Any further thoughts were cut off as the centaurian monster started to move
towards them. At first its movements were slow and pained, but it quickly picked
up speed and began to thunder up the shallow incline towards them.
Damn it, he couldn't be immobilized now. He needed to fight, he needed power.
Once more words came unbidden to his lips, but these were new spell words,
ones that he had never used before.
"All of the enemies before me, fear me. Every sinner shall tremble before my
power. Now is the time, that I obtain the power of a thousand camels! Upon my
mighty self, I shall bear the symbol of the raging camel!"
Strength surged through him, the pain in his shoulder faded to inconsequentiality
and his blood began to sing. This new Authority wasn't troublesome in the least;
it had the feeling of wanting to be used, of wanting to fight.
Without an instants hesitation the young Kusanagi hurled himself forwards. A
spinning kick caught the monsters claw arm and sent it veering of to the side so
it couldn't be brought to bear against the Campione. The following kick was a
straight thrust driven into the scorpion mans middle and reflexively doubling him
over. The third attack of the combo was a dropping axe kick the caught its target
in the back of his bowed head and drove him face first into the dirt.
Godou had never had any serious martial arts training in his life, and yet under
the influence of this new Authority the moves came as easily as putting one foot
in front of the other while walking. Then his instincts screamed at him once more
and he jumped backwards hurriedly.
The decision saved his life as the stinger on the end of the scorpion tail stabbed
through the place where his chest had been only an instant before. Without even
stopping to think about it the seventh Campione brought his right leg about in a
vicious roundhouse kick. The force of the blow was such that the tail was brutally
severed, black ichor gushing out from the broken end.

However before Godou could press his advantage the monster had straightened
itself up once more and was swiping at him with its pincer ending left arm.
Almost easily he ducked under the blow and then lashed upwards with a straight
kick, driving the heel of his foot into the elbow of the arm.
With a high keen of pain the scorpion man jumped backwards while cradling his
broken limb with his right arm, moving like a spider as it retreated. The black
haired teen watched it go, willing to let it gain some room as long as it gave him
a chance to both catch his breath and plan his next move.
Such thoughts were cut of though as he watched the broken end of the tail
rapidly scab over and heal. As he watched he could see the end visibly begin to
grow a new stinger. With a muttered curse he realized that the legs that had
previously been crippled were now apparently working just fine. A loud crack
echoed through the campsite as the previously broken arm snapped back into
place and visibly flexed. Almost as a last insult the seemed to reach INTO its own
body and draw forth a new sword.
Great, he was down two of his Authorities and this monster was almost as well
off as it had been when this fight had started. Sure it still had a few tent pegs
stabbed into it, but those were being treated like splinters. Irritations to be left to
deal with later. If he wanted to finish this thing off he'd have to do it all in one go
leaving it no chance to regenerate.
Idly he wondered at what point ruthlessness had begun to come so naturally to
him. A year ago the thought of killing something would not have come to him so
easily, now though it was no problem at all.
"Are you alright Kusanagi Godou-sama?"
The voice of Erica's friend broke into his thoughts. He'd been rather surprised
when she had insisted upon accompanying him and the other girls on this trip.
Still right now he would welcome any aid he could get.
"I'm good, the Camel grants great endurance and leg strength. The problem is I
don't think it'll be enough to take on that guy's regeneration."
That much was obvious to both the fighters at a glance. The power of the new
Authority that Godou had unlocked was formidable, but blunt blows such as kicks
were of minimal use against a foe that healed as fast as this one. What was
needed was fully destroying attacks, such as fire, or assaults that would hinder
the regeneration, such as freezing.
The young Campione was well aware that his best shot at finishing this monster
off was to use his White Stallion Authority on it. He could feel with himself that
the power was available for his use. It seemed that this monsters mere existence
made it enough of an enemy to mankind to count as one who had sinned against
the people. Well, that and the fact that it was currently tearing up a national
park, that probably counted too.
The problem was the power of the horse was the size of the blast it created on
impact. If he used it right now not only would it encompass the entire campsite
but also almost everyone in it. He and Liliana might be safe, but the chances of
Erica and Yuri being caught in it were simply too great. What he needed to do
was knock the monster all the way across the campsite, right to the other end.

He could do it, of that he was certain. The power of the Camel gave him the
strength to accomplish the fete. The problem was that the scorpion man was not
about to let him get close enough to do that easily.
He could see it in his minds eye. He'd charge at the monster and it would
immediately retaliate. First it would release a spray of black needles, then, if he
dodged the first attack, it would lash out a quick slash with its sword. If he was
able to avoid that as well the there was still its tail to contend with since it had to
all intents and purposes finished healing by this point.
There lay the difficulty, no matter how he went over it in his mind he couldn't see
a way to get through those three attacks and still be in position. In each scenario
he envisioned he was either struck by a blow or but at an angle that wouldn't
allow him to complete his objective. The problem was that while the Camel
increased his leg strength and improved his reflexes it didn't give him speed
anywhere near that of the Raptor. What he needed was an edge, a distraction,
something to make up for that loss of speed.
"Kusanagi-sama?"
And there was the advantage he needed. It was ironic in a way, he had the
power of a god at his disposal and in each and every one of his battles the
deciding factor had not been the miraculous powers he had usurped. The
deciding factor was that unlike his enemies Kusanagi Godou was not alone.
"Liliana-san, I need to ask a favour?"
"Ah What can I do?" Her voice was surprised and a touch hesitant.
"I need to place my life in your care."
"EHHH?" Her response was only natural, what other kind of answer could there
be to such a declaration.
"I need you to use those arrows of your once more. I'll charge him directly, but
when I do he'll attack me with both his arms and his tail. What I need you to do is
use those arrows of yours to throw off as many of those attacks as you can, if
you can knock even just one off course it should be enough. Do you think you
can do it?"
With a firm expression on her face the witch knight raised her bow and
materialized three arrows.
"Kusanagi-sama, I swear on my honour as a knight that not even one attack will
touch you."
With a small grin on his face the seventh Campione crouched as he prepared to
begin his charge.
"If I'm placing my life in your hands then I think it would be proper for you to call
me by my given name."
"Ah . . . certainly, Kus-err Godou-sama." Though the black haired teen could not
see it his friendly gesture had caused the silver haired knight to blush furiously.

"Alright then . . . here. We. GO!" At the last word he pushed off into a sprint with
such force that the stones beneath his feet actually cracked from the pressure
exerted upon them.
Behind him Liliana was already reciting the Song of the Bow. She already knew
that she would not miss her target; the magic in her arrows would not allow that.
What could happen though was that she could choose the wrong mark to hit. The
monster she aimed at was large, strong and possessed powerful healing, there
was no doubt that her shafts could penetrate its armour and hurt it. The thing
was that if she chose incorrectly then it might ignore the arrow strikes and
continue its attack. What she had to do was strike it in such a way that its
movements would be completely disrupted.
She mustn't rush, she mustn't act in haste. She had already made too many
mistakes in this short fight; she had to redeem herself by completing the trust
that had been placed in her.
So she held her shaft ready and waited. Held its tension next to her ear and
sighted down its length as she watched the young devil king move closer and
closer to his foe. Both adrenaline and magic sang through her blood and brain,
pushing her into a world of slow motion as she focussed the entirety of her being
into the task at hand.
He was only five steps from the monster now. And . . . THERE! Its left arm came
up, swinging round to unleash a spray of its black poisoned needles at the
Campione at point blank range.
The shaft was already released before her mind had fully caught up with her
senses. Even as the arrow flew through the air she was already notching the
next. The loosed arrow flew straight as a beam of sunlight and pierced right
through the scorpion mans left arm at the 'wrist' just below the pincer. The force
of the impact knocked the arm back and caused the black spines to fire off
harmlessly into the air away from anyone.
Step!
Now he was only four steps away. Reacting with magnificent speed to the attack
on its arm the black armoured man arachnid brought his sword round in a
horizontal slash that would sever Godou's head from his shoulders. Once again
Liliana acted without conscious thought and the arrow was flying and a new one
was being readied before her racing mind had caught up with her senses. This
time she didn't aim for the arm or hand, but rather for the weapon they held.
Enhanced by magic strong enough to harm a god the glowing blue shaft sliced
through the blade of the wicked black sword just above the hilt. As the arm
continued its useless stroke, a prisoner of its own momentum, the broken blade
spun away harmlessly past the Campione's back and into the bracken.
Step!
Three more steps to go. And here came the monsters last attack, stabbing
downwards the scorpion's tail tried to ram its poisoned stinger into Godou's
chest. The third and final arrow was released and homed in on its target with an
accuracy that would have made any Noble Phantasm proud. In the blink of an
eye it had crossed the intervening space and stabbed through the middle of the

tail with such force that for the second time in less than two minutes it was
completely severed in two.
Step!
This was it. Her part had been accomplished, now it was all up to Godou.
However as she watched the lower part of the scorpion mans armoured 'face'
suddenly split open to reveal a black 'mouth'. Before her horrified eyes three
black darts shot out of the opening in swift succession.
Even in the middle of his dash the Campione remained agile and managed to
shift his course just enough to dodge two of them. The last one caught him a
glancing cut along his right shoulder.
The blood drained from her face and the breath caught in her throat as Liliana
saw the Campione fall forwards. Then it returned as it became clear that the fall
was not a collapse but rather a planned move. Tucking himself into a short roll
the young Kusanagi came to a stop right in front of the monster with his
shoulders braced against the ground and his legs coiled in.
With a wordless shout of exertion Godou thrust out with both legs in a single
simple bucking kick. The impact on the scorpion man's armour was so strong
that the silver haired witch was actually sure that she saw a shockwave ripple
out from the point of contact. Regardless as to whether or not that had been a
trick of her mind the blow was strong enough to send the black armoured
monstrosity fly right across the campsite to come crashing down in the spot
where the path led into the clearing.
The seventh Campione didn't hesitate for an instant, springing to his feet he
raised one hand to the sky and spoke the sacred spell words that called on the
Authority that held the power of the sun.
"Came to me, for the victory! Immortal Sun, lend me a quick, shining steed. Fire
of the Sun that dispels the dark, may it engulf you!"
Though it was night time the sun impossibly came into being above him. Before
the awed eyes of those who watched that sun condensed down into the form of a
horse. A magnificent stallion made out of pure white flames and galloping
through the air at speeds that would have made a military missile weep with
envy.
The black armoured scorpion man barely had time to raise his head before the
horse made of sunfire came crashing down on him. Both monster and Authority
vanished in massive dome of destruction nearly twenty metres across as the
white stallion detonated into a conflagration holding within it the power of the
sun. For a full five seconds the great hemisphere of fire and light remained in
place, and then it faded from view leaving only dust and smoke in its wake.
Of the monster there was no sign, all that was left was a single huge crater in the
ground big enough to put a house into.
Liliana stared; slightly awed at the sheer destruction the Authority has wrought.
When Godou had sought to use the White Stallion against Voban he had been
able to counter it handily with his own Authority, an act that had shocked the

younger Campione. Now that she saw just what the horse Authority was capable
of the silver haired maiden understood his reaction.
The sound of a body thumping to the ground drew her out of her thoughts,
before her the victorious Godslayer had collapsed face first to the ground. She
was by his side in the splitting of an instant, kneeling at his side and pulling him
over so that his head would be pillowed by her lap. It took only a single glance to
assess the reason for his collapse. An unhealthily flushed complexion, profuse
sudden sweating, shivers running through his body and a severe shortness of
breath.
"Poison." The word slipped out of her lips even as the thought ran through her
head. A supernatural poison was the most dangerous enemy for the enhanced
vitality of a Campione. Because of their resistance to external magic attacking
them internally with potions and poisons was regarded as one of the only
methods available to mortals who meant the devil kings harm. Of course even
this approach was far from foolproof as the immense vital force of a Campione
was able throw off even lethal potions; the best they could hope to accomplish
was to temporarily incapacitate their target.
This though was the venom of a mythical monster. Though she was unaware of
its origins most such creatures could find their roots in the form of one god or
another, meaning that the monster had been at least on some level a divine
beast. Now that it had been destroyed the potency of its venom would quickly
dissipate, but the question was whether or not the Campione's body could hold
out long enough to outlast it?
She found her hands reaching for Godou's chest to prepare a healing spell and
stopped them. While she dearly wished that she could heal him the same
resistance to magic that protected him likewise prevented her from healing him
now. Damn it, she wanted to help him, how could she be so helpless here, right
at the end of the battle? There had to be a way there had to be a . . .
Suddenly a memory came to her. When she had insisted that she accompany
Erica in her plans to meet up with Godou on his planned trip they he spent an
hour or two in a car driving to their destination. Having grown bored of the
silence Liliana had asked Yuri why she had been kissing the seventh Campione in
the middle of his battle with the Marquis Voban. While the young Japanese
beauty had been blushing and stuttering Erica had been uncharacteristically
helpful and explained. She had told her that due to a Campiones magic
resistance the only way to enact a spell upon them was internally. In Yuri's case
she had been passing information directly to Godou's mind so he could use it in
battle, and in order to get around the resistance the knowledge had to be done
mouth to mouth, hence the kissing.
So . . . a kiss. Her first kiss to be precise.
Could she do it? In a way it was her duty as a knight, she had leant her support
to the king in this battle so how could she hold back any of her resources without
being dishonourable? On the other hand would she so callously cast aside her
maiden's heart by using her first such experience in such a way. Knight though
she might be she was not yet so hard as to do that.

Looking down her eyes were drawn to his lips. They were moist and slightly
parted as he drew in lungfuls of air, a slight smudge of blood touched the top of
one lip and a spot of dirt marked one corner. This was no romantic moment in
under the moonlight as she had many times envisioned her first kiss in being.
This was so far from being what she would have hoped for, and yet . . .
And yet she remembered his last words to her. No hesitation, only trust in her
abilities. Telling her it was alright for her to use his given name. Saying that he
would be placing his life in her hands.
Once again she found herself moving without really thinking about it. The words
of a healing spell were already spoken and the enchantment complete as her lips
sealed themselves across his. For a moment she closed her eyes as allowed
herself to enjoy the surprising softness of his lips and the slight taste of his
mouth. Then she released the power she had been holding in check and allowed
the healing power to flow from her into him.
The effects were immediate, his breathing instantly grew easier and she could
feel the unnatural heat being to fade from his face.
"Really Godou, when I said that I would accept another woman I thought that
you'd be content with just Yuri. Instead now you've gone and collected Lily as
well?"
The playful, teasing and yet slightly irritated voice of her principle rival broke into
the silver haired knights somewhat erratic thoughts and brought her back to the
real world.
"Liliana-san, that's indecent! You should not be acting in such a manner!" The
voice of Mariya Yuri was added to that of the blonde magi.
"You did the exact same thing when fighting his majesty Voban!" The hypocrisy
of Yuri's words, given the situation, combined with her own embarrassment
caused that rebuke to slip out before she had properly thought about it.
"Even so you should not be holding another woman's man in such a manner."
Commented Erica.
"I am Kusanagi Godou-sama's knight, how is it improper for a servant to lend
their support to their liege?"
AHHH, what was she saying? She hadn't made up her mind as to whether or not
she would swear herself as Godou's knight. She still had to think, consider, weigh
her options . . . or did she? For the sake of the Bronze-Black Cross she needed to
form an association with a Campione. Her previous link to Marquis Voban was
irredeemably shattered, something she was quite happy about. So apart from
Godou the only other option was Salvatori Doni, and quite frankly she had no
illusions as to her ability to deal with that idiotic genius. He was just not the kind
of person she could feel comfortable serving.
So that left Godou as her only available choice, and to her surprise she was fine
with that. He was a good man who cared for his subjects, dealt reasonably with
others and did not flaunt his status as one of the supreme rulers. This was a man
that she could swear her sword and body to without regrets.

Deep within her heart a decision was made. Liliana Karnjcar was now the loyal
knight of Kusanagi Godou, the seventh Campione.
Laying on his back the object of her oath kept his eyes closed and continued to
feign unconsciousness. Maybe if he stayed like this long enough he could avoid
what was quickly becoming a troublesome situation.

-()-

From her vantage point up in the trees the Divine Ancestor watched the antics of
the young man and his women below her.
That had been . . . instructive. She saw now why Athena seemed to hold the boy
in some regard as well as why she viewed him as her own future prey. He was
already quite powerful, even though he was young and relatively inexperienced
in battle. Never before had any Campione gained so many varied powers from a
single Heretic God, even if there did seem to be some limitations on their use.
He could be a problem. The plan that she and her companions had set into
motion would lead them to target the eighth Campione first. However he had
recently come to this land in the Far East, the place where so many things were
brought by the flow of the world. Depending on how the two god-slayers when
they met the plans of herself and her allies could become far easier or near
impossible.
One way or another she was sure that the boy would be a deciding factor; she'd
ones like him through the ages. They seemed to be of the mediocrity, just
average people content to go through their lives with a minimum of fuss and
bother, but those spines of theirs held steel in them. Push them, threaten them
or what they cared for and that iron would become the steel of swords and
lances, of revolutionaries and future kings. Then again it was hardly a surprise
that the dark haired youth would possess such qualities, after all there was no
way a weak man could ever become a devil king.
But she would not let that stand in her way; she had once been a goddess, a
queen of the earth and sea who had given birth to those who would one day be
called Elder Gods. She had held the Rule of Destiny in her hands and bestowed it
upon whomever she so chose. Now she was reduced to this, to a state only a few
steps removed from a mortal.
And she hated it, hated it with an intensity that could blind even a lord of the
sun. She would return to what she had once been, but she would not sacrifice
any of her self in order to become some pale version of what she once had been.
She would reclaim her full glory, return to the heights from which she had been
torn, and when she did so she would retain all the knowledge and skills that she
had accumulated over the millennia. That combined with the fullness of her
power would make her greater than she had ever been in her previous life as a
deity.
She would be more.
She would be magnificent.

With a single word she faded from view as her magic carried her away to another
location. She would have to meet with her reluctant ally. She knew that neither of
them liked the other, that their association was one of necessity rather that
desire of friendship. Still at least she could be secure in that they both worked
towards the same goal and that each needed the others aid in order to succeed.
Information needed to be shared and plans needed to be refined.

-()-

Shirou stood in his kitchen and added the final touches to the fruit salad he had
been preparing.
Oh he was proud of his new kitchen, dozens of specialized knives, four different
types of oven one of which was large enough to cook a whole boar, all manner of
food processing gadgets for him to experiment with and a special eight ring
stove. The freezer was big enough to store an entire butchered cow and still have
room to spare and the fridge was just as big if not bigger.
The things he could make here, with his new wealth he could afford the most
exotic and expensive ingredients he could imagine. He was still trying to decide
whether or not he should try to learn how to prepare Fugu simply because he
could afford to try to now.
The smile that had adorned his face slipped as that thought of learning how to
cook the needlessly extravagant dish brought thoughts of Sakura to his mind.
They had joked about that sometimes, each trying to one up the other on the
most exotic dish that they would one day cook. Fugu had always been the
deciding one as far as both of them were concerned, how could a dish that held
the chance of killing its eater be otherwise.
How was she doing right now? Did she miss him? Was she even sane enough to
remember him? Could her mind have survived after her contact to that which
could well be called the sum of all human evil? Was he a bad person for hoping
that she did, for hoping that she was experiencing the pain of loss? The truth was
that he missed her, he missed his home, he missed Fuji-nee, he missed his
school, but most of all he missed her. They'd been part of each others lives for so
long now, even before he began to think of her in a romantic way
she had been a dear friend. Over the course of the war for the Holy Grail they
had become lovers, even if it had only been for a brief time.
Now he wondered what it would have been like if he had stayed in their home
dimension, well assuming he had somehow survived of course. Would they have
started to date like a normal couple? Gone to movies together, gone shopping,
gone on holidays together? Would she have moved in with him? Would they have
grown closer until one day he might have asked her the most important question
that any couple could ask?
So many questions, questions that he could not answer.
Shaking his head the eighth Campione picked up the large bowel of chopped fruit
and juice mixed with honey and began to head to the small dining room where

Illya was waiting. That girl, sometime he thought that she ate even more heartily
than Saber had after the battle where they defeated Berserker.
He froze at that thought, simply coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.
That wasn't right; Saber had never fought Berserker to a victory before she was
consumed by Sakura's shadow projection. The only time they had faced of had
been after he had left the church and that had ended in both her and her master
nearly getting killed, certainly not victory. Yes she had defeated Berserker after
she was reborn as her altered self, defeated him and fed him to the same
shadow that had consumed her. But she certainly hadn't come back to his house
the day after so he could cook her Japanese-style hamburgers. What the hell was
going on?
Saber had defeated Berserker? With his help? How? That made no sense. Sure he
had used a bastardized version of Heracles' own Noble Phantasm to defeat him
when Sakura's shadow had regurgitated a blind and crippled version of him. But
that had only been possible because of Archer's arm being grafted to him and
Berserker having been stripped of the skin that had been his God Hand Noble
Phantasm. How had he been able to help Saber to kill him? While she was a fine
fighter she had lacked the sheer stats needed to penetrate his defences.
No, wait. That wasn't right, Excalibur was more than enough to do the job, but
she hadn't had the prana reserves to manage it.
No, there had been another sword, Caliburn? When had that happened?
The world lurched around him as his memories twisted around each other.
Recollections of what he knew was true jostled for place with memories that he
was sure were not right but at the same time felt as though they were true.
He was standing against Gilgamesh amidst a field of uncountable swords. He
fought against Kuzuki Souichirou while Rin took on Caster. Illya held him prisoner
in her castle demanding he become her servant. Saber unleashed Excalibur
against Rider who was mounted upon her Pegasus.
He heard a crash of breaking glass and realized he had dropped the bowel he
had been carrying. Seemingly in the distance he could hear Illya calling out to
him in alarm.
As darkness rose up to claim him his last thought was to feel somewhat guilty
that Illya was having to spend so much time carting around his unconscious
form.

Chapter Five
The man faced the main gate to the large mansion and steeled himself. Doing
this was never very pleasant; he'd had to do it before on a number of occasions
and it always lead to an unpleasant confrontation.
Still this was his job and as such his duty, one that he could not shirk in good
conscience. Taking a deep breath he reached out and pressed the button at the
bottom of the intercom system that was built into the side of the gate. There was
an electronic buzzing, a brief moment of silence and then the speaker clicked on.
"Yes?"
"Could I please speak to the owner of this house?"
"Speaking."
The man drew a deep breath and prepared himself for what promised to be a
potentially unpleasant conversation.
"It has recently been brought to the attention of my department that there are a
pair of young people in this house who have not been registered at any
educations facility."
Life as a Truancy officer could be hard at times.
-()Illya stood in front of the wall length mirror in her room and examined her body
carefully. At the moment she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, so her
examination was quite unimpeded.
This was her first close scrutiny of herself that she had taken in several years.
Ever since her body had ceased to mature due to the alterations that the
Einzbern family had inflicted upon her there had been no need to. The loss of her
milk teeth had been the last real change her body had managed to undergo
before her maturation slowed and then eventually halted all together.

The truth of the matter was that she was actually a year or two older that Shirou.
The fact that she liked to call him her onii-chan was something of a personal joke
to her.
She had been the same way for seven years, able to pass for a mature ten year
old, a regular eleven year old, or a small twelve year old. She knew that she was
intelligent, but due to the to the circumstances of her upbringing she was far
from being as emotionally or psychologically mature as her chronological age. In
an odd way her mind and thought processes were a closer match with her
physical appearance than they were with her true age.
It had been that way for so long that she had stopped thinking about it that
much. That was how the world was and there wasn't anything she could do about
it, so she just ignored it. She had come to accept the fact that she would soon be
dead. It wasn't something that she was in any way happy about, but it was
reality and just something that she had to deal with. She had known how tall she
was, how much she weighed, what sizes of clothes fitted her best and so on.
Then she had begun to notice that her clothes didn't fit quite as well as they
should have. She had stood on the scales in her bathroom, simply to see how
they worked, and found she weighed nearly three kilos more than she should
have. Her shoes had begun to feel uncomfortably tight. So many things that
should not have been happening were happening. So she had measured herself
and found, to both her elations and trepidation, that she had grown five
centimetres taller.
So now here she stood, naked in front of her mirror, and examined her body to
see if she could see any other impossible changes.
As contrary as it was to everything that she knew about herself there were
visible changes. They were small, subtle, but to one who had seen an
unchanging form in the mirror for the better part of a decade they could be
spotted.
There was definitely some more curve to her hips than there had been before.
Likewise her chest now sported some very slight development. Certainly she
didn't have to worry about getting a bra anytime soon, but no longer could she
be called flat either.
The Einzbern homunculus sat down on her bed and stared at herself in the
mirrors reflective surface. How was this possible? Even before her body had been
modified in preparation for the fifth Heavens Feel she had been incapable of
developing secondary sexual characteristics. Certainly she could have continued
to grow up, but she would have grown into a childlike woman rather than a
mature beauty like her mother. After her alterations though even that had been
denied to her. Both her maturation and her lifespan had been sacrificed in order
to maximize the amount of prana her circuits were able to generate.
To give the family of alchemists their due their efforts had been almost entirely
successful. Illya had been able to generate an amount of power that was as close
to unlimited as could be achieved by mortal flesh, baring the use of a True Magic.
Certainly it had been enough for her to maintain the most prana expensive
Servant in the war with the bare minimum of difficulty. Even so the strain of

maintaining control over the sheer force of Berserker's existence had caused the
snow haired girl great anguish despite all the power at her command.
All this lead to the simple question of just how this was possible. The amount of
tampering that had been made upon her should have made this impossible.
Illya's brow furrowed as a thought occurred to her. Closing her eyes she turned
her focus inwards as she employed Structural Grasping upon herself. This was
one of the most basic forms of magic in her world, little more than an exercise
taught to novices as a way for them to practice. Of course given that the
Einzbern family specialized in the art of Alchemy, the practice of the conversion
of matter, the use of Structural Grasping was a key part of their training.
Normally Illya used this skill to aid her in the comprehension of the matter that
she was working with in order to produce her threads. Now though she was using
it to analyse her own form, to see just what it was that had changed within her to
allow this impossibility to occur. She supposed that she should have done this
weeks ago, if only to see whether or not her trip through the dimensions had
affected her or not. However with all the excitement that had happened when
Shirou became a Campione she hadn't thought of it until more than twenty days
after they had arrived. By that point it had seemed largely pointless to do so as
she had felt nothing worth noting.
Now though she sent her magic back into herself and used it to search for any
changes.
The first thing that she noticed was that her internal organs were all far healthier
than they been before the Holy Grail war. The stress of producing and
channelling such huge quantities of prana had placed great wear on them over
the years. As a result while they still functioned properly they were more akin to
those of a sixty year old rather than a girl of her physical or chronological age.
Now though they were far healthier, previous damage had faded and vitality was
restored.
The second that caught her attention was her very cell structure. As with her
organs her cells were subject to considerable wear due to the stress her
enormous prana placed on them. This was actually the silent killer that would
have taken her life, in a year her cellular renewal would have finally given up the
ghost and fallen below the level where it could sustain her weakened organs. As
deaths go it would have been fairly peaceful, or so she had been told, she'd
simply fall asleep and never wake up as her organs failed one after the other.
However as with her organs it seemed that her cells had been revitalized
completely. Where before they had 'felt' tired and wan to her mystic senses they
now felt much more young and vigorous.
The next thing that stood out to her was her magic circuits. Her body possessed
an immense number of them, more than were possessed by any living human.
They even surpassed the Blue Blood Noble Magic Circuits possessed by the
Barthomeloi. That had been one of the small vanities she had allowed herself in
private, the thought that all her sacrifices had allowed her to surpass the
greatest example of human power alive. Well, at least in the sheer level of prana
she could produce. Though a bit prideful Illya was not so suicidal as to think
herself the equal to the Queen of the Clock Tower. Even if she could claim

superior reserves the fact was that the silver haired girl had essentially been
raised to be little more than a well of power capable of supporting and controlling
Berserker. Lorelei, on the other hand, was both older than her and had received
the best mystical education humanly possible. Illya had heard stories about her,
of how she had deliberately waited for a Dead Apostle to be at the peak of its
power before she went hunting for them. In short the only way Illya was ever
going to go up against her was going to be if she had Berserker there to back her
up.
What was strange though was that her circuits now seemed to be of even higher
quality than they had been before. Not only that, it was as though the prana that
they were channelling was also of a higher grade. No . . . that wasn't quite right.
Prana was by its very nature slightly harmful to those who used it, after all if one
channelled too much of it then that led to burn out, just as electricity could fry
wires if too much voltage was used. Now the energies running through her felt
more . . . benign? Helpful?
Illya's frown deepened as she focused more of her concentration on the make up
of her prana. As part of her training Illya had been taught how to constantly
harvest Mana from her environment and use it as a component in her prana.
While the bulk of her prana was composed of the phenomenal amounts of Od
that her body generated this harvested Mana made up a noticeable portion of it.
In practice using that method allowed her to increase her prana output by fifteen
percent, a fraction noteworthy enough that she now did it all the time without
even thinking about it.
This was apparently the source of the change in her prana. The Mana that she
absorbed from her environment seemed to be, for want of a better
word, friendlier than that of her home dimension. She supposed that made sense
to a degree, unlike her own world this dimension still seemed to be in an age of
the gods, a time when the natural powers of the world were present to govern
and organise those forces. In addition her own experiments had shown that this
world didn't seem to have a World Consciousness such as the existence that had
been called Gaia in her own home world.
That had been one of the first things that she had worked out when she had
been trying to find a place for her and Shirou to shelter. There was no opposing
force to her mage craft, no sensation of having to fight against the world in order
to keep her Mystery manifested.
Yeeess . . . it made sense in a way. This world was more amenable to the desires
of those who wielded power. Neither Gaia nor Alaya existed here because the
'space' in the metaphysical world that they would normally occupy was being
shared between a huge number of gods. They were each exerting a small but
real influence upon the world, and spell casters were able to tap into this
influence in order to improve their own magic. It made sense to her, if she had to
guess she'd be willing to bet money that their spells often took the form of
prayers to one god or another, even if the target of that spell was a god
themselves. At a guess she'd say that over the centuries the natural Mana of the
planet had been imprinted by this influence, leaving it just a touch more 'willing'
to co-operate with magi.

Still, that could not account for the changes in her body. Healing and
revitalization of this scale would have required a potent spell of ritual; it wasn't
something that could just happen on its own.
Focussing her attention even further Illyasviel Von Einzbern looked even deeper
into her flesh. There . . . there was something. It was small and diffuse, but it
seemed to permeate her entire form, and what was even stranger was that she
could feel it healing her body cell by cell. Then as she narrowed her attention
even more to analyse this strange phenomenon she sensed something that
caused her to metaphorically recoil in surprise.
The strange energy field 'tasted' of Shirou.
Ever since coming to this new world Illya had become intimately familiar with the
feeling of the power that Shirou now constantly radiated. It amazed her really;
originally Shirou had been the possessor of twenty seven low quality circuits.
Granted some of the things he had done with those circuits could have been
regarded as borderline sorcery, but that had been due to Archer's arm being
grafted onto him. However since becoming a Campione the quality and capacity
of his circuits had risen to a level that could be called inhuman. To the best of her
knowledge no other human had ever been able to generate that level of raw
prana. Some of the most powerful Dead Apostle Ancestors had been reported to
be able to achieve such feats, but never a mortal human.
Illya knew that Shirou had gained abilities from each of the gods that he had
slain, abilities that were on par with Noble Phantasms as far as she could tell.
This energy field within her own body had a 'taste' to it that was similar to one of
the powers that Shirou had gained after killing the god called Perseus. It was not
an ability he liked to talk about, but by her own observations and experiences
she'd been able to work it out.
In a way it seemed to be a weaker and conditional version of the mystic face
possessed by the Lancer of the fourth Heavens Feel War. It only worked on those
who had been 'saved' by Shirou, and then it simply made him more attractive to
them rather than inducing love as the Lancers love spot had done. One way that
it had differed though was that the Authority did not merely influence those
under its effect, it also bolstered them, healed them. Illya had observed that girls
that fell under its influence almost visibly became more energetic and 'peppy'
while around Shirou.
She also knew that she herself was under the effects of the Authority, granted
her magic resistance had been more than sufficient to ward off the mental
effects, but she'd noticed that even so she tended to generally feel more lively
when she was around her adopted brother. She had also noticed that while in his
presence small cuts and bruises healed up so fast that it was almost visible.
Could that be it? Had the influence of Shirou's Authority caused this field that
was healing her?
No, that couldn't be right. The field was working right now, but the effect that
she had noted only seemed to work while in Shirou's immediate presence. Also
the field within her might have the 'taste' of Shirou's power, but at the same time
she could tell that it wasn't his. It was as though the field were a . . . copy? An
imitation? It seemed to replicate the effects, but was not OF Shirou's power.

With a groan of frustration the young Einzbern released her focus and lay back
on her bed.
Great, now she had even more questions than she did to start with. Where had
that field come from? How was it able to rejuvenate her ruined body? How was it
related to her adoptive brother? AAAAHH! So many annoying questions, why
couldn't this have just been simple?
On the other hand it seemed that she had been granted a new lease on life.
Whatever that field was it seemed to be repairing all the damage that had been
done to her body while at the same time allowing her to retain her enhanced
performance. Exactly how it was managing such a seemingly paradoxical task
was just one more question to add to the list.
Not for the first time Illya cursed the slanted nature of her mystic education. Had
she not been the next representative of her family in the fifth Holy Grail War then
the training that she had been forced to undertake would not only not have been
cruel but it also wouldn't have been so tightly focused. If it had not been related
to the war then it was deemed useless and so forbidden to her. There was so
much that she should have known that had been denied to her. So much that
could have been useful to her.
Bah, no point in thinking about that now, it was best to focus on the good news.
She was going to LIVE! She had a future now, she had a future and she had her
freedom. There was none of her blasted family here to tell her what to do and to
hurt her if she refused. The only family here was the only member of her family
that she gave a damn about. Her beloved onii-chan, the brother her father had
chosen.
More and more she was beginning to think that the stories her grandfather had
told her of her father abandoning her in favour of Shirou were worth the contents
of a septic tank.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and she quickly sat up and reached
for the dressing grown that was lying on the bed beside her.
"Who is it?" She called as she slipped the purple garment on.
"It's me Miss Einzbern," came the voice of Yusuke, "Could you come to my study
as soon as you're free? A situation has arisen that I need to discuss with you and
your brother."
Illya blinked, but quickly gathered herself and answered.
"Sure. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll see you in your office."
"See you there then."
The answer was accompanied by the sound of retreating footsteps. As she pulled
her slightly uncomfortable clothes on Illya idly wondered what had happened
that required the attention of both her and Shirou. Normally Yusuke was the very
model of competence, for something to come up that he had to discuss it with
them . . .
This might prove to be quite interesting.

-()-

Emiya Shirou sat cross legged in the centre of the manors dojo and tried to find
his own centre.
The problem was that this was proving to be damnably hard to accomplish.
It had been three days since his collapse. Three days since he became
consciously aware of the seething mass of foreign memories that were almost
flawlessly interlaced with his own.
No, calling them foreign wasn't quite right. After all every single one of those
memories belonged to Emiya Shirou. The problem was that they didn't belong to
HIM.
Once he had regained consciousness he had immediately begun to meditate in
an attempt to sort the chaotic mass of recollections into some sort of order. For
the most part he had been successful and the fragmented memories had
resolved themselves into three sets.
The first, and by far the longest of the three, belonged to a Shirou that had found
himself embroiled in the fifth Holy Grail war. He hadn't cared about his Servant,
he had not cared that she slew that wars Archer barely five minutes after her
summoning. All he cared about was that he had the chance to fulfil his ideals.
So he had fought. He had received some aid from Rin as thanks for sparing her
life. He had received some aid from Kirei who was curious as to how the Grail
would grant his wish. He had cast aside all attachments and pursued the path
that would save the most lives. He had gone on to win the war, how could he
not? He was following the ideal of a hero, and the hero always won.
He had no wish to make on the Grail of course, he had seen how polluted it had
become and used his last command seals to grant his Servant the power needed
to destroy it. As she had faded he had sworn to continue to pursue his
conviction, after all he had just proven it to be correct by saving the world hadn't
he?
He had continued to live holding fast to the ideals that were his. Years past and
he grew stronger and stronger, his skills grew sharper and his experience
mounted. Always he went along the path he had chosen even as those who tried
to walk it with him disappeared one by one. Illya died and he barely took time to
mourn, Rin found her own path and he didn't care, even Fuji-nee was left behind
as he continued on.
And in the end the path he followed seemed to run off a cliff and those that he
had saved turned on him and condemned him to death. Still he had never
wavered in his convictions. He had been trying to save as many as he could and
if this was the price for it, well there were worse ways to die. And due to the
contract into which he had entered with the world he knew that even after death
he would be able to continue to save people.

However that was not to be, for he soon found that the existence of a Counter
Guardian was not what he thought it would be. It was not an existence of
salvation; it was an existence of damnation.
Again and again he was called forth to ensure mankind's survival. Not by saving
anyone, but instead by acting as a destroyer. He would arrive and then
everything about him would die. The guilty, the innocent, one and all they would
be annihilated by his hand until there was nothing left that could pose a threat to
humanity. Not only that, he was also forced to bear witness to the stupidity and
self-destructive arrogance of humanity taken to it heights on every occasion he
was summoned. Then he would return to the Throne of Heroes and wait to be
summoned again when he would be forced to repeat the process again.
Over and over the cycle was repeated, for years then decades then centuries.
Again and again until that Shirou's resolve was broken and all he desperately
wanted to do was erase his own existence from ever having been.
This chance came when the whims of fate allowed him to be summoned by
Tohsaka Rin during the fifth Heavens Feel.
Unfortunately for him during his first clash with Saber he had received a grave
wound, one so deep that it had left him with little of his strength left. Unable to
materialize for extended periods he had been forced to wait as his injury was
healed by the prana supplied by his Master. He had watched as that Shirou had
continued to follow his ideal, doing his best to save as many as he could.
In a way it had been painful, but in another way it had been oddly nostalgic, a
chance to see himself as he had been before his grim fate.
In the end that EMIYA had found himself facing a choice. He could simply step
aside and allow Berserker to pursue Shirou, Rin and Saber and kill them all, or he
could lay down his life and buy them as much time as he could.
To be completely honest with himself he had no idea why he chose the latter.
Maybe he had been feeling sentimental; maybe it was his youthful ideals
rekindling. Whatever the case he had spoken a few words of advice to his
younger self and then thrown himself into a battle he knew he couldn't win.
Yet even as his false body had disintegrated he had felt a certain satisfaction.
That Shirou had fallen in love with the Saber that had been his Servant in the
fifth Holy Grail War. Together they had defeated Berserker using Caliburn and had
then gone on to face the King of Heroes Gilgamesh. In the final battle of the war
Saber had faced the golden King while Shirou had battled Kirei. They had both
been successful in defeating their foes, destroyed the corrupt Holy Grail and
Saved Illya. That Shirou had been treated to the sight of Saber's last beautiful
smile before she had faded away. He had learnt in that war, he had learnt how to
follow his ideals without being consumed by them. How to accept that not all
could be saved no matter how hard you tried, yet what was truly important was
that you gave it your all nonetheless.
EMIYA had returned to the Throne and the memories of his experience were
reassimilated into his 'original' self. It was impossible for the 'report' to be fully
taken in, but on some level what had happened was comprehended and the
notion of achieving the paradox gained a grain more of hope.

The EMIYA was summoned to another Fifth Holy Grail war. Again he was an
Archer and again he was the Servant of Tohsaka Rin. Only this time he managed
to avoid the grave injury that had hampered his other self in that other time
route.
So he had planned and schemed and manipulated the situation to give him the
chance to slay his own younger self. It was hi hope that the paradox created by
the impossibility of him killing his own past would be sufficient to wipe him from
existence.
And that was where the third set of memories came from, for as Archer had
influenced the younger Shirou to gain ability in Tracing faster so did he
experience his younger self's lives. So it was that Shirou was able to watch the
confrontation between future and present from both sides. He saw how EMIYA's
bitterness and hopelessness had run straight into the bull headedness and sheer
stubborn resolve of Emiya Shirou and had been unable to break them. Indeed it
had been EMIYA and his despair that had been broken in the end.
Through two sets of eyes Shirou saw sights both wonderful and terrible. He saw
two versions of the Reality Marble that was the ultimate mage craft capable by
Emiya Shirou. He recalled those two versions of Unlimited Blade Works and knew
wonder. He remembered the death of Illya in that world and knew horror. He
recalled the face of the Servant who had torn her heart from her body and had
known hatred. He had watched the Shirou of that world face the most powerful of
all Servants and win and he had known amazement.
At the end he had seen Archer chose to fade back into his own existence rather
than form a new pact with Rin. He had done so with a smile on his face, the
bitterness in his heart dispelled and a weight lifted from his shoulders. He had
seen that his ideal had not been wrong, only the way in which he had followed it.
He then disappears safe in the knowledge that Rin would stop that Shirou from
taking a path that he would regret.
The tragedy of the situation was that the 'report' of his success was never fully
grasped by his 'true' self at the Throne of Heroes. That one spark of deliverance
was buried under the same mound of atrocities and massacres that made up the
life of a Counter Guardian.
So he had continued in his existence, destroying what needed destroying and
occasionally being summoned in some other from. When that happened he
played his role dutifully and would then return to his role in existence. And in
truth he hated almost every minute of it.
Then he was summoned into another iteration of the fifth Heavens Feel, only this
time there was a difference. At first he had been prepared to follow through on
his plan, to kill his younger self, even though he had been wounded. Then
something had happened, something that had caused a change in his focus. A
threat had emerged that normally did not, a threat so grave that he felt that it
required his attention as Counter Guardian.
In addition to that he had watched his younger self. It soon became clear that
this version of Emiya Shirou was in no way related to his own past. Killing him
would accomplish nothing. In fact since the boy had seemingly abandoned his
ideals in order to protect his version of Sakura he couldn't even relieve any stress

through his murder. He was actually doing something that EMIYA mildly approved
of by casting those ideals aside.
He had watched the process take place with a certain clinical interest. Emiya
Shirou was offered a choice, to choose between saving the one and saving the
many. It was clear where his choice should have gone; his ideals demanded that
he sacrifice the one so that the many may live. That was the path of a 'hero'
after all.
But to Archer's mild surprise this Shirou did not take that path. Instead he chose
to abandon his ideal, the same one that had for so long been that centre of his
being, and chose to protect the one dear to him above all else. He cast aside the
heroic path that he had inherited from Kiritsugu, to sacrifice even his loved ones
if it meant saving more lives. To the Counter Guardian the sight was akin to
seeing Lorelei Barthomeloi become a Twilight fangirl. It was utterly
inconceivable, but slightly entertaining.
Still, it had happened, and for some reason Archer had felt there was no point in
killing or baring any animosity towards this Shirou that seemed to be breaking
the mould. So when his core was severely damaged and that Shirou had lost his
arm the Counter Guardian decided to have Kirei graft his arm onto his younger
self.
Let him have a chance to save his precious one. If nothing else he deserved his
support as one Emiya Shirou to another.
Shirou opened his eyes and focused on the wall of the dojo.
It was . . . strange to say the least, seeing, hearing, experiencing the lives of
those other Shirous. He had felt their emotions, their joys and pains, but at the
same time those emotions had not been his own. There had been some sense of
connection, but there was also a distance there as well. He had experienced the
affection that had developed for Saber and Rin by his temporal counterparts, but
those emotions were not his. He loved Sakura, certainly he held a certain
affection for Rin and for his lost Saber, but those feelings had been for friends
rather than lovers.
It was certainly awkward though, to now have the memory of having had sex
with both of them implanted directly into his mind. Hell, he could even remember
having had a threesome with the pair of them.
He felt his face flush as that memory once more rose to the forefront of his
thoughts. He wondered if this counted as cheating on Sakura. Granted he had
not touched another girl in that way, but now he had somehow gained the
majority of the end results of such an indiscretion without having actually done
it.
With a growl of frustration Shirou forced his mind away from thoughts of soft
flesh and white skin and instead focused on the more practical aspects of these
newly gained memories.
The first thing that he had realized was that these recollections had been subtly
influencing his decisions for weeks now. It made sense he supposed, Archer had
gained phenomenal amounts of experience in both his life and his existence as a
Counter Guardian. With those recollections hiding in his subconscious and

bleeding over into his main mind it was hardly a surprise that his behaviour had
changed. After being in so many terrible situations Archer's mind had settled into
a naturally analytical and reactionary state of mind. This, combined with his
great experience, had allowed him to possess the potent Eye of the Mind (True)
skill.
With Shirou it seemed that the bleed over had left him less prone to spontaneous
action and more favourable to preparation and contingency planning.
Idly he contemplated that thought. Just how much had this changed him? He
didn't feel any different, but at the same time he could see how his actions were
different from what they would have been two months ago. Of course back then
he had still been holding onto his ideals with a death grip.
That was another thing; he could now look back on his past self and see the
flaws in his pursuit of the ideal he had inherited from his adopted father. The
ideal itself was beautiful, flawed it might be, impossible to truly uphold it was,
but those same flaws only made it more beautiful. There was nothing wrong with
following it, but the way in which he had done so had been . . . wrong. In his
memories Rin had called him distorted, and frankly looking back on himself
Shirou had to agree with that assessment. He had been willing to throw himself
away completely at the merest hint of being able to save someone. Even
someone else, if it had been to save enough lives then he could have seen
himself sacrificing others in order to do it.
His mind went back to that night in the play ground. He had gone there after he
had been faced with the choice as to whether or not to sacrifice Sakura in order
to save others. He had been in a daze at the time, having learnt of the condition
of Sakura's body as well as learning of the danger of her running wild in an
attempt to replenish her fading prana. With Rider at her command she could
have left countless bodies in her wake as she mindlessly tried to satiate the
hunger of the Crest worms within her.
It would have been so easy; the cruel mathematics of the situation had made for
a simple but inescapable conclusion. What was one single life against so many?
It had been as Archer had said: "How can you throw away that oath and discard
everyone to save one person?" There should have been only a single conclusion.
And yet he hadn't taken it. He had chosen to protect the one he loved over all
those faceless others.
He still felt that helping others was important; he would act to save those that he
could. But at the same time there was something different. That drive, that
relentless NEED to save others was strangely absent. He wondered just how
much a part of Emiya Shirou that urge had made up.
Letting his thoughts drift he found himself thinking about how he now compared
to those other Shirous and Archer himself. This had then led on to comparing
himself to the Servants of the war, and from there he thought of the strongest of
them all, Gilgamesh.
In the thoughts of those who had seen him the golden king towered as a titan
from myth. Through those borrowed memories he could see him, see the casual
ease with which he had annihilated other Servants. Caster had been a spell

caster wielding magics long vanished from the world and yet the king of heroes
had swatted her form the sky like an insect. Berserker had been less of a living
being and more of a force of nature forced into a humanoid form, and yet even
he had been cut down by Gilgamesh with almost contemptuous ease. Archer had
never faced him directly, in the Counter Guardian's mind the golden king had
unquestionably been the most powerful of all Servants.
In his mind Shirou immediately began to use his knowledge of the Servants
capabilities as well as how he had been fought in the past to try to prepare a
strategy in case he had to fight him himself. That was ludicrous of course since it
was clear to him that even if he found a way back to his world Gilgamesh was
undoubtedly dead.
That was the only logical conclusion. From what he could tell of the king of
heroes possessed an ego that could only be described as monumental. Given the
events that had been taking place the thought of him staying at the sidelines
was utterly laughable. Shirou had no certainty as to what had happened to him,
but he imagined Gilgamesh had met the same fate as Saber and Berserker,
consumed by Sakura's shadow. The thought was almost unbelievable, as
terrifying as Sakura's dark alter ego had been the Archer of the Fourth Holy Grail
war loomed so titanically in the recollections he had acquired as to eclipse even
the likes of Berserker.
Still, how would he go about fighting the golden king if had to for some reason?
The first and most obvious way to defeat him was through the use of Unlimited
Blade Works. With that at his command the Shirou of that world had been able to
actually force the golden king to the very brink of defeat. Unfortunately the
option of that Reality Marble was still unavailable to him. His own inner world and
that of Archer, or the other Shirou for that matter, were simply too different to be
actualized upon the world by the same method. Granted the development of his
own Reality Marble was now years ahead what it would be otherwise, but it
would still be a long time before he could impose it upon the world.
That said his ability to project and sustain Noble Phantasms was far in excess of
even Archer. While he might not be able to project Unlimited Blade Works into
existence, he could use pure power to almost duplicate its effects with his own
Tracing. It might not be quite enough to defeat the king of Heroes, but when one
factored in the boost to his combat power that Dragon Slaying Hero gave him he
was pretty sure that in close combat at least he would be able to overwhelm his
foe.
The problem was that Gilgamesh was unlikely to fight him at close range. From
what he could tell the golden kings favoured way of fighting was to simply rain
Noble Phantasms down on his target until there was nothing left of them. In that
situation Shirou's best bet would be to fight defensively while using Curses
without End to inflict as many curses as he could upon his foe. That golden
armour of his might increase his magic resistance, but he was willing to bet it
would have a hard time dealing with some of the curses that he Authority could
produce. Certainly his will and force of personally had been able to resist all
attempts by Angra Mainyu to corrupt his mind and soul. But if those curses were
aimed at his body instead then it would be no different from him fighting the
spells of a Caster.

Also there was the option of using his Pegasus' kamikaze attack. If Gilgamesh
opened the Gate of Babylon then he was rendered stationery himself. If he was
focused on attacking Shirou then the Pegasus could attack him from behind
before he could reorient himself. The eighth Campione wasn't entirely sure of
how effective the tactic would be given the defensive powers of his armour and
whatever shielding Noble Phantasms he might have.
The real problems in dealing with Gilgamesh were his two favourite Noble
Phantasms, Enkidu and Ea. The first was what could be called an Anti Divinity
weapon. In his memories he had seen it hold Berserker partly immobile while a
rain of Noble Phantasms tore him out of existence despite his God Hand. Shirou
wasn't entirely sure how much he counted as a divinity, but he could use 'the
sacrosanct, divine powers wielded by the gods'. That might be sufficient to
render him vulnerable to the Chains of Heaven's effects.
As for Ea . . . well, the less said about that impossible sword the better. Archer
had seen many awesome powers in his existence, and in spite of that he had
only ever seen two forces to match the Anti World weapon. The first had been
what could only be described as an Anti God Noble Phantasm, one that
surpassed Enkidu completely. The other had been the Type Mercury.
Shirou's mind instinctively recoiled from that memory. Gods were frightening,
Gilgamesh was terrifying, but the ORT was an existence on an entirely different
level.
Deliberately steering his thoughts the eighth Campione returned to his thoughts
on Ea. In a way that sword was a game breaker, an absolute kill cheat. The only
way to defend against it was to use something of equally ridiculous power.
Avalon was the ultimate defensive Noble Phantasm, one that went beyond mere
defence and instead made it wielder 'Untouchable' instead. In all honest Shirou
didn't think that any of the powers he had gained or the weapons he could
produce form the memories he had acquired could match that sword.
Fortunately even if he were to face Gilgamesh the chances of him actually using
that sword were quite low. He only employed it against 'worthy' foes, and the
Servant's ego was so towering that it would take something pretty monumental
to make the young Emiya worthy of such an honour in his eyes.
With a sigh Shirou got to his feet and stretched. As he heard a few of his bone
pop, he realized just how long he had been sitting there lost in his thoughts. It
was already late morning, and he hadn't even had breakfast yet. Well Illya was
still in bed most likely, that should give him time to throw something fairly simple
together. Now how many eggs did he have left?
A knock on the door brought his attention back to the present and out of thought
of cooking. Crossing over to the main door he opened it to see Yusuke standing
there.
"Yes?"
"I'm afraid a fairly troublesome matter has arisen that effects both you and your
sister sir. Could you please join me in my office as soon as you can? This is
something that I'll have to discuss with both of you."
Shirou blinked, but then nodded his head.

"Just give me a couple of minutes to throw something together for me and Illya
and I'll be right there.
It looked like some simple cut fruit would have to do.

-()-

There was a small island off the eastern shore of Japan. It was a tiny thing, large
enough to support some grass and trees but not much else. Nothing more
developed than an insect lived there permanently, though sea birds regularly
stopped there. As far as the authorities were concerned the place simply merited
a security beacon to warn off ships and that was it.
What very few people knew was that on that tiny island there was a shrine. One
that had been prepared with the utmost care and precision, using high arts and
secret knowledge that had since been long lost. The purpose of this small shrine
was to guard the secret that rested beneath the isles surface.
Japan was called the Far East because it represented one of the outermost edges
of the eastern continent. Because of this location the nation of Japan served as a
sort of net, one that caught all the spirits, forces and gods that came drifting in
from the west. One of the names for the land of the rising sun was the land of
five million gods. While the number might be grossly exaggerated there was
some truth to it, for the size it was the land called Nippon did indeed have a
great many divinities existing upon it.
The god that slept here had been brought to this land by his wanderings
centuries ago. He had torn his way out of his legend and descended to earth
amidst calamity and destruction. At the time two different Campione had sought
to defeat him, but in combat the Heretic God had emerged victorious over first
one and then the other, and so the devil kings had fallen. He had freely
rampaged then, but eventually he had calmed himself. Knowing he could not
return to his legend but unwilling to enter the spirit world he had found this small
isolated isle and buried himself beneath it in order to sleep.
Eventually the mystics of this land had divined his location using their arts.
Sensing just how strong he was they had erected the small shrine on the island
to ensure that his sleep would be undisturbed. The spells and prayers built into
the shrines construction would ensure that the sleeping god would not be roused
by outside forces. It was a master work of subtle manipulation of the islands
natural energies.
Which was why it was so shocking when a small booted foot kicked the shrine
over, causing the stone slabs that made it up to split and scatter on the ground.
The foot that had done the deed belonged to a young girl no more than ten or
eleven years old. She was dressed in a long green coat which she wore fully
buttoned up, and despite the summer heat there wasn't a hint of perspiration on
her forehead. Her long blonde hair was worn in a mane of curling locks that
reached all the way down to her hips.

Idly she flexed her power and sent a pulse of it to the god that slept beneath the
land she stood upon. It had been most fortunate that she had stumbled across
this find. Under normal circumstances the same shrine that had kept the sleeping
god undisturbed would have also veiled his existence from the sight of even
questing gods. However while researching Japan for her one of her worshippers
had stumbled across an old text that made mention of a god who had defeated a
Campione and then come to sleep on this tiny isle.
So she had sought this place out. The task had turned out to be far more
fiendishly difficult than she had originally believed it would be. However she had
once been a powerful Earth goddess. Despite how reduced she had become her
powers were not so dulled that she could not use them to seek out the islands
that dotted the coast. Once she had sensed them all she had simply had to visits
them one by one until she found the object of her search.
Still, this had to be handled carefully. Certainly it was within her abilities to
deliver a massive jolt of energy to the sleeping elder god and bring him
immediately to full wakefulness. However, if she did so he would probably go into
a raging frenzy as soon as he awoke. And since she would be the only worthwhile
potential foe in the local area she would be the instant subject of his rage. She
may be a power beyond any mortal, but if she were to face a true god in full
battle she would be an ant before the juggernaut.
So instead of a powerful stab she instead used a gentle nudge. It would yield no
immediate results, but it had begun the process of rousing the god t
wakefulness. It might take longer this way, but when he returned to the world the
god would be in a far more rational state of mind. A state in which, she hoped,
she might be able to persuade him to aid her.
The same magic that had brought her here wrapped around her and carried her
away. This had been important, of that she was sure. Gods that had managed to
defeat a Campione were rare, especially one who had remained upon the mortal
plane. If she could enlist his aid then there was an excellent chance that her
plans would be able to proceed unimpeded.
She was not like her allied Divine Ancestor; she was not burdened with an almost
crippling hatred of what she had become. Certainly she had every intention of
regaining her former power, but she was far more interested in gaining revenge
on the one who had reduced her in the first place. He had reduced her and then
given her away to his ally like a cow that had been bought and then traded.
The object of her ire had been slain by a Campione and sent back into his
legend. Well that was fine with her. Once she had reacquired her full might she
would drag him from his myth and visit every torment the mortal world had to
offer upon his flesh.
Nothing would be allowed to stand in the way of that.
Nothing.

-()-

Mariya Yuri was by nature a somewhat shy girl. She wasn't timid and she
certainly had no lack of courage, it was just that when it came to putting forth
her own opinions she was sometimes a little too hesitant. She also didn't like to
raise her voice or put others down; Godou was actually one of the only
exceptions to this rule. For some reason she had little trouble in berating him for
his lecherous actions.
Anyway the fact was that it normally took a great deal of provocation to get her
riled up.
"I still think this shrine is far too humble a place for you to be staying Kaidasama. Surely the Committee could have found you a more suitable place of
residence while you learnt what meagre knowledge this shrine maiden has to
offer."
Ever so slightly Yuri's left eyebrow twitched. Right now she was dearly regretting
the fact that she had never shown any aptitude for some of the more violent
Miko arts. Right now the ability to seal somebody's mouth shut held a particular
appeal.
"And why is it necessary for you to be the one to meet this new Campione?
Surely there is someone that is more expendable available to take on the duty.
This girl for example, she seems to get on well with one Campione, why not send
her to the other one as well?"
The young Hime-Miko gritted her teeth and tried to find her centre. She would
not lose her temper, she would not abandon her composure, she would not seize
the girl's excessively long keychain that she kept on fiddling with and use to
throttle her. No matter how attractive the image might be.
"I'm bored, this shrine is so dull. Maybe the Committee should knock down a few
of those trees and put in another pond. At least then there'll be some koi to
watch."
But it was hard, it was oh so hard. Yuri didn't often think harsh thoughts of
others, but right now she was seriously beginning to contemplate murder.
"And why do you have to wear the same shrine robes as her? That shade of
green does not suit either of you at all. It reminds me of a soup I ate while
studying in Europe, hardly a very dignified colour to be dressed in you know."
Right that did it. She could endure comments about her shrine, her choice in hair
style, her sweeping technique, and even insinuations about her relationship with
Godou, but that was the straw that did in the camels back. There was going to be
blood now. BLOOD!
However before the Hime-Miko could begin to even stand up for her seriously
uncharacteristic act of violence the room's third occupant spoke up.
"Manaka, why don't you take a look around the local area, see if there are any
shops or restaurants about that catch your interest. If there are perhaps we can
go to them later."
Yuri was amazed at the change that came over the girl as soon as the other
shrine maiden had begun to speak.

Kuhoutsuka Manaka was an adopted member of one of the Kuhoutsuka branch

families. She was a tall girl of about seventeen or eighteen years of age with a
slim build and long limbs. Her hair was a dark shade of brown and cut short to
just below her ears. It parted over her face save for a single triangular lock that
fell between her eyes. Those eyes were ice blue and were set in a face that while
pretty could only be described as 'sharp'. She was dressed in a tight business
suit that was the same dark brown as her hair except for the white shirt. The suit
also hugged her body snugly, showing off pleasant curves. Though not as lush as
some girls that Yuri had seen in the past, Manaka still had plenty to be proud of.
But what was most eye catching about her now was how much her attitude
changed from how she had been just a moment before. Where she had
previously been leaning against the wall of the small room now she was
practically standing to attention with a look on her face that could only be
described as eager. The change was so complete that it was akin to a true
transformation.
"At once Kaida-sama, you can rely on me."
Then with a deep bow to the girl she had addressed and a quicker more
perfunctory bow to Yuri herself she was out the door and heading off on her
mission.
Silence reigned in the room for a moment, then the girl seated opposite to the
young Mariya placed both her hands on the floor and lower her face until she
was almost touching her fingers with her forehead.
"Please accept my sincerest apologies for Manaka's behaviour. I know that it
might be impossible to believe but she really means no insult when she speaks
like that. As far as she's concerned she's just speaking the truth, and those
around her should feel obliged that she's being so honest."
Yuri felt her temper cool as she looked at the bowing girl before her. Renjou Kaida
was not a tall girl, but neither was she short, in fact she was more or less the
same height as Yuri herself. Her long midnight black hair was tied in a single
thick ponytail that fell down her back to her thighs, except for two long forelocks
that fell from her temples to her waist. Her eyes were a startling shade of green
that put the shrine maiden in mind of a cat. Everything about her possessed a
kind of porcelain beauty, but her warm personality seemed to make that beauty
friendly and inviting rather stiff or cold. Aside from that Kaida had a figure that
actually left Yuri feeling a little jealous. It was quite unusual for a Japanese girl to
be as busty as the young Renjou; in fact the only other girl that the Hime-Miko
knew that was equally blessed was her friend Seishuuin Ena.
Of course it was rather hard to harbour any kind of negative feeling for the other
Hime-Miko for long. She was a nice girl, one so earnest about her task that it
made one forget about anything that they might have held against her.
"It's alright Kaida-san, please don't worry about it."
With a thankful smile on her face the possessor of the Dragons Roar sat back up.
"Even so I am thankful for your understanding Yuri-sama. Though she means well
I know that Manaka isn't the easiest person in the world to get along with."

And that was an understatement if ever she'd heard one. Still rather than speak
her thoughts the young Mariya simply nodded once.
"Well, getting back to the reason for my coming here. I trust that you are aware
of the arrival of the eighth Campione in Japan?"
"Amakasu-san told me about him this morning." Answered Yuri.
In all truth she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the arrival of another of
the devil kings in Japan. For so long she had thought of Campione as ruthless
tyrants that crushed all who stood in their way to dust.
Then she had met Godou and all her preconceptions had flown out the window.
She wondered if she was being naive in hoping that this Emiya Shirou would also
turn out to be a reasonable individual. She deeply hoped that was the case. If not
then her friend might find himself facing off against another Campione, one who
had slain three gods in the span of a single week. She wished she could have
Erica's absolute faith in Godou's victory, but at the thought of him once more
facing off against one of his fellow supreme rulers all she could do was suppress
a shudder of fear.
"The Committee has decided that they need to establish communications with
Emiya-sama and so have assigned me to become his aide and help facilitate
communications between him and the Committee." She said it with such
calmness, as though she didn't understand the gravity of the situation that she
was in.
Actually there was a chance that she truly didn't understand. Unlike Yuri Kaida
had been raised in relative isolation due to the uncontrollable nature of her
special talents. Certainly she had been well educated and had regularly had
contact with the other Hime-Miko that were part of the History Compilation
Committee; however she was still unworldly and somewhat ignorant.
Yuri herself didn't think of herself as a particularly worldly person either, but even
she could clearly understand what was taking place.
Kaida had been effectively given to the new Campione as a gift to do with as he
saw fit. He could use her as a servant, take her as a concubine, use her as an
amusement or discard her as trash. The only limit on what he could do to her
was his own imagination really; aside from Godou there wasn't a single person
on the entirety of Japan who could challenge him on it.
The young user of Spirit Vision drew a deep breath and willed herself to calm
down. She knew that the Committee could be pragmatic, sometimes even
ruthless, but for the most part they were a fairly moral organization. It was
unlikely that they would have placed one of their more gifted Hime-Mikos in such
a potentially dangerous situation without having done some sort of evaluation of
the eighth Campione first. Most likely they had determined his character to be at
least stable enough that he wouldn't pose an immediate danger to their envoy.
Oblivious to the somewhat dark thoughts running through her hosts mind Kaida
continued to explain her reasons for coming.
"I thought that it would be best to be as prepared as possible, so I requested this
meeting with you so that you could tell me what you know about Campione. To

the best of my knowledge except for a couple of our overseas agents you've had
the most contact with the kings."
"What did you want to know?" This was unexpected. She supposed it made a
certain level of sense, but she had never expected anyone to come to her
seeking sage wisdom.
"I understand that Yuri-sama has become Kusanagi-sama's lover, and that you
were also taken prisoner the Marquis Voban-sama. Please tell me about both
their characters, how you thought that becoming a Campione might have
affected them. Do they share any common characteristics? Were there
similarities in how they went about their business? Can you think of any details
that might be relevant to my own upcoming meeting with Emiya-sama?"
The sudden flood of questions was so startling that Yuri had a bit of trouble lining
her thoughts up enough to produce a coherent answer. Her thought process
wasn't helped at all by the fact that her guest had produced a pair of glasses, a
note pad and a pencil from the sleeves of her shrine maiden's garment. With the
somewhat thick lenses perched on her nose, the paper and pencil poised in her
hands and the fact that she had somehow shuffled closer to the subject of her
attention Kaida gave the impression of being a member of the seedier side of the
paparazzi. Yuri knew intellectually that her fellow Hime-Miko wasn't deliberately
pressuring her for an answer.
Unfortunately intellectually and emotionally weren't the same thing by a long
shot.
However despite the perceived pressure her mind focused on a single part of
that questioning ramble.
"Who said I'm Godou-san's lover? We're . . . we're not like that. I-I'm just . . .
We're . . ."
Unable to properly articulate the feelings that she had trouble understanding
herself Yuri was reduced to incoherent mumbling.
Seeing how that line of questioning seemed to be upsetting her host Kaida
backed off a little and reigned in her enthusiasm. She knew this was a bad habit
of hers, once she got fired up about doing something she tended to give it her
full and undivided attention, so much so that she tended not to notice the people
that were getting steamrollled by her eagerness. Taking a deliberate hold of
herself she drew a deep breath and shuffled her way back to where she had been
seated.
"What would you say the most important thing to remember about a Campione is
Yuri-sama?"
The question, delivered in a far more ordinary manner, was enough to draw the
chestnut haired girl out of the ramble of denials and excuses that she had fallen
into. She took a few moments to think about the question before answering.
"I think . . . the most important thing to remember is that Campione don't need
to follow the same common sense as the rest of the world."
"They . . . don't have to follow common sense?" Kaida sounded a little doubtful of
the answer she had received.

"Yes," Yuri nodded her head and confidence grew in her voice as she tried to
articulate what she had felt while in the presence of both Voban and Godou when
they had begun to cut loose with their Authorities. "Common sense says that it's
impossible for mortals to go against gods. That's just how the world should work,
gods stand above humans, that's the natural order, that's common sense.
Campione are people who can . . . go against common sense. Some are like Lord
Salvatori Doni, geniuses who can defy reality through sheer talent. In his youth
the Marquis Voban didn't know any magic, yet he was able to slay a god and take
his Authority through his own wits and bravery. Even Kusanagi Godou-san was
able to defy conventional wisdom by defeating a god that had never known
defeat.
"That's just how Campione are; they don't fit into any set mould because if they
did then they wouldn't have become Campione in the first place."
Yuri was actually a bit surprised at how she was rambling on like this. Being so
free with her thoughts was a little out of character for her. However while Kaida
wasn't what she would call a friend she was a friendly acquaintance so the user
of Spirit Vision felt a little more comfortable with her than she would with others.
Her questions also gave Yuri a chance to voice some conclusions that she had
been drawing up in the privacy of her own mind for the past few weeks.
"I don't know what kind of person Emiya-sama is Kaida, but if he managed to
become a Campione then you can be sure that he is not any kind of normal
person."

-()-

"I want it to be as regular as possible. Nothing fancy you understand? Just

something normal."
Shirou, Illya and Yusuke were sitting in the office he had set up for himself in one
of the manors many rooms. It was still a bit on the under-furnished side, but it
was still a fairly convenient place to have a quick 'family' meeting.
The resurrected accountant had explained to them about the visit he had
received from the truancy officer earlier that morning. He had explained that
there were a number of ways that he could ensure it wouldn't be necessary for
them to attend a school. Counterfeit documents could be produced to show they
were being home schooled, he could even set them up as geniuses that had
already graduated if they so wished. However Shirou had turned such ideas
down.
When asked why he had said that when he returned to his home dimension he
intended to return to school, so he couldn't afford to fall behind his classmates.
In all truth Illya found the idea to be slightly funny. Her brother had access to
what amounted to unlimited wealth and yet he was still concerned with making
sure that he was able to make it through public education honestly. There was
also the fact that she was interested in going to school as well.

In the last few weeks she had entertained herself with watching television and
playing computer games for quite a bit of the time. Given that her family had
ensured that no such appliances had existed within their castle after Kiritsugu's
supposed betrayal, she had never even seen them before she came to Japan.
However it turned out that she had an odd talent for the devices, and as a result
she had no trouble enjoying modern entertainment.
It had been while watching various anime that she had become familiar with the
concept of a school. Certainly she had been aware of the idea of an institution of
learning from her own education and from hearing tales of the Clock Tower.
However from watching anime she had become aware of the ideas of social
drama, of making friends and competing with rivals. Of school clubs and special
events. And she had found, quite to her own surprise that the idea of going to
school appealed to her enormously.
Having learnt of Shirou's desires Yusuke simply nodded and immediately
produced a list of some of the finest schools in Tokyo. It would be no trouble at
all, he assured them, to see them enrolled in whichever they so chose to attend.
It had been this suggestion that had lead to the eighth Campione's response.
"You'd prefer to go to a normal school?"
"Yes, Illya and I are going to have to attend a school, I think it would be good for
us. But I don't want to go to one of those schools were only the really rich can
get into. I'd like us to go to a regular one, one where we can meet regular people
who are just going about their regular lives." Shirou gave a sort of wry smile as
he glance over at his adopted sister.
"Both Illya and I are Magi; we've both set up our own workshops and are doing
our own experiments. Thanks to you and my Authority we don't have to worry
about money. What we do need is something to keep us grounded, to make us
remember that even though we've got magic we're not separate from everyone
else. I've seen what happens to those who do start thinking like that, and it's not
pretty."
"A regular school . . ." murmuring to himself the resurrected soul began to leaf
through the papers on his desk.
As he did so the white haired girl was once again struck by just how competent
Shirou's servant really was. He always seemed to be prepared no matter what
came up. The very manor in which they were living was a good example.
Normally it would have taken considerable time to both acquire and furnish it;
Yusuke had managed to have it bought, prepared and ready to move into in less
than a week.
"Ah, here we go." The accountant smiled as he found the paper he was looking
for. "This school is a public one, but it has an excellent reputation for both the
quality of the students and the quality of its staff. It's also not too far of, only
about thirty minutes by car, so no having to get up too early to attend. With the
summer holidays ending soon it shouldn't be any trouble to get both of you
enrolled. If this school meets your approval I can have uniforms, student supplies
and everything else you'll need ready well before term starts."

Shirou glanced over at her and seemed to ask her opinion with his eyes. For her
part Illya hesitated for a second. She knew that she was growing up, and doing
so faster than was really natural. What if she kept on maturing at this rate? If it
kept up then this time next month she'd look about her natural age. But what
then? What if it didn't stop? If she kept aging at that rate then she'd die of old
age in about a year or so.
No, she mustn't think like that. The field within her was definitely benign in
origin, she couldn't imagine that it would restore her to health and then
accelerate her aging to kill at more or less the same point that she would have
died at anyway. She would live her life as though it was a normal one now. If her
aging kept up at its current rate . . . well she'd just deal with it as she had to
when that happened.
With her heart resolved she gave a sharp and firm nod to her brother.
"That sounds like more or less what we want." Said Shirou with a small smile now
tugging at his lips. "When does the new term start?"
"A week on Monday I believe. That should give me more than enough time to get
everything ready."
"Alright, please see to it. Oh, and what's the name of our new school?" The
young Emiya asked as he stood up.
"I believe it is called Jounan Academy, and it has both a middle and high school
division, so you'll both be able to attend."
"Jounan Academy huh?" Shirou spoke the name as though tasting it. "Sounds
nice and normal."

-()-

Athena stood on the roof of a building and gazed down at the lit window cross
the street.
The apartment that she was staring at belonged to Kusanagi Godou and his
younger sister. Right now they were sitting together and eating a meal in
companionable silence.
Athena was being very careful not to alert her defeater as to her presence. To
that end she was suppressing the flow of her divinity to the lowest level that she
could manage. It was a little uncomfortable, rather like wearing a collar that was
a bit too tight, but it ensured he was unaware of her existence so nearby.
In all truth she wasn't entirely sure why she was here. When her ally had
mentioned that she had tested the abilities of the seventh Campione the
goddess of wisdom and darkness had felt a surge of . . . jealousy? Irritation?
Possessiveness? To a degree she understood it; Kusanagi Godou was HER prey,
nobody else's. But that didn't explain her feelings though. If anything she should
have been pleased, part of the reason for her decision to aid the pair of Divine
Ancestors had been the opportunity it provided.

Her plan had been to use that opportunity to not only regain her full power, but
also to drag Godou into further conflict with the pair of reduced deities. It would
be a fine chance to ensure he gained further experience, to become embroiled in
the combat that would draw out more of his potential. Her ally's actions tied into
that plan quite nicely, so why did the thought of her attacking the dark haired
boy irritate her so much?
For that matter why was she standing here watching the Campione? It made no
sense and yet here she was. Athena was not an existence give to much
introspection, by her very nature knowledge and wisdom came to her on
demand. Trying to understand her own irrational actions was something quite
new to her, and it was an experience that she was not enjoying at all.
She was a deity that was more than three millennia old; she had known many
young men in her time. Some had been enemies, some had been allies, some
she had even taken as disciples, but with each and every one of them she had
been sure as to her feelings. However Godou seemed to defy any attempt to
categorize him in her mind. He had defeated her utterly; he could have easily
claimed her life and taken her Authorities. Likewise it had been in his options to
take her as a bride, to reduce her to a Divine Ancestor and seal away her
memories of being a deity. Instead he had allowed her to go free, with no
conditions on her other than she ceased to spread her darkness.
It would have been so much easier if she had escaped on her own or had
somehow bargained for her freedom. But no, the insufferably confusing boy had
to defy all expectation and simply let her go with that blasted smile on his face.
The queen of darkness was not an emotive goddess, so she didn't punch a wall
or tear at her hair or even let out a cry of frustration. Instead she simply frowned
and continued to stare at the young man having his meal. One watching her
would not have been able to see the turmoil that boiled within her.
She was going to ensure that the young Campione grew stronger, of that she
was absolutely sure. And when she had regained her full majesty she was going
to fight him again, that was another certainty in her mind.
It was what would happen after that fight that was a bit unclear to her.

-()-

In a dark room flickered a single lit candle. The light of that dancing flame
illuminated walls covered by arcane symbols and lines of script. However these
were not the ordered writings of one setting up wards or enchantments. The
symbols were scrawled one on top of another, text ran in long lines that abruptly
cut off only to resume on some other side of the walls. There was a kind of frantic
energy to the markings, as though their maker had been so desperate to commit
them to some sort of record that they had abandoned all sense of order in favour
of speed.
The scrawl covered all four walls, the ceiling and even part of the floor. Some of it
was in pencil, some in pen, some in paint with a thin brush, some of it was even

written in blood where the writer had run out of implements but had been
unwilling to stop long enough to get a new writing medium. In that case they had
simply bitten off their own finger tips and continued to scrawl with the blood that
had come leaking out.
There was only one inhabitant in the large room; he was the only one with a key
to the massive lock that kept the room closed. Right now he huddled in a corner
and used the light of his candle to look over a long list of calculations written on
several large slips of paper.
If one were to look at the man it would have been easy to mistake him for some
poor unfortunate from the streets. His clothes were stained and dirty and reeked
of sweat and other bodily odours. His hair was long, greasy and matted, and
hung about his face in locks like long hairy worms. His face was gaunt and
hollow, his skin pasty and pale.
However if one were to look into his eyes they would see something completely
at odds with the rest of his appearance.
Those eyes burnt. Within them were shining brilliance, fevered activity and
searing madness. These were the eyes of a fanatic, of a man who was
completely and totally devoted to one thing and one thing only.
"Yes," he muttered to himself as his eyes rapidly flicked from one sheet to
another as well as occasionally darting to one of the walls before returning to the
pages. "Pandora has full authority over who is chosen. Not alteration can be
made to the ritual to change that fact."
The man's eyes suddenly snapped closed as his entire attention turned inwards,
but words continued to flow.
"Gods have no equal, established fact. Fact changed by the introduction of a
predator, Campione alter the rules, became akin to gods. Humans cannot stand
against a Campione. Established fact."
His eyes snapped open again and he suddenly darted forwards, unmindful of the
fact he was scrambling over the papers that had previously held his attention.
"The established fact can be changed. The introduction of a predator? What is
the predator of a Campione? A god? No, gods are an equal and opposing
existence. No, they are also prey, relation not properly defined. Gods die to
Campione, but Campione do not always die to gods. They are not predators, they
are prey that fight back. Bull? Bull that kills the tigers?
"To change the established fact a change must be made. No predator exists.
Then this fact must change. What is the predator of a Campione? Campione,
Campione, god-slayer, king, ruler devil, emperor, emperor, emperor, king, king,
king. What is the enemy of the king? The rebel? The assassin? The thief? The
thief, the thief, the thief. Steal from the king, take his treasure, take his power.
What is a king without a kingdom? What is king without his crown? Crown, crown,
steal the crown, steal the throne, steal the kingdom. Take it all leave them
nothing, nothing, nothing nothing nothing nothingnothingnothingnothing.
"One who takes from the takers, a thief that beggars the king.

"A predator for the predator. It can be done, it was done before. Pandora did it,
Epimetheus helped. They were gods, ritual impossible for mortals. Gods and
gods and gods. Need gods to make it work; need power to make a predator.
There are Campione, power like gods. Use the power of Campione? Make a
predator from their flesh? Could work, should work. Two Campione in Japan now,
first time two take the same city and stay there. Could work, could work.
"Could have predator, could have revenge, could have peace. Peace, peace and
quiet, quiet, quiet and silent, silent like her. Her her her, why her? Why did it
have to be her? Couldn't leave her alone, had to establish dominance. Nobody
may go against a Campione, had to establish dominance, had to shut her up.
Shut up shut up shut up; be quiet, so quiet, quiet and silent, silent as the grave,
in the grave in the grave. Oh god she went in the grave. Why? Why, why, why,
why, why, why, why, WHHHHYYYYY?
"She's quiet, so they should be quiet, all quiet, all the kings make too much
noise, shouting, thundering, ordering, why must they order? Why must they be
obeyed? Make them quiet, take their voices, take their thunder."
Even as his mad rambling continued the dishevelled man had pulled a marker
from his pen and was scrawling a new line of symbols and text onto the bare
patch of floor before him.
Once he had been a great man. A respected practioner of the mystic arts who
had held a position of respect akin to that of Witch of Sardinia Lucretia Zola. Now
here he was, a broken wreck, the result of the careless action of one of the
Supreme Rulers. But within him still burnt the genius that had made him so
famed, in fact his overriding obsession with vengeance now fed that same
brilliance. The mind of a madman could conceive of things no sane intelligence
could fathom.
As the candle guttered out a strange laughter began to fill the pitch black room.
It was loud and jubilant, and yet at the same time it sounded so much like
someone crying.

Chapter Six
Kaida drew in a deep breath and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. This
was it. She was standing in front of the gates to the mansion in which the eighth
Campione lived and getting ready to present herself to him and ask him to take
her into his service.

Behind her she heard the shuffle of Manaka's feet and was quietly glad for her
presence. Their friendship was an odd one given how dissimilar their
personalities were. They should have clashed too much for any kind of
relationship to have developed.
Instead the brown haired warrior witch's personality and skills ended up both
complimenting and being complimented by the powerful Hime-Miko. She
possessed the social talents, spiritual training and calm rationality that Manaka
had either not bothered to develop or simply didn't possess. On the other hand
her bodyguard was far more experienced both in the outside world and in the
arts of combat.
This was the greatest challenge they could have been assigned. They were the
official envoys of the largest supernatural organization in the country to one of
the two most powerful men to live in the nation. For a moment her calm wavered
once more as the enormity of her task bore down on her.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, it was callused and contained a terrible
strength but it simply squeezed her gently.
Right. Manaka had absolute faith in her, even though Kaida had no idea of
exactly why; all she needed to do was have a small fraction of that faith in
herself.
Squaring her shoulders subconsciously, the Hime-Miko reached out and firmly
pressed the contact button on the gate's intercom.
There was an electronic buzz, a brief wait and then the voice of an older man
answered.
"Yes?"
"I would like to speak to Emiya-sama; may I and my companion enter?"
There was a pause, and then the voice answered again. This time though there
was a certain hardness to its tone.
"And just what is it that you wish to discuss with Emiya-sama?"
Kaida paused for a second as she tried to organize her thought to produce the
best answer that she could for the situation. She had read the information that
the Committee had on the eighth Campione, so she knew that she was probably
speaking to Yamada Yusuke. Since his resurrection the undead accountant had
served as the chief assistant and general right hand man to his King. His skills in
both legal and illegal areas had been of great aid to Emiya-sama, especially
given the Campione's relative youth. Yamada-san served as the supposed
guardian of him and his white haired younger companion.
By all account the man was not only extremely resourceful and canny, he was
also either fiercely loyal to his lord or very tightly controlled. Since his return to
the mortal plane he had had a number of opportunities to swindle his liege out of
vast sums of money, but he had never taken them.
"My name is Renjou Kaida; I am here a representative of the History Compilation
Committee to the eighth Campione to offer my self both into his service and as
an envoy from my organization."

There, she had put the best face on it that she had been able to think of, with
any luck it would serve to get the in the door and hopefully speak to the young
devil king face to face. It was a suitably formal and would hopefully set the tone
for the meeting that she hoped would come.
There was a pause once more, this time significantly longer than the last.
"Am I to understand that you are the representative of an organization involved
in the more . . . supernatural aspect of the world? And that you are here
specifically to meet with Emiya-sama and discuss the possibility of opening
communications?"
A slight frown crossed Kaida's face as she heard that. That had been a rather
unusual choice of words. Did it mean that nobody else had contacted them? If
that was so then why? Campione were giants amongst those who moved in the
world of magic, and that meant that such individuals were as admired as they
were feared. For no-one to have already contacted Emiya-sama . . . it was
unthinkable.
"Yes, that is correct." Despite her thoughts she answered as simply as she could.
There were just too many unanswered questions here; perhaps she'd be able to
get some answers when she spoke to the Campione himself.
There was a longer pause this time, as though the speaker on the other end of
the electronic devise was taking his time preparing his answer.
"If that is the case then I can guarantee that Emiya-sama would be eager to
speak to you. Unfortunately he isn't at home right now, and I can't invite you in
since his orders are not to allow any known magic users access to his dwellings
unless he is himself here. Could I ask you to return here at about five o'clock this
afternoon? By then he should have returned and be ready for you."
Kaida stared at the small loudspeaker from which the voice was coming as
though it had suddenly begun to warble a song about the benefits of swimming
in a pool of chocolate milkshake. He wasn't in? She had spent the last half hour
mentally preparing herself for what would most likely be the most harrowing
meeting of her life and the object of all that worry wasn't even there? This was so
absurd as to almost be comical.
With a deliberate effort she choked down the slightly hysterical laughter that she
had felt starting to bubble up from inside her. Now was not the time to lose her
composure, she had to remain in control and ensure that she left a good
impression upon this servant of the eighth devil king.
"I quite understand," she said, honestly surprised at how calm and even her
voice sounded. "I and my companion will return at the time that you have
suggested and hope that Emiya-sama will be kind enough to receive us."
She paused for a second before giving in to curiosity.
"If it would be permissible could you tell me where his majesty has gone? I was
given to understand that he was normally in residence at this time of the
morning."
There was another short pause from the man on the other end of the line, and
then she was slightly startled to hear a soft chuckle.

"His highness, Emiya-sama, had to get up early today because it was his first day
back to school, and he was very keen not to be late. The taxi driver came and
picked him and his sister up only about half an hour ago."
Once again Kaida could only stare at the loudspeaker and wonder just what in
the name of all the heavens was going on. When Yuri-sama had told her to
expect the unexpected from Campione she had certainly never expected this.
Which in itself made a twisted kind of sense, since she had been caught
unawares by it she should have foreseen it, but if she had expected it then she
would have expected something else. But then that would mean she was
expecting that so . . .
With another mental effort the dark haired Hime-Miko pulled her thoughts out of
that endless spiral. If kept on thinking about that particular endless argument
then the only thing she'd accomplish would be to drive herself out of her mind.
Still, no matter how hard she tried she couldn't quite get her mind around the
idea of the eighth Campione, the ruthless killer that had slain three deities in less
than a week, was going to SCHOOL. That was so . . . ordinary. Campione were
meant to be these larger than life giants that loomed over all humanity, absolute
monarchs that could snap their fingers and have kings kneel before them.
Why on earth would such a one wish to go to school?

-()-

Shirou pulled at the collar of his new short sleeved shirt and tried to remember
again exactly why he had thought that this was a good idea.
"Neh, Shirou? Can we meet on the roof to have lunch together? You did
remember to bring your bento didn't you? Hey, do you think we should join an
after-school club? Should we take different ones? I'm thinking about joining the
tea ceremony club, I've always wanted to try that. Or maybe flower arranging. Or
maybe I should try . . ."
A small smile crossed the young Emiya's lips as he let his adopted sisters excited
chatter wash over him. She'd been like this for the whole of the morning and
most of the day before, it seemed that the thought of attending school had given
her an inexhaustible supply of excited energy.
For the last few days, ever since they had taken their placement tests, they had
been carefully going over the story of their new false history. For the most part it
mirrored what had really happened to them, but naturally excluded any mention
of magic.
Right now it was about half an hour until the start of lessons and he and Illya
were seated outside the office of the schools principal. It seemed he had a habit
of personally greeting new students on their first day. Not a standard practice
perhaps, but Shirou could understand where he was coming from.

Unfortunately it seemed that the principal had somehow been delayed, because
the pair of them had been waiting for over a quarter of an hour, and there was
still no sign of the man.
Still with Illya's constant stream of questions, suggestions and exclamations it
had hardly been boring.
His thoughts were interrupted as someone sat down in the chair next to him.
Mildly curious as to who had joined them the red haired teen glanced to the side.
The girl who had sat down was dressed in the same blue and white summer
uniform that Illya was wearing. Her features, lovely though they were, clearly
marked her as a foreigner rather than Japanese, however the thing that most
caught his attention was her hair.
In all truth Shirou was quite accustomed to people with unusual hair colours.
Sakura had possessed an odd shade of plum purple while Shinji's had been a
rather bold blue. Then during the Holy Grail war he had met Illya with her snow
white hair and Rider with her own impossibly long pale violet locks. This girl's
hair was an odd shade of pale silver the likes of which he had never seen before.
"You've got very pretty hair."
Shirou blinked in surprise and turned his head to see that his adopted sister had
gotten out of her chair and come round to inspect the new arrival.
In her new uniform Illya looked almost too cute for words. The colours of her
clothing complimented her pale skin and the white of her hair quite nicely. This
combined with the book bag she was carrying made her look like a traditional
young schoolgirl, like in one of those anime she had become so fond of.
"Errr . . . thank you?" the rather confused girl answered in perfect Japanese.
"Oh . . . how rude of me." A look of embarrassment passed over the younger girls
face before she took the edges of her skirt and performed as close to a curtsy as
she could with the school issue uniform. "I am Illyasviel Von Einzbern, pleased to
make your acquaintance."
The silver haired girl seemed startled to have received such an introduction, but
recovered quickly, stood up and bowed formally back to the younger girl.
"I am Liliana Kranjcar; I am pleased to make your acquaintance Illyasviel-san."
Illya smiled and then turned her head to look at Shirou with a rather expectant
look on her face. Getting out of his chair the young Emiya bowed politely and
introduced himself.
"I'm Emiya Shirou, this young lady's brother, pleased to meet you Kranjcar-san."
"Her . . . brother?" A look of mild confusion flitted across the silver haired girl's
features.
"I'm adopted." Shirou said by way of explanation.
"Ah, I see." Said Liliana as she sat back down.
"So Kranjcar-san, what brings you to Jounan Academy? Your Japanese is excellent
but with that accent I'm guessing that it's not your first language."

"Ah, that is quite correct. I have only recently transferred to this school as an
exchange student from Italy."
"Oh? That's a coincidence," commented Illya as she also retook her seat, "Me
and onii-chan only got back from a trip to Italy about a month or two back. Which
part are you from, maybe it was near to where we were staying?"
"I haven't really had a permanent address for some time," admitted the fairy-like
girl, "I moved around quite a bit due to . . . family responsibilities. When I did
stay anywhere for any length of time it was always Milan though, so I suppose
one could say I'm from there"
"So what brings you to Japan then?" enquired Shirou. "Were you looking for a
change of pace perhaps?"
A small blush played across Liliana's face, but her posture grew straighter and
her shoulders squared. For some reason that he couldn't quite put his finger on
she reminded him of Saber. Her posture, her baring, even her expression, all of it
was tantalizingly close to the manner of his lost friend and Servant.
"There is a man to whom I have sworn my destiny in this academy. It was only
natural that I should follow him here so as to be close to him."
The tone she used was . . . majestic was the closest word that would come to
Shirou off the top of his head. She was obviously slightly embarrassed by her
admission, but at the same time there didn't seem to be a shred of shame to her.
Such an odd combination.
"Oh? So Liliana-san followed her boyfriend all the way from Italy to Japan? That's
some impressive affection."
Illya's tone was light and teasing and it caused the slight flush on the older
seeming girl's face to deepen.
"I-I assure you I am not his lover. I am simply following him here so as to keep my
oath to him. And anyway I met him after I came to Japan, not before."
Shirou allowed himself a small smile as he watched Illya continue to light
heartedly tease the other girl, however his mind was focussed on trying to figure
out what it was about the slight girl that reminded him of Saber.
There was of course a superficial physical resemblance. Both of them possessed
European features and had a more or less similar figure. But apart from that
there wasn't too much that was shared by both. What really got him was
the manner, the way in which they both held themselves. Granted it was by no
means identical, with Liliana it was far less pronounced, but the similarity was
definitely there.
Perhaps he was looking at this from the wrong angle. Rather than try to work out
what it was about the girl in front of him that struck such a sharp cord he should
try and think what it was about Saber that stood out the most. Let's see . . . she
had been regal, even before he had learnt of her real identity she had always
possessed an overpowering aura of majesty to her. She had also been stern, all
business at first, only becoming a bit friendlier as they had managed to get to
know each other a bit better. She had also always conducted herself with
chivalry, always fighting as a knight rather than some common killer.

That thought struck a cord. Chivalrous, knightly, that was a good way to describe
the way Liliana was carrying herself. It was subtle, so much so that it would have
been easy to miss if one weren't paying attention for it. But Shirou had spent
time with one who could be regarded as that which all knights tried in vain to be,
and he supposed that gave him a certain edge in spotting these things. Granted
the difference between them was great, Saber had possessed a subdued but
powerful presence that he doubted any human could have matched. Still there
was a certain similarity there, enough to know that this girl was at least trying to
be a knight.
Still that realization brought up more questions than it answered. Why would a
modern day knight have apparently sworn herself to some high school student?
For that matter why would the girl even need to be a knight in modern times?
Questions, questions, questions, it would seem that he would always be
confronted with more every time he managed to work something out.
His somewhat gloomy thoughts were cut off by the arrival of a short and rather
stout man with thinning hair and wearing a small pair of round glasses. He was
breathing hard and carried a brown leather briefcase under one arm. In effect he
seemed as though someone had taken every clich about the hard working
salaryman and combined them into a single individual.
"I'm- I'm sorry to have kept you young people waiting," he panted out between
puffing for air, "I'm afraid that there was a traffic accident, so I ended up running
late."
A small self deprecating smile crossed the short man's face.
"Now there's a fine example I'm setting, showing up late to greet my new
students on their first day."
Walking past them he took out a set of keys and unlocked the door to the office
in front of which they had been waiting.
"I am principle Tanaka, please join me in my office so we can get our
introductions and orientation all sorted out before classes start."
Moving into his office the principle waved for them to come in.
In fairly short order all three of them were sitting on chairs facing Tanaka-san's
large work desk.
"Well now Emiya-san, Kranjcar-san, Einzbern-san, please let me be the first to
welcome you to Jounan Academy. We're always happy to accept new students
here. I hope your time with us with prove to be both educational and enjoyable."
As he spoke the stout principle began to root about the mounds of disorganized
paper work that seemed to cover most of his desk.
"Now then lets see . . . due to all of you having applied a bit on the late side your
enrolment was a somewhat last minute. That's why we haven't been able to let
you know what class you were assigned to ahead of time. Here we go . . ." he
muttered as he pulled a sheet of paper out from under several others.

"Einzbern-san, you will be enrolling in our middle school's third year, class Four. I
know that your fellow students will be a year or two older than you, but I'm sure
there won't be any problems."
That had been one surprise that had been sprung on Shirou just under a week
ago. Since neither he nor Illya had any kind of education history that they could
provide to Yusuke they had needed to undergo a series of placement tests that
he had had set up for them. The young Emiya had scored completely average,
however Illya's scores had been quite surprising.
As far as mathematics and science went she was closer to being a
university teacher than she was a student. It would that the training she had
undergone for even the rudimentary Alchemy she had learnt had left her with a
particular affinity for those subjects. However aside from that the only other
subject that she showed any promise in was Japanese language. She could
speak, understand and read the language without difficulty; her problem was in
writing in kanji, hiragana or katakana. As far as that went she was absolutely
hopeless. The same went for geography, Japanese history and traditional arts.
She was only slightly better at computer studies and arts and crafts.
A few days of intense tutoring from Shirou and Yusuke had managed to improve
her abilities at Japanese writing to the point where it was legible more often than
not, as opposed to looking like the work of a drunken baboon with a pen.
All in all the final decision was that the snow haired girl would not be placed in
the first year of middle school, but would instead be placed in the third year with
students a year or two older than her physical age. The story would be that she
was a gifted student who had skipped a couple of grades while attending school
in Europe.
Illya had at first protested, stating that she would be happier with people her
own physical age. But after a bit of consideration she agreed that the more
advanced classes would probably be more interesting and that her mental level
would also be more at home with the older students. Actually the truth was that
the young Einzbern rather liked the idea of being the young genius of her class, it
fit in with her sense of narrative expectation. However that was a fact that she
was keeping secret from her brother and his retainer.
"Emiya-san, you will enroll in Year two, class three. Everything has been prepared
so I see no problems there."
Shirou silently nodded, though internally he was a little annoyed. Before he'd
become embroiled in the Holy Grail war he had been about two thirds of the way
through his school year, now due to the difference in time that travelling
between the worlds had brought about, he was having to retake this term again.
And to top it all of he was going to be doing it with knowledge that was about
eight years out of date. Oh well, what could you do. Coming to school had been
his idea, so he could hardly back out of it at this point.
"And Kranjcar-san, I believe that we have found you a place in Year one, class
two. I think . . ."
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but it is essential that I am in class five." Liliana broke in.

"Class Five? Oh, you mean the same class that Blandelli-san transferred into.
Well I can understand wanting to be in the same class as her if she is a friend of
yours, but I'm afraid that class five is all filled up at this point. Don't worry, I'm
sure you'll be able to make plenty of friends in class two, and you'll be able to
see Blandelli-san during the lunch break and after school."
The silver haired girl stood up and moved over to the desk so that she was
standing directly in front of the principle.
"I don't think you quite understand. You have to transfer me into class five.
It's for my mission after all, so please make it happen."
The principles eyes widened in surprise for an instant, then went slightly glazed
before seemingly returning to normal.
"Ah, well if you feel so strongly about it Kranjcar-san I think I might be able to
arrange something." Looking up at the two still seated new students he smiled at
them while holding out two sheets of paper. "These are directions your home
rooms and your timetables, why don't you two head to them while me and
Kranjcar-san see what we can manage in regard to her class?"
With a smile he gently waved them out of the room.
The adopted siblings simply nodded and wordlessly took their sheets before
leaving. As soon as they were in the offices hallway Illya turned to Shirou.
"She was using some form of hypnosis in there. It wasn't like any type I know of,
but it was definitely some kind of magic." The snow haired girl's words were
hushed but excited.
"That's what I thought too," agreed the Campione, "What was odd though was
that she didn't react to either of us, if she is at this school on business then we
don't seem to be her target. Do you think that she's sworn herself to one of the
teachers? I suppose one of them could be a magus."
"If she has then she's got a crush on them. Did you see the way she blushed
when I talked about her boyfriend? It was so cute, there's definitely someone
that she likes."
Shirou cast a sideways glance at the girl who was now walking next to him. He
had noticed that Illya had undergone some character changes since they had
arrived on this world. For all her childishness he knew that she had a serious side
to her. And he had been seeing that side of her a fair bit more of late. What was
new though was the enjoyment that she seemed to take in light-heartedly
teasing others, especially in regards to their romances. It was . . . different.
"More questions and still not enough answers." Shirou muttered to himself.
The truth was that he was actually a little annoyed with himself. After his
preparations to defend the manor had been completed he had been all set to try
and make contact with the magical community in Tokyo. Then the memories he
had inherited from Archers arm had completed their integration and all plans of
contact were shelved until he was able to get his mind straight. Then once he
had managed to get the memories into some sort of order he had begun
planning his contact again, only then the business of enrolment at school had
come up and his plans had fallen to the wayside. Those placement tests, getting

Illya up to speed on her writing, even getting their story straight, it had all
pushed thoughts of other magi to the back of his mind.
And now here he was with one of those magic users not more than a few yards
from where he was and he was unsure of how to proceed.
"Shirou?"
His adopted sister's voice brought him out of his thought. He realized he had
stopped his slow walk and was instead just standing at the end of the hall that
led to waiting room in front of the principles office. Illya was looking at him with a
mildly curious look on her face.
"Let . . . lets just go to our home rooms for now. Liliana-san is a student here as
well so there should be no problem finding her again if we need to." As smile
crossed his face as he glanced down at the shorter girl. "We'd best hurry if we
don't want to be late."

-()-

Illya stood at the front of the classroom, next to the teacher's desk, and gazed
back at the students who were all staring at her.
"Well class, this is our new transfer student form Germany. Illyasviel, please
introduce yourself."
The snow haired girl almost moved to curtsy as she had done earlier when
introducing herself to Liliana, however this time she remembered and stopped
just in time. Instead she politely bowed in the way that Yusuke-san had taught
her.
"I'm Illyasviel Von Einzbern. I'm very pleased to be joining you all and I ask you to
take good care of me."
Oh, this was just like one of those anime she had seen. Internally she grinned as
the thought crossed her mind that she was technically a magical girl since she
was a magus. Privately she wondered if she should make a costume in her spare
time just for fun. Magical Girl Illya-chan, it had a certain appeal to it.
"Err, aren't you a little young to be in this class?"
The question was asked by one of the boys in the front row. She estimated his
age to be about fifteen or fourteen; he was of average height, fairly good looking
and wearing rectangular glasses. He had an intelligent and confident feel about
him which led her to think that he was probably someone fairly high up in the
social ranks of this class.
She had also been expecting someone to ask that question. After all while her
aging might have begun once more its effects so far had been subtle for the
most part. The only real difference was that now no-one would think her younger
than twelve. According to her new birth certificate, provide by Yusuke's excellent
contacts, she was thirteen years and four months old. Admittedly a little young
for this class, but she had her story ready.

"I was able to skip a year in Germany due to doing well in some subjects. I'm still
a bit weak in other subjects though, and I'm told my Katakana is barely readable.
That's one of the things I'm hoping to change here."
Her smile, deliberately sweet seemed to disarm most of initial uncertainty about
her. Responding smiles appeared on most of the faces before her and questions
began to be asked of her, she tried to answer them as best she could while
keeping the answers short.
"What was it like living in Germany?"
"Colder, much colder. You've got better weather here."
"What brought you to Japan?"
"I came to meet my adopted onii-chan. We then went back to Europe and then
came back here to live."
"Oh, is your onii-chan attending school here too?"
"Yes, he's in the second high school year."
"What're your hobbies?"
"How old are you?"
What do you like most about Japan?"
The questions eventually began to come faster than Illya could answer and the
teacher had to step I to calm down the class.
"Now now, I'm sure you all still have plenty of questions but it's time for lessons
to begin. Would one of you be so kind as to act as a guide for Einzbern-san until
she's more familiar with the school?"
In response to her question more than three quarters of the class raised their
arms to volunteer for the duty.
"Alright then, how about . . . you, Shizuka-chan?"
At the teacher's words a girl stood up and waved Illya over. She was a girl of
average height, with her brown hair done up rather unusually in a couple of buns
on either side of her head which were covered by pink hair bands. Her large
green eyes were . . . measuring, not hostile or unfriendly, rather observing how
she acted. An honest judgement, that was the best way to describe it.
There was an empty desk next to the older girl, walking over to it the snow
haired girl put down her book bag and smiled at the girl who had been assigned
to be her guide.
"I'm pleased to meet you," the girl said with a smile, "I'm Kusanagi Shizuka,
pleased to meet you Illyasviel-san"
"Please treat me kindly." Answered Illya with another smile of her own.

-()-

Shirou sat in his class and tried to listen to his teacher lecture on the laws of
physics. It wasn't that he was bored; it was just that his thoughts kept on
wandering back to the subject of mages and magic associations.
He supposed that fear had been at the root of his over cautious preparations. He
had understood that he was a Campione, and a Campione was a great power in
the magical communities if what the magus had said was to be believed. The
problem was that Shirou had no idea of exactly what it was that gave people like
him this seemingly royal authority. Did he have to act in a certain way? Did he
have to take territory from someone else and declare it his own?
In the end the securest course of action that he could think of had been to build
up his resources, establish a base of sorts and then reinforce its defences as
much as he could.
Now that he thought about it perhaps his reluctance to take that last step and
make contact had been due to fear. If he did make contact and the magi of the
city were hostile then he would have been faced with the choice of fight or flight.
He probably would have chosen to fight rather than flee. Not from stubbornness
or pride, but rather because it would have been the best logical choice.
If he was being forced to flee then it stood to reason that he would have
eventually had to face his pursuers. Better to take them on in a place of his
choosing where the preparations he had made would give him the advantage.
The problem was that in such a battle lives would inevitably be lost. The
memories he had inherited from EMIYA lent him ample fodder for gruesome
thoughts of torn corpses littering the tidy paths of his manors gardens. Shirou
knew he was no innocent; he had blood on his hands. Yet despite that some part
of him had constantly managed to procrastinate about trying to contact the local
magi out of fear for that worst outcome.
His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the lunch bell. All around him the
students of his class began to get up and put their book away.
Gathering up his own things Shirou got up and began to head towards the
staircase to the building's roof, the place where he had agreed to meet Illya for
lunch.
His introduction to the class he was now a part of had gone about as well as
could be expected. His reception had been fairly pleasant and apart from having
to state that red was his natural hair colour everything had gone smoothly. He
supposed he could have made an effort to be a bit friendlier, but at the time he
had been worried about how his sister had been doing in her own introductions.
He loved Illya as though she was a blood sibling, but she had been raised to fight
in a violent and bloody battle royal for most of her life. Even though she was
affectionate and sweet for those she liked, he knew that she could just as easily
be ruthless and callous to those who irritated her. Granted she no longer had an
invincible magical juggernaut as her personal attack dog, but given her personal
power and talents he had no doubt she could slaughter her entire class if she so
chose.

He knew that Illya wouldn't do something that, if not from compassion then
certainly from intelligence. But his treacherous imagination had supplied him
luridly gruesome images of the snow fairy like girl losing her temper and
wreaking havoc and slaughter upon her class with her magecraft. As a result he
had probably been less personable with his new classmates than he should have
been. Ah well, he'd see about being friendlier later. First he wanted to settle his
frayed nerves down by confirming his faith in Illya.
He met up with his sister where they had agreed to meet, but to his surprise he
found that she was not alone. Another girl, who looked to be about fifteen and
who had her hair done up into two buns that were wrapped in pink hair bands,
was with her.
As she saw him turning the corner Illya waved at him enthusiastically. As he drew
nearer she turned to her companion.
"Shizuka, this is my onii-chan, Emiya Shirou. Shirou, this is Kusanagi Shizuka,
she's acting as my guide and says it'll be okay for us to join her, her onii-chan
and his friends on the roof."
"Thank you Kusanagi-san," the young Emiya addressed the girl while making
sure he had a friendly smile on his face. "It's always nicer to eat with others than
on your own."
"No problem, now lets get up there, onii-chan and his girls should be there
already."
The trio walked up the stairs and came out onto a rooftop that had clearly been
prepared with students eating there in mind. The entire edge of the roof was
fenced off in one way or another and benches were set up around large potted
plants. With the pleasant weather and clear sky the atmosphere on the roof was
actually quite pleasant.
However despite the pleasantness of the location it was surprisingly uncrowded.
In fact there were only three people there, they were seated on a blue sheet that
had been spread on the concrete rooftop and were apparently having a sort of
picnic. There was a fairly tall boy with black hair, a lovely young woman with long
chestnut brown hair, and a second girl whom both the adopted siblings
immediately recognized. It was her that was passionately speaking as they came
out onto the roof.
"Combining carbohydrates with carbohydrates is reckless at best. So long as my
heart beats, I shall not permit that kind of crude meal."
She was apparently addressing the boy of their group because she snatched a
packaged bread from his hand and immediately replaced it with what was clearly
a home made sandwich.
"A meal like this is appropriate for a warrior. Now, please eat up."
"Ah, hello again Liliana-san," Illya happily waved at their fellow transfer student,
"Is this the one you swore your destiny to?"
"E-Einzbern-san? What are you doing here?"

Liliana was surprised enough by the white haired girl's enthusiastic greeting that
her attention was diverted. Shirou noted that the black haired boy took
advantage of the distraction to grab his packaged bread back from where the
silver haired girl had set it down and quickly hid it in his bag. Quick hands he idly
noted.
"Don't you know? All the main characters always have their lunches on the
rooftop, it's practically a rule."
The young head of the Emiya clan, such as it was, glanced sideways at her as
Illya nodded to herself in a sage-like style, utterly convinced with the truth of
what she had just said. Maybe he had been a little overindulgent in letting her
watch anime; clearly it had warped her thought process slightly.
"Shizuka, why don't you introduce us?"
The boys question was friendly and mildly curious. In response the bun haired
girl inclined her head towards her classmate.
"This is Einzbern Illyasviel, she just transferred into my class today and I
volunteered to show her around. She mentioned that she and her brother were
planning to eat on the rooftop, so I thought I might as well invite them to join us."
Her stare suddenly took on a suspicious cast and she leaned forwards to glare at
the boy.
"Never mind that though, who's this?" she asked gesturing towards Liliana. "Oniichan, did you pick up another girl over the holidays? What do Erica-san and
Mariya-san think about it?"
"Ah, well, you see . . ."
The boy's fumbled replies only seemed to add to the accusing and suspicious
glare that his younger sister was directing at him. However before he could
stutter out something that would no doubt only end up digging him deeper into
the hole he was already in something caught Shirou's attention.
"Is that proper rye bread?"
Shirou might be an almighty Campione, he might be a former Master of the Holy
Grail war, he might even be a dangerous magus when he put his mind to it, but
before all that he was a cook. Well, as long there wasn't anything too important
going on at least.
Since acquiring the Rule of the Underworld and his new manor one of his more
relaxing activities had been the cooking of some of the more expensive and
exotic dishes he could think of. Just last week he had taken advantage of his
enormous oven to properly roast an entire boar's carcass. Granted there had
been so much left over meat after him, Illya and Yusuke had gorged themselves
that much of it had to be placed in the freezer. Still it had been the realization of
a childish dream.
However one thing that had vexed him was an inability to find a decent loaf of
rye bread. It was laughable really, here he was with a mass of wealth at his
disposal and he couldn't find a loaf of the bread, something to do with a supplier
problem. There were times that he truly wondered at just how strange the world
could be.

"Err . . . yes. I just cut it open this morning."

"Where did you get it from? I've been trying to get some decent rye bread for
ages, but I've had no luck."
Somewhat taken aback by Shirou's sudden interest in her meal Liliana had to
take a couple of seconds to think up an answer to his question.
"I'm-I'm not quite sure. My maid Karen is the one who handles the shopping. If
you'd like I can ask her where she got it from."
"I'd really appreciate it if you could." Shirou's answer was enthused as his mind
quickly filled with plans for various simple but elegant sandwiches.
"Sorry about onii-chan," Illya apologised for he brother. "He gets it into his head
that he wants to make something and then when he can't he starts to mope
about it."
Her expression turned mischievous and slightly devilish.
"But what's this I'm hearing Kusanagi-san? Not only do you have Liliana-san here,
but you also have an Erica-san and a Mariya-san as well?"
As she asked her question the snow haired girl noticed that the chestnut haired
girl was flushing deep red.
"Oh? Are you Mariya-san? So you've got a stern and dutiful girl like Liliana-san
and a classic beauty like Mariya-san here. And you've also got this Erica-san as
well, is this the legendary 'Harem Ending' that I've heard all young Japanese men
aspire to?"
By the end of Illya's seemingly innocent questions both the named girls and the
black haired boy were all flushing such a deep shade of crimson that the eighth
Campione was actually beginning to worry about their health.
"I-I am not here to be Godou-san's woman," Liliana declared somewhat hotly, "I
am merely here to take care of him because our relationship binds us with the
same fate. As a result we are one in body and soul!"
The young Einzbern didn't even bother to verbally reply; she simply looked at the
silver haired girl and raised one eyebrow questioningly.
"Liliana-san, please don't say things that can be easily misinterpreted." Godou's
request was delivered in an almost painfully pleading tone.
"Ano . . . are you friends of Liliana-san?"
The brown haired Mariya-san spoke up for the first time, clearly hoping to change
the topic of conversation.
"My sister and I were the other two transfer students who joined classes today.
We met Kranjcar-san this morning when we were all meeting the principle for our
official welcome to the academy."
He smiled towards the knightly girl.
"I suppose you were able to convince the principle to put you in class five then?"

"Yes," she replied with an attempt to regain her tattered dignity, "after I
explained the situation he proved reasonable and was willing to go along with my
request."
"He's your brother?" Godou asked in some confusion, "But you're so different."
His face reddened once more as he realized that he'd said that out loud.
"Sorry, I didn't mean . . ."
"It's okay," Shirou assured him, "I've been expecting this for some time, so I
suppose I should explain it to you all. If anyone asks you feel free to pass it on,
it'll probably save me the trouble of having to repeat myself later.
"Do you mind?" He asked and waited for several nods and smiles before both he
and Illya sat down on the sheet.
"Go ahead." Said Godou amiably.
As they opened up their bentos Shirou ran over the story, which they had spent
the last week getting straight, once again in his mind. Yusuke had been helpful in
hammering out the hole, but he had advised them to keep it simple, according to
him simple was always best.
"Well first off I'm adopted, that's why me and Illya look so different.
"What happened was that my dad married into the Einzbern family. He was a
talented individual who had drawn their attention. Apparently their blood had
been getting a bit too thick so they elected to bring in an outsider to add
something new to the bloodline. Dad married Irisviel and a couple of years later
Illya here was born.
"Things went wrong about eight years ago. Dad and Irisviel were here in Japan on
business for the Einzberns when there was an accident, a big one. Irisviel was
killed, I lost my whole family and dad was seriously injured.
"The head of the Einzberns chose to use the accident for his own plans. He'd
never approved of dad so he used the accident as an excuse to throw him out of
the family. The bastard also managed to get a good legal team together so dad
lost all custody of Illya, hell they even put a restraining order on him.
"Dad would have fought them more, but he didn't have the money or the
influence. He adopted me and then died about five years ago due to the wounds
he got in the accident. Thanks to the old meddler it wasn't until about four
months ago that I even knew I had a sister."
Illya patted him comfortingly on the shoulder and then took up her side of the
story.
"Grandfather always told me that father had abandoned me after letting mother
die. He even said father had adopted onii-chan to replace me."
Illya allowed some of her contempt for Jubstacheit von Einzbern to enter her
tone.
"After he finally died I had a bit more freedom and travelled to Japan to confront
onii-chan. I was all set for a really big fight, but as soon as he found out who I

was he started treating me like a real sister. I almost wish grandfather was still
alive, learning that I'd made up with father's heir would probably have been
enough to finish him off."
The white haired girl's face was set in a cruel smile now, the same one she had
worn when she ordered Berserker to kill him, Rin and Saber. Involuntarily a small
shudder ran down his back. Adorable though she may be Shirou still found the
memory of that smile alone to be enough to unnerve him.
Glancing around he saw expressions of sympathy and pity on the faces of their
audience. In all truth he had been a bit unsure of the story that the three of them
had managed to cook up. To him it had sounded like one of the plotlines that
could be found in a day time soap opera. Romance, tragedy, betrayal,
reconciliation, so many essential elements were there that he feared it would
come off as being a bit too contrived.
Yusuke had assured him that that would not be the case. Indeed the drama of the
tale would help add to its believability. People would be caught in the tale and
their own feelings of sympathy and interest would lead to them reaffirming its
authenticity in their own heads which would make them less prone to
questioning it at a later point.
Well it seemed that the resurrected accountant's instincts had been dead on
again. He seriously doubted that anyone here would be harbouring any
suspicions as to the truth of what they had heard.
"Still, everything worked out fairly well in the end; I even got an imouto out of it
so I'm not complaining too much."
The light hearted comment was deliberately meant to dispel the somewhat
solemn atmosphere that had descended on the small gathering. His words, along
with him affectionately rubbing the top of Illya's head, produced the desired
response as smile returned to the faces or their small audience.
A puzzled frown suddenly creased Shizuka's forehead.
"So . . . who're you living with? You said your dad was dead and now so's your
grandfather. Who's your legal guardian?"
"Dad made arrangements before he passed on." Explained Shirou. "When he
died one of his friends became my legal guardian. After Illya's grandfather died a
lot of the legal blocks that he'd had set up lost their driving force and my and
Illya's inheritance became available to us. It's currently in a trust being overseen
by my dad's friend until we're old enough to legally take charge of it."
"What made you decide to move to Japan Einzbern-san?" Yuri-san asked.
"Because I never really liked it in Germany with the rest of the Einzberns."
Answered the snow haired girl before biting into a sausage, with perhaps more
force than was strictly necessary.
"They never really treated me as part of the family. It was always: 'Illyasviel, we
expect much of you in the future.' Or: 'Remember that you must not fail in your
duty.' They never let me have any fun or go out, all they did was make me study
and go on about how 'uncouth' and 'vulgar' all the 'commons' had become." She

glanced up at the teens that were now all paying close attention to what she was
saying.
"The Einzbern were once powerful nobility you know. But over the last few
centuries they've lost a lot of the influence and stature that they once enjoyed.
These days the whole family's just mooning over the 'good old days' and wishing
for some miracle to restore everything to the way it once was.
"That's one of the reasons they were willing to let father into the family. The
Einzbern name might have rank and old money but nobodies got any ideas, any
drive. Father was going to change that, he was going to get things moving again.
But when the accident screwed things up grandfather decided to abandon him
and focus on raising me to be the perfect little heir.
"Me coming to Japan in the first place was meant to be a rite of passage. I was to
denounce onii-chan, use my resources to ruin him and leave him penniless in the
gutter."
Shirou was honestly impressed with how well his adopted sister was spinning her
tale. The four teens who were now hanging on her every word all bore
expressions of sympathy or outrage on their faces as they listened to the
adapted version of Illya's life.
"The problem was that the Einzbern family had a few rivals that didn't want to
see us improve our lot. My leaving the family grounds for the first time was a
golden chance to have me kidnapped so they could extort my family. They bribed
my minder and would have managed it if onii-chan hadn't blundered into things
at just the right time.
"Anyway once the dust had settled I'd finally worked out that grandfather had
been lying through his teeth to me for the better part of a decade. We both went
back to Europe together to have it out with the rest of the family; only when we
got there it turned out that with old age having finally done the old man in the
various factions within the family were engaging in a mini civil war. So we
grabbed what we legally could while no one was looking and came back here.
"You asked why I decided to move to Japan Mariya-san? It was because it's much
more fun here. I can watch anime and play games. I can read comics and play
with dolls and toys. I don't have to study business planning every day or listen to
sermons about 'proper decorum' or 'ignoring the banalities of the masses'. I can
live with onii-chan, go to school, have friends and have fun!"
As Illya spoke the last word she used her fork to spear the last piece of rolled egg
in her bento with an almost savage but exultant movement.
Shirou felt a surge of sympathy and protectiveness for the small white haired girl
that was his sister now. Illya didn't speak of her life with her family much, but
from what he'd been able to coax out of her it hadn't been a happy time for her.
His memories, gained from EMIYA, told him that Illya had originally been
intended to be the core of the Holy Grail, a task she would not have been able to
survive. That alone gave him a good hint of just how her family had viewed her.
So . . . what do you most want to do now that you're going to school?"

The question, hesitant and a little unsure, came from Godou-san. His face looked
a bit troubled by what he had just heard.
"I . . . want to learn how to do Japanese tea ceremony." Illya declared after a
short pause.
"Oh?" Shizuka's interest was now clearly visible. "Why's that?"
"Father tried to teach mother how to do it once," the young Einzbern confided,
"it's one of my earliest memories. Mother was absolutely terrible at it; she kept
on spilling the tea and knocking things over with her sleeves. She was upset
about it because she didn't want to let father down, but he was alright with it. He
said that when I was old enough they'd let me try to see if I took after him or
mother in doing it."
Her smile towards the end of her explanation was bitter sweet. He could tell that
the memory she had just shared was a precious one, and he wondered what it
was that had prompted her to share it with pretty much total strangers.
"Well . . . I'm part of the Tea Ceremony club and so is Mariya-san, if you like we
could show you the basics and see how you like it." Shizuka's voice sounded
pleased at the thought of gaining a new recruit for her club.
"Will I get to wear one of those lovely kimonos?" Illya asked eagerly. "I've been
meaning to get one, but I don't know how to put one on properly."
As the three girls began to chatter in earnest Shirou allowed his mind to wander
as he mechanically ate his food. As he watched the other teens he became more
aware of the looks that both Mariya-san and Liliana-san were directing at the
elder Kusanagi sibling. There was affection there, as well as some uncertainty.
Idly he thanked whatever force was in charge of his fortune for that small
blessing. Ever since he had finished assimilating the memories of EMIYA and his
other selves he had had an easier time picking up on the subtler emotional
actions of those around him. Looking back on his own memories he often wanted
to smack himself over the head for not realizing Sakura's feelings for him sooner.
Sakura, both his greatest treasure and his most abominable failure. So many joys
and so many regrets all attached to one person.
Again he wondered how his girlfriend was doing right now.
Girlfriend.
It was such an . . . inadequate word to use to describe his feelings for the plum
haired girl. It was meant to describe a couple who were in a relationship to see
how they got on. For most his age it was about dates at the cinema, making out
in some quiet spot, just enjoyable activities together as they built up to
something more. His own relationship with Sakura had been . . . more. More
intimate, more forged, more chaotic. She had been his lover, his enemy, his
friend to protect and his woman to save. He had seen her at her lowest points,
when her rage overwhelmed her and when her self loathing consumed her. He
had pushed himself to the brink of destruction and beyond simply to save her
and he had slain a god in order to protect her.
And he didn't even know if he had been successful in the end. He had no way of
knowing what had happened to either Sakura or Rin after Rider had carried them

out of that crumbling cavern. For all he knew Rin could be dead, Rider could have
faded away without a Master and Sakura could be dead or insane from her
experiences.
Still he couldn't allow himself to fall into such a spiral of thoughts. If got caught
on such a path he might never be able to drag himself off it. He had to have
faith, faith in the will that had allowed Sakura to endure her torture for years,
faith Rin's stubborn ability to defy all common sense, faith in Rider's unswerving
loyalty to the unhappy girl that had summoned her.
Shirou blinked in surprise as he was pulled from his thoughts by the fact that he
seemed to have finished all his food without even realizing it. Glancing up at the
school clock he noted that it would only be a few more minutes until it was time
to go back to class.
Standing up he nodded towards Illya, noting that her conversation seemed to
have wound down.
"Thanks for having had us, but I think we should get going, it'll soon be time to
head back to classes and we've still got a couple of things to do."
With an answering nod of her own the young Einzbern stood up and politely
bowed to the four students with whom she and her brother had shared lunch.
"Thank you for your kindness, this has been very pleasant and I hope we'll be
able to do it again."
"It's been a pleasure for us as well Einzbern-san," Yuri-san replied with a warm
smile, "I'm afraid the Tea Ceremony club isn't on today, but it will begin again
next week, Shizuka-san can tell you when and we'd be more than happy to have
you see if you like it."
"Please treat my sister kindly Mariya-san." The young Emiya said jokingly as he
and his adopted sister began walking towards the stairs that led back into the
main building.
"Oh, I just realized, you never told us your name."
Godou's exclamation brought Shirou up short as he quickly went over their
conversation in his head. What do you know; the young man was right he hadn't
mentioned his name once during the whole time he'd been up on the roof.
Mentally he chided himself for his unintentional bad manners.
"Sorry, that was my mistake," he ruefully admitted, "I'm Emiya Shirou; thanks for
having let us join you."
After a quick bow he turned and followed Illya down the stairs.
It was actually a pity he didn't stick around a little longer. If he had it would have
been . . . informative.

-()-

Yuri went stock still as Emiya-san left the rooftop.

No, it couldn't be. The thought that the eighth Campione would simply come to a
regular public school was absolutely absurd. Except . . . that was what the
seventh did, so maybe it wasn't quite so outlandish a possibility.
Vaguely she was aware of Shizuka also leaving after saying something about
speaking to someone; the Hime-Miko was even able to manage a distracted nod
of goodbye. Her whole mind seemed to be stuck on the fact that her lunchtime
had been the ground zero for the first meeting of two of the most powerful
individuals in the world, and neither of them had realized it.
"Mariya, are you okay?"
Godou's concerned words brought her back to the present from her thoughts of
the disastrous possibilities that could have taken place.
"I think she's just realized who it was that you've had lunch with."
Erica's slightly teasing and self serving voice drew all their gazes to where she
was standing on the far side of the rooftop. With total poise and self assured
grace she strode over to their little gathering and sat herself down next to her
sworn king. Before anyone could protest she reached out and grabbed the last of
her old friends neaten sandwiches.
"What do you mean?" Asked Liliana, scowling slightly at the fact that the blonde
knight had taken a closer seat to their mutual liege than herself.
"That was Emiya Shirou, the eighth Campione."
Silence reigned supreme across the rooftop as everyone just stared at the
Diavolo Rosso. Yuri's gaze was resigned as her suspicions were confirmed.
Godou's stare was disbelieving, unable to reconcile the quiet but pleasant
sempai he had just eaten with, with the likes of the ruthless Voban or the idiotic
but brilliant Salvatore Doni. Liliana simply gaped at the news that there even was
an eighth Campione at all.
"Are . . . Are you sure?" asked Godou.
"Well his name matches, his hair is red, his skin is slightly tanned, he's in the
company of a white haired girl a few years younger than himself and he's here in
Japan having recently returned from Europe. That seems to go with everything
that we know about the latest of the god-slaying kings."
"But-but I haven't heard anything about a new King being born," protested the
silver haired witch knight. "Surely I'd have been informed if something so
important took place."
"Well there are several factors that would do that," commented Erica airily as she
took another bite of her purloined sandwich. "Here in the east you're a bit off the
normal lines of communication that your order uses. Also right now you're a bit
on the unpopular side after you broke the alliance with Marquis Voban. Also I
understand that the Bronze-Black Cross is having a few administrative problems
right now. Mind you I think the main problem is that nobody in Europe actually
knows much ofanything about him."
Godou's brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean what I say; nobody knows much of anything about Emiya-sama for
certain. There's a lot of guessing and speculation, but there's very little that
anyone knows for sure.
"What we are sure of is that a couple of months ago Emiya-sama faced an
unknown god in Naples and somehow managed to kill him, three days later he
fights the hero god Perseus and kills him as well, then two days later he gets into
a fight with the Greek god Hades and manages to slay him as well. Then he uses
one of his Authorities to get a Pegasus to carry him and his companion all the
way to Japan."
Liliana's eyes were wide at this point as she tried to mesh the information she
was hearing with her memories of the pleasant older teen she had met that
morning.
"He killed three gods in less than a week?" Her voice was slightly strangled.
"Yes, the last time that happened was nearly a hundred years ago, when Marquis
Voban personally hunted down and slew all three of the Chinese weather gods
that had descended to the mortal realm." Erica looked up at them and gave them
a beatific smile. "That was after he was more than a hundred years old and had
mastered all his Authorities. Emiya-sama managed it straight after becoming a
Campione in the first place. Talented wouldn't you say?"
Liliana had actually gone a bit pale while Godou was starting to look a bit on the
hunted side.
"So . . . he went out and hunted down two gods right after becoming a
Campione?" He asked. His mind was already wondering just what kind of person
Emiya-san really was. Could it be that under that pleasant exterior he was
actually a power hungry murderer? Godou could understand fighting Heretic
Gods if they were causing a disaster, he could even understand the need to
finish them off in certain circumstances. But to actually go out and hunt them
down so as to add to ones own power? That he had trouble understanding, at
least on an emotional level. Mentally he understood a desire to increase ones
strength and eliminate threats, but still . . .
"No actually," the blonde knight replied, "At least as far as the latter two are
concerned he actually tried to do all he could to avoid battle. He only killed them
when he had no other choice."
Well that was something at least.
"What does this mean then?" asked Liliana, her mind already going over the
potential threats to her king that this development raised. "Will Emiya-sama
challenge Godou-san for control of Japan? Historically it's inevitable that
Campione will come into conflict, what preparations can be made?"
"In all truth Lili I don't thinks there's much that can be done." Erica's words were .
. . not resigned, but rather they hinted at tiredness, "no-one knows anything
about him, nobody even knows what Authorities he's got. He hasn't made
contact with any of the mage organizations and no-one has any idea what his
goals are."

All present looked at the Copper-Black Cross knight in concern and a little worry.
That last admission had been quite out of character for the young woman. Erica
was one who always carried herself with absolute confidence and certainty in her
own abilities. She never expressed or even admitted to failure or weakness.
However the show of fatigue lasted only for an instant. In an almost visible
transformation they saw her force of personality reassert itself, driving the
weakness and uncertainty from her.
"On the other hand we now at least know the public version of his life. With that
and a little research I should be able to find something. And since he's now a
registered student here it shouldn't be too hard to find out what his home
address would be. The information he's provided might be false, but even that's
worth looking into."
"Ah, Erica-san?" Yuri's tentative voice spoke up, "If you want to know where
Emiya-san lives then I already know."
It was a good thing that Erica had regained her composure, otherwise she would
have gaped at the Hime-Miko like some slack jawed buffoon.
"How?"
"The Committee has been preparing to contact Emiya-sama for a while now. I
just found out about it a couple of days ago when one of the selected emissaries
came to me to ask for my advise about how to interact with Campione."
"Does the Committee have much information on him?" asked Liliana.
"There's a file, not a big one, but it does hold everything that they've been able
to get together."
"See if you can get us a copy," The blonde knight said firmly, "If you say that it's
at Godou's request then there should be no trouble."
"I'll do my best to have it here by tomorrow." The chestnut haired shrine girl
agreed.
"Good. Now Godou, in light of this potential threat I don't think it would be wise
to leave you unguarded until we have our information complete. With that in
mind I think it would be best if I stayed at your house tonight. In fact if we're
sleeping together then I'll be able to protect you even more completely."
It took the seventh Campione a couple of seconds realize just what it was that
Erica was so casually suggesting, but when it did register his face immediately lit
up like a red crossing light.
"Erica-san, that is an improper suggestion!" Yuri declared as she stood up.
"Indeed," Liliana agreed, her face flushing rather deeply, "As Godou-san's knight
it is my task to watch over him. I-I'll join him in-in his b-bed tonight and ensure
his safety."
"That's not what I meant Liliana-san!" Yuri nearly shouted as she turned to face
the silver haired witch knight.

"Oh, it'll be fine for me, don't worry," The blonde troublemaker said easily with a
self satisfied smile on her face. "After all this wouldn't be the first time that I've
spent the night with Godou, he knows what I'm like in the morning. Also Shizuka
should be getting accustomed to seeing me in the morning like that."
"Don't say things that are so easily misunderstood!"
Godou's shout of irritation and resigned despair did little to stall both Liliana and
Yuri as they verbally pounced on him, demanding he clarify Erica's last
statement.
"Godou-san what does Erica-san mean by that? Have you been having such
improper relations?"
"Kusanagi Godou, as your knight I am sworn to follow your orders and aid you as
I can, however that does not mean there are actions that I will accept quietly you
know? Now please explain what Erica meant by that."
At that point the bell signalling the end of the lunch break rang. To the seventh
Campione its shrill cry was a peel of salvation, an excuse to escape the situation
he found himself in.
"Ah, come on, we can't be late now." His voice might have just been a tad
squeakier than it would have normally been as he grabbed his bento box and
dashed off.

-()-

To Shirou the rest of the day passed far faster than it should have. He only paid
half a mind to his lessons; the majority of his thoughts were focused on
wondering why a magic user would swear her services to a high school student.
After coming up with a good half dozen potential answers, each of which was
more implausible than the last, he had admitted to himself that he just didn't
have enough information.
Finally the bell for the end of day sounded and the red haired teen packed up his
books and left to find his sister. The two of them met and silently agreed to leave
the academy immediately. A few minutes later they had been picked up by
Yusuke-san who was now driving his newly purchased car.
"You know Yusuke," commented Shirou as the blue Ferrari joined the stream of
traffic on the road, "I've been thinking about recruiting a few more servants for
the manor. It seems unfair to expect you to not only serve as my accountant and
aid but also expect you to be a chauffer and a part time house keeper. If I could
recruit a capable maid or butler I imagine it would make life a fair bit easier for
you."
"That's kind of you to think of Shirou-sama, but right now we have more
important things to think about. This morning we had a pair of very interesting
callers at the gate." The drivers tone was calm for the most part, but slightly
tinged with excitement and worry.

"They weren't trying to sell us insulation were they?" Illya asked suspiciously. The
snowy haired girl had developed a server distrust of salesmen ever since their
second week in Tokyo. At the time she had been separated from Shirou and had
seen a small crowd gathering at a squares corner. Curious as to what was
drawing their attention she had investigated and had found the source to be a
salesman demonstrating the utility of some ridiculously overcomplicated
cleaning appliance.
Unfortunately poor Illya had never been exposed to the kind of aggressive
marketing jargon that such street sellers used and was rather helplessly dragged
into the salesman's tempo. After listening to him for the better part of half an
hour she had rushed off to find Shirou and demand that he immediately purchase
no less than three of the cleaning tools. Her adopted brother had listened to her
parrot the salesman's slogans and catch phrases until she finally ran out of
steam. Then he calmly reminded her that they were currently living in a hotel,
and as such didn't have to do any cleaning.
The young Einzbern's entire thought process had come to a screeching halt as
she realized the sheer absurdity of what she was doing. To this day she still
maintained the belief that the salesman had used some terribly subtle form of
mind control on her to make her act like that. Consequently she had developed
the firm belief that all salesmen were agents of evil seeking to brainwash their
customers into buying their goods. The last such fellow who had shown up to try
and sell something to the new owners of the manor had fled the place howling in
fear and babbling about demonic haunting. Illya had been especially proud of
how she had modified the boundary field she had set up so that it could affect
individuals she selected. Since then she had performed further modifications and
was eagerly waiting for her next victim to show up so she could test them.
"Ah, no Illya-san, actually they claimed to be representatives sent by the History
Compilation Committee, they confirmed that it was an organization dealing with
the supernatural and stated that they wished to offer their services to the eighth
Campione. I told them that you weren't in and they said they'd return at five
o'clock to speak to you"
Silence reigned in the car for a short time.
"What was your impression of them?" Shirou asked carefully.
"Well I only spoke to one of them and it was only for a short time over the gates
intercom. Still she struck me as a pretty sensible girl, but she did seem to be a
touch intimidated and hesitant. Whoever these folk are I think it's a fairly safe
bet to say that they're a fair bit intimidated by you."
"Remember what that magi said after you fought Hades?" put in Illya, "About a
Campione being a supreme ruler because he can use the powers of a god and
none have the power to match him? If we take that to be real then maybe the
magi of this world treat Campione kind of how the Clock Tower would treat a true
Magician. If that's the case then as long as we put up a strong front then nobody
will try to move against you."
The adopted siblings spoke openly of their otherworldly origins in front of Yusuke.
They had decided to make him aware of them since his loyalty was guaranteed
and his wits might be able to aid them in their search for a way back.

"Shirou-sama," the reincarnated souls spoke up as he drove the car around a

bend, "I know next to nothing about magic and magi, but I do know that you are
a man who has slain a god and claimed his power for your own. I know you don't
like for me to speak of it but you are my King, it is your power that gives me form
and life and your will that rules over me. You are a kind liege and allow me to
make my own decisions, but if you wished it you could order me to stand in a fire
for all eternity and I would have no choice but to obey.
"You are a King, and these people seem ready to at least acknowledge that you
are a power.
"My recommendation is that when you speak to them you take the position of
the stronger party. I don't know what kind of resources they might be able to
bring to bare upon you, but I don't imagine they can have access to anything
that's more potent than a god."
Without answering Shirou slowly nodded, knowing his servant could see the
motion in the rear view mirror. His advice made sense. He would be meeting
them in his manor, in the place he and Illya had spent the last few weeks turning
into as close to an impenetrable fortress as they could. Bonded fields, booby
traps, undead warriors and prepared demonic monsters. If these emissaries did
prove to be false they'd find themselves in a lot of trouble.
Still another fact kept on drawing his attention. They had called him the eighth
Campione, the eighth. That indicated that there were at least seven others with
powers similar to his own, possibly even more.
No, he couldn't lend credence to the notion that there could be many others.
Angra Mainyu had caused devastation about himself while in his newborn state
simply by existing. Perseus could have fought on an equal footing with most of
the Servants in the Grail War, it had only been the fact that he had not brought
that full power to bare upon him that had allowed Shirou to defeat and slay him.
Hades may have lacked skill in combat, but his strength had been comparable to
that of Saber's corrupted form and his invisibility would have done any Assassin
proud.
The thought that such beings could be easily slain was simply unthinkable.
In his mind he began to draw up a list of things that he would try and either
demand or purchase from this History Compilation Committee. And one thing
that was definitely going to be on that list was information about Campione, both
past and present.

-()-

Kaida stood in exactly the same place as she had that morning and once more
drew in a deep breath to calm herself. Idly she thought that it couldn't be too
good for her health to keep being driven to this state of worry only to calm down
and then return to it less than a day later.
Once more Manaka reached out a hand and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Well, nothing ventured nothing gained. Firmly stamping down her fear the black
haired Hime-Miko reached out and once more pressed the intercom button on
the gate.
"Yes?"
It was the same voice as this morning; the one she had guessed belonged to
Yamada Yusuke.
"This is Renjou Kaida, as advised this morning myself and my companion have
returned and hope that his majesty Emiya-sama will consent to granting us an
audience."
Her reply had been prepared and would hopefully serve to both convey her
respect for the eighth Campione as well as stroke his ego a bit. During her
training the user of the Dragon's Roar had sometimes been forced to seek
tutelage from some of the more arrogant and less pleasant members of her clan.
When dealing with them she had always found them to be more agreeable after
she had heaped praise and respect upon them. With any luck at all a similar
approach might work on this Emiya Shirou.
"Emiya-sama has been waiting for you and would be glad to speak with you.
Please wait there and I will escort you in."
The reply came quickly and without hesitation. This time the resurrected soul
had been quite sure as to his response to her query.
"Well, it looks like we will be meeting with Emiya-sama after all." She commented
to her friend in a voice that only had the faintest hint of a quaver in it.
"You don't have to do this Kaida-sama," the witch warrior's voice was almost
pleading, "You don't have to offer yourself up to this Campione like this, we can
just leave. I know some people who can get us out of the country if we want;
once we're on the mainland I have a few contacts we could use. Between the two
of us we wouldn't have any trouble finding a place in one of the societies there."
Before she had grown to know her somewhat odd friend Kaida would have
regarded such a suggestion as a bitter betrayal of both her family and the
Committee they were a part of. Now though she saw the offer for what it was
intended to be, a show of loyalty and solidarity. Even if she was an adopted
member Manaka regarded herself as a proud member of the Kuhoutsuka clan, for
her to even bring up the possibility of abandoning it was nigh unthinkable. That
was how much she cared for the Hime-Miko she had declared herself the
bodyguard of.
"Thank you Manaka-chan," Kaida's voice was soft and warm, "having you here
gives me all the strength I need. Don't worry, everything'll be fine."
Any further conversation was cut of as, with an electronic whirring, the gates to
the manor slowly opened and a thin man in his late middle years with a small
and tidy beard came out to greet them. He was dressed in a suit of good but
modest cut and his posture struck her as being surprisingly at ease.
"Emiya-sama is waiting along with Illya-sama to see you inside, please follow
me."

Without a word the Hime-Miko nodded and followed the servant into the manor
grounds.
As she and her bodyguard walked through first the garden and then the manor
halls Kaida took careful note of everything that she was seeing. The gardens
were clearly of fine lay out and tastefully set out, however there were small hints
of neglect, as though they hadn't had enough attention paid to them recently.
The manor was in a similar state, well furnished and maintained, but with some
touches of dust here and there that indicated a lack of recent cleaning.
Under normal circumstances the user of the Dragon's Roar would not have
noticed it, however cleaning up had been one of her duties at her shrine. She
had ferociously sought out every spot of dust and dirt that she could and had set
about cleaning them up with the grim determination of an inquisitor purging
heretics.
As such she guessed that while the eighth Campione had recently taken up
residence here it seemed he had yet to find any full time servants other than
Yamada-san. What could that mean though? Was it a sign of weakness? Or
perhaps it was an indication of fear, an inability to trust those not firmly under
his control? Could it simply mean that his attention had been otherwise engaged
and he simply hadn't had any spare time to address the issue?
There were so many possible answers and so little information that could help
narrow them down. She'd simply have to meet the devil King for herself and see
what she could glean from the encounter, assuming she live through it of course.
No, she would not allow such thoughts to creep into her mind. She was going to
do this well, she would establish a meaningful line of communications with
Emiya-sama and she would ensure that peace was cemented between him and
the Committee, any other outcome was simply unacceptable.
A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Manaka was still following
steadily behind her.
That was another reason she could not afford to allow things to deteriorate. If the
worst came to worst and the eighth Campione decided to attack her for some
imagined reason Kaida well knew that the only way he would ever touch her
would be to do so after stepping over her friends cooling corpse. She knew that
even in the face of a god slayer Manaka would not relent in her determination to
protect her.
In all truth the Hime-Miko was still not quite sure why the more martially inclined
agent of the Committee had been so adamant about becoming her guard. For all
her flaws Manaka was regarded as one of the best field agents that the
Committee had available. She might lack the raw power of Seishuuin Ena or the
trained stealth of Touma Amakasu; however despite her lack of specialization she
had a reputation for achieving excellent results even when she found herself in
over her head. There was rumour that last year she had been assigned to
recover a stolen minor talisman and had found herself embroiled in a plot to
summon Amatsu-Mikaboshi. Somehow she had managed to foil the plot and
capture the perpetrators, even though it should have been a task beyond her
skills.

She didn't know why the witch warrior had chosen to serve her but whatever the
reason she was grateful.

-()-

Kuhoutsuka Manaka walked behind her chosen charge and did her best not to let
her temper get the better of her. This was humiliating, the mere notion that
Kaida-sama would be handed over to this new Campione like some kind of prized
dog set her teeth on edge. With every step they took that led further into the god
slayer's manor the urge to simply toss the Hime-Miko over her shoulder and take
off at top speed grew more pronounced.
Manaka knew that she was not a very likeable person. She was well aware that
her attitude rubbed people up the wrong way and her own overwhelming sense
of confidence was ether intimidating or irritating. The thing was that most of the
time she simply didn't care.
It all came back to her secret, the one thing she had kept to herself ever since
she had first worked it out when she was a little girl.
At first she hadn't been able to fully understand it, when she looked at people in
a special way she could see other images that overlaid them. These other visions
were transparent and easily see through, so they never obscured her sight, yet
at the same time they were vivid and defined. She called these visions 'aura
signs'.
She knew of others magi who, with practice and patience, could learn to read the
auras of others. Doing so allowed you to 'see' a great many things about a
person, their general temperament and mentality, some aspects of their recent
history, what kind of magic they used, things like that.
Her own gift went somewhat further than that though. To her it was as though a
person's aura had been condensed down into a single image. By looking at both
the form and composition of this condensed aura she could glean much about a
person's personality and abilities in a mere glance. Furthermore the form that the
sign took was always symbolically linked to the person whom it represented. For
example one of her teachers when she was younger had possessed a sign in the
form of a satyr. From that she had been able to determine than in his future
lustfulness would become one of the predominant aspects of his life.
This had led to her general attitude towards others. When you could see the
truer and less pleasant aspects of others at a glance it became easy to dislike
them. Oh she wasn't anywhere near the point of deciding that humanity was
worthless or anything like that, she could also see all the good that was in
people, a fact that kept her off such a poisonous road. Yet at the same time her
gift made it so much easier to become annoyed and contemptuous of others. Of
course there was also her own pride to consider, she was good, damned good,
and she knew it. If she was ever going get on with others it would be with those
she considered her equals, not people whose weaknesses and flaws were
practically waved in her face all the time.

There had been many in the Committee who had sought to acquire her
permanent services. Despite her being technically a part of the organization she
had been a sort of freelance agent within it. That meant that nobody could just
assign her to someone without her agreement. And the fact was that she had
never really met anyone to whom she felt truly comfortable staying with.
Then she had met Kaida.
When they had first been introduced she had thought the Hime-Miko was a
pleasant enough girl, there was kindness and dutifulness in her, but there had
also been gnawing worms of doubt, uncertainty and fear. Her aura sign had been
a steely shield with an intricate carving of dragons upon it, but those twisting
currents of negative emotions had spoilt its grandeur.
So Manaka had gone on to be her normal 'charming' self. She supposed in a way
it was also a sort of self defence mechanism. If she was so abrasive that it
pushed others away then there was less of a chance that they would want to
spend more time than was needed in her company, and that meant she wouldn't
be forced to see their hidden doubts and fears more than necessary.
Everything had gone as per normal until the black haired shrine maiden had
finally lost her temper.
Then she had released a massive wave of power than had caught the witch
warrior completely unawares. Before she had known what was happening she
had found herself flying through one of the room's paper screens and landing in
the temples koi pond. The display of power, unintended though it might have
been, had been impressive. She was a trained fighter, one used to people trying
to kill her, and yet there had been no tell tale signs of power of perceivable build
up of strength. There had simply been nothing one instant, and the next there
had been a solid wave of invisible force baring down on her out of nowhere.
Still magnificent as the power had been it had not been that that had set her
loyalty to Kaida-sama in stone. It had been what she had seen in that brief
instant between the manifestation of the force and the moment it had struck her.
In that tiny fraction of a second Kaida-sama's aura sign had changed, it had
become something else entirely. That was something that had never happened
to her before, certainly aura signs could change over time, however such a
process was normally a slow gradual affair. But the thing that had really caught
her attention had been what it was that the shield had turned into.
What she had seen had been a set of statues, she hadn't been able to see how
many or of whom they all were of. But she had been able to clearly make out the
features of two of them. One had been Kaida-sama, slightly older and more
mature, dressed in more elaborate robes and carrying some sort of ceremonial
mirror. Standing behind that statue and slightly to its left had been a statue of
herself. That Manaka had been garbed in a sort of close fitting armour, and had
appeared to be more of a knight than the kind of witch warrior that she normally
styled herself as.
Both those small statues had screamed at her, no they had roared. They had
thundered of loyalty, friendship, glory and triumph. Even as she had been flying
through the air she had felt the sheer force of those emotions and promises

burning themselves into her mind. It had been in that instant that she had made
her decision to remain by Kaida's side. What she had seen had hinted of a future
yet to come, one that she would give anything to see realized.
And that was what was setting her teeth on edge right now. The thought that
that golden vision of the future could be trampled by this Campione's
interference made her want to scream.
That was one of the lesser known qualities of the god slayers, their inexplicable
ability to defy prophecy and prediction. It was as though the same quality that
allowed them to do the impossible and kill a deity also allowed them to defy
destiny. By the simple act of stepping into the same room as the eighth
Campione the Hime-Miko might be throwing the promised future she had seen in
that aura sign to the winds.
Walking with her left hand holding her right wrist behind her back she
consciously exercised her will to keep herself from making fists. Giving in to her
emotions would serve no purpose here. Kaida-sama was set on her course and
there was nothing that she could do to change it. All she could do was offer her
silent support as the shrine maiden began her negotiations with the devil king.
And that was another source of her frustrations, her sense of absolute
helplessness. She knew she was good, she knew she was resourceful, she knew
she was competent; she also knew that when compared to a Campione she was
an ant before a juggernaut.
As part of her training when she was fifteen years old one of her teachers had
taken her over to America where a witch who was an acquaintance of his had
offered to confer one of her more secret spells upon his student as a way of
clearing a debt between them. Manaka had enjoyed the trip as she had never
travelled to any other foreign countries save for those in Europe. She had learnt
her lesson well and added a potent shield piercer spell to her arsenal.
It had been on their way back to the airport to catch their plane home that both
her and her teacher, along with a couple hundred normal people, had been
caught in a Divine Ancestor's plan to regain power by way of a mass sacrifice.
Trapped inside a spell shield the young witch warrior had poured every bit of her
strength into her newly acquired spell in an attempt to break free. All that she'd
managed to achieve had been a small dent that had immediately smoothed itself
out.
Helplessly caught in that confine and feeling the life force being leeched from her
Manaka had honestly thought that she was going to die. That had been when the
fifth Campione, John Pluto Smith had made his enterance.
By that point she had only been semiconscious due to how much of her energy
had been drained, but in spite of that two things had stood out in her mind.
The first was that even though his appearance should have been ridiculous it
somehow wasn't. What should have been clownish and laughable instead was
dramatic and larger than life.
The second was the sheer ease with which a single one of his mystic bullets tore
through the barrier that had been utterly impregnable to her. She had felt the
strength of that field and knew that no human could ever pierce it, but a

Campione was a mortal that wielded the power of a god. It wasn't much of a
stretch to consider them more than human.
She had not seen the rest of what had taken place, but when her vitality had
returned she had been able to see the aftermath. Craters large enough to hold
houses, empty buildings razed to the ground. The Divine Ancestor had thrown all
their resources at the American Campione, even going so far as to relinquish
their eternal youth in order to become a dragon. In the end it hadn't served them
at all. The so called king of the underworld had torn their scheme apart and then
slain the former goddess.
She knew how pointless it was to even try to stand up to one of the devil kings,
all she could do was grit her teeth and dutifully follow after the one to whom she
had sworn her loyalty.
At least it seemed that if they would be forced to live here if they entered the
Campione's service then they would not live in squalor. The manor through which
they were walking was quite large and possessed an impressively sized garden
as well as several attached buildings. Manaka didn't have any real knowledge of
property prices in Tokyo, but even she knew that such a large plot mush have
cost a literal fortune. She had heard rumours among the other agents of the
Committee that the newest of the Campione had access to immense wealth, but
to actually see it was another matter.
"This is the room in which Shirou-sama and Illyasviel-sama will see you."
The voice of their guide pulled the warrior witch out of her thoughts. It seemed
that they had passed right through the manor and were now in the rooms that
faced the back gardens of the estate. As she watched Yamada-san slid a door
open and ushered them through.
The room they entered was sizable, but not overly so, a fair sized family could
have comfortably eaten in here if they had so chosen. On wall was taken up with
a large set of sliding doors that led out onto the garden so the late afternoon sun
illuminated the room nicely while still not being oppressive. In the middle of the
room were two small tables, actually they were more like traditional desks than
they were tables. They were arranged to be facing each other and in front of the
table closest to them were two cushions ready for their use.
Behind the other table were two people she instantly recognised. Ever since their
agents had been able to obtain decent pictures of them the images of the eighth
Campione and his companion had been shown to every member of the
organization. The pictures had been accompanied by very specific orders to
be extremely polite and courteous to them if they were encountered.
Even as she looked at them her secret gift came into effect and their aura signs
appeared.
The first was the young girl with silver hair. Her aura sign was unusual, rather
than being a defined object it was a sort of shimmering globe of silver and blue
power. Looking at it did cause a word to rise up in her mind though; 'Wish' that
was what it made her think. Within that sign he could see certain things about
her; her strength in magic was immense, almost on par with a Divine Ancestor.
However that power was . . . strange. Magic was invoked by the use of spell

words, and those powers were always influenced by divine powers, that was why
many spells took the form of prayers to gods. This was true of all the schools of
magic that she knew of, even Daoist Arts and Hermetic magic was influenced by
divine beings.
So why was it that this girl's magic had not a hint of divine power in it despite its
clear potency?
Aside from that she could see some of the girl's personality, there was anger
there, deeply buried but simmering like lava beneath the earth. She could also
see love, love that shone like a newborn star. And there was ruthlessness, a cold
surety that actually took Manaka aback. The small white haired girl before her
was perfectly able to decide to kill her and go through with the deed if she so
chose, of that the warrior witch was absolutely certain.
With a slight narrowing of her eyes she made a mental note to keep a wary eye
on the younger girl, then she turned her gaze on the Campione. It would be
interesting to see what his aura sign would be. When she had seen John Pluto
Smith she had been so out of it that she had been unable to properly take note of
what his had been.
She blinked in slight surprise as she saw it. It wasn't hovering in front of him as
most signs did, rather it floating behind his right shoulder. A sword, not a misty
and transparent image like most peoples signs, this one was clear and solid.
Indeed the only reason she knew it was an aura sign and not the real thing was
by the tell tale impressions it radiated.
No, wait, that wasn't right. It wasn't one sword, it was three. Three swords, each
of which seemed as solid and tempered as the real thing.
Her vision seemed to swim for an instant, and then as she regained her sight she
saw that there were now as many as twenty swords hanging in the air behind the
god slayer.
The world seemed to waver around her, but she didn't pay it any attention. Her
eyes were locked on the swords behind the Campione. The world swam and
seemed to whirl away as those swords continued to inexplicably multiply. More
and more of them appeared, the walls of the room disappeared and the rest of
the world seemed to fall away. All there was in existence was her, Emiya-sama a
vague impression of a floor and an empty void that was filling with swords.
Swords, so many swords, swords of every type, every size, every style. So many,
so many swords, swords, swords, swords, swords, swords. Swords swords swords
swords swords swords swordsswordsswordsswordsswor dsswords. Swords,
weapons, blades, blades too many to count, blades beyond counting, blades
beyond numbers, blades beyond limits. Limitless blades, blades without limits,
unlimited blades, unlimited blades, Unlimited Blades, Unlimited Blade Wor . . .
With an almost audible crash the vision before her seemed to shatter out of
existence.
Manaka let out an explosive breath that she hadn't realized she was holding.
With an effort she kept herself from slumping to the ground even though her
limbs felt as though she had just run a marathon.

What had that been? It was as though his aura sign had grown and swelled until
it had consumed her entire consciousness. Almost against her will her eyes went
to the Campione once more. The massive sign was gone now; instead there were
only two signs, one hovering behind each of his shoulders. A sword and a
scabbard. Both were magnificent, their beauty almost unearthly. And yet she
couldn't sense anything from them, not like she would from others. Oh there
were feelings and impressions radiating from them, but she couldn't understand
them. She was like someone who only knew hieroglyphics trying to read
Japanese kanji. She could tell they were something but just what that was she
had no idea.
She couldn't read him. The thought rose up in her like some sea monster
ascending from the depths. She had no idea what to make of him, what his
abilities were, what kind of a person he was, what darkness he hid, she didn't
know any of it.
As the warrior witch sat down next to her friend she felt an unfamiliar sense of
uncertainty grip her heart. Her greatest asset was blind to this man and her
personal strength was as nothing before him.
All she could do was hold her place by Kaida's side and hope for the best.

-()-

Shirou looked at the two young women who had entered the room. In all truth
this was not quite what he had expected, he had envisioned more mature magic
users, men or women in their middle years. Instead he was faced with two girls
of about his own age. Both of them were beautiful in their own way, the black
haired girl dressed in white and blue shrine maiden outfit had what he could only
think to describe as a 'calm' beauty to her. Her companion was by contrast what
could be called a 'dangerous' beauty. Everything about her seemed to hint at
hidden strengths and not so hidden competence.
After they had rushed home both he and Illya had moved as quickly as they
could to throw on some clothes that were of good quality but weren't too
elaborate. They both wanted to convey a certain sense of decorum and power,
and showing up to the meeting in their school uniforms would not go towards
that at all.
So right now Illya was dressed in more or less the same style that she had worn
during the Holy Grail war, a purple blazer like shirt with a similarity coloured
scarf at the neck, a white dress that reached to just below her knees and simple
purple indoor slippers. It was oddly nostalgic to see her garbed so, it brought
back memories of their first meetings back in Fuyuki. Things certainly had
changed since then.
Shirou himself was clad in black trousers and a white silk shirt. In all honesty he
would have much rather have been wearing his normal jeans and sweater
combo, unfortunately his adopted sister had strictly forbidden him from wearing
such informal clothing to this meeting. He understood why, he really did,

unfortunately that didn't change the fact that he felt like a waiter in these
clothes.
Still he couldn't allow his personal feeling to interfere too much here. This was an
important meeting and he couldn't allow himself to become distracted.
Both the girls were now seated behind their own desk and were facing him. Both
of them were obviously a little nervous, though for the most part they were
hiding it well. Oh well, no more delays. Taking a deep breath he launched into his
planned introduction.
"Well, I'm happy to bid you welcome to my home. In all truth your arrival has
been most fortunate; I've been planning to make contact with the local magi
circles for some time. Unfortunately circumstances continued to interfere,
causing me to keep putting it off until later. Please allow me to introduce myself,
I am Emiya Shirou and this is my adopted sister Illyasviel Von Einzbern.
Now, please tell me who you are and whom and what you represent."
He was careful to keep his tone light and even, but at the same time made sure
not to allow his voice to become too companionable. This was a formal meeting;
he could try to make friends later if the opportunity arose.
It was the black haired girl who spoke. That wasn't really much of a surprise,
even though her attendant was clearly the more combat versed of the two it was
equally obvious that she deferred to her weaker companion.
"I thank you for your greeting and welcome Emiya-sama, I am Renjou Kaida, and
this is my friend and . . . bodyguard Kuhoutsuka Manaka. We have come here as
representatives of the History Compilation Committee. We are an organization
devoted to managing all supernatural events in Japan as much as we are able.
We also take steps to hide their existence from the normal people through
various means such as manipulating the media and memories. It has been our
task since the Meiji period to ensure that this country remains stable and prevent
the supernatural from interfering with the lives of the normal citizens as much as
possible. If we can't manage to shield them then we do our best to mitigate the
damage that is done."
The small speech was delivered in a practiced fashion. Shirou was no great
analyst of a person's oratorical style, but he'd have been willing to bet that the
young shrine maiden had been practicing that delivery in her head for some
time.
"That sounds like a worthwhile purpose for an organization to have," the eighth
Campione commented while allowing a smile to touch his lips. "However it
doesn't explain why you have come to see me."
"Emiya-sama, you are a Campione, and I don't think that you fully understand
the importance that you hold. Aside from perhaps one other there isn't a single
practioner of the mystic arts in the country that could be considered of higher
rank than you."
Shirou forced himself to keep any expression from appearing on his face. What
they were hinting at confirmed his own suspicions of what it was that he had

become. However they also seemed to be aware of his ignorance. Could he

afford to ask questions? Could he afford to expose potential weaknesses?
Internally he wanted to scream in frustration. He just wasn't cut out for intrigue
and plotting. When faced with people appearing at his gate saying they were
from some organization that he wanted to make contact with his first impulse
was to invite them to his dining room and offer them tea. That had been his
character before the Grail war and it seemed that even all his experiences and
having several other lives rammed into his brain couldn't erase it. It was the
knowledge that it wasn't merely his own life that he would be putting in danger if
he misstepped, but also Illya's kept him as cautious as he could be.
Still perhaps a small chance could be taken. Right now he was in the heart of a
manor that he had equipped with a large number of potent surprises and there
were only two potential threats before him. Sure he wasn't about to
underestimate them, but at the same time he wasn't going to overestimate them
to the point where he paralysed himself into indecision.
"Very well Renjou-san, I'll be frank with you. Both I and my sister would be
interested in opening communications with your organization; however we both
have secrets we wish to keep. Therefore before we can continue any meaningful
discussions I would like to see just what information you and your committee
have been able to gather on us."
There was a brief pause while the young woman mulled over what had been said
to her. Then, with a small nod to herself, she reached with her left hand into her
right sleeve and pulled out a small sheaf of papers that had been stapled
together. It wasn't a very large sheaf, only about ten to twelve pages, but still
she handed them to Yusuke to pass to him.
"Our organization doesn't have too much solid information on you Emiya-sama,"
she said as his resurrected servant passed the small collection of documents to
him. "What we have is mainly theories and deductions. Those documents were
provided to me in preparation for my approaching you for this meeting."
Shirou nodded politely as he quickly flicked through the pages in his hands. This
was quite interesting; it seemed that this Committee had come to the conclusion
that he and Illya were the apprentices of some sort of hermetical teacher. That
was why there had been no trace of them prior to their appearance in Naples.
There were other things to, they knew of his resurrection and enlistment of
Yusuke as well as his ability to tap great wealth, however they lacked details.
They also knew about him fighting Perseus, but had no information on Angra
Mainyu. As a result their knowledge of his abilities seemed to be patchy and
possessed of some pretty gaping holes.
It also seemed that they had only the vaguest knowledge of Illya's capabilities.
He had to struggle to keep his face impassive as he read of their theory that her
enormous natural power was due to her being the third or fourth generation
descendant of a god. What was of real interest was a small note that spoke of
how her bounded fields seemed to frustrate their every method of mystic
searching.
It took him less than five minutes to read through the whole thing, then he
wordlessly passed it to Illya. His adopted sister had agreed to remain quiet

unless he moved to draw her into the discussion. Her task was to see what she
could work out about the capabilities of their guests by observation and passive
scanning.
As she read it his mind went over what he had found out and tried to think of
how it could be worked to their advantage. One thing that looked especially
promising was their theory about their origins. If they assumed that their
ignorance was due to their being raised and trained in seclusion then any
questions or mistakes on their part could be explained away with that rather
than risking their extra dimensional origins being discovered. Another thing it
revealed was that they were largely unaware of his full capacities. As far as his
Authorities were concerned they had only a general knowledge of two out of five,
Mount of the Hero and Rule of the Underworld. Also they had almost no
knowledge whatsoever about his Tracing, as far as they knew he was just
conjuring up sword shaped shells. That meant that every Noble Phantasm he
could trace was another race up his sleeve, if he ever had to go up against this
Committee then that would grant him a huge advantage.
Of course all these speculations were dependant upon the fact that what he had
just read was indeed an accurate report and not one doctored for his eyes so as
to lull him into a false sense of security. For all he knew they had discovered all
his abilities and had prepared a dozen different ways to counter each one.
No, he must not fall into the trap of paranoia. Even if his knowledge was small he
was fairly certain that that small passage that the magus they had interrogated
had recited was of at least some validity. Campione were those who wielded the
power of gods, even if they weren't the total overlords that the passage
suggested they were the power of a deity was not something that could just be
dismissed.
Seeing that Illya had finished reading through the pages he reached out and
touched her shoulder. Her eyes met his and he deliberately glanced down at the
report before returning his gaze to her face and raising his eyebrows slightly in
question. His white haired sister seemed to think for an instant before giving a
single accenting nod and then tilting her head in the direction of their guests.
With a replying nod of his own Shirou turned back to face the two young women
seated across from him.
"My congratulations to your information gatherers," he said in an even tone. "It
seems that they've been able to deduce a fair amount about our background."
He paused for a moment as the scenario that he had put together ran through
his mind. It was a bit of a rush job, but the story he was about to weave would
have some elements that came close to the truth so it would be fairly easy for
him to keep it straight in his mind. It could also be matched to their 'official'
story, and any inconsistencies could be explained by the fact that they were
trying to conceal the existence of magic.
"As I said there are certain secrets that we wish to keep, however what
I can freely tell you is that your theory about our origins is largely correct.
Our . . . teacher was, disturbed. He'd go on about how magic was a filthy
corruption of what it was meant to be, how it was impure, tainted, stained, I'm
sure you get the general idea. Don't worry though; neither I nor my sister share
his views.

"To make a long story short our teacher found out about his granddaughters
extreme potential soon after she was born and elected to raise her in total
isolation from the rest of the supernatural community so as to teach her his own
'pure' style of magic. I was adopted into the family only a short time ago and
received instruction only in my personal speciality."
To punctuate his statement Shirou traced a purely mundane Arabian scimitar in
his hand then dismissed it.
"Unfortunately because of his abhorrence of the 'impure' our knowledge of the
mystic world in general is minimal at best. As such it is only recently that we
even became aware of the existence of gods as anything other than legends, as
for Campione, neither of us had even heard the name until after I killed Hades."
He ended his fictitious explanation as he saw that both his guests were staring at
him in what could only be described as 'goggle eyed astonishment'.
"But-but that's impossible," spluttered the blue eyed girl in the tight suit,
speaking for the first time since they had entered the room. "There's no way that
magic can be accomplished without invoking a god or one of the governing
powers."
Silently Illya raised on hand and suddenly dozens of softly glowing golden
threads extended from her clothes and the floor around her. The eighth
Campione looked on with some small interest, she'd spoken of this to him but
this was his first time seeing it. Ever since they had bought the manor and set up
their workshops his sister had told him she was working on a way to upgrade the
razor wire alchemy mystic code that she had previously used against Perseus.
"I don't need to call on gods or other powers," the white haired Einzbern said, her
voice light but at the same time hard as steel, "all I need is my own prana and
that is enough to actualize my mystery."
That was a nice touch, Illya was using terms that were normal to magi from their
own world but would sound strange and foreign here. That would serve to
heighten the sense of dissimilarity in their casting methods.
"We can further discuss this later, right now we're getting a bit off topic," Shirou's
words brought his guests attention back to him. "Let me ask that we all lay our
cards on the metaphorical table; what is it that you want from us?"
Again there was a pause as the black haired shrine maiden seemed to consider
her reply while looking him over with those vivid green eyes.
"The History Compilation Committee wishes too form some sort of association
with you, perhaps even develop a friendly professional relationship. I have been
sent here to offer my services, in whatever capacity you so see fit to place me in,
as a show of our esteem for you. However if you should not wish to enter into
such an arrangement then there is little we can do about it.
"As a Campione you are essentially the supreme ruler in any land or country that
you chose to inhabit. There your word is law and none save a god or another
Campione can gainsay you. If it were your wish you could take me and Manaka
as slaves or mistresses regardless of our wishes and no magus would have the
right to protest. If you so chose you could reduce Tokyo to a sea of flames and

slaughter all who live there and no human on the face of the earth save for your
fellow Kings would be able to raise hand against you. As a devil King you have
only one responsibility, to face and defeat the Heretic Gods that run rampant in
the mortal plane, so long as you fulfil this duty all else is allowed to you. That is
all that the Committee can ask of you, that you fulfil that one responsibility."
As he listened to Renjou-san's explanation the young Emiya could actually begin
to feel the blood slowly drain from his face. As her words ended he actually
began to feel a little faint. This . . . this was far beyond anything that he had
imagined, he had thought that being a Campione was like being a high ranking
member of the Clock Tower or being a wielder of True Magic. Such individuals
were highly respected and feared for both their influence and their power, but
they were not absolute rulers. If someone like Zelretch were to actually do
something to be a danger to humanity or to threaten the security of magic then
steps would be taken against them. This resigned submission, it the kind of
reaction that could be expected from a single untalented magi facing a TYPE, he
just couldn't fathom it being directed at him.
"I'm . . . I'm sorry Renjou-san, but you're going to have to explain this to me. I
honestly can't understand how you or anyone else could act this way in regards
to another. I am a Campione and I really can't see what it is about us that would
induce such . . . acceptance of our actions."
She blinked in surprise as he answered and looked at him in puzzlement.
"Emiya-sama, as a Campione you are what every mage in the world tries and
fails to be. You could have not known a shred of magic and the instant you
became a Campione you would have towered above event the most powerful
magic users in the world. Aside from that is the simple fact that no mage can
stand against you, even in groups or even armies, if we came against you and
you had even the slightest inclination to resist then we would all be crushed.
"It is as the famed Italian mage Alberto Ricardo wrote; A Campione a Godslayer
is a supreme ruler.
"Since he can kill a celestial being, he can therefore call on the sacrosanct,
divine powers wielded by the gods.
"A Campione a Godslayer is a lord.
"Since the power to kill a deity is in his hands, he therefore looms over all
mortals on Earth.
"A Campione a Godslayer is a devil.
"Since of all mortals who live in the world, none can assume a power to match
his!"
It was the same passage that the mage they had interrogated after Shirou had
fought Hades had recited. It would appear that it was the commonly accepted
definition of a Campione. What was really getting to him was that he was almost
certain that they weren't lying. That had been one of the talents that he had
been able to access from EMIYA'S memories. His long experience had allowed
him to get very good at spotting deceivers, an effect of his Eye of the Mind.

Shirou's own abilities in that area were far more limited, but he was willing to bet
his whole manor that this young woman was telling him the truth.
Again there was a pause as Shirou took a moment to order his thoughts. When
he had his answer straight in his mind he placed both his palms on the desk in
front of him and leaned forwards slightly.
"I am willing to fulfil my duties as a Campione, of that you and your organization
don't need to worry. As for yourself and your friend . . . I ask you to give me a
little time to think about your offer, I'm afraid that it wasn't something I was
expecting.
"One thing we can discuss now though is my relationship with your organization."
As he spoke the young Emiya stood up and walked over to the large open door
that led onto his manors large and beautiful back gardens. Turning back to face
his guests he sat down again.
"As you have no doubt realized both me and my sibling are considerably lacking
in general and specific knowledge about the mystical world. I would like your
organization to provide us with what we are in need of. Tomes, scrolls, tablets, I
don't particularly care, so long as it has useful information and will aide in the
expansion of our knowledge then I want it.
"I will of course be willing to pay a fair price for these items. Later, after we've
built up a bit more trust, I will be willing to trade services for some of the more
valuable such items. I can think of a number of services that would be of value to
a researcher or the like. Would such an arrangement be agreeable to your
Committee?"
Both his guests were staring at him with odd expressions on their faces, not
fearful or confused, more like . . . pleasantly surprised? He wasn't sure, still he
decided to continue.
"One subject I would be very grateful if you could educate me on now is my
fellow Campione. How many are there? Where do they live? Just what does
becoming a Campione do to someone? I've noted some changes in myself since
becoming one; can you explain it to me further?"
As he asked his questions he noted that both his guests had tensed for a
moment before then relaxing again. There was a momentary pause and then
Renjou-san began to speak.
"A full description of Campione and all that being one entails would fill many
volumes Emiya-sama, some scholars have devoted their entire live to such a
study and have left entire libraries full of their findings behind. However if you
wish I could provide you with a basic summary, would that be sufficient?"
At a nod from Shirou she began her explanation.
"Well the first thing that you should know is that becoming a Campione will
immediately revive you in a body that is in perfect condition. Any injuries you
have will be healed and any old wounds will be mended as though they had
never happened. There have been reports of individuals who managed to slay a
god with their last breaths being made whole and healthy once more despite
being mangled ruins just before.

"However becoming a Campione doesn't just return you to full health, it

strengthens and improves you. God slayers are notoriously hardy, able to endure
wounds and injuries that would incapacitate normal people with little difficulty.
Your vitality is also strengthened extending your lifespan and youth to the point
where you'll live for centuries."
On hearing that the eighth Campione really wanted to interrupt and demand
clarification, instead he gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue listening.
"There are a number of other minor enhancements, such as an increased ability
to grasp new languages, being better able to sense the magic in objects, better
luck in games of chance, all minor but useful.
"The most famed and envied abilities of Campione, apart from their Authorities,
are their increased magical reserves and their magic resistance. By taking onto
yourself the power of a god your internal reserves of power are increased many
times over, so much so that even a mage of miniscule talent can become the
equal of an exceptionally talented practioner. However it is the magic resistance
of the Campione that is most famed. Any mortal spell sent against you will
simple break on contact, even the Authorities of deities or other Kings will be
reduced in effect. The only way for a spell to affect you is if it is applied to you
internally, such as by a potion or mouth to mouth transfer."
That sounded interesting, something similar to Saber's Magic Resistance skill
perhaps. But Illya's thread golem had been able to affect him enough to carry
him when he was unconscious, this would require further investigation.
"Aside from that the capabilities of Campione tend to vary wildly due to the
nature of whichever Authorities they can manage to claim."
Shirou nodded as the black haired girl paused to draw in her breath.
"Can I offer you some refreshment? I imagine that might have left your throat a
little dry." He offered courteously.
Renjou-san seemed to weigh her options for a moment then gave a grateful nod.
Immediately Yusuke stood from where he had been sitting and made his way
over to a corner of the room. There, underneath a white cloth cover, were a
number of jugs of chilled tea.
"Would you prefer chilled Green, ginger, ginseng, lemon or mint tea?" The
resurrected soul enquired as he prepared cups.
"Green tea if you would be so kind." Answered the shrine maiden.
"I'll take ginseng." Commented her companion.
There was a brief moment of silence while there guests helped themselves to the
tea. In a gesture meant to ease any worries or suspicions they might have Shirou
had a glass of chilled green tea himself. After a couple of minute the young
Emiya decided to start up the talking again.
"So how many other Campione are there? What can you tell me about them?"
"With yourself there are now eight Campione in the world," Renjou-san answered
him, "the oldest is marquis Sasha Dejanstahl Voban, according to our records he

became a Campione about three centuries ago. For the most part he prefers to
remain in his homeland of Hungary, but he has been known to travel to
anywhere in the world if it will offer him a chance to fight a Heretic God.
"The second Campione is Luo Hao, the ruler of the martial arts world and
undisputed head of the Holy cult of the Five Mountains. To the best of our
knowledge she's over two hundred years old but somewhat younger that Marquis
Voban. She rules over china and has tremendous influence in the martial arts
circles as well as the Chinese underworld.
"The third is Madam Aishain who lives in Arabia or Egypt and is the Queen of the
Cave. Nobody knows very much about her save for her title as the Eternal
Beauty. She became a Campione at the turn of the twentieth century, but in the
last few decades she has become a reclusive hermit.
"The fourth is the Black Prince Alec, otherwise known as Alexander Gascoigne.
He is the nominal leader of the Royal Arsenal, an organization he himself built,
but he spends a great deal of time travelling. He's the eldest of the current
generation of Campione having become one twelve years ago when he was
sixteen. He also has a reputation as both an adventurer and a thief, since he
tends to 'borrow' anything that catches his interest for as long as he wants.
"The fifth is John Pluto Smith, the hero of Los Angeles. He made his first
appearance about eleven years ago; however since he always wears a mask that
hides his features his identity is unknown. He's known to have associations with
the Sorcerous Sacrilege Investigation group and Samantha University. Unlike
most Campione he remains hidden for the most part and guards his true identity
jealously.
"The sixth is Lord Salvatori Doni of Italy. He's regarded as the strongest knight in
Italy and was able to defeat a god using nothing but pure swordsmanship. He has
close ties to both the Copper-Black Cross and the Bronze-Black Cross and his
fighting prowess is widely respected. However he is also rumoured to be
irresponsible and quite thoughtless when it comes to subtlety or tact.
"The seventh Campione is also Japanese and only attained his position a month
or two before you did. Kusanagi Godou-sama is an ally of the Committee and-"
"Wait, wait, hold on a second," Shirou interrupted her while holding a hand up,
"Did you say Kusanagi Godou?"
"Yes your highness," the shrine maiden answered, a look of confusion crossing
her features. "That is the name of the seventh Campione."
"How old is he?"
"I believe he is sixteen Emiya-sama, he attends the same school as an
acquaintance of mine."
"Jounan Academy, right?"
A look of surprise crossed her features.
"That's right, how did you know?"

It was Illya who answered; Shirou was rather busy burying his face in his palms
and feeling certain that some higher power was deliberately making his life more
complicated than it needed to be.
"Me and onii-chan transferred to Jounan, and today was our first day. We had a
nice lunch with Kusanagi Shizuka, her brother and his girlfriends. Hey Shirou, I
just remembered, we didn't tell them your name until right before we left. Do you
think they knew who you were?"
Having raised his face from his hands the eighth Campione was treated to the
sight of seeing the blood drain from the shrine maiden's face.
"You-you've already met Kusanagi-sama?"
Shirou nodded his head as he sat up straighter once more.
"Yeah, as Illya said we had lunch together. He seemed like a fairly decent guy,
though he seems to have a little trouble with the women in his life."
"And . . . there were no problems? No arguments or conflict?"
"No, everything went fine." A frown crossed his features as he looked at the girl.
"Why do you ask? Should there have been?"
There was a pause and then Renjou-san let out her breath as she seemed to
slump slightly.
"It's almost always the case that when Campione meet they come into violent
conflict. It's to be expected I suppose, it takes a very certain kind of person to
slay a divinity. Such people are skilled, forceful, brilliant or just plain insanely
lucky. Such people always have . . . strong personalities, and when they meet up
with others just as strong I suppose friction is inevitable."
She looked up at him and seemed to draw herself up as she regathered her
composure and resolve.
"The Committee wished to keep you separated until such time as we could
broker some sort of agreement between you. Now that you know of another
Campione so nearby what are you going to do Emiya-sama?"
There was courage in her face, but he could also see weariness and concern.
What did she think he was going to do? Rush to meet Kusanagi-san as soon as he
could and challenge him to mortal combat?
"For the time being I don't intend to do anything in regards to Kusanagi-san," he
said in as level a tone as he could muster. "As long he makes no move against
me, I'll be happy to leave him alone."
A thought crossed his mind.
"You mentioned that you have an acquaintance in the school, it wouldn't happen
to be Mariya-san would it?"
It was a shot in the dark, just a guess based on a hunch. She had mentioned that
Kusanagi-san was allied to the Committee with a certain level of surety. Add in
the knowledge that Liliana-san was a magic user and Kusanagi-san was a
Campione and it rendered the odds of Mariya-san being an ordinary girl pretty

slim. If she was some sort of magus then the chances were she was linked to
some organization, and the Committee seemed to be the best available
candidates.
". . . yes." The word was almost a mumble.
"Very well," he leaned backwards slightly and tried to project confidence and
ease, it wasn't easy. "I imagine that Mariya-san will want to supply her Campione
with as much information about me as she can. See that she gets all the
information that you've amassed as well as anything that you've gained from this
meeting. Have it all given to her to pass on to Kusanagi-san with my
compliments. I also want you and her to pass on a message to him as well."
He leaned forwards now his expression coolly intent, or so he hoped.
"Tell him that I won't be the first to break the peace. If we come into conflict it
will be by his own actions, not mine."
As Renjou-san nodded Shirou stood up and gestured for them to do likewise.
"I believe it is safe to say that this meeting has now reached its end. I've
answered your questions as best as I am able, and I thank you for answering my
own."
Both the young women stood up and straightened their clothes. Turning to face
him Renjou Kaida gave him a polite bow.
"I thank you for seeing us like this Emiya-sama, your words have eased many of
my worries and I'm sure that my superiors will feel equally relieved. With any
luck at all this meeting will mark the beginning of a mutually beneficial
association between yourself and the Committee."
"I certainly hope so," agreed Shirou while allowing a small smile on his face.
Unseen by his guests though his left hand slipped into his pocket and closed
around a small silk bag that was in there. "There's just one thing though . . ."
As he spoke he wordlessly drew on the power of Rule of the Underworld. The
Authority seemed to protest slightly at his not using the spell words to activate it,
but it none the less responded to his will. Around the room there suddenly
appeared a score of spectral figures. Their appearance was skeletal and there
bodies were slightly transparent, however that passed as their forms hardened
into full solidness. In less than four seconds the room was lined with animated
skeletons of ancient warriors from around the globe. One was a Spartan, another
an African warrior, one was a Native American brave, another an olden samurai.
Renjou-san's bodyguard was well trained and brave; he'd have to give her that.
At the first hint of danger she leapt in front of her charge and immediately
assumed a fighting stance he didn't recognize, it vaguely resembled a boxing
stance, but the foot positioning was wrong.
"Don't get excited Kuhoutsuka-san, this is simply a demonstration." He kept his
tone dry and allowed none of his inner nervousness to show.
"You have told me a great many things Renjou-san, things that are useful, things
that I shall base plans on. If my suspicion is unfounded then I ask you to bear
with me, in time we shall establish trust. However . . ."

In his mind he reached out and sent a single command.

-Come to me.Turning away from his guests he stepped into the centre of the room and then
turned to face them once more. As he did so a being that appeared to be a snake
made from black oil seemed to slither out of the floor as though it were emerging
from water. In defiance of gravity its viscous form seemed to slither through
empty air as though it were climbing an invisible surface. Around and around it
moved until its entire four metre long length was wrapped around its creator in a
spiral that did not touch him. Its head swung around to face them and the
bodyguard flinched back slightly as its eyes focused on her.
Unlike the rest of the creatures form its eyes were not composed of the same
black thick liquid. Instead they were simply holes into its head, however from
behind them emanated a burning yellow light. And despite the very thought
being absurd Shirou knew that they were thinking that that light was
somehow looking at them. He had felt the same way when he had first studied
his creation.
This was one of the eight monsters he had created using Curses without End to
serve as one of the last lines of defence for the manor. This was FEAR, a
dangerous creation, but one that was less lethal than TREACHERY or RAGE. With
any luck its abilities would work well for the little show he had planned.
-Scare them, - he ordered his creation, -Not too much, just enough to unsettle
them.In response to its creators command the serpents head rose up and a cobra like
hood flared itself. The light burning in its eyes grew brighter and the Campione
could feel the waves of fear and dread begin to radiate forth form its form.
This time the reaction of the bodyguard was far more pronounced. She made a
quick flicking gesture with both arms and was immediately holding two short
metal rods, each about ten inches long and an inch thick. Shirou noted that their
entire length was inscribed with rune that even his assimilated memories
couldn't identify. Getting into a more ready stance Kuhoutsuka-san spoke to the
shrine maiden behind her.
"Run Kaida-sama, I'll hold them as long as I can, just run!"
-Enough fade from their view.At the new command the black serpent ceased to radiate the emotion it
embodied and sank back beneath the floor where he could feel it patiently
waiting for his next order.
"I trust I have made my point," the young Emiya was doing everything he could
to present a strong image, "If you have been honest with me then all well and
good, however if you have lied to me, if you have presented me with incomplete
or faulty information or plan to do so in the future then I suggest you recall one
thing."
Suddenly the air around him was filled with swords as he traced them and set
them to hovering around him with the points pointed at the floor.

"I will not tolerate deceit or manipulation, if your organization tries either then I
will consider them and you my enemies. And if we come into conflict then I can
guarantee that you will regret it.
"It may be that you actually know more about me than you say you do, it could
be that you know all the capabilities of my Authorities. If that is the case then I
suggest you go back and remind your superiors of one thing, I killed a god before
I ever had them. I have resources available to me that your Committee has no
possible way of knowing about, and if we come into conflict I will use them."
He waved his right hand and the undead warriors disappeared from view and the
hovering swords dissolved into prana fragments that themselves disappeared.
He let the grim expression slip from his face and replaced it with a more natural
smile.
"That said I hope there will be no such conflicts because a long and mutually
beneficial relationship would be far preferable to open conflict."
He made another motion with his hand and both the girls jumped slightly as
Yusuke slid the door behind them open. Evidently they'd been so focussed on
him and his demonstration that they hadn't notice him walking behind them.
"Yusuke here will show you out. I hope that this will prove to be simply the first of
many fruitful meetings."
With a polite gesture he indicated that they were now free to leave. Both the
young women seemed unsure of what to do for a moment, then Renjou-san
bowed deeply and after a moment's hesitation Kuhoutsuka-san did likewise.
"I thank your majesty for his hospitality and his cooperation; I shall forward your
words to both my superiors and you fellow king Kusanagi-sama. I also hope that
this will prove to be only the first of many agreeable meetings."
Then with graceful dignity the shrine maiden turned and walked out the door. Her
bodyguard seemed to hesitate for a moment, apparently unhappy to bare her
back to one she considered a threat, then she moved quickly to catch up.
As the door slid shut he wished he knew what was going on in their heads.

-()-

Kaida managed to maintain her composure until just after she turned the corner
that brought her out of sight from the mansion. Just there was a bench set up
against one of the walls and looking out over a small park, as was to be expected
in the kind rich neighbourhood that they were in.
In was lucky that the bench was there because as soon as she turned the corner
the user of the Dragon's Roar collapsed onto it as her legs gave out under her.
Manaka was only a second or two slower in collapsing onto the bench next to
her.

"That . . . was terrifying." Stated Kaida as she slumped backwards and tried to
calm her nervously fast breathing. "He seemed so calm and reasonable; I wasn't
expecting anything like that show at the end."
She glanced sideways at her friend and saw that the warrior witch was visibly
trembling as she hunched over and rested her elbows on her knees.
"But you were so brave. When that snake reared up I just froze up, but you were
ready to fight it for me."
Manaka sat up and flashed a rather weak smile back at her.
"Don't be fooled, it was all I could do to not drop my battle wands when I pulled
them out. If that thing had actually attacked I think I might have fainted on the
spot."
Neither of them spoke for a minute, both their minds were filled by the enormity
of the eighth Campione's presence. He had seemed so . . . strangely normal
when she had first seen him, had he been in a school uniform then the only thing
that would have set him apart in a crowd of students would have been his
unusual hair colour. Then as they had spoken he had seemed to be unusually
mature in his behaviour for his age, a fact that she had been privately thankful
for. The thought of someone childish wielding the power of a Campione had sent
a shiver down her spine which she had quickly suppressed.
She had been pleasantly surprised by how reasonable he had been for most of
their meeting. His suggestions of the future relationship with the Committee
were actually quite generous since as a Campione he could have simply
demanded what he wanted and not been obliged to pay for it if he didn't wish to.
That he was willing to grant them fair terms was a very hopeful sign.
It had been at the end that she had been forced to realize just what she was
dealing with. By that point his demeanour had almost led her to forget just who
she was speaking to. Certainly his having already met with Kusanagi-sama had
shaken her, but somehow she had been able to put that aside, maybe she'd
subconsciously been trying to humanize him? She didn't know.
What she did know was that his demonstration of power at the end of the
meeting had brought it crashing home that it wasn't a normal mage she was
dealing with. He was the eighth Campione, an individual that towered as far
above her as a mage did above a newborn babe.
"So . . . what do we do now?" Kaida's voice was unsure, which was pretty much
how she felt. Right now if her friend had suggested boarding a plane for Brazil
she might just have agreed.
"I guess we now head back to The Nanao Shrine and begin to put our reports for
both the Committee and Kusanagi-sama as soon as we finish pulling ourselves
together."
The Hime-Miko glanced over at Manaka in surprise. She must have seen it
because she answered with a wry smile.
"What? Were you expecting me to suggest that we catch a trip on a boat and
head off for the North Pole? It might sound good, but there's one major problem
with that. If we skip town and Emiya and Kusanagi end up fighting then it'll

be our fault, and they'll eventually find out about it. I don't know about you but
I really don't want to go the rest of my life knowing I've managed to annoy two
people like that!"
The sentiment rang pretty true to Kaida; she certainly didn't want to have to deal
with Emiya-sama if he ever had justification to be angry with her.
"Good point. Let's wait here a bit to recover then get back to Mariya-san's shrine
so we can get the report and messages written up."
Manaka nodded and leaned back in her seat tilting her head back so she could
stare up at the blue sky. After a moments consideration the Hime-Miko did the
same. As they both sat, side by side and letting the tension slowly fade, she
wondered what Emiya-sama was doing right now.

-()-

Shirou slumped back against the wall and then let gravity pull him down until he
was sitting on the floor.
"That . . . was only slightly less difficult than facing Berserker." He muttered.
"Have you ever thought of becoming an actor?" Illya asked, "I think you might
have some talent."
His answer was a sideways glare as he lacked the energy to turn his head. He
had honestly not expected it to be so exhausting to act the part they had
planned out for him. After all it hadn't called for anything very strenuous, just
him restraining some of his natural inclinations. As it turned out though there
had been a bit more to it than that. Shirou disliked lying at all, and what he had
just done had felt like lying not just with his voice but with everything about
himself, even if he hadn't shown it he'd hated it. He'd had to constantly fight the
urge to shift in place, clench his fists or glance away from them. He'd been able
to keep his voice even, but at one point he had needed to clasp his hands behind
his back to hide a nervous twitch to his fingers. All in all the effort it had needed
to control himself left him feeling as though he had spent the last hour training
with Saber while she was in a bad mood. The only difference was that he felt
somewhat dirty from his dishonesty.
"We've learnt a few interesting thing though, haven't we?"
The red haired teen had to agree with that. Assuming that the information they
had received was accurate then they had several issues that would require
further consideration. Kusanagi being a Campione wasn't something he'd seen
coming, nor had the sheer level of influence that being one granted. There was
also this History Compilation Committee to consider. If all they had been told was
true then it sounded like they might be a very well connected organization, the
kind that could get their hands on all sorts of rare books and knowledge. If that
was the case then they might prove to be invaluable in his and Illya's search for
a way back to their world.

"You know, this just proves I was right." His adopted sister's pleased words pulled
him out of his thoughts.
"About what?"
"The main characters always eat on the school roof. Kusanagi-san is a Campione,
we know that Liliana-san is a magus and now we've found out that Mariya-san is
an agent of this Committee. I bet that the Erica they mentioned is special too. It
stands to reason that she must be if she's in his harem. Then there's you and me,
the newest Campione and his beautiful and talented genius sister. We went to
eat our lunch on the roof too. That just proves I'm right."
As the snow haired girl nodded to herself in satisfaction at her reasoning Shirou
closed his eyes and let his head fall back until it met the wall with a satisfying
'Thunk'.
This was just wonderful. They had this bombshell dropped on them and Illya was
using it as fodder to prove her theory of how reality matched anime. Maybe he
really had let her spend too much time watching those damned shows.
Still his mind kept going back to the thought that Kusanagi-san was also a
Campione. By tomorrow he'd be informed that Shirou was one as well, if he
hadn't already known. What would happen then? Would they fight? Would they
talk? Would they simply ignore each other as long as they could? So many
questions and not enough answers.
With a weary sigh he clambered back onto his feet and headed for the door.
"Oh, where are you going?" Illya asked.
"To my workshop," answered Shirou over his shoulder, "I've just had an idea."

Chapter Seven: Getting to Know You

Emiya Shirou stared at the sword on his work table and frowned. It was not a
remarkable sword in any way; it wasn't even an F rank Noble Phantasm or a
weak mystic code. It was just a copy of a European short sword that he'd seen
during a trip to a museum years ago and that had been recorded in his Reality
Marble. He'd traced it just after he had started to set up his workshop in this out
building so that he could use it to lever a protruding nail out of the wall. It had
been such a simple matter at the time; he'd done because he hadn't wanted to
go looking for a pair of pliers. After he'd extracted the offending nail, he'd put the
sword down on one of his work tops and then absentmindedly covered it when
he'd placed a folded up tarpaulin on top of it.
That had been more than three weeks ago, his memories assimilated from EMIYA
might be a bit on the foggy side in some areas, but he was quite sure that a
traced weapon should not have lasted that long. It was the most basic
knowledge taught to anyone studying the mystic arts, the
world loathes unnatural changes, and mystic effects are extremely unnatural for
the most part. When these changes are put into effect, then the worlds
governing spirit would immediately get to work trying to reject them.

A construct like this would have immediately begun to corrode under the world's
attempts to correct itself, until its form lost cohesion and it simply dissolved into
prana that would in turn dissipate into the ambient mana like a drop of ink into
the sea.
That meant that what he was looking at was an impossibility. This sword had
been a rush job, something thrown together quickly for the sake of convenience.
It wasn't a Noble Phantasm so its 'existence' wasn't a very large one as far as the
world was concerned. As a purely mundane item he supposed it was possible for
it to have lasted this long, had it been something that he had focused on
carefully and traced in slow minute detail. However that was not the case, so
how . . . ?
"Trace on."
It was almost nostalgic to use something as simple as Structural Analysis. This
had been the very first magic he had learnt, and with all that had happened to
him in the last few months, using it was oddly relaxing. The last time he'd used it
he'd still been jury rigging his nerves into makeshift Magic Circuits, so performing
it without the pain that had always accompanied it in the past was a surprisingly
pleasant experience.
Still no time to think about that now, right now he had a mystery to unravel.
With his eyes closed he sent his mystic senses into the weapon before him. He
could feel its composition, see its history, taste its accumulated years. All those
things that allowed him to go beyond mere Air Gradation and perform his
Tracing. His brow furrowed as he noticed something, something that should not
have been.
Under normal circumstances the natural 'Rule of the World' should have been
metaphysically pulling at the edges of the swords existence. After an amount of
time, dependant on the quality of the tracing, the world would 'pull' hard enough
on the outer 'shell' of the tracing and it would come apart. However that was not
what was happening here. Rather than pulling at those 'edges' it was as though
the world was instead pushing at it instead. Rather than being pulled apart it was
as though the external environment was exerting an influence to stop the
construct from coming apart.
Dropping out of his state of concentration, the eighth Campione glared at the
sword in front of him as though it were in some way responsible for the
strangeness he was being faced with. This made no sense.
As an experiment he traced another sword, this time a samurai's katana from
EMIYA'S memories. As soon as he had completed it he gave it a few experimental
swings to test its quality and then used Structural Analysis on it.
There again was the strange effect; the pressure of the world was actually
working to keep the construct of prana from coming apart. The odd phenomenon
was definitely not making his projections any stronger or more solid; it was
simply keeping them from coming apart.
Laying down his new sword next to the old one he stared at them both. Looking
at them like this he could feel his connection to them. If he wanted to he could
send a mental signal and they would both disintegrate.

"Trace on."
This time it wasn't a nameless sword that he created, it was a minor Noble
Phantasm one of the countless numbers that EMIYA had seen in Gilgamesh's
treasury. The sword's name could be translated as Sun Flash, a rather ornate
name for a weapon whose only real abilities were to release flashes of light that
would not blind its wielder. It was a D rank, but it was still a weapon of legend
with powers most modern magi would envy. As a result its 'existence' was larger
than the other swords.
Placing it down next to them he then covered the trio of arms with a tarp.
Satisfied that they were suitably concealed he turned back to the reason for
which he had originally entered his workshop.
EMIYA had never been a very good magus, he'd been a fine warrior and had
polished the skills he had possessed to the point where he was the peer, if not
equal, to the Servants he had seen in his youth. However in terms of advancing
the knowledge of thaumaturgy or crafting mystic codes he hadn't done much
that most magical organizations would have acknowledged.
Shirou, however, possessed some advantages that his other self had lacked, and
it was the culmination of his scant knowledge, some lessons from Illya and his
new advantages that was resting on a cloth on the floor.
His first mystic code.
Of course it was a sword, that was the form that would work best for him, and
even so it still had flaws. Quite frankly had any of the teachers at the Clock Tower
seen it they would have regarded it as an almost criminal waste of power and
resources.
When you got right down to it the rank of a mystic code was determined by four
basic factors. First was the skill which it had gone into assembling it. Second was
the quality of the materials used in its construction. Third was the amount of
prana available for it to either use or possess. Last was the quality of its user. If
all four factors were of sufficiently high level then in theory you could get a code
that could match certain Noble Phantasms.
Shirou's code was a sword made out of several huge gems all joined and fused
into a single form. Creating such a blade had been relatively easy using Rule of
the Underworld. He'd had to return them a couple of time followed by then
pulling them out in a new configuration, but in the end he had managed to get it
right.
Granted if Rin ever saw it then she would probably strangle him while screaming
about it being a criminal waste of epic proportions. And even if she didn't then
she probably would have set him on fire for having created such a bastardization
of her families jewel craft.
The sword had been put together using his own minor knowledge of Zelretch's
Jewelled Sword, the only slightly better knowledge of Jewel craft he had gained
from EMIYA'S memories and a few theories he had personally put together after
reviewing the construction methods of several stone Noble Phantasms that now
resided in his Reality Marble.

He called it his Gem Sword, and in all fairness it was probably one of the most
beautiful mystic codes ever constructed. One metre in length from tip to pommel
its entire length sparkled with practically every colour of the rainbow, which was
hardly a surprise considering that practically every type of precious stone had
been used in its creation. In purely monetary terms the weapon was probably the
single most valuable piece of portable property in the world.
However as a mystic code it was only one step short of being a failure.
The original plan had been to recreate the Jewelled Sword. Granted he knew
practically nothing about the magical theory behind it, and granted it would be
useless to Illya since she lacked Rin's knowledge. Still it had been the only
resource available to them with regards to getting home so he had traced a copy
and given it to his adopted sister.
It had been after this that thoughts of the sword had led him to recall how in his
own lifetime EMIYA had been taught a little of the Tohsaka families Jewel Craft in
exchange for some resources he had. Unfortunately his other self had possessed
no talent for the style, even when he fashioned the gems into the shapes of tiny
swords in order to increase their compatibility the results had just been too
inefficient. The eighth Campione had idly wondered if the results would have
been better if the jewels had been real sword sized, then he'd come to a stop as
he realized he had the resources to test the theory.
And that was how he'd got started. While he might not have been able to glean
any of the secrets of the Kaleidoscope from his mental blueprint of the Jewelled
Sword he had gained some slight knowledge of how the cuts of a stone would
affect its more subtle performance. Jewel craft had further refined this as had his
second-hand knowledge.
The end result was what lay before him; an enormous gemstone that looked as
though it had been rather crudely hewn into the general shape of a long sword. It
actually slightly reminded him of Berserkers enormous axe sword now that he
thought about it. As far as its abilities went it was a bit of a disappointment.
Originally Shirou had hoped to use it as a giant version of Rin's Azoth Knife, a
weapon able to release a blast of stored prana into an attack. Unfortunately it
seemed the weapon could not serve this function due to it only being able to
release a small amount at a time. The young Emiya had almost sent it back into
the Underworld before he had another idea. Certainly it was inefficient and
wasteful, but it was a functional prana battery with a very large capacity.
So it had become his daily habit to come into his workshop and dump roughly
half of his enormous reserves into it. Granted its terrible efficiency meant that
only about 35% of the power he put in was actually stored, but he had prana to
spare and he recovered quickly. Over the course of the week since he had
finished it he estimated that he had managed to store about twice his full
reserves in there, a level that would normally take an average magus years if not
decades to attain. It was crude and unrefined, but there was something to be
said for the brute force approach.
As he sat down on the floor and took the glass like hilt in his hands he allowed
his memory to drift back a few days. Today was the Saturday after his first week
of school, and he had to say that the last four days had been . . . eventful.

-()-

Flashback to Tuesday.
It was lunch time and Shirou was once again heading for the roof. Despite her
protests he had made Illya promise to wait on the ground floor near the main
exit. Should she sense or hear anything that made her think a fight had broken
out she was to get to Yusuke, who should be waiting near the gate to the school
in his new car, and head back to the mansion as fast as she could. Honestly he
expected her to break her promise if the worst came to the worst, but he had
made what arrangements he could.
With a deep breath he stepped out onto the roof top and saw that Godou was
standing in the same area where they had all eaten lunch together yesterday. By
his side had been Mariya-san and Liliana-san, as well as a tall blonde girl with a
beautiful face, gorgeous figure and a look of supreme confidence on her face.
That must be the Erica-san that had been mentioned the day before, idly the
eighth Campione wondered if there might be some truth to his sister's assertions
that Godou was trying to build a harem, if so he was off to a fine start.
Still this meant that he was out numbered off the get go. If one assumed that
one Campione was the equal of another then it would be the supporters that
could shift the tide in either direction. Naturally that was a vast simplification,
but it almost certainly carried some truth to it. Still Shirou wasn't totally
unprepared in regards to followers, in his book bag was a small pouch filled with
small items that would allow him to summon up a good two dozen undead
warriors at a moment's notice. Also, in the trunk of Yusuke's car were two of his
jars containing his curse spawned monsters. He wasn't quite sure if they would
heed him from so far away, but if they didn't then he could always move closer if
needed. Of course that only worked if Illya broke her promise and stayed, but if
that was the case then at least he'd have an extra edge.
But for all his preparations the red haired teen was really really hoping that they
would prove unneeded. This meeting was taking place during school hours
because it was better to meet in a place of relative quiet rather than bump into
each other in the middle of a crowded hall. Also, should a fight break out here,
far too many people would be endangered for his taste. He was gambling that
since Kusanagi-san had continued here as a student, even after becoming a
Campione, then he'd likewise be reluctant to start any conflict here.
Still now wasn't the time to show any hesitation. He had to put on a strong front;
if he wanted to avoid conflict then he had to show that he was no easy picking.
He disliked having to act in this fashion again, but if it would prevent the kind of
conflict that would threaten innocent lives then he was willing to go through with
it again.
"Good afternoon Kusanagi-san, I trust you received both the information I asked
to be made available to you as well as my message?"

Shirou wasn't quite sure, but he thought he might have noted a slight wince in
the younger teen's face as the question was asked. He couldn't be quite sure
because the black haired boy's face remained set in a rather steely expression of
calmness.
"The Committee did pass it on to me. Did you mean what you said?" There was
strength in that voice, the strength that was gained from facing one's death and
triumphing over it. It actually reminded him slightly of the Heroic Spirits he had
encountered during the Grail war. Not on their level to be sure, but there was
something of their manner there.
"I have no reason to want to fight you," the red haired teen declared while
spreading his arms to show his unarmed state, "I and my sister have managed to
establish ourselves quite comfortably and if you and I were to come into conflict
what we have prepared may be lost. If we were to fight I imagine it would only
lead to more trouble than it's worth, especially since I believe it to be a safe bet
to say that I will not merely be facing you but also all of your women as well."
At the last comment he noticed a definite flush begin to tinge the seventh
Campione's cheeks. It seemed for all his steel he still was a bit embarrassed by
the loyalty of his apparent harem. Interesting.
"Quite simply you can trust my words because there is no reason why we should
fight. I intend no harm to you or yours, I intent to deal fairly with the Committee
to which you are an ally, provided of course that they are fair with me. I want
nothing that is yours and to the best of my own knowledge you want nothing
that is mine. I do not see any reason for conflict between us."
Kusanagi-san had watching him, but his expression was no longer quite so hard.
It seemed as though both of the Campione were hoping for more or less the
same thing.
"I'd be willing to go with such a situation," The seventh Campione agreed, "You'll
take no hostile action against me and I'll do likewise for you. Agreed?"
"Agreed." Shirou nodded his assent as he stepped forwards and offered his hand.
There was an instant's hesitation from Godou, but he took the proffered had and
gave it a firm shake. The hand that clasped his was strong, but didn't try to
apply excessive pressure in some form of assertion for dominance. Shirou
decided to take that as a good sign that this agreement would be honoured.
Considering how momentous a decision had taken place the exchange had been
remarkably short. In all truth the red haired teen felt like punching the air and
releasing a whoop of exultation. No, mustn't break character, he was being a
King speaking to a fellow monarch. That role must be maintained.
Doing his best to keep an upright posture and as regal a bearing as he could
Shirou nodded once to the small group before turning and walking back down
the stairs.
-()That had been the Tuesday of his week. A day that had proven to be surprisingly
quiet after the meeting between Kings, with only two small issues marring its
peace. The first had been Illya becoming quite unhappy that he felt it was

inappropriate for them to join Kusanagi-san on the roof for lunch. A peace
agreement might have been reached, but he felt that it would not be appropriate
to join the other King in such friendly terms just yet. The snowy haired girl had
been displeased with giving up the, in her mind at least, prestigious spot, but
after he'd promised to get her the latest game in her favourite series she'd
relented in her sulking. In all truth he was becoming a trifle worried at the
enthusiasm with which she was throwing herself into the modern entertainments
that had for so long been forbidden to her.
The second minor disturbance that day had been a message delivered by a man
claiming to be a messenger for the History Compilation Committee. The message
had been from Renjou-san confirming that the information had been passed onto
Kusanagi-san as promised and she was now working with some of the
organizations agents to assemble a delivery of the tomes and artefacts that
Shirou had requested. According to the letter she would return on Sunday
afternoon with a cache of treasure 'worthy of a Campione'.
Wednesday had started off fine, then just after eleven o'clock thing had gone a
bit . . . strange.

-()-

Flashback to Wednesday.
Shirou had been in the middle of a maths lesson when he had suddenly heard
what could only be described as a 'thunderous roar' from outside. A single
glance out of the window had been all that was needed to see a cloud of dust
rising up from around the corner.
He hadn't even stopped to consider, as he saw that tell tale cloud and listened to
the sound of the crash fade all he could think of was that what he had feared
had come to pass. Illya was in combat, Kusanagi-san was being attacked, the
Committee had betrayed him and dispatched assassins, the Clock Tower had
somehow crossed the dimensions and was here to capture and dissect everyone.
Scenario after scenario flashed across his mind, each more preposterous than
the last, it was stupid, it was irrational, but at that particular instant he wasn't
exactly thinking clearly.
"I'll go check that sensei!" he shouted as he shot out of his chair and headed for
the door.
"I-I don't think you should-"
The teachers somewhat stunned reply was cut off by Shirou's shouted reply as
the door slid shut behind him.
"Yes you do!"
The poor teacher could only stand in front of his class and blink owlishly in
confusion. It had all happened so fast his thoughts were still racing to catch up.

Out in the hall Shirou was taking full advantage of their empty state to increase
his speed. Almost without conscious thought prana was fed into his limbs.
Muscles were strengthened; bones were reinforced, within moments he was
moving faster than most athletes could even dream of. In only the briefest of
moments he was hurtling down the stairs and skidding round a corner to get at
one of the doors that led outside.
Once he was out of the building it didn't take him too long to get around the
sides of the school and arrive at the location of the noise.
As it turned out the roar had actually been the sound of the old abandoned
school building, which overlooked the sports centre of the academy, collapsing.
However as Shirou came skidding to a halt he found not some titanic battle
between mages or gods, but rather Kusanagi-san talking to Erica-san, Mariya-san
and Liliana-san. What was odd was that all three girls were wearing windbreaker
jackets or bath towels over school uniform swimsuits.
It was also apparent that he had arrived into the middle of a conversation
because Liliana-san was saying:
". . . reluctant, I have to agree with Erica. She is absolutely right. Mariya Yuri, our
lord is the king among kings in lechery."
Erica-san seemed about to add some further comment of her own, but it was
then that she spotted Shirou and her face became calculating as she began to
assess the situation. The others noticed the change in her demeanour and
quickly became aware of his presence as they followed her gaze. Before any of
them could speak the blonde haired foreign knight stepped forward and bowed
formally to the eighth Campione.
"A good afternoon to you your highness. Might I be so bold as to ask what has
caused you to seek out my lord?"
Both the greeting and the question were delivered with perfect elegance and
courtesy, and given that the girl doing so was clad only in a swimsuit, which
could have been described as scandalously tight, and a towel that was quite an
achievement.
Almost without thinking Shirou slipped back into the role that he now thought of
as 'The Fake King'.
"Indeed you may Erica-san, I didn't come looking for Kusanagi-san but rather
came to seek the source of the disturbance."
Glancing over at the mass of debris that had once made up the old school
building. He noted that the way it had collapsed was rather odd; as though
rather than it being a case of supports breaking and planks cracking it was as
though large chunks of the building had all rotted into powder at once.
Then, to his surprise, he heard voices from inside the wreckage.
"Don't worry about me, save the hard drive; I have over a hundred little sisters in
there!"
"GET YOUR ELBOW OFF MY GROIN!"

"I'm not dead? YESSSS, I still have a chance to collect a miko!"

"HAHAHAHA, I'LL NEVER DIE UNTIL I SEE ERICA-SAN NAKED!"
Listening to the seemingly nonsensical ravings that were emerging from the
cloud of dust Shirou deliberately raised one eyebrow questioningly and looked at
Erica-san with obvious curiosity on his face.
"Some boys were planning to use that building as a spot to peep on the girls
during swimming lessons. I only used a little Pulverization] magic, but it looks
like that school building had become quite old. Usually the amount of magic
power I used shouldn't have been quite so effective." The girl answered without
any hint of guilt or embarrassment, only pride and confidence.
"I . . . see." Shirou quickly used structural grasping to analyse the rubble as well
as he could. Though not originally intended for such a task he was still able to
get a rough impression of both the wreckage and the boys within. From what he
could determine it seemed nobody had suffered anything worse than a serious
bruise or two and some scratches.
Still it did provide a certain opportunity to build his image up a bit more in the
eyes of Kusanagi and his girls. Turning to the seventh Campione he tried to
imitate the bold and charismatic tone that Saber had been able to use without
even thinking about it.
"Well Kusanagi-san, this is your school since you have been here longer so I
suppose I should ask your permission before setting fire to this lot of miscreants.
Would that be alright with you?" As he said this a small dagger appeared in his
left hand, followed by the blade bursting into flames.
Of course the offer was completely bogus, Shirou was absolutely sure that
Kusanagi-san would turn the offer down immediately. However the fact that he
had made the offer would hopefully go towards the further building up of his
image as a polite but ruthless king, at least that was what he was aiming for. The
dagger was nothing but a prop, a minor mystic code that EMIYA had seen during
a trip to the Clock Tower.
"NO, um-no, that'll be quite enough I think." Kusanagi's voice was slightly
panicked as he waved at the fallen mound of wreckage and dust. "Besides, in
the civilized world it's frowned on to burn up your fellow students."
Shirou gave a semi theatrical sigh and nodded.
"Sadly I fear you're right, it is rather hard to punish such blatant lechery properly
in this day and age. Still so long as their activities do not target my sister I
suppose I can leave their punishment to your most talented young women." He
paused for a moment and then continued. "Incidentally Kusanagi-san, I confess
to being a bit out of touch with the current fashions, but don't you think that
wearing cobwebs in your hair is a little . . . unsightly?"
Yes, that was a nice touch. Acting as though he were unfamiliar with the modern
world could lead to some useful underestimation of him later on their part. It
wasn't even that implausible, Illya had told him that Mages like Rin, who lived in
the modern world, were less common than those who simply sequestered
themselves away from it entirely. Apparently there were still entire clans in the

Clock Tower who still thought that telegraph was the fastest method of
communication available to the mundane masses.
With a respectful, but not too much so, nod of his head the eighth Campione
turned and headed back to his class, this time at a far more sedate pace that his
exit of it had been. Behind him he could hear the sounds of frantic motion as his
fellow god slayer apparently tried to tidy himself up. There was also Erica's
voice.
"Incidentally Yuri-chan, did I ever tell you about the hot night I spent with Godou
on Sicily?"
At that point the red haired ten started to move a bit faster. He had no
objections to learning more about Kusanagi's character and abilities, but he had
little desire to hear about his romantic rendezvous'.

-()-

That had been a fairly interesting day. Thursday had proven to be quite quiet for
him, in fact the only thing that had been particularly exciting about it had been
the conversation he had had with Illya over supper on that same night.

-()-

Flashback to Thursday evening.

"So how was your first lesson in tea ceremony?" Shirou asked his sister as he
served the stir fry he had just finished cooking.
Illya nodded happily in response as she seized a pair of chopsticks and prepared
to dig into the food.
That had been one of the more amusing diversions that he had enjoyed at meals
over the last couple of months. After seeing him eating rice with the pair of
wooden utensils, while she was still using a knife and fork, the young Einzbern
had become determined to master the foreign eating ware. It had been rather
fascinating, in a rather pitiable way, to see her first attempts, however she had
quickly improved and while not an expert she could at least get most of her food
from her plate to her mouth without dropping it.
"Weeeeellll," Illya said, drawing as she grinned like a sugar high pixie, "I didn't
really get a chance to learn that much, everyone got distracted by the floorshow
that developed."
"Oh? And what was that?" Shirou asked in mild curiosity.
"Kusanagi-san has added another girl to his harem." Illya said brightly.
One almost had to admire her timing; she had timed the conversation just right
so that she was able to deliver the outrageous news just as her adopted brother

was downing a glass of water. As liquid was sprayed across the room by his
convulsive exhalation and he went into an extended fit of coughing Shirou could
have sworn that out of the corner of his eye he saw Illya take a list out of her
pocket and tick something off on it.
As soon as he was capable of cohesive speech once more the Campione set
about trying to get an explanation out of the snowy haired girl.
"Okay, now that you've dropped that bombshell on me why don't you flesh it out
a bit?"
And so his adopted sister told him of what had gone on at the club after school.
It seemed that a new girl had arrived, someone who called herself Seishuuin
Ena. Apparently she was a childhood friend of Mariya-san and had come to the
school to speak about, as she put it: '. . . the date of Ena and Yuri's marriage into
the Kusanagi household.'
From there apparently things had gone down hill rather quickly for his fellow god
slayer, due to that new girl carrying on without a care to what anyone else
heard. It seemed that she had absolutely no problem with the thought of sharing
her man with her friend, and even began to speculate aloud as to how the
situation might be explained to any future children. Before long practically every
female in the room was glaring at Godou as though he were the lowest scum of
the earth. The only exceptions to this were the members of Godou's 'harem' and
Illya herself, who was treating the developing drama as her personal
entertainment.
Apparently from there things didn't get much better for the black haired teen.
Still utterly shameless Seishuuin Ena continued to talk even as Godou's sister
declared him the worst and multiple rumours began to spring up. She made
suggestions on how they should handle the love making and having children
(Yuri taking the lead and her serving as 'backup'), enquired as to what type of
girl he preferred the most and then went onto question what types of fetishes he
might have kept hidden.
All of this while sitting calmly in the middle of the room and preparing tea.
Eventually, after further escapades and a slight argument with Liliana the new
girl had eventually left with Erica and Godou had fled shortly thereafter. However
before that Seishuuin Ena had apparently confronted Mariya-san about her
feelings for Kusanagi and managed to get an honest answer out of her.
"She's not too sure about her own feelings," Illya opined as she brought her
narrative to a close, "I think it's because she's not only a Yamato Nadeshiko but
also a kind hearted Tsundere. It's really quite impressive that Godou-san was
able to capture such a rare find."
Shirou tried to ignore his adopted sister's increasing tendency to treat reality as
though it were an anime and tried to focus on what information could be gleaned
from what he had heard. The problem was that he was having an increasingly
difficult time treating Kusanagi-san as a potential enemy.
He was just too . . . well normal wasn't the right words to be sure. Not only was
he a powerful god slayer he had also managed to amass a harem that was now

at least four strong, and he had managed to do it almost by accident as far as he

could tell. No, normal was definitely not the word to use to describe him.
The problem was that he was so unimposing, he didn't act in the way that Shirou
had feared he would.
AAAAHHH! It was enough to give a guy a headache if he thought about it for too
long.
As it turned out that was exactly what happened, so the eighth Campione went
to bed early and hoped that tomorrow would prove to be less problematic.

-()-

Yes, that had been quite a shock to the system. But it had been Friday that had
proven to be the most . . . interesting.

-()-

Flashback to Friday.
It had been the end of the week and Shirou had elected to stay behind after
school for a bit. He still hadn't joined any clubs yet, but one of his classmates
had mentioned that the air conditioning in one of the Student Council rooms had
broken. Feeling a bit nostalgic about it the red haired teen had volunteered to
take a look at it and try to get it fixed, a bit of a return to his days as 'the fake
janitor' back in Fuyuki.
He'd spent a rather pleasant few minutes taking the appliance apart, tightening
up a few wires that had come loose and then reassembling it. Finding what the
problem was had been no trouble at all with Structural Analysis, but the actual
task of disassembly, repair and reassembly was actually rather soothing.
It was because of this that he was in quite a decent mood as he finished. He
happily hummed an off key tune to himself as he packed away his tools and
cleared up after himself. It was just as he was stepping out of the door that
Liliana-san practically ran into him.
With excellent reflexes she managed to break at the last instant, however even
so Shirou had to take a step back to clear a little room between them.
"Ah, my apologies your highness," Liliana said in a quick but apologetic tone,
"Please forgive my clumsiness in my haste."
"Oh? What's the hurry?" Asked the red haired teen, as he hitched his book bag
more comfortably over his shoulder. He was only mildly curious, but the silver
haired knight reacted as though he had barked a demand.
"I believe some miscreants are harassing my Lord. Since he does not seem wish
to personally crush them it falls to me, his knight, to protect his honour."

With that and another bow she strode off down the hall.
It took only an instant for Shirou to make his own decision, and then he was
hurrying after her.
He wasn't entirely sure what was motivating him. No, that was a lie; he knew
damned well what it was that was driving him to follow. Plain simple curiosity. He
wanted to know more about his fellow god killer, wanted to understand why
someone with such power seemed to be in such defiance of his expectations.
They didn't have far to go. They only needed to go down one flight of stairs and
turn a couple of corners; the young woman seemed to know just where they
were going. In short order they had arrived and Liliana-san threw the door open
and strode in like a general entering a captured throne room. The eighth
Campione didn't enter himself; rather he stood next to the door and observed
what was taking place.
From the looks of it Kusanagi-san was sitting on the ground with his legs and
wrists bound together by repeated loops of transparent packing tape. Over him
were standing a trio of students, their faces concealed by paper bags cut into
masks.
"Kusanagi Godou, rest assured, I will take care of them immediately."
Liliana's bold entry and declaration seemed to take the trio of masked students
aback, however as Kusanagi expressed his thanks her shy reaction rather
detracted from her splendid entrance.
"This is part of my mission, thanks are not necessary. Since I could not find you, I
went searching just in case... If you have learned your lesson, then do not leave
my side as much as possible. I would be grateful if you try not to increase my
workload."
That seemed to regain her lost momentum, but despite their obviously shaken
state the three students managed to rally their moral.
"You seem quite confident, but what difference will one more person make? We
have three people here, the power of the crowd, hahahahahahahahahaha!"
"Trash like you? I can easily handle three hundred. What a joke."
It was almost comical to see how the girl's knightly demeanour and confidence
broke any thoughts of resistance in the three normal teenagers she faced.
Shirou allowed a smile to cross his lips as he watched. The silver haired young
woman might not be Saber's equal but he got the impression that if they had
ever somehow met then the King of Knights would have approved of her.
"Wait, wait, wait! Liliana-san. We are just trying to impeach Kusanagi Godou for
his crimes."
One of them tried to turn Liliana aside by explaining their actions. Idly the young
Emiya wondered just what their motivation was. At first he had thought this was
some sort of hazing or at least something of the like. Now it sounded as though
they were taking revenge for some sort of grievance.

"Foolish! Kusanagi Godou is the one with righteous goals, who walks the king's
path. Rather than let you idiots impeach him, let me show you what shame is."
"I-I object! You say that Kusanagi has a righteous heart, that idea is very
problematic! This man is an evildoer who deceives and plays around with
multiple women. Isn't he a sexual predator and public enemy of women!?"
Eh? They claimed what? Oh, wait. Suddenly he remembered all of Illya's jokes
about Kusanagi building himself a harem. It would seem that these students
were taking exception to the seventh Campione's fortune at being attended by a
small company of beautiful girls. That aside wasn't Liliana-san being a bit free
with such a phrase as 'the king's path'? Sure it was unlikely that these teenagers
would pick up on it but still . . .
"Do you three just plan on using such superficial slander to change my opinion?
What pitiful fools . . ."
The silver haired knight immediately leapt to the defence of her lord.
"Yes it is true that he is an unparalleled lecher. He will play around with girls on
impulse, and is the harem king who has tainted innumerable women. That is the
undeniable truth."
Or not as the case might be. Had this been an anime Shirou was sure that he
would have either face faulted or at least have been sporting a ridiculously large
sweat drop.
"I have already advised him, he should practice some restraint in playing around
with girls. I swore to maintain our relationship for eternity and forever serve him
by his side. I wanted to become a woman who offers everything she has to him
willingly, and become his partner. However, his rampant fetishes are a part of
him, and I have no choice but to accept them."
Liliana turned her face a little awkwardly.
By this point the red haired teen was beginning to feel a slight sense of unreality
about the whole situation he had stumbled into. Was Liliana defending or
criticizing her sworn lord? It sounded like it was defence, but if Kusanagi's pained
expression was anything to go by it was proving to be more cutting to him than
the words of those she was trying to defend him from
"One day, he may burn himself through his womanizing... But no matter when, I
will always be his support, and I swore I will definitely save him. As long as this
sentiment persists, my heart will not be swayed by despicable slander."
Liliana's forceful words strong and sincere, they reflected the full strength of her
loyalty to the dark haired Campione.
Unfortunately those same words also sounded like something said by a female
victim of some deception or a marriage con. Shirou could only wince as the
passionate declaration was so unfortunately worded.
The three students apparently had a similar thought, and loudly protested.
"Deceived women always insist on something like 'he did me no harm'!"
"Hurry up and awaken! Liliana-san!"

"There are still many men in this world much better than him..."
"I hope you all do not misunderstand. Kusanagi Godou and I do not have that
kind of superficial male female relationship. I am only his knight, and the
companion who promised to stay by his side forever. We have sworn that we will
face all trials and tribulations together no matter where or when, that is the
relationship that we have."
Without being aware, Liliana had drifted into a dreamlike state almost as if
talking to herself. Shirou could swear that he could actually see sparkles around
her as her dreamy gaze stared of into the distance.
"Though the way he plays around with women will make it tough for me...
Nevertheless, it will strengthen the bonds between the two of us, as long as I
become the most special existence in his heart, and no matter what kind of
woman he seeks, he will always return to my embrace in the end..."
By the Root! Had one of the gods Kusanagi had slain been a deity of manhood or
fertility? That seemed to be the only reason the eighth Campione could think of
that Liliana-san would be so devoted to her sworn lord. This kind of development
was normally the purview of anime and manga, not real life.
Hearing footsteps coming down the corridor behind him Shirou took a step back
and hid beside a book case that stood by the wall. He could still see into the
room, but unless someone was actively looking for him he wouldn't obvious to
the eye. He wasn't quite sure why he was hiding; it was an instinctual reaction
that was utterly pointless. Oh well, might as well continue to enjoy the show.
"Beast! Making a harem and getting approved! Heavens! How could you allow
something so unfair?!"
"Is this conditioning? Is this the result of the forbidden act of sexually
conditioning a minor below the age of eighteen!?"
"Am I crying...? Are these tears? Damn it, this is so despairing!"
Inside the classroom it seemed that Liliana's impassioned declaration had
effectively broken the spirits of the trio to whom she had been speaking.
As the three teenagers seemed to sag in place the source of the footsteps
revealed themselves as they came round the corner. It turned out to be two girls,
one he immediately recognized as Mariya-san but the other was not someone he
had seen before.
She was certainly striking enough that if he had ever seen her she would have
stuck in his memory. She was unquestionably beautiful, with long black hair that
reached down to her hips and lush curves that would have drawn any male eye
that saw them. She was wearing a uniform belonging to another school and was
carrying a large bag.
That bag fairly screamed at his senses. There was a sword inside there, a sword
that seemed to, for want of a better description, radiate the essence of 'sword', it
called to his internal world like a steely siren.
"Ah, found it, Kusanagi-san turned out to be here."

"E-excuse us for intruding."

The words of the girls as they entered the room brought him out of the almost
trance he had fallen into. What was that? This new girl definitely had some sort
of legendary sword in her possession, one whose mere proximity made his
Reality Marble metaphorically jump up and down with excitement. He couldn't
recall there ever being such a reaction to a weapon in his otherworldly
memories. This was something completely new.
Still now wasn't the time to let it distract him. Regaining his focus Shirou moved
closer to the door once more.
"Uh, excuse me. We're in the middle of something. If you have something to tell
me, could it wait?"
Kusanagi-san's protests seemed to be almost laughable given his current
position of sitting bound up, hand and foot, on the floor.
"Just a few simple words, it'll be over in an instant. I came here to invite
Kusanagi-san to our date tomorrow. That is, Kusanagi-san, Yuri, and me, Ena, the
three of us together on a date."
"Date!?"
The seventh Campione's response was predictably shocked, while Mariya-san
was turning so red it was a wonder her hair hadn't burst into flames. In a slightly
trembling voice she tried to rein in her friend.
"Ena-san! To have a date with Godou-san . . . I have not prepared myself for that
yet!"
Unfortunately the newly identified Ena-san seemed utterly undeterred and
blithely continued on.
"If you haven't prepared yet, then prepare now. It's not easy for us to become
Kusanagi Godou's 'women,' so you need to take more initiative."
Hearing these exchanges all three of the masked students seemed to be
cracking.
"M-my ears must be having problems. How could I be hearing these alien words?
Hahahaha, who could have thought that I, Sorimachi, would be so out of date, to
be ignorant of the strategy of the simultaneous pursuit route..."
"I-I must stay awake. That girl must be a fairy or a hallucination. It must be my
imagination. Think about it, how could fiances or beautiful girls volunteering to
be a lover appear in a simple male high school. That only happens in fairy tales,
we must have been caught up in some sort of massive dream..."
Those two seemed were hard at work denying reality, by the sounds of it they
had plenty of experience and were more used to dealing with 2d girls than real
ones. It would almost have been amusing to watch if it weren't so pitiful.
"Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh!"
On the other hand it seemed that the third one hadn't succumbed to despair like
his friends, or at least if he had he was dealing with it in a different way.

His massive 185cm tall body began to shake all over.

"I absolutely will not accept this! This woeful world, this unreasonable result, I
absolutely cannot accept!"
As he roared, he grabbed the bound Godou and threw him over his shoulder.
"Kusanagi, I will end our lives together right now!"
"Wait, wait a minute, why does it have to end like this?"
"Your existence has disrupted natural order. You are the destroyer of the world
an unacceptable existence! Let us start our eternal slumber together!"
Okay . . . it appeared that this one was utterly unable to deal with Kusanagi's
bizarre luck with women and had decided to deal with it by removing both
himself and the source of his woe from the world of the living.
Clearly this was a fellow in desperate need of a sensible girlfriend or, barring
that, a swift and accurate blow to the back of his head.
With his captive over his shoulder the tall student charged out of the room . . .
and immediately went crashing down as Shirou stuck a leg out to trip him. As the
large teenager went down and Kusanagi let out a yelp of alarm the eighth
Campione reached out and caught his fellow god slayer by the back of the shirt
before he fell to the ground as well.
As he helped the other regain his balance, despite his bound state Shirou
couldn't help but make a comment.
"You know Kusanagi-san, if I keep seeing you in these kinds of situations it's
going to get rather hard for me to keep taking you seriously."
"Emiya-san? What're you doing here?"
"Liliana-san almost ran into me trying to get here, I confess I was curious as to
what had her in such a rush so I followed after her. Could you tell me just whHey, get back here!"
His question was cut off as the previously prone student suddenly surged to his
feet, grabbed his former captive once more and took off at a dead run.
"All the sad men on this planetthose who have never tasted love, and
ostracized by all women outside of the 2D worldthey have lent me their
power!"
As the clearly mad man's cry echoed down the hallway the young Emiya could
only stand and stare. Granted he could have easily caught up with the pair,
however there was a sort of shocking fascination to seeing the apparently
suicidal student use his despair to surpass his normal physical limits. It was like
watching a squirrel trying to get at a nut it can't reach.
"E-Emiya-sama?"
Mariya-san's voice brought him out of his stunned state and back to the real
world.
"Ah, hello Mariya-san."

Shirou smiled slightly and resisted the urge to rub the back of his head in mild
embarrassment.
"Oh? Is this the second King of Japan?" Mariya-san's friend had emerged from
the room and was looking at him in curiosity. What was interesting was that her
posture denoted no intimidation or submission, merely curiosity and interest.
"My apologies your Highness, Ena would normally be much more polite, but right
now I have to go save Godou. Yuri and I can't become his women if he gets
killed."
The black haired girl gave a quick bow and then shot off after the berserk teen.
"You have . . . interesting friends Mariya-san." Shirou commented as he stood
there.
"I know."
The reply was delivered in a voice that sounded ever so slightly broken. Given
her friends . . . unusual approach to wooing Kusanagi-san the young Emiya
couldn't help but feel sympathetic to the brown haired girl.
"AHHH! Were did they go?"
It seemed that Liliana had finally overcome her shock and was trying to follow
her kidnapped lord; unfortunately her hesitation had resulted in her losing the
trail.
"Well given that that fellow was babbling about ending his and Kusanagi's lives
together I imagine he's heading for the roof, that would be the most convenient
suicide spot I can think of."
It was rather shocking just how easily he slipped back into his role as the 'The
Fake King'. His words were calm and courteous and spoken as though he were
sitting on a throne and addressing supplicants.
"Thank you for your aid your Highness," the silver haired knight stated with a
respectful bow. "Come on Yuri-san, we must ensure Godou's safety."
As the two girls hurried off Shirou picked up his own pace to catch up to them.
"I think I shall accompany the two of you," he said, doing his best not to make it
sound like a request or an order, but rather simply a statement of fact. "I confess
to having some interest in seeing how this all works out."

-()-

In the end they hadn't arrived in time to see most of the drama that took place
on the rooftop. It turned out that Mariya-san had rather poor stamina, and as a
result hadn't been able to keep up the same pace as her more athletic
companions. In the end Liliana-san had grown tired of the delays and had
actually picked her up bridal style and taken off running.
The three of them had arrived on the roof to find the large student who'd
abducted Kusanagi-san unconscious on the floor, the seventh Campione still

bound and Ena-san and Erica-san apparently having an argument over who he
would be going out on a date with tomorrow.
Shirou had stuck around just long enough to hear Godou explain that due to
some complicated circumstances he'd have to go with Erica-san. After that the
red haired teen had slipped away and headed home.
Yes, it had been quite an interesting week to say the least, but not an
unprofitable one.
Despite the strangeness of their interactions Shirou felt he was getting a better
handle on just what kind of a person Kusanagi Godou was. To his relief it seemed
that far from being the tyrannical figure he had feared lurked beneath his public
persona the younger teen was surprisingly straight forward.
Actually now that he thought about it the young Emiya actually felt a slight
kinship to his fellow Campione. In a way Godou was much like himself in that he
seemed to be a relatively ordinary person until he'd been dragged into a world of
far greater powers than he had ever dreamed of.
Granted Shirou had been aware of the existence of magic before he had been
dragged into the Holy Grail War, but aside from that he'd pretty much been
totally ignorant of the mystical world in general before Rin had started explaining
things to him. It made him wonder what he would have done if he had managed
to survive the destruction of the Grail and had somehow regained a normal body.
Would he have gone back to school? Would he have gone on dates with Sakura
like a normal couple? Would he have been able to live a normal life, given that he
had gained the enviable ability to create copies of Noble Phantasms? Would he
have ended up living a life like Kusanagi-san?
So many questions and never enough answers. It was beginning to become
something of a trend in his life.
Returning his mind to the task at hand the eighth Campione estimated that he
was about two thirds of the way through the transfer of power. It was annoying
how slow the transfer was, in his memories he saw times when Rin had dumped
almost her entire reserves of Prana into a single gem in less than five seconds,
compared to that his own transfer was so sluggish and clumsy.
Still there wasn't much he could do about it at this point, in time he might be
able to refine his skills in this a bit, but for the moment the best he could do was
show patience and sit here until he got the job done.
Sighing in mild frustration he shifted around slightly and tried to get more
comfortable. As he did so he felt a slight twinge in the muscles of his left arm,
nothing too serious, just the result of him having been a bit over enthusiastic in
his work out yesterday. Still the slight ache was enough to send his thoughts
down another path.
This was the arm that had been given to him at EMIYA'S request before he had
faded away; it had been a whim on his part, a last act to give the poor idiot that
had found himself fatally out of his league some small chance to actually
accomplish something.

That arm had been both the source of his hope and his doom; it had given him
the power to make a difference and been the cause of his slow death.
But now it wasn't Archer's arm, it was his.
The whole situation was a bit hard to grasp, but he thought he had the basic gist
of it. When he had become a Campione every injury and malady he had suffered
from had been immediately healed. His body had gone from a ruined mess to the
picture of health in an instant, and when it had done so his grafted arm had been
fully integrated into his healed form.
It was definitely still the same arm, of that Shirou was sure, but now it's skin tone
was the same shade as the rest of his body, the muscles had shrunk to match
the rest of his build. There had been other changes as well, before the limb had
been far stronger than the rest of his body, hardly a surprise considering it was
the arm of a Servant, but now it was no more able than the rest of his body.
To put it more simply everything that had made the arm 'not his' had been
changed to match him, and all the knowledge that had once been stored in the
limb was now flawlessly integrated into his mind. That was where all the new
memories had come from, and it was also why it had taken him so long to fully
recognize them on a conscious level. The integration had been so smooth that
for a time he had been accessing them without even thinking about it, and when
he had deliberately accessed them, such as when he was tracing Noble
Phantasms, he had done so as though they were still stored in his arm.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness for not having noticed it earlier Shirou
once more pulled himself out of his musings and again focused on the task at
hand.
Almost there . . . just a little bit more . . . aaaannnddd . . . done.
Setting down his creation the young Campione carefully wrapped the Gem Sword
up in a length of black velvet and then settled it into the long sword case in
which he kept it. Illya had been kind enough to place a number of wards upon it,
simple things that diverted the attention and made it easy to overlook.
Leaning the sword case in the shed's corner and draping a blanket over it he left
it there, now that his chore of charging it was completed he had other things on
his mind.
Walking over to his work top he picked up his recently Traced Noble Phantasm
and once more used structural analysis on it.
Now that was interesting. Granted he had only brought it into existence about
half an hour ago, and granted it was only a D rank, but still it was a Noble
Phantasm. Its existence was large enough that the world should have started to
chip away at it, if only slightly.
Generally speaking even low rank Noble Phantasm copies didn't last very long,
even the lowest ranked tended to dissipate after a day at most. High ranked
ones, like Excalibur or Caliburn, tended to have a half life that could be measured
in minutes. The existence was just too large for the world to ignore and so they
were 'attacked' almost immediately and with great vigour.

Or at least that was how it was back home; here it seems that the rules were a
bit different.
The traced Noble Phantasm was completely stable, not a hint of degradation in
its form.
This development was both useful and irritating.
On the one hand it seemed that he could now effectively produce permanent
copies of anything he could Trace. It was almost as if he had mastered the Denial
of Nothingness. Not perfectly of course, but certainly his abilities were close
enough to fake it if nothing else.
However this development also meant that his life was going to become
somewhat more difficult.
The problem was the fighting style that he had inherited from EMIYA. It was what
could be called an insane style, on that defied common sense, but it was
perfectly suited for someone with his skills and disposition. However one of the
tenants of that style was the use of disposable weaponry. Since Tracing allowed
him to instantly discard and replace his swords as needed in large scale battles it
wasn't uncommon for him to leave the general landscape littered with discarded
arms. Since those weapons would eventually dissipate on their own it wasn't
something he generally concerned himself with.
Now though it could be a major problem.
Glancing down at the three swords in front of him he mentally gave the
command for his creations to dissipate. Good, no problems there, at his mental
cue they obediently dissolved into fragments of light which in turn faded. So they
would fade if he ordered it, so he wasn't creating truly permanent copies of
legendary weapons.
Now though it looked like he was going to have to clear up after himself once any
battles were over, that or make sure he ordered each weapon to dissipate as
soon as he was finished with it. There wasn't really any choice, if he didn't there
was too much chance of someone coming along and looting a battleground after
he had left.
Shirou shuddered at that thought. Just the idea of dozens of new Noble
Phantasms being so carelessly introduced into the world was a nightmare.
Noble Phantasms were crystallized mysteries of enormous power that surpassed
any modern Mystic Code. Shirou wasn't too sure of how things would play out in
this world, but if it had happened in his own reality the resulting chaos of so
many such weapons becoming available would have been catastrophic.
More problems, just what he didn't need at this point.
Still it did present a certain number of positive options. Being able to produce
legendary weapons like those meant that he'd have a virtually limitless supply of
highly valuable trade items. Even better such weapons could never be used
against him since if anyone tried he could simply will the item in question to
dissipate and thus leave his unfortunate foe unarmed.

And there was another possibility. Lately he'd begun to worry a bit about Illya,
she was extremely powerful in her own right and was far more knowledgeable in
the mystic arts than he was, however if anyone wanted to strike at him as a
Campione she was the logical target. Recently that thought had been preying on
his mind and he'd been trying to think of some way to give her an unexpected
edge.
Now, with permanent Noble Phantasms available to him an idea was starting to
form.
After all he had no intention of letting his adopted sister come to any harm if he
could help it.

-()-

Illyasviel Von Einzbern sat in her workshop and glared at the mystic design that
she had inscribed on the floor.
This should work, granted she would never have been able to manage it in her
home reality, but this worlds rules seemed to be somewhat more flexible. If one
combined that with her huge prana reserves, her use of the Dress of Heaven, her
Wishcraft and the purity of her reagents then it should be possible.
The snowy haired girl leaned back in her seat and sighed. Maybe she was going
about this wrong, sure the basic premise was correct, she was sure of that at
least, but the execution would still require refinement and experimentation. And
that was going to take time, time and patience.
Off to the side was her other project, resting on a table and covered by a sheet.
Now that had been fun to put together, an interesting combination of alchemy,
wishcraft and what little geomancy she knew. It had also been the reason why
she'd been getting at least two packages a day in the post for the last week. It
had been her first original Mystic Code and she could honestly say she was quite
proud of it.
The only problem was that she didn't know whether or not the wretched thing
worked or not.
That had been a most vexing realization to have. Four hours of intensive work a
day for more than a week, amounts of prana that could have demolished the
entire mansion, painstaking detail repeated again and again until it was just
right. All that effort and it had only been when she'd finished that she'd realized
that she had absolutely no way of testing it, indeed it was the very quality of her
work that prevented such a test.
Needless to say right now she didn't want to think about it too much.
Glancing up she looked at the clock that hung on the wall, right now it was about
quarter to twelve in the morning. Today was a Saturday and she'd already gotten
all of her homework finished last night, she had the whole day ahead of her, so
why was she closeting herself away in this stuffy room?

Her mind made up Illya slid off her chair and drew a sheet over the circle. She
could leave for today, right now she had hit a dead end in her experimentation,
and maybe a break would help her think of a new approach.
As she left the sturdy outhouse that served as her workshop she glanced over at
the sister building that served as Shirou's own place of research. For a moment
she considered knocking on the door and demanding that he come out and play
with her. There was that new racing game that had come out, and it was always
more fun to beat her adopted brother than it was to outdo the computer
characters.
No, that wouldn't do. Truth be told Illya was aware that she had been
monopolizing quite a bit of Shirou's time of late. In all truth she knew he was
spoiling her, her brother was almost pathetically easy for her to manipulate, all
that it needed was for her to look just a bit sad and disappointed and he would
always do his best to cheer her up. It was by this method that she'd managed to
fill her room with every toy, game and gadget that had caught her attention. She
supposed that perhaps she should feel a little guilty about her behaviour, but in
all honesty she didn't feel even the slightest twinge.
On the other hand she was mature enough to acknowledge that she had been
taking up a lot of his time, today was the first chance he had gotten to spend any
decent length of time in his workshop since they started going to school. To
disturb him now would be . . . rude.
The question now was; what could she do if she didn't want to bother Shirou?
Sure she had load of games and toys in her room, but right now she wasn't really
in any mood to stay indoors. She wanted to go out, stretch her legs, and enjoy
herself.
She blinked as a thought crossed her mind. Why couldn't she? She wasn't living
in the Einzbern castle now, Sella and Leysritt weren't going to come and remind
her of her duties or something like that. She was free of all that.
With that thought in mind the young Einzbern headed to her room and quickly
changed clothes. The overalls that she had worn to do her research were
discarded in favour of a white sundress and a purple short sleeved shirt. Moving
over to her desk she picked up her cell phone and dropped it into her purse
which she then hung over one shoulder.
It had actually been her idea to get the cell phones, Shirou hadn't even thought
of them. That wasn't really too surprising, while the young Emiya was a hell of a
lot more technosavy than most magus' were he hadn't really bothered to pay too
much attention to the development of mobile phones. After all why should he?
Despite his desire to help others Shirou didn't really have a wide circle of friends,
and those he did have had little trouble calling him at home. Those to whom he
was closest, Sakura and Taiga, were those he saw practically every day, so
there'd never been any need to look into the utility of a cell phone.
However since they had effectively travelled eight years into the future the
technology behind the convenient little devices had evolved at a ferocious pace.
Illya had stumbled across them while browsing on the internet for special
gadgets and had been amazed at all the extra functions that the latest models

possessed. Before a mobile phone had been a means of communication, one that
her father had shown her before he and her mother left for the Fourth war.
Now though they were much more than that. They were note books, cameras,
music players, hand held games consoles, video player, so many things. Was it
any surprise that the snowy haired girl had immediately dragged her adopted
brother off to a mobile phone shop where they had purchased two of the most
expensive and advanced models on the market?
Since then she had enjoyed hours of fun playing with all the various function
available on it, her favourite being the small library of embarrassing photos she'd
taken of Shirou. He still had no idea that she'd seen it when he'd fallen into the
koi pond.
However the main advantage to the devises was that they allowed for easy
communication. As long as she had this on her Shirou said it was okay for her to
go out to town, as long as Yusuke was free to accompany her.
She knew for a fact that the reincarnated soul would be free right now; yesterday
she had overheard him praising himself for having got all his workload
completely finished. It had been rather unsettling to hear him praising himself
and then to hear him thanking himself for his own praise. Illya was aware that it
was just a private joke of Yusuke's, he didn't suffer from voices in his head or
anything like that, and he was just playing the part for his own entertainment.
All she needed to do was convince him to go with her and she could have a day
out in the city, something that would certainly be more interesting than staying
at home all day.
Fortunately she knew exactly how to convince Yusuke to accompany her.
The same wicked smile she'd sometimes shown during the Holy Grail War
crossed her lips. In the end it was all about knowing how to exploit your targets
weaknesses.

-()-

Two hours later.

As Yusuke followed the snowy haired adopted sister of his King he idly wondered
how he'd managed to get suckered into this.
Flashback one hour and fifty five minutes ago.
"Sorry Illya-chan," the resurrected soul said with obviously faked sorrow, "I didn't
have any plans to go out today, I was actually planning to spend the afternoon
organizing my collection. Ever since Shirou-sama was kind enough to let me
have it transferred tot the basement I've been meaning to do that but haven't
found the time."
The collection that he was referring to was his pride and joy, more than one
hundred bottles of wine, each and every one of them at least a well regarded

vintage. Indeed some of them were rare and extremely valuable brands that cost
extortionate amounts for what they were.
After his death the collection had been placed in a secret location and became
the prize in a treasure hunt that Yusuke had arranged to begin after his death.
Though as it turned out due to a misspelling in the second clue by its bungling
handler, nobody had been able to find the prize.
While he had been slightly disappointed that his plan had failed the resurrected
accountant had been pleased to find his collection untouched and waiting for
him to reclaim it. It had only been a few days back that he'd finally been able to
have it delivered to the manor. Shirou hadn't had any trouble with his vassal
using one of the manor's basements to store his beloved wines and had indeed
helped the delivery men move the crates of drink into their new homes.
Now that he'd finally managed to get all his work finished he was going to enjoy
spending the next few hours sorting the bottles back into his preferred order and
adding the new wines that he had purchased in his spare time since his return to
the mortal realm. That was his plan and nothing was going to change it.
At least that's what he had thought.
"So you can't take me out?" Illya's voice veritably shuddered under the weight of
the disappointment and regret that she was conveying. "I guess there's no
helping it then. Such a shame though."
Against his better judgement Yusuke felt compelled to question the girl.
"And just what do you mean by that Illya-chan?"
"I'm just saying that it's such a shame you can't go with me today. I mean there
are so many good things that might happen; you might win a prize at one of the
competitions. You might see something that you really like. Or . . . "
"Or . . . ?"
"Or someone, I don't know who of course, someone might have overheard you
the other day when you were crying over that bottle that got broken. This
someone might have thought it would be nice to see if they could help you, and
they might have gotten in touch with a very select wine merchant. And maybe,
just maybe, they might have been able to reserve a bottle of that wine that got
broken. And maybe that reservation was going to expire today and they were
hoping that you'd go to that part of the city with them so that you could pick it
up."
As she finished speaking the smile on the young Einzbern's face rather reminded
Yusuke of a hungry lioness that had just seen something young, fat and limping
go by and suddenly knew that lunch wasn't going to be a problem.
"You . . . you found a bottle of THAT wine?"
"Mmmaaaayyyyybe. But if we don't go today it might end up being sold after
all."
It really was quite impressive just how fast he was able to go from being ready to
spend the day indoors to being right by the door all prepared to go.

"I thought you'd see things my way." Illya commented with a beatific smile on
her face as she stepped by him.
End flashback.
Yusuke thought back to that and came to the conclusion that he had been played
like a fiddle. He'd been so eager to get the wine that he wanted that he hadn't
really noticed all the small promises he was making as they made their way to
the small wine store that held his prize. On the other hand his snowy haired
charge was paying very close attention, and as soon as he had the precious
bottle in his hands he found out just how ruthlessly she was planning to hold him
to them.
That was what had led to his current state.
In his left hand he carried a new games console, in his right was a bag full of
various manga and games. In addition to that on his back was a back pack filled
with clothes, bed sheets, pillow covers and cushion sleeves. He was quite a spry
man for his age, but this was starting to feel like just too much, he looked like
someone out of a cartoon for heavens sake.
"Alright, I think that might be enough."
Was that the voice of salvation? Did this mean his suffering was at an end?
Before he knew it the resurrected accountant was sitting on a bench and
thanking whatever powers were watching over him that his ordeal was over. The
purchases were now stashed in the trunk of his car and he was no longer
burdened by them.
"Oh? Liliana-san is that you?"
Distantly he heard the voice of Illya moving away from him, he knew that there
was something that he should be doing, something important, the only problem
was that right now he was too tired to remember what it was.

-()-

Illya was feeling just a tiny bit guilty about the way that she'd treated Yusuke.
Sure, she'd mercilessly held to all the promises that she'd managed to get out of
him and so had dragged him to all her favourite shops and generally treated him
like a pack horse, but she hadn't meant to go quite this far.
As the servant of her adopted brother slumped onto the bench the young
Einzbern decided that she'd buy him a soft drink as thanks for his efforts. Turning
around she made to move towards a vending machine they'd just passed . . . and
then completely forgot about what she was doing as she spotted someone
coming round the corner just down the street.
"Oh? Liliana-san is that you?"
The silver haired young woman looked up in surprise at hearing her name being
called and saw the white haired young girl coming towards her.

"Ah, good afternoon Einzbern-san. How are you today?" She asked politely.
"I'm fine; I've just finished shopping so I'm all good. Still I wanted to talk with
you, is that okay?"
"Certainly."
Illya smiled, then glanced over at Yusuke, seeing that he'd apparently fallen
asleep she decided to let him rest while she moved the conversation a little
further away. Gesturing to a bench a bit further down the street she threw a
questioning look at Liliana. Seeing what the seemingly younger girl meant the
silver haired knight nodded and walked over to it. Once they reached it Illya sat
herself down and looked over at the girl standing before her.
"I just wanted to know how things are between Shirou and Godou. I've heard
what onii-chan says is happening, but I'd like to hear what you have to say." The
white haired girl decided to skip subtlety and be plain in her questions.
Liliana blinked in clear surprise. Then she settled herself down on the bench next
to her questioner.
"Kusanagi Godou and Emiya Shirou have agreed to not move against each
other." She answered. "As long as both of them maintain this stance then there
should be no chance of them coming into conflict."
"And what do you and the rest of Godou's harem think?" pressed Illya, her choice
of words causing the silver haired witch knight to flush scarlet.
"E-Einzbern-san, I am not one of Godou's women, I am his Knight, please don't
lump me together with them so casually."
"But you've sworn your life to him, sworn to be by his side for the rest of your
lives, sworn that you'll become his special woman who shall always be there for
him." Illya's smile was wicked now as she watched the other girls flush grow
deeper and deeper. "It's so daring of you to have proposed in such a forthright
manner Liliana-san."
"P-Propose? Me?" the silver haired girl face took on a far away look and the
young Einzbern could see her lips moving silently as though she were gong over
something in her mind.
"So what do you think about it?" Illya asked trying to get back to the original
topic.
"I-I couldn't. I mean it's-it's not proper for a knight to make such a suggestion to
her Lord. Th-Though if he were to say 'yes' then maybe . . . or even if he were to
ask me then perhaps . . ." Liliana's eyes were still distant and her face was quite
the sight to see.
"Ah . . . I meant about the situation between onii-chan and Godou."
"WHAT? No-no, I'm sure that Godou wouldn't ask such a thing of Emiya-sama,
why would you even suggest such a thing? I know Godou's a lord of all hedonistic
pleasures but I'm quite certain that he doesn't have any interests in such
directions" the witch knight's voice was scandalized and she had both hands
pressed to her cheeks as though in an attempt to cool her blush.

"Err, I meant about them fighting." Illya's voice was just a tad strained as she
backed away ever so slightly from the girl who was apparently having erotic
thoughts about her adopted brother and the seventh Campione having an . . .
unusually close relationship.
"Ah-err, that's-I mean . . ." the snowy haired girl actually felt a bit sorry for
Liliana, the look of confusion and mortification on her face would have wrung the
heart of a statue.
"I'll just pretend I didn't what you said, alright? You just tell me what Godou's
harem has decided."
If the enthusiastic nodding of her head was anything to go by it seemed that the
silver haired knight was quite keen to follow through on the suggestion.
"For the most part we are happy with how the situation has turned out. Emiyasama seems to be a reasonable individual and having another King nearby
increases the chances of being able to defeat a Heretic God if one were to
manifest."
"So none of you have any problems with Shirou being here?" Illya asked wanting
to be quite clear. When Liliana gave an emphatic shake of her head the snowy
haired girl smiled in relief. "That's good, I like you and Yuri-san, it would be a
shame if I had to kill you both because you were onii-chan's enemies."

-()-

Liliana felt the heat in her cheeks disappear in an instant at Illya-san's casual
comment. It had been delivered in such a calm and matter of fact tone that it
had almost slipped right by her.
Now though she was tensed, ready for any hostile action from the girl next to
her.
It was so easy to forget, looking at her she was so small and cute that it was
easy to forget that she was a magic user of such enormous strength that it was
strongly suspected that she was only few generations removed form divinity. If
she were to make some hostile move against her and the others then she could
be a real threat. She could still remember what had been written in the report
that Yuri had been able to acquire from the Committee.
Illyasviel Von Einzbern is the adopted sister and close companion of the eighth
Campione. While there is not yet too much information available about her two
facts have been confirmed and a third suspected but not yet substantiated.
Firstly Einzbern-san possesses an amount of raw magic within her that by far
surpasses any normally attributed to a human other than a Campione. The most
accurate assessment available suggests that her reserves are less than those of
a Divine Ancestor but higher than any member of the Committee. Some
evidence indicates that she may be of divine descent and only three to five
generation removed from the source.

Secondly it has been confirmed that Einzbern-san possesses considerable

mastery of an as yet unidentified form of magic craft. The exact abilities and
limits of this style have yet to be identified, but it has been confirmed that she
can produce a ward that is capable of rendering all within undetectable to
scrying by any mortal magic tried thus far. In addition Einzbern-san has claimed
to neither invoke nor be influenced by any deity, spirit or angel; she has stated
that her magic is purely directed by her own will without any outside
interference.
It has also been stated by Kuhoutsuka Manaka that Einzbern-san would be
psychologically capable of killing those that she has determined as threats or
enemies. In the past Kuhoutsuka-san has proven herself to have excellent skills
in evaluating individuals at a glance, so it is advisable to take this observation
with seriousness.
"Don't worry, as long as Godou and onii-chan don't become enemies I won't have
to be yours."
With a happy smile on her face the snow haired girl pushed herself off the bench
and bounced onto her feet in a vaguely dance like move.
"I'm going to go home now. Oh, and Liliana-chan, could you please tell Godou to
hurry up and make friends with Shirou? I really want to go back to having lunch
on top of the roof again, but onii-chan says we can't until we're invited back up.
You know it's very rude of you to exclude other main characters from the lunch
scene?"
With another bright smile she waved goodbye and began walking back to where
her companion had fallen asleep.
Liliana wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the short conversation they had
just had. On the one hand it seemed that young Illyasviel didn't seem to mean
the seventh Campione or his attendants any harm. On the other hand the sweet
and cheerful girl seemed to have no problems with killing them all if they did end
up as foes.
A chill went down the witch knight's spine as she wondered about Emiya Shirou.
Could it be that he shared the hidden ruthlessness of his adopted sister? If so
then what would it mean if he and Godou came into conflict?
Too many questions and not enough answers. With a sigh Liliana got back on her
feet and continued to go about her business.
-()As far as Emiya Shirou was concerned the day had proven to be pleasantly free
of problems so far. The morning had been spent productively, his homework had
been done and he'd engaged in another stimulating sparing match with Nagaosensei.
That was actually one of the ideas he had come up with that he was rather proud
of. It had occurred to him during one of his work outs in the dojo that even
though he was going through the exercises that EMIYA had developed to keep in
shape it wasn't working to exactly sharpen his skills. Certainly with his abilities
he could access the skills of those who had previously wielded the weapons he

traced, but doing so in no way improved his own skills. Furthermore some of the
weapons he could employ had been wielded by those who had little notion of
how to use them in a fight.
Rule Breaker was an excellent example. It had an ability that could prove to be
exceptionally useful if employed correctly, but if he were to replicate the skills of
its owner in combat then his ability to use it as a weapon would actually be
lowered. Caster had been a magus unequalled in the modern era; however her
skills with a weapon had been practically nonexistent.
And that had been where his idea had come from. He had access to a small army
of warriors who would have no trouble in serving as sparing partners if he so
asked. They all had a wide range of skills and styles so he would never get set in
a certain method of fighting. Quite simply it was perfect.
Now here he was happily busy in his kitchen trying his hand at Chinese style
sweet and sour pork while Illya was in her room contentedly playing her new
games. A pleasant ache was running through his muscles, the kind of minor pain
that let you know that they'd been nicely pushed and were now rebuilding
themselves stronger than before.
All in all a most pleasant and uncomplicated day.
There was a knock on the door followed by it sliding open to reveal Yusuke.
"Shirou-sama, the two young ladies from the History Compilation Committee
have returned. They're asking if you would be able to see them once more."
With total calmness Shirou turned off the gas for the stove and set about placing
all of the perishable ingredients into the fridge.
"Please show them back to the room where we met them before," he asked as he
took his apron off. "I'll be with them as soon as I've changed into something a bit
more suitable."
Yes, meeting them in sweat stained sports gear probably wouldn't be the best
idea. If he was quick it would only take him a few minutes to get himself cleaned
up and changed into something a little more formal.
"Could you please see that they have refreshments and could you explain why I'll
have to keep them waiting?"
"Of course Shirou-sama, just leave it to me."
As he began to make his way back to his room the young Emiya was reminded
that he still hadn't looked into enlisting some more staff in order to lower
Yusuke's workload. Right now the resurrected accountant was playing the parts
of a financial manager, a chauffer, a butler and a part time maid. Sure he didn't
need to sleep anymore due to his status as an incarnated soul, but still it was a
bit much to expect of just one person.
Still right now wasn't the time to be thinking about that, what he should be
thinking of was getting back into the correct mindset to play his part.
Pausing only briefly, in order to let Illya know about this development so that she
could get ready, Shirou rushed to his room.

It seemed that today was going to have some complications after all.

-()-

Kaida sat in the same spot as she had almost a week ago and wondered if the
eighth Campione was deliberately making her wait in order to allow the
psychological pressure to build. Beside her Manaka was fidgeting slightly, her
unease clear in the way she couldn't seem to stay completely still, right now she
was fiddling with the long keychain that ran from her belt into her pocket.
Well both of their nerves were to be expected, the last time they'd been in this
room they had received a clear demonstration of just how far from being an
equal to a King they were.
Reaching down to the desk/table before her with one gloved hand the possessor
of the Dragon's Roar picked up one of the biscuits she'd been give and gently
nibbled on it. Ah, a sharp ginger cookie covered in delicious chocolate, Kaida
closed her eyes as she allowed the sweet flavours to relax her. These were high
quality treats, served with the expertly made tea she'd drunk earlier, and their
presence served to ease her worries.
Sweets were Kaida's weakness, she absolutely loved them. Indeed it had gotten
to the point where her fellow shrine maidens made it a point not to bring their
own treats back to the shrine, because if they did then they were liable to
disappear before their owners had a chance to eat them. It was only the fact that
her use of her magic burnt the calories off quite nicely that kept her from losing
her figure in a rather spectacular way.
"Do you think he'll be pleased?"
It seemed that her friend hadn't been able to take the silence any more and had
voiced the doubt that was plaguing her. Being careful to keep her own face as
serene as a moonlit pond the black haired Hime-Miko nodded.
"He seems to be a reasonable man, I'm sure that our news will not be received
poorly."
By all the gods she hoped that was the case. Intellectually she knew that despite
the fearsome display he had put on Emiya-sama didn't seem to be particularly
tyrannical nor cruel, however her treacherous imagination had no difficulty in
supplying her with a multitude of frightful and bloody scenarios as to what could
happen to the two of them.
"Don't-"
Any further words were cut off as the door across the room from them slid open
and the eighth Campione and his adopted sister entered. The two of them sat
down in the same places as they had in the last such meeting, leading to a
curious sensation of dj vu for the shrine maiden.

"I thank you for your patience in waiting for us," Emiya-sama stated with a
respectful nod of his head. "I'm afraid neither me nor my sister were expecting
any formal company so we weren't best prepared for it."
"I quite understand your Highness," Kaida answered before formally lowering her
head in apology, "I thank you for taking the time to see us despite the
unannounced nature of our visit."
"I would assume that you have not returned in such a manner without some
reply from your Committee," the red haired teen stated, "Please enlighten me as
to what message you might be bearing.
The Hime-Miko couldn't quite put her finger on just what it was, but there was
something about the other teenager from her that seemed to radiate certain . . .
pressure. That was the best way she could think of describing it. In the past she'd
been in the presence of elders and more senior Hime-Miko that radiated a sense
of authority or importance. What she was experiencing now was similar to that, a
projection of his personality, but even though she could feel its weight resting
ever so subtly upon her senses she couldn't quite identify it.
"I . . . do bring word back from the heads of the four families." Kaida paused and
drew in a deep breath in order to steady herself.
"After some discussion it has been determined that the History Compilation
Committee believes that it would be well within our means to provide or acquire
the items and resources that you requested."
This seemed to be a good start; he wasn't taking offence at the implication that
his explanation of his needs in their previous meeting had been requests rather
than outright orders or demands.
"A selection of such works and texts has been assembled and will be delivered to
you at your earliest convenience. As a gesture of friendship the Committee has
asked me to inform you that both this and the next such delivery can be
considered as gifts and as such you should not concern yourself with any worries
over payment. Once a more . . . solid relationship has been established we can
begin to work out some kind of arrangement for further such acquisitions."
The only reply she received to this was a simple nod of acknowledgement.
Internally she wondered if he had any idea as to just how large an honour the
Committee was paying him, or whether it was simply a case of him not caring.
She had seen the small collection of tomes and scrolls that were being
assembled as a gift to the new King. As he had requested many of them were
introductory texts, works that were designed to impart knowledge to a relative
newcomer to the mystic world. However among those were also a number of rare
and valuable works, tomes and scrolls that had been included because some of
the Heads had wanted to make an impression both to their fellows and to the
youngest Campione. This had led to other Heads trying to outdo their rivals
which had in turn led to others trying to out do them. By the time the last
addition had been made Kaida estimated that the cumulative worth of the
collection being delivered to Emiya-sama would be comparable to the worth of
his entire mansion.

"I have also been asked to request as to when it would be a good time for the
chief of the Tokyo branch of our organization to arrange a meeting with you.
Sayanomiya Kaoru would like to discuss how best communications and relations
between yourself and the Committee might best be arranged so as to possess
best efficiency."
Again there seemed to be no negative reaction. Now it was time for the part that
had unsettled her the most. Ah well . . .
"Lastly I would ask as to what it is that you've decided in relation to how myself
and my friend may serve you. As you might recall at our last meeting you said
that you'd require some more time to deliberate on what you would decide with
regards to us. Have you come to a decision yet?"
Well, there it was, out in the open now. This had been the one thing she had
been most worried about bringing up.
Foe the most part the representatives of the Four Families they had met as part
of their report on their meeting with Emiya-sama had been pleased with how
things had gone. They had praised her on her handling of the situation, the
information she had gathered and the agreement she had brokered with the
Campione. There had only been two aspects of the meeting that they had been
unsatisfied with. The first had been the lack of information on this seemingly
impossible style of Magecraft that the Einzbern girl had demonstrated. The
thought that magic could be performed without any involvement of deities,
spirits or angels was as foreign as the concept of swimming through sand. The
second thing they had not been pleased with had been Emiya-sama's lack of a
definitive answer to her and Manaka having offered their services.
She could understand why it was so important that they have an answer, Yurisama's own relationship with the seventh Campione was a vital link between the
Committee and the devil King. It allowed for a certain sense of security since the
Hime-Miko could act as a mollifying influence upon her paramour if so needed.
While she hadn't been told so or ordered Kaida knew that they hoped a similar
romantic relationship would develop between her and Emiya-sama, that or at
least friendship.
However as one could understand she was more than a bit apprehensive of
pushing the issue with a man as obviously powerful as the eighth Campione. To
say that the last meeting had left an impression was an understatement to say
the least.
Before her the young devil King blinked and looked confused for an instant
before his face regained its calm steadiness.
"I hope you'll understand why I'm hesitant to give you a direct answer Renjousan, I do have a number of staff options open, but I'm afraid none of them are
particularly appealing. In time I'm sure that your aid will become needed as both
my sister and I learn more about mainstream Magecraft, advisors and teachers
will be invaluable. However for the time being I don't think I can offer you any
positions. Not unless you want to be maids anyway."
Kaida didn't stop to think, she just went with what her instincts told her was an
opportunity.

"Very well Emiya-sama that will be fine. When would you like us to start?"
From beside her came a choking noise as Manaka apparently swallowed a piece
of biscuit the wrong way due to her shock.
"H-huh?"
Emiya-sama's face was quite the sight to see. That firm calmness of his had
dissolved and now only naked bemusement could be seen on his features. If
nothing else that was one thing she could take from this meeting, the knowledge
that she had managed to take him completely by surprise on something.
"I freely understand that at this point there are unlikely to be any positions in
your service that could be considered glamorous or particularly elevated. Please
be assured that I completely understand this." In a way it felt as though her
mouth and thoughts were either operating independently or were in some kind of
weird teamwork that she could barely understand. It was as though she was
getting the first glimmerings of a plan, then somehow she was talking and then
only after she had already started would the rest of the idea form in her mind. It
was a wild, crazed way of operating, but her instincts were screaming at her not
to let this chance slip by her, so she continued her near babble.
"You are a new to the position of a Campione, so of course you have not yet had
the opportunity to establish any sort of organization in your subordinates, nor
have you had the opportunity to recruit that many."
With one hand she gestured towards Yamada-san who was standing patiently by
the door.
"Your recruitment of Yamada-san was an inspired move that has served you
brilliantly. However he is just one servant and can only do so much. You have
shown me that you have both undead and monstrous servants during our last
meeting, but their utility is limited by both their appearance and their abilities.
"I confess that I do not know your plans or your future goals, but from your past
actions I believe I can deduce some part of them. You wish to possess security
and stability, and you also wish to gain both without causing too many great
waves within the magical community of the world."
That was merely a logical extrapolation from his previous actions, she just hoped
to any divinity that might be watching over her that she was right.
"Naturally it would be possible for you to use the power of your Authorities to
enforce this upon the world around you. As a devil King you wield the power of
an absolute tyrant and so there is no way we mortals could defy your wishes.
However doing so would mean causing more of a stir than I think you would
wish. Such actions would draw the attention of the world's other magical
associations, as well as your fellow Campione and even Heretic Gods.
"The only logical alternative to gaining what you want with brute force is to build
something that will provide you with what you want. In older times this would
mean the construction of a fortress or some such defensible structure, in these
modern times the best comparable equivalent would be for you to build an
organization of your own."

She had no idea where this was all coming from, but it seemed to be at least on
the right course since the Campione hadn't interrupted her or even protested.
"Perhaps it isn't your intention yet, but I'm sure that one way or another
something of that nature is going to take place. So please, let Manaka and I enter
your service now, even if it is only as maids for the time being. In time I'm sure
we will have the chance to show our worth and our suitability for a role of greater
significance.
"Besides," she finished with a rather weak grin, "I always thought I'd look rather
cute in a maid's outfit."
Well, there it was. She'd given it her best effort and now she just had to see
whether or not it had been well received. Still, what had she just done? It was as
though she had known that if she didn't seize the moment with both hands then
something would have passed her by, something that would never come again.
She knew that she had practically no talent for Spirit Vision, nor for any other
talent that accessed the Memories of the Void. Yet at the same time she
simply knew that the certainty had been real, as real as though she had been
seeing the future with her own two eyes.
"I . . . Renjou-san, are you certain of this?" The Campione's voice was hesitant,
unsure, it looked like she'd been able rattle him. She had to keep up the
pressure, seize on this tiny sign of weakness.
"Emiya-sama, I am absolutely certain that this is the correct course for Manaka
and me. At this point in time you don't trust us, that is perfectly understandable.
Why should you? You don't know us, you know nothing of our pasts, our abilities
or even our motivations past what we have already told you, and even those
could be a lie.
"That is why I ask for this chance. Let us take these roles at the bottom of the
organization that you will come to build and let us prove ourselves. Watch how
we work, how we help, judge our worth for yourself; come to learn that which
you do not know now. Please, simply give us this chance to earn your trust, that
is all we ask." Kaida had no idea where the inspiration for this speech had come
from, but she was grateful for it.
Silence descended upon the room as Emiya-sama continued to stare at her
across the space between them. Then, to her surprise, it was broken by Manaka.
"Your Highness, I don't pretend to be as far sighted as Kaida-sama so I cannot
speak of the future. However I can tell you about the present and one thing I can
tell you is that both Kaida-sama and I are honest and honourable in this offer.
Both of us are powerful in our own way and yet we are prepared to take these
roles that are . . . below what would be expected of us in order to prove
ourselves. Please, I entreat you not to spit upon our prides by rejecting us."
Pushing the small table/desk in front of her out of the way the witch warrior
placed both her palms on the floor before her and bowed until her forehead was
almost touching the mat.
Kaida couldn't stop a small gasp from escaping her throat; this was utterly out of
character for Manaka, hell she even refused to bow to more than a moderately

respectful degree for the Family Heads. Her wilfulness in that regard was almost
a legend among the Committee. For her to bow like this . . .
". . . Very well then," the words were spoken softly but firmly, "After so . . .
eloquent an argument I don't think there's any way that I can refuse without
becoming the villain of this small drama. Please return here the day after
tomorrow with any possessions you wish to bring with you and I shall arrange for
rooms to be available along with someone ready to explain your future duties."
There was an odd smile on his face now, one that held emotions she wasn't quite
able to identify.
"You were quite correct when you said that I do not know you, however I think
that I shall enjoy getting to know both of you better."
Standing up he gestured for them to likewise rise and then turned to his servant.
"Please escort them back to the front gate; I imagine they have a busy day
coming tomorrow."
Turning back to the two young women he smiled once more and nodded.
"I think your presence will bring a fair bit more life to this manor."
Kaida nodded in return before walking to the door, however there she stopped
and turned to face the devil King once more.
"Please accept our gratitude; we will do our best to ensure you do not regret this
choice." As she finished she gave another deep bow before turning and leaving
the room.

-()-

Manaka managed to keep herself calm and controlled as they walked through the
manor behind the undead servant. She maintained this calm as they once more
left through the main gate, and she held it until they turned the corner that
brought them out of sight of the Campione's mansion.
Only then did she finally lose control of her temper.
"WHAT ARE YOU THINKING KAIDA-SAMA?"
Alright, perhaps that wasn't the most diplomatic way of putting things, but she
felt she had plenty of reason to excuse this breach of her normally respectful
attitude.
"Oh? Are you upset Manaka?"
The Hime-Miko's voice was infuriatingly light and there was also a mischievous
smile on her lips. Realizing that her reply was only meant to further goad her the
fighter witch took a deep breath, and then let it out as she reclaimed her hold on
her temper.
"Kaida-sama." The simple address was loaded with reproach and pleading at the
same time.

"Sorry, sorry," seating herself on the same bench upon which they had collapsed
last time they had been here the possessor of the Dragon's Roar smiled up at her
bodyguard, "It's just rather unusual for you to scold me, I couldn't help but tease
you slightly."
The smile faded from Kaida's face and her expression grew serious.
"We HAVE to secure this position as Emiya-sama's servants. It doesn't matter if
we have to start as scullions scrubbing the kitchen floor, if it means that in time
we can rise I will do it."
"But . . . but why?" Manaka felt utterly bewildered, "You're a Hime-Miko of the
Committee, and one of their strongest as well. I know that the heads were hoping
you'd form some sort of relationship with the newest Campione, but if you fail to
do so it would mean no loss of honour, no punishment or disappointment. So
why? Why accept such a lowly role? It's beneath you Kaida-sama."
The warrior witch's fist clenched in anger at the mere thought of the girl to whom
she had sworn her life being reduced to a mere domestic servant.
"Manaka," her voice was soft as flower petals and yet as warm as a summer's
day, that one word brought the bodyguards anger up short and held her full
attention. "I've been blessed in my life, I've received talent, beauty and power, I
can say in total honesty and without hubris that I am a special person. However I
cannot think of a single blessing in my whole life that is greater than the
friendship and devotion you've given me."
To Manaka's great surprise the Hime-Miko rose from her seat and threw her arms
around her bodyguard in a rare show of affection. After a brief hug Kaida
released her and sat back down.
"I-I don't really know why I said all that," she confessed looking down at her
hands, "I just . . . I just knew that I had to. It was as though every scrap of
intuition that I had was shouting at me that if I didn't take this chance it would be
a disaster."
The witch warrior opened her mouth to speak, but then something happened
that cut her off.
The ornate steel shield that was her Aura Sign had flickered once more. It was a
brief thing, gone in an instant, but for a fraction of a second her Aura Sign was
replaced by another image.
There were the statues that had so called to her the last time that she'd seen
them, only this time the vision was clearer, details that she had missed before
could now be clearly seen. Though she could still not tell how many statues there
were in total three more of them had come into focus. The first was of a woman
in her early twenties or so, tall and with a devastatingly voluptuous figure that
was accentuated by the brief and provocative nature of the clothes she wore.
Manaka couldn't quite place the style, not eastern or European. Since the statues
were made from gold colouration details such as hair or skin colour could not be
seen, however she knew that the woman was beautiful in a way no mortal could
be.

However as eye catching as the unknown woman was it was the other two that
seized her attention. There standing in front and to the right of Kaida's statuette
was a perfectly forged recreation of the eighth Campione. He was clad in close
fitting armour with a long cloak flaring behind him, in each hand he held a sword
and on his head was a crown. To his right and slightly behind him, about level
with Kaida-sama, was his sister. She was clad in European style clothes but in her
hand she held a beautifully ornate naginata that was almost comically oversized
for her.
And as before the entire Aura Sign thundered to her of companionship, of glory,
of joy and of an unbreakable bond.
This . . . this didn't make sense. Before this the hidden Aura Sign had only shown
itself when the shrine maiden had employed her power. Why would it be showing
itself again and with even greater clarity?
Unless . . . unless Kaida-sama was using her powers now and not even realizing
it. Yes, that made a certain level of sense. Even if she was a member of the
Renjou branch family her line was riddled with Hime-Miko and magi. With such an
ancestry it was hardly a surprise that she had been born with two natural gifts.
But if she had two then why not a third? This sudden screaming of her intuition
sounded like some form of basic precognition, something too undeveloped to
provide visions or clear images, but merely operated at the most basic emotional
level.
If that was the case then that meant . . .
Oh, damn.
Ah well, she'd privately sworn she would follow the black haired Hime-Miko into
the very flames of perdition if needs be.
"Very well then Kaida-sama, I shall follow you if this is the path you so choose."
Manaka paused for a moment before continuing, "But if this plan of yours lands
us dressed in French maid costumes I swear I'll have my revenge on you, and
that revenge will be . . . inventive."
With a simple smile and a grateful nod Kaida signalled her thanks.
There was no need for any further words, the fighter witch simply sat down next
to her friend and took a moment to enjoy the peace of the moment. Tomorrow
things were going to get very busy, but for now they could at least enjoy this
moment of peace.

-()-

Shirou wasn't getting any peace at the moment.

Right now it was almost one o'clock in the morning but he wasn't even able to
think of going to bed. He didn't know why but a strange restlessness suffused
him, an annoying energy that wouldn't even let him sit still, let alone lie down
and sleep.

He supposed part of this odd tension was the aftermath of the meeting he had
had with Renjou-san and her bodyguard. That had been nerve wracking enough
in its own right, having to play the part of 'the Fake King' had just made things
worse.
It wasn't that he hated playing that role, rather it just made him uncomfortable,
it left him feeling as though he were lying not just with his words, but with his
entire self.
And added to that were the simple worries that he was going to mess up in the
act and reveal the uncertainties he was trying his best to hide. True it seemed
that this History Compilation Committee was a much less ruthless organization
than any of the organizations back home, but that didn't mean he could let his
guard down.
Perhaps one of the things that had rattled him the most had been the sheer
accuracy with which the shrine maiden had seen through his intentions. The
thought of building up his own organization had been something that he'd only
been thinking about idly for the most part. With practically limitless funds at his
disposal as well as the ability to recruit a core of totally loyal servants from
beyond the grave the main portions of such an undertaking were to all intents
and purposes already cleared. From there on out it would simply be a matter of
recruitment, control and direction.
Was she right? Would building such an organization be the best path to take in
order to acquire the security he needed in order to focus on finding a way home?
If he did it would seem that he already had his first pair of recruits.
That had come as quite the shock as well. He'd only mentioned the position of
maids being open as a joke; one he could see Gilgamesh using. It was all too
easy to imagine, some great priestess or warrior would beg to enter his service
and Goldie would say that the only place they could serve in would be the maids.
The bastard would probably dress them up in fetish costumes too; it seemed like
something he'd enjoy, highlighting his power over them.
With a shake of his head Shirou dismissed the thought. The point was that it had
just been a joke, and yet Renjou-san had pounced on it as though it were a
lifeline. Why had she been so dogged in entering his service now? Was she under
some sort of obligation? Did she perhaps have orders?
Regardless he'd been planning to refuse her, but her argument had been so . . .
eloquent, so insightful. And, of course, so sincere.
Both of them had been moving in the amount of pure sincerity that they had put
into their pleas, when faced with that he hadn't been able to refuse, doing so
would have felt wrong.
And that left him with two new girls that would soon be moving into his mansion.
They'd need someone to show them the ropes, someone to train them. Yusuke
couldn't do that; talented as he was that wasn't part of his considerable skill set.
No, he'd have to recruit someone new. Tomorrow he'd have to start looking
through online records for someone who matched what he needed, and then
he'd have to pay a visit to their grave to ask if they would be willing to aid him.

So much to do tomorrow, he should be getting a good night's sleep. Maybe if he

just went to bed and started counting he might nod"SHIROU!"
His thoughts were cut off by the sudden arrival of Illya. Clad in yellow pyjamas
with pink stars on them she looked almost painfully cute, an appearance only
enhanced by her tousled bed hair and slightly sleep lidded eyes.
"Illya? What are you-hey whoa!"
His questions were cut off as she seized his hand and began dragging him along
behind her as she dashed off. He knew that she wasn't a 'combat' homunculus,
the Einzberns had altered her to maximize her prana output, even so she was
surprisingly strong for such a small girl. In pretty short order he found himself
being dragged through the corridors of his new home and out into the garden
towards the sheds that served as their workshops.
"I didn't think it would work so well," the white haired girl was trying to explain
what was going on, but perhaps due to her only semi awake state or maybe due
to her excitement her explanation was becoming more of a ramble. "I did have
all the theory right, but I didn't have any new signatures to test, just what I could
remember from the two we met. So I thought that I'd be lucky to get any kind of
reaction, I thought all I'd get would be a buzzing in the back of my mind or
something like that. Instead it was so loud it made jump right out of bed before I
even realized what was going on. This is a tremendous success!"
Now they were at the shed that Illya had set up her workshop in. The door was
locked of course, but that wasn't something that could stop his adopted sister.
Without even letting go of his hand she idly waved at it with her free arm and he
heard the lock click open in response to her magic. With a single motion she
grabbed the side of the door and swung it open before dragging him into the
small building and shutting the door behind them.
Oddly enough it wasn't dark inside the shed, light seemed to be emanating from
under a large tarpaulin that seemed to be covering a large table.
"I knew I had to get some sort of warning in place. Human mages we can handle,
I'm sure of that, but them, they could be a real threat, so we needed some way
to be ready."
As she spoke the white haired girl let go of his hand and pulled the tarp off
whatever it had been covering.
What had been hidden underneath was revealed, and for a moment Shirou forgot
to breath.
The reinforced steel table supported a large model of part of Tokyo. The
recreation was made in heart stoppingly precise detail showing buildings the size
of grass blades, trees like toothpicks and cars like ants. Tiny roads and canals ran
through the miniature city in crystal detail that served only to further highlight
the marvellous work.
However what made it even more amazing was that the entire thing was made
out of carved gold. Every building, every road, every tree, all of it was made out

of the noble metal. The golden light radiating from every surface granted it a
kind of ethereal unreality.
"Illya, what . . . what is this?" Shirou's voice was awed as he stared at the
magnificent construct.
"This is my first original Mystic Code, Mini City Guide!"
Illya stood there fists planted on her hips, the golden light of her creation casting
her shadow and illuminating a look of satisfied pride on her face.
The eighth Campione was struck by a thought that he immediately knew that he
must never speak out loud: 'That . . . is a really dumb name.' Clearly his adopted
sister really was picking up bad habits from all the anime she was watching. The
question now was how could that influence be curtailed? Perhaps he could
manufacture some problem with the electricity? That might keep her away from
her anime and games for at least a few hours. But then again she had managed
to amass a sizable collection of manga, so that wasn't a viable solution. Maybe a
fire in her bedroom? No, that was far too extreme a measure; best keep it as a
last resort. Maybe if he . . .
Shirou gave his head a shake as he tried to dismiss the rather absurd train of
thought that he gotten stuck on. Clearly he needed a good night's sleep more
than he'd thought he did. Still. Illya had obviously put a lot of effort into this
construct; he might as well humour her now that he was here.
"And what does it do?"
The young Einzbern blinked in surprise then smiled again.
"Didn't I tell you? It's my system for detecting the presence of Gods."
Any lethargy that might have been plaguing his thoughts vanished instantly.
"It can detect Gods? And you say that it's had a reaction?"
"Mmhmm," confirmed Illya. With one hand she gestured at a certain part of the
miniature city. "Whoever it is has manifested here, in . . ." she paused for a
second, clearly trying to remember the name, "Chidorigafuchi."
Shirou only needed a second to come to a decision. He knew without any doubt
that the god that had manifested was his enemy. There were no doubts, no
confusions; the adversity between them was as natural as that between a cobra
and a mongoose. They were each others natural enemies.
"Stay here and activate the defences that we've got ready. I'll go and . . . deal
with whatever has manifested."
"I won't let you go alone Shirou."
Illya's voice was firm; she really had no intention of letting him go into danger
alone. It was both heart-warming and somewhat irritating.
"Illya, you know I can't take you with me. It would be too dangerous." Left unsaid
was the simple fact that the snowy haired girl would simply be another weak
point for an enemy to strike at. For all her prowess in thaumaturgy she still
wasn't a threat to a god.

"Shirou shouldn't have to fight alone." Tears of frustration and worry were
beading at the corners of her eyes.
"Don't worry," This time the confidence in his voice was the genuine article, not
part of some act. "I'm not alone; I've got reasons to come back."
"Shirou?"
His adopted sister seemed to be taken aback by his simple declaration. He
supposed that was understandable, after all he was pretty sure that even if she
hadn't mentioned it she had some understanding of his hidden distortions.
And that was the truth, one that he couldn't escape. Emiya Shirou was a
distorted existence. In the past the nature of his warping was his inability to
place any sort of importance on his own life when comparing it to any others. He
would gladly throw his life and soul away if it meant that he could save others.
He was different now though, different from those other Emiya Shirous he had
seen in his memories. He had weighed the lives of the greater unknowns against
the life of the one he cared for and had cast aside his former ideals.
Now he didn't live to save others, he lived to protect and care for the ones he
loved, the ones he had chosen over strangers. It was a simple change of his
focus, but one that brought him into a viewpoint that more closely mirrored those
of 'normal' people the fact remained that he was as distorted as ever.
"Don't worry." As he spoke he reached out and gently ruffled the top of her head.
Turning he strode out of the shed the words of an Authority already on his lips.
"Hooves that thunder over the earth, wings that soar through the sky, sacred
beast born from a monster yet pure as finest silver, hear my call and serve as the
mount to a hero once more."
As the sacred spell words were uttered a vast swarm of tiny white lights sprang
into existence around him flashing through the air like some impossibly vast
swarm of fireflies. In an instant all the tiny lights coalesced and merged into the
form of a magnificent white stallion with great wings as white as its fur. This was
not a natural creature, no horse of mere flesh and blood could have looked so
majestic, this was a divine power given physical form. As though sensing its
master's thoughts the pegasus nickered in eagerness, pawing at the earth to
show its impatience to spring into action.
Yet for all its pent up energy it waited obediently for its master to mount up.
"Oh, by the way Illya, I've thought of a name for him." Shirou smiled as he rested
one hand on the legendary steed's neck while glancing back at his adopted
sister. "I think the name 'Snow' fits this white fellow quite well, don't you think?"
Not waiting for a reply he swung himself onto his mount's back and gave it a
light nudge to the sides of the torso with his heels. The legendary steed cantered
forward a few steps then brought its wings down in a powerful beat. In defiance
of logic or physics the action lifted both mount and rider off the ground and into
the air. Each successive beat built both height and speed until the eighth
Campione was soaring away from his mansion.

-()-

Illya stared up at the night sky as the slightly glowing form of the pegasus flew
away from her line of sight.
"Shirou."
Frustration and guilt grew inside her as she watched her adopted brother leave.
She hated this, being powerless, not being able to do anything herself, needing
to be protected by Shirou. And yet at the same time she loved what it proved,
that her onii-chan cared for her, that he was willing to shed blood, both his and
others, in order to protect her, that he loved her.
Shirou was the most important person in the world to her, and she didn't want to
be his weak point. She wanted to be at his side not sheltering behind him.
The irritation and worry slid from her face as she turned back to her workshop. In
their place was now an expression of iron determination.
She was not some damsel in distress. She was arguably the greatest magus that
the respected Einzbern clan had produced since Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern.
She was a powerful young woman and she was not going to accept this. Her first
Mystic Code had apparently worked well beyond her expectation, even though
her knowledge of the majority of its underlying principles was minor at best.
If she could get that mish mash to work then she could make her other project
succeed as well. If that worked then she'd have what she needed.
Power.
Power enough that not even the gods native to this dimension would be able to
dismiss her. She had a rough idea of their measure from the battles that she'd
been able to observe. In many ways they were like Servants, though in some
ways they were weaker and in others stronger. Had the likes of Perseus or Hades
appeared in the Holy Grail War then they wouldn't have been too out of place.
Any normal magus would have been nothing before a Servant, even
extraordinary ones like Rin were little more than irritants. But Illya was different;
she had the power to support the costliest Servant even before the Holy Grail
had fully manifested to help ease her burden. She possessed more prana than
any mortal alive and had the capacity to use that prana with ease.
Stepping into the shed and closing the door behind her the young Einzbern
nodded sharply to herself. Yes, she could see where she might have been going
wrong before, that could be corrected before she went back to bed.
There were still flaws and snags that she had yet to completely puzzle out, but if
this idea worked then she'd at least have taken another step in the right
direction.

-()-

Kusanagi Godou had not been having the best week.

To start off with he had found out that the newest Campione was apparently
attending his school, which made it a very real possibility that his place of
education might end up as the ground zero for a battle between Kings. Granted it
had turned out that Emiya-san was an unexpectedly reasonable individual, but
he still had nightmares of the school being reduced to a burning ruin by a clash
between them.
After a tentative non-aggression treaty had been reached between them he'd
thought that his life might become less complicated, however he had enjoyed no
such luck.
The idiot trio's act of leading several of the boys from his sports class to peep on
the girls during their swimming lesson had led to them being buried in the
collapsed ruins of the old school building and nearly being set on fire by Emiyasan. Godou could only thank the fates that the overly hormonal morons from his
class hadn't tried to do their peeking while the eighth Campione's sister had
been having her own swimming class, had that happened Godou wasn't sure he
would have been able to keep his fellow god slayer from lighting them all up.
Then Seishuuin Ena had arrived which had led to even further disruptions to his
life. The beautiful friend of Mariya wasn't malicious or cruel; she simply had an
uncanny ability to sow chaos in his life without really trying. Of course when she
did try then that's when thing really spun out of control.
Of course it wasn't just the supernatural aspects of his life that had been giving
him grief; it had been just yesterday that the idiot trio had kidnapped him again
in order to punish him for his 'crimes' of apparently building himself a harem.
Honestly he had no idea as to where they were getting such ridiculous ideas.
Still that had led to his fourth encounter with his fellow devil King, and it had not
been under the most dignified of circumstances.
In all truth Godou just didn't know what to make of Emiya-san. He certainly
wasn't a tyrant like Voban, someone who concealed their beast-like nature
beneath a thin veneer of civility. But at the same time he wasn't like the careless
and irresponsible Salvatori Doni. The young Kusanagi had made some discreet
enquires about the red haired teenager to some of Emiya-san's classmates, and
they described him as a nice and fairly helpful guy who was maybe a bit too
much on the quiet side.
His interactions with the normal students didn't seem to match how he acted
when speaking to Godou or the girls that surrounded him. So which was the real
Emiya-san? Or were neither of those his real faces and his true self was someone
completely different?
Still for all his confusing mystery the eighth Campione was not at the forefront of
his mind right now.
After the event with the trio of idiots and Erica saving him from a double suicide
with Takagi Godou had somehow found himself promising to take the blonde
Italian girl out on a date.

The date itself had gone fairly well, at least in his opinion, but Erica's desire to do
some investigating had led them into a confrontation with Ena. Before he knew
what was going on Godou and both the girls had been dragged into the
Netherworld, the upper part of the astral plane where gods and spirits dwelt, by
Ena's 'Gramps' who was later revealed to be the former Heretic God Susanoo.
After a brief conversation with the 'retired' god Godou had managed to find the
two girls just in time to keep Ena, who had been possessed by the Subordinate
god Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi a mystic sword that she wielded, from killing
Erica.
From there a chain of events had led to him trying to leave the Netherworld since
being there was killing the all too mortal Italian knight. After several failed
attempts and with Erica in dire straits he had finally unlocked the last of the ten
Authorities he had gained from Verethragna, the Youth. Using it allowed him to
grant his divine protection upon the blonde mage and save her from death.
Shortly thereafter Liliana and Mariya had succeeded in sending the Hime-Miko
into the astral plane in order to retrieve the missing god slayer and his friend.
She'd been able to find them and bring them back to the mortal realm without
too much difficulty, however when they'd returned they'd found a troublesome
surprise waiting for them.
Ena, still under the control of Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi had followed them
and had immediately challenged Godou.
Fearing what the power of his Authorities might do to the all-too-mortal HimeMiko despite the divine weapon she wielded the seventh Campione had agreed
to let Erica and Liliana act in his stead to defeat her. It had been an intense
battle and even two on one the possessed girl had almost won. It had only been
when Erica had realised she could tap into the divine protection granted to her to
increase her combat power that the tide had turned. The blonde mage knight
was able to deliver a sound defeat to the divinely possessed Hime-Miko.
Unfortunately even though Ena had regained her senses and had accepted her
defeat with good humour it seemed that Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi was far
less inclined to accept such an outcome.
In the space of an instant the metre long sword had grown in size and changed in
form until it was a twenty metre tall giant made of metal. A twenty metre tall
giant made of metal with arms like blades, blades that looked to be extremely
sharp. And to make matters even worse the sword turned colossus had
apparently integrated Ena into its body.
Faced with a manifested Heretic God that effectively had a builtiin hostage, one
who seemed to be oddly unconcerned with her situation and was indeed telling
him to fight full out and not worry about her since she regarded the current
situation as her own fault, Godou did what he saw as the most sensible thing.
He ran.
It wasn't any sort of cowardice that had led to such a decision, it had been a
tactical move meant to buy himself a bit more room as well as lead the
manifested Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi away from the others. It seemed that it
had been a good move since the metal giant's legs were short and its mobility

was terrible. However for all its ungainliness the avatar of the Sword deity had
worryingly fast arms, arms speedy enough that they'd almost sliced him in two
as he had dodged past the deity in his attempt to lead it away.
"No way, king... Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi has no plans for mercy, so please
destroy it quickly... Hurry, or else it will catch up to you!"
Ena's voice sounded out again, and it seemed like she was still recommending a
course of action that would probably get her killed. But right now there was no
time to listen to her.
Godou stopped looking back.
Running full speed ahead, he definitely didn't intend to give the god sword a
chance to catch him.
Racing along Chidorigafuchi, the Imperial Palace could be seen opposite.
Decorating along the palace moat were the conspicuous trees, the very wellknown cherry blossoms.
Since he had increased the distance between them the seventh god slayer finally
stopped running.
The blade monster transformed from Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi was chasing
after him at a clumsy rate. To be honest, it was very slow and it would be easy to
just keep running away, but that would only defer the problem without solving it.
"Kusanagi-san, only one . . . eh?"
The voice of Touma Amakasu came from beside him, but was unexpectedly cut
off by a most unexpected arrival. Because of his focus on running from the sword
giant Godou hadn't been paying too much attention to his surroundings, which
was why the arrival of a large pure white winged horse caught him completely by
surprise.
"Ah? Is that you Kusanagi-san?" The polite but slightly imperious tone and voice
were familiar even if the wings of the pegasus obscured his vision of the rider.
"Emiya-san?"
The wings folded at the steed's side and the easily recognizable figure of the
eighth Campione dismounted and walked over to his fellow King.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to find you here already. Tokyo is your city
after all, it would only make sense that you'd have fine preparations in place for
the event of a Heretic God appearing." The red haired young man gestured in the
general direction of the deity in question. "Have you been able to determine its
identity yet?"
"It's Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi." Godou answered vaguely.
Tokyo was his city? He had fine preparations in place for the event of a Heretic
God appearing? Was that really how Emiya-san saw him? What kind of person did
he think Kusanagi Godou was?
"So, another Campione has appeared before me."

The voice, if such it could be called, was about as far from human as it was
possible to get. It was rather akin to how music could be made by banging
lengths of scrap metal together to create different notes. In this case it was as
though some demented genius had worked out just how to scrape metal
together to make a sound and had then combined it with dozens of other such
noises to simulate human speech.
"Oh? Emiya-sama, are you here as well?" Ena's oddly cheerful call served only to
highlight the utter inhumanity of the blade giant's voice.
"Ena-san? What in the Root's name are you doing there?" Emiya-san's own
response was anything but calm.
"I'm afraid my own wilfulness led to this troublesome situation. Please don't mind
me; feel free to attack with all your strength, Ena has no regrets."
The red haired Campione turned to stare at his fellow King.
"Is she serious? Do you intend to follow her advice?" his tone was one of utter
bemusement.
"I think so; still I will only say this. No matter what, I will save Seishuuin first, and
then handle the monster. Please don't interfere."
"Very well, I-" whatever else the eighth Campione was going to say was cut off as
Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi suddenly lunged forwards with startling flexibility
for a being made of metal and swung a gigantic sword like arm at them.
All three humans were able to dodge back with ease and the pegasus flapped its
wings rapidly and was able to rise above the slash.
"I care not which of you I face, but I shall battle a Campione, now!" the
declaration rang out though the area like bells crashing and scraping against
each other.
"Can you save her?" Emiya-san's question was quiet but intense. "My own talents
are more suited to fighting foes than to rescuing hostages; do you have any
Authorities that could be more suited?"
Well that was a relief; Godou had been worried that the eighth Campione would
dismiss Ena's safety and simply attack the Heretic God without concern for her
life. That was something he could see Voban doing, simply ignoring her and
attacking with abandon. Salvatori Doni would probably have slashed both the
giant and Ena into tiny pieces and then been embarrassed that he'd forgotten
about the girl in his eagerness to fight.
"Yes, I can save her."
"Then I will leave this to you, but if you or the girl are in danger I shall intervene,
irrespective of my desire to honour another Kings claim on a foe."
Good, it seemed that Emiya-san was willing to let him handle this; it seemed that
no matter how confusing he was his priorities for the moment matched those of
Kusanagi Godou. Now all he needed was for the incarnation of Ama no Murakumo
no Tsurugi to swing at him and he could use that to activate his Raptor Authority.

But the colossal metal being wasn't attacking; it was instead standing stock still.
Even though it had no head or face Godou somehow got the overwhelming
impression that it was STARING at something. Glancing to his side he saw that
his fellow Devil King was also frozen like a statue and glaring at the black metal
giant with such intensity that it was a wonder it wasn't boring a hole through the
deity.
"You . . . What are you?" the question echoed between the cherry trees.
"Look and you shall see." Emiya-san's voice was strange, slightly hollow as
though it wasn't the teenager himself that was speaking but rather something
using his voice box.
"You, you are steel."
"Look deeper."
There was a brief pause, then to Godou's utter amazement, the hulking form of
Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi actually took a step back as though in surprise or
shock.
"What manner of being are you? Why can I see into your core? And how can a
human have such Steel in them?"
There was no fear in those words, but there was something that shouldn't have
been there, something the seventh Campione couldn't identify. Concern maybe?
Confusion? He couldn't quite lay his finger on it.
"I am not Steel; I am Sword, that is why you can see it. Today I am not your foe,
but perhaps one day we can clash and see which of us will grow dull and break
first."
"Very well."
The seventh Campione didn't really have any more time to consider the odd
exchange that had taken place between the deity and the King. Such thoughts
were cut off as a sword arm the size of a tree came slashing towards him at
blinding speed. However, it was precisely because of that reason that it could be
used. The incarnation he desired was one that was unlocked only when facing a
high-speed attack.
As the power of the Raptor activated Godou accelerated.

-()-

Shirou watched with an odd sense of detachment as his fellow Campione

charged forward at speeds that even Rider at her best would have respected.
The strange feeling had swept over him as soon as he had taken his first good
look at the creature that was apparently the sword Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi.
Certainly he'd looked at it before, when he had arrived on Snow and when he had
indicated it to Kusanagi-san, but that had been the first time he had focussed on
it to any considerable level.

When he had it was as though his perception through all his senses, both
mundane and supernatural, had funnelled themselves on to a single thing in the
entire world, and that had been the sword in front of him.
And it was a sword; every aspect of him had screamed it at him. This twenty
metre tall giant of metal was utterly unimportant, a mere shell to be discarded if
needs be. This was a sword, and within him he could feel his Reality Marble
greedily feasting on its presence in order to recreate it within itself.
However even as it did so Shirou was instinctively aware that whatever
recreation of it that Unlimited Blade Works could produce would not be its equal.
His Reality Marble and Tracing could reproduce its strength, its materials, its
history, its skills and even its powers, but what could not be reproduced would be
the divine spirit that made it a god in its own right.
It had been in that strange sense of detachment that he had spoken with the
subordinate god. He hadn't been quite aware of what he had been saying to the
deity, he had simply spoken what had seemed appropriate, even though he had
no idea why.
With a shake of his head the young Emiya dispelled the unusual state into which
he had fallen and focussed on watching Kusanagi-san. This was his first time
seeing another Campione in action, so paying close attention would be a smart
idea.
He certainly was agile, had Shirou not had experience in dealing with the likes of
Rider or Berserker it would have been impossible for him to keep a track of the
other teenager's movements. However both that experience and Archer's
memories had taught him the trick to reinforcing his eyes enough to keep up
with such speed.
Kusanagi-san had avoided the slash that had nearly taken his head off and had
easily run along the surface of the blade that was acting as an arm until he
reached the shoulder location where Ena was buried in the Heretic God's body.
Moving quickly the black haired Campione had reached under her arms and
dragged her out from where she had been trapped. As soon as she was free, and
before Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi could react, he was accelerating again and
had jumped off the back of the sword deity.
In a brief fraction of an instant Kusanagi-san and Ena-san were safely away from
the great bulk of the subordinate god and were joining up with the rest of the
young man's 'harem'.
"I think now might be a good time to move Emiya-sama."
His thoughts were broken into by the respectful words of the man that had been
standing next to his fellow God Slayer when he had landed next to them. Since
then he had stayed quiet, but now he was apparently breaking that silence to
impart advice.
"Why so?" Shirou asked as he turned to the man, "and who are you anyway?"
"Ah, forgive me for not introducing myself your Highness; I am Touma Amakasu,
a member of the History Compilation Committee. As to why we should move,
Godou-sama has rescued the hostage. That means that there is now no longer

any reason for him to hold back against Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi, when he
does launch his attack standing directly behind it might not be the safest place
to be."
No further explanation was needed, his memory held far too many memories of
just how devastating some Noble Phantasms could be on the general area about
their targets. He already knew that Authorities could definitely rank on par with
the treasures of the Heroic spirits, so if this man recommended getting clear of
Kusanagi-san's attack area he wasn't going to argue.
His own speed using Self Reinforcement might not have been up to par with the
Godspeed that the seventh Campione had demonstrated, but it was still enough
to get him around the bulk of the Heretic God and behind Kusanagi-san's group.
He arrived just in time to see Mariya-san finish kissing the black haired Campione
and lean back. There were a few brief words spoken between her and Ena-san,
but he didn't really pay attention as he was more focussed on Ama no Murakumo
no Tsurugi who had begun the process of turning its ungainly body around.
"Understood! Then King, though Ena doesn't understand completely, I will also
assist you. So you must win!"
"E-Ena!? Why, there is no need for you too..."
those two voices, now raised a bit louder than their former hushed murmur,
brought his attention back to the group just in time to see the busty black haired
girl that Kusanagi-san had just saved press her body against the teenager and
press her lips to his in a firm kiss.
In deference to the moment Shirou waited a few seconds before voicing his
opinion.
"While I'm sure that your recruitment of another girl into your harem is an
important occasion Kusanagi-san, might it not be a better idea to take care of the
metal giant with swords for arms that is currently bearing down on us before you
engage in any further celebrations? If you leave it much longer I will consider
your claim on this god ended and move to deal with it myself."
There was an awkward pause as the seventh Campione and all his women turned
to look first at him and then at the slow moving Heretic God that was plodding
towards them.
With a slightly embarrassed look on his face Kusanagi-san separated from the
girl he had just saved and gave a single sharp nod to Shirou before turning to
face the form of Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi once more.
"May his spine be crushed; may his bones be broken, his tendons torn, his hair
ripped from his skull; may his blood, spilled over the earth, be churned into a
bloody froth. I shall become one who buries fangs into the sinner's flesh, that the
will of the Lord be followed: Thou shalt be purged!"
The entire area above them was suddenly obscured by a huge black haze that
centred on Kusanagi-san's upraised hands. Before Shirou's amazed eyes the
mass of darkness condensed into the form of a huge black boar of such
dimensions that it dwarfed even the sword giant at which it now glared.

With a wordless shout the seventh Devil King brought his arms down in a gesture
as though he were hurling the beast at his foe. With an answering roar of its own
the titanic boar surged forwards in a charge, its huge trotters thundering on
empty air and then on concrete hard enough to shatter the asphalt.
Chidorigafuchi had become the stage for the monster battle between the tall
giant of blades and the Boar.
The giant used its sharp and heavy blade arms to cut open the thick hide and
muscles of the enormous jet-black beast, but it immediately became apparent
that it was just futile resistance.
In terms of destructive power, their levels differed too much. Had the incarnation
of Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi been more agile it could have played the part of
a Spanish matador, dodging and wounding its foe again and again until the
damage mounted up, however slow as it was it had no such chance.
As the Boar bled blue-black blood, it roared joyfully and defiantly, thrusting its
tusks, which did not lose to its opponent in sharpness and hard as any steel, and
using its entire body weight to charge, kick, and trample.
Finally, from its mouth came a roar, a roar of such raw power that its very sonic
waves caused damage. Idly Shirou wondered just how many of the windows in
the local neighbourhood had been smashed by that roar.
Suffering these violent attacks, Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi was sent flying
repeatedly.
"Who could have thought that the difference in level was so vast between a
messenger of god and something controlled directly by a god or a Campione . . .
"
The eighth Campione glanced sideways at Kusanagi-san's words; they implied
that this was some sort of lesser deity, one not on a par with the likes of a true
god. He filed that away for later examination, once he had the entire collection of
books and tomes delivered to him he and Illya were going to have to take the
time to do some serious research on a number of topics.
Chasing after Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi into Chidorigafuchi, the summoned
beast leapt into the palace moat, turning it into a battle in water. The
surrounding stone walls of the Imperial Palace crumbled beneath the battering
impacts of the monsters' bodies and the slashing attacks of the giant sword. It
was now a time for unrestrained destruction since this had ceased to even
vaguely resemble a battle between humans.
Chidorigafuchi's landscape was being destroyed completely by the current
events.
Glancing to the side Shirou saw that Touma Amakasu had also joined the small
group.
"Tell me Touma-san, do all of Kusanagi-san's battles tend to leave quite so much
destruction, or is this an unusual occurrence?"
The member of the Committee seemed to pause in thought, then smiled and
nodded.

"Yes, I think it's safe to say that every time Godou-san has engaged in combat he
has left wreckage and ruin in his wake. Even our famous city landmark, Tokyo
Tower, was not safe and was recently demolished in one of his clashes."
Shirou couldn't keep himself from frowning slightly. Did this mean that the black
haired King was careless or simply uncaring in the use of his powers? That didn't
seem to fit with what he had observed of him.
"Please don't say such misleading thing Touma-san," Kusanagi-san's complaint
was oddly pleading, "It's not as though I go out of my way to cause destruction,
that's just the way it happens."
That did seem to support what he'd seen of the young man's personality. The
more he saw the more Shirou began to believe that what he saw was really more
or less what he got. It was something of a surprise considering how much time
and effort he had put into his preparations for a clash with his fellow Campione,
but it looked like he might well have been worrying over nothing.
"Ending up like this again, anyway, let's just say it was to be expected."
"Yes, even for something created by the gods to fight directly against a
Campione, resulting in this dismal state was most natural. There could have been
no other outcome."
Turning his attention back to Kusanagi-san's group the red haired Emiya caught
the comments of Erica-san and Liliana-san. By the sounds of it they were less
than surprised by this turn of events and were accepting it as completely normal
and expected.
As the great black boar let loose a triumphant roar of victory Shirou decided that
this particular show might well have been worth the trouble of staying up for.

-()-

From a building that overlooked the monstrous battle Athena, Queen of

knowledge and darkness, looked on.
In all truth she was quite pleased with what she saw; her prey was sharpening
his fangs it would seem. His beast had successfully defeated the subordinate
god, and unless her sight was failing her he had now claimed the blade as his
own through that victory.
This was good. Her prey was growing in strength, refining his skills with his
Authorities as well as gaining new ones. In time his potential would ripen and he
would be a foe worthy of the battle she sought with him.
Her eyes turned to the other Campione as his softly glowing white winged horse
landed near him and nuzzled at his side like a pony seeking attention.
Her eyes narrowed in anger at the sight. The Pegasus had been born from the
neck of the monster Medusa after she had been slain by the hero Perseus.
Medusa had been an aspect of Athena's original self, and contrary to what myth
said Perseus had been no ally of hers. The winged stallion was a painful reminder

of what she had lost in ages past when the revolt of the male gods had left her
fragmented and reduced.
Still this was interesting. The red haired Campione was the target of her allies
and the key to at least one of them recovering their full power. He was also the
one who had slain her enemy Perseus, a fact that left her less inclined to think ill
of him. Looking at him she noted with mild surprise that he was almost the same
age as her beloved prey. It was enough to make her wonder what it was about
this land that produced not one but two such young Devil Kings.
Still for now she knew she had nothing to worry about. According to her allies it
would still be some time until they had made all the preparations that were
needed for their ritual. Naturally they were keeping the details of their work as
secret from her as they could, a fact she could understand. The knowledge of
how to restore a Divine Ancestor to their full divinity was a precious jewel of
understanding and not one with which to part easily. Had Athena that information
then she might have been able to take control of the forces involved and use
them to restore herself instead. The thought had occurred to her, but she had
dismissed it. To do so would be to break her word, and in all truth she was
content to wait a little longer before she regained her full glory.
If she was to come into her full divinity she might be so overjoyed with her state
that she would immediately go and challenge Kusanagi Godou to their battle
before he had finished maturing. It her enthusiasm she would pluck the fruit she
desired before it had finished ripening. Because of this worry she was content to
wait. Once her allies were restored their vows would guarantee that they would
aid her in return.
So for now all that she needed to do was wait. Wait and watch and learn.

-()-

They came in pairs or groups of three; they came by different boats or planes so
that none looking over the records would notice them.
Their luggage would normally have raised some queries from the customs
officers, but a combination of bribes and hypnosis had ensured that they had
been of minimal trouble. They had safe houses ready and waiting for them here
in Tokyo, locations equipped with wards and talismans to ensure their secrecy.
They would not allow anything to stand in their way; they had come to this island
in the Far East with only two goals in mind.
Revenge.
Revenge and the hope that they could somehow regain that which they had lost.
Each of them had two photos in their possession, copies of the original which had
been gained at great expense from a source in the History Compilation
Committee. One was of a young girl with white hair and red eyes. The other was
of a tall teenager with red hair and golden brown eyes.

The eighth Campione and his adopted sister.

The targets of the Circle of the Chosen

Chapter Eight: Illya's Day

Sorimachi kept his steps light and his body pressed against the wall as his eyes
never strayed from the object of his attention.
There she was, the legendary little genius of the middle school's class four.
For over a week now he had been hearing rumours of how a transfer student had
moved into a class two years ahead of her own due to her outstanding brilliance.
At first he hadn't been particularly interested, but as the days had gone by he
had heard more and more details, like how she had long snow white hair, how
she was diligently attending the tea ceremony club in order to learn the Japanese
art, how she cheerfully discussed anime with anyone who seemed interested.
So many outstanding characteristics, could he be blamed for his desire to see
this mystery girl?
Well now he had seen her, and as it turned out she was everything he could have
dreamed of. Such cute features, such lovely hair, such soft white skin, she looked
exactly like Misa-chan from 'Love-Love Onii-chan Academy 3'!
He had to meet her, it was fate. He could just imagine it now, she'd come
running round a corner, in a hurry for reasons that wouldn't be important, and
they'd run into each other with such force that her books would be scattered all
over the floor. Naturally he'd help her pick them up and then their hands would
touch when they'd reach from the same book. And so would begin her innocent
crush upon him, he'd help her with the problems she'd have in adapting to
Japanese society, he'd show her the interesting spots nearby like the arcades and
the best otaku stores. They'd have nice days at the park together, and they'd eat
ice creams whilst looking at the sunset, and she'd see that he had a smudge of
cream on his cheek and . . .
At that point had anyone walking down the corridor taken the time to look at the
self proclaimed 'Man with 108 little sisters in 2D' they would have seen him with
a rather slack jawed expression on his face and eyes the seemed to be focused
on a world only he could see.

The sad fact of the matter was that Sorimachi was a young man who had strayed
from the path of what could be considered a 'correct human'. To further
compound this it would seem that he was also apparently losing the ability to
differentiate between reality and his beloved imouto dating sims.
Not that he cared too much at this point, he was too busy fantasising about the
pinnacle of his delusory relationship, the part where she'd happily and lovingly
call him . . .
"Oniiii-chan!"
Yes, exactly like that . . . no wait, hang on a moment. He hadn't just imagined
that, she'd actually said it. Was this a sign? Did this mean that his imouto fetish
would finally know satiation?
Looking around the corner round which the snowy haired girl had turned he saw
a sight that made his fists clench so hard that his knuckles turned white.
His sweet innocent Misa-chan was hugging another boy. She was smiling, had her
arms wrapped around his waist in a classic tackle/hug and was calling him 'oniichan'. Aaarrrgh, this could not be, surely the heavens would not be so cruel as to
dangle the perfect imouto in front of him and then show that she already had an
older brother.
No, wait, that couldn't be right. She was obviously of European ethic origin while
the boy she was now smiling up at was clearly Japanese.
"So Shirou, where are we going to eat lunch today?"
Awwww, even her voice was like Misa-chan's, so soft and light and . . . no, can't
get distracted by that, have to keep watching, learn the truth about . . .
"How about under the tree near where the old school building used to be Illya?"
Illya? Shirou? Hah, further proof that they weren't related, Illya was clearly a
foreign name. Wait, hang on a minute, hadn't he heard something the other day
about some adopted siblings? He vaguely remembered Nanami mentioning it to
him, but at the time he'd been playing 'Little Sister: Capture Isle' and hadn't
been paying any attention.
Yesss, he was sure he'd heard something like that, the boy's father had adopted
the girl, or was it the other way round?
Ah, what did it matter? What was important was that the bastard had managed
to acquire the love of a perfect non-blood related sister. The bastard, how dare
he trample on the pure and innocent dreams of a man who had never known the
love of cute little imouto outside of the 2D world.
Revenge, that's what he needed, he'd fall back and explain his situation to
Nanami and Takagi. They'd understand, they'd help him. Together they'd kidnap
the imouto stealing scum and subject him to a trial and inquisition. Then he'd be
sorry that he stamped on the fragile heart of a true imoutocon, they'd see him in
tears for his crime, they'd . . .
His thoughts were cut off as he looked around the corner once more and found
that the tall red head was staring right at him. There was also something

distinctly unsettling about that gaze, as though he were trying to measure

Sorimachi for a coffin in his mind.
Their eyes only met for an instant, but after the red haired teenager glanced
down at the girl before him and broke the connection the 'Man with 108 little
sisters in 2D' nearly slumped to the floor as his legs seemed to lose all their
strength. That had been terrifying, he needed comfort, reassurance.
His imoutos, that was it. His dear sweet 2D imoutos would make him feel better.
Quickly starting to walk away Sorimachi reached into his bag to pull out his
handheld games console. He could almost feel the warmth of all those cute
electronic girls waiting for him in the games world, ready to give him their love
and support, ready toHis train of thought was suddenly cut off as he tripped over a shoe lace he hadn't
realized had come undone. His curses of annoyance turned into horror as his
console jumped from his hands, propelled by the force of his stumble. Eyes wide
with disbelief he watched as the device impacted on the edge of the only open
window in the entire corridor and somehow clicked open. Against all reason the
memory cartridge jumped out of the opened back and tumbled out of the
window while the console fell to the floor within the walls.
The 'Man with 108 little sisters in 2D' stood there for an instant, his body frozen
with incomprehension at the ridiculously improbable set of events that had just
taken place. Then he was stumbling forwards, pausing only to lean down and
grab his console, and looking out of the opened window.
He was only on the fist floor of the school building; surely the cartridge could
have taken the fall. It wasn't really that heavy so it would probably only be a little
scratched up, nothing too major. Yes, there it was he could see it lying in the path
next to the school building, waiting for him to go and get it. What luck, the data
would be safe, the imoutos would be"MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!"
Sorimachi could only stare in abject horror as the entire combined mass of the
schools athletics clubs came jogging round the corner at a brisk pace. He tried to
call out, tried to wave at them, tried to do something, but all he could do was
watch with a sense of ghastly detachment as more than sixty pairs of feet
stampeded over the spot where his precious imoutos lay helpless.
This . . . this made no sense. This was like a plot development in some comedy
anime, where one of the antagonists of the show was seemingly punished by
fate. Why was this happening to him? Why was fate playing such a cruel game
upon his heart?
Below him the joggers had moved on and the dust was settling. There on the
path he could see the smashed splinters of plastic and circuitry that might have
once been a memory cartridge.
The 'Man with 108 little sisters in 2D' took in a deep shuddering breath, then
vented his anguish.
"NNNN-"

-()-

"-OOOOOOOOO!"
Illya looked over her shoulder and wondered why someone was apparently
wailing in despair in the corridor she had just left. She considered it for a brief
moment, and then dismissed it as unimportant. She was about to speak when
suddenly Shirou took a sudden hissing intake of breath and seemed to stumble
for an instant.
"Shirou?" she was immediately by his side, but it looked as though whatever had
caused his misstep was already dealt with.
"It's okay," he assured her with a smile, "Just Curses without End taking its toll
out of me."
"You used it? Why?" The young Einzbern knew how much that Authority could
hurt and exhaust him in exchange for its use. Why on earth would he use it here?
"You were being followed, probably by one of Kusanagi-san's agents or someone
working for the Committee since it was just a student. I hit him with a minor
curse of Misfortune, something that will teach him a lesson without being too
harmful. Hopefully that'll get the message across that I don't want any of them
following you."
Illya did her best not to scowl in irritation or sigh in exasperation. She might love
Shirou more than anyone else alive, but his overprotectiveness was starting to
grate on her just a little bit.
She understood why he was being like this, she really did, and the thought that
he was willing to go to such effort to protect her warmed her heart. But she
wasn't some china doll. Granted she wasn't able to take on one of the gods from
this world, and certainly Shirou's new magic resistance and abilities made it so
he now out powered her by a fair margin, but she was still fairly certain she could
hold her own against any mortal if she was called to. And that wasn't counting
the trump card that Shirou had given her as well as her own hidden ace that she
was keeping secret even from her adopted brother for the time being.

-()-

Flashback to the day after Godou defeats Ama no Murakumo no

Tsurugi.
Illya stood in Shirou's workshop as he showed her the swords he had Traced the
day before and explained his findings. In all truth the young Einzbern felt like
kicking herself for not having thought to mention it to him herself weeks ago. It
was such an obvious conclusion now that she thought about it. She was well
aware that this world wasn't as . . . hostile to magecraft as her home reality. Her

Mysteries were more potent, didn't fade as fast and cost less prana, it only made
sense that the same would be true of her adopted brothers own odd magecraft.
If the world wasn't working against the existence of the imitations that Shirou
produced then . . .
" . . . And that's why I needed to give you something."
Illya blinked as she realized that she'd become lost in her thoughts while the
young Emiya was still speaking.
"What did you want to show me?"
In response Shirou extended his right arm with the hand splayed open and the
palm facing in front of him while his left hand gripped his right wrist as though to
steady the arm.
"Trace On."
The snowy haired girl knew what he was doing, during their time spent in hotels
she had gotten bored and asked him how he was able to use Projection, a largely
useless magecraft outside of a training aid, to copy Noble Phantasms. He'd gone
on to describe the seven steps that made up Tracing, the seven steps he was
now using.
Judging the concept of creation.
Hypothesizing the basic structure.
Duplicating the composition material.
Imitating the skill of its making.
Sympathizing with the experience of its growth.
Reproducing the accumulated years.
Excelling every manufacturing process.
She'd seen him Trace Noble Phantasms before and she could tell that he was
taking specific care with this one. Rather than appearing in a flash of light or
simply fading into existence without ceremony this projection was taking form
slowly.
First was the long wooden shaft of the weapon, the length of wood stained an
artful and vivid red. At its base the wood of the shaft had been carved into a
simple rounded design while its other end finished in a golden hand guard
similar to that of a katana. The blade of the weapon was 45 centimetres long,
slightly curved and decorated with a light but beautiful depiction of a branch
from a sakura tree in full flower. In total length from blade point to shaft end the
magnificent naginata was about two metres long.
"This," Shirou said in a pleased tone as he took hold of the marvellous weapon,
"Is one of the Noble Phantasms of the Heroic Spirit Gozen Tomoe. Out of all the
weapons in Archer's memory I think this is the one best suited for me to give
you."

Illya blinked in surprise at his statement. A multitude of questions sprang to her

mind, but oddly it was one of simple curiosity that she gave voice to first.
"The Heroic Spirit who?"
"Gozen Tomoe was one of the most famous female samurai in Japanese history."
Her adopted brother explained, "She was famous for her beauty, her strength
and her bravery. She was skilled with many weapons and could supposedly ride
any horse regardless of whether or not they had been tamed. As a Heroic Spirit
she was eligible for all three Knight classes and the Rider class."
"So . . . why do you think I can use her Noble Phantasm?" that was something
that was confusing her. Normally it was extremely hard, if not impossible, for
someone other than their true owner to use a Noble Phantasm. She knew that
Shirou could get around that by duplicating the skills of the original wielder, but
that was due to his unique nature and not an option available to her.
"Because it's part of her legend, and so a part of her Noble Phantasm." The
eighth Campione grinned as he explained, "Once, during an assassination
attempt on her lord Tomoe found herself out numbered and outflanked. In an
effort to buy time for her to reach her lord she threw her naginata to one of his
concubines and ordered her to defend their lord until she could reach him.
"Supposedly the concubine was so impressed by Tomoe's spirit that even though
she was untrained she was able to hold off the assassins long enough for the
woman samurai to finish off her own foes and then slay the assassins as well.
"As a result one of the abilities of this Noble Phantasm is that when it is held by
an unskilled woman then all the combat skill Gozen Tomoe had in its use is
conferred upon her."
As he uttered the last words he suddenly tossed the weapon at Illya. Instinctively
the snow haired girl caught it as though it had been a tossed broom and then . . .
She felt no change within herself, no burst of new knowledge, no sudden flash of
understanding, but suddenly the weapon in her hands was transformed. Before it
had been a beautiful weapon, but not something she had any true understanding
of, it might as well have been a painting in a gallery. Now though it was different,
she could appreciate the perfect balance between shaft and blade, she knew
how to hold it here and here so that she could swing it like so, then defend
like this, then she could slash and parry and counter swing like so.
Illya came to a halt as she suddenly realized that she'd just gone through a quick
but intricate run of naginata fighting forms, all had been sure and all had been
adjusted to compensate for the small stature. And every move had executed
with the exact perfection of a true mistress of the art.
"This, this is . . ."
Shirou's adopted sister found herself at a total loss for words as she tried to
understand the full significance of what she had just experienced.
"I thought this would be the perfect weapon for you to use if you were forced
into a situation where your Magecraft was insufficient."

Illya felt laughter begin to bubble up inside her at the thought of the fun she
could have with this wonderful new toy, then a thought crossed her mind and her
good humour faded.
"Shirou, I can't carry something like this around with me, I'd look silly." Not to
mention all the trouble she'd get into with both teachers and the police if she
tried wandering about while carrying the weapon with her.
"I thought of that too. This is a trick that Archer knew but never had to use. Keep
holding onto the shaft and concentrate on what I do."
As he spoke the red haired boy reached out and placed his own hand on the
wooden length of the weapon. There was a brief pause as his brow furrowed in
concentration, then in a shimmer of red and silver the naginata seemed to fade
from existence.
Illya's eyes widened in surprise, the weapon hadn't faded from the world entirely,
she could still feel a connection to it, but that connection was slightly distant and
removed, it was a sensation that was familiar to her. This was how Berserker had
felt to her when he had been in spirit form.
"Most Servants can do this with their weapons," Explained Shirou, "they can shift
them into spirit form like they do their own bodies and so keep them close and
ready to be drawn whenever they want. That's how Rider was always able to pull
her chain dagger from nowhere so easily. Since almost all physical Noble
Phantasms have a spiritual aspect to them as long as you know the trick they
can all be shifted to spirit form like that. Archer never did it because it was
simply easier for him to Trace anything he wanted.
"Still, it means that once you get the trick down then you'll be able to take the
Beautiful Head Taker anywhere you go without any problems."
It took Illya a few tries, but in the end she was able to shift the weapon between
its material and spiritual state at will.
As she pulled the Noble Phantasm into physical existence once more the young
Einzbern allowed herself a smile. Now maybe Shirou wouldn't be so worried
about her.
End Flashback
-()Illya allowed herself a small sigh as she sat down on the bench beneath the large
tree. She had thought that providing her with that Noble Phantasm would
alleviate some of her adopted brother's overprotective impulses, unfortunately
that didn't seem to be the case. Shirou was still seeing potential spies and
assassins around every corner.
It wasn't paranoia, it was close but it hadn't gotten that bad just yet. It was more
a case of excessive caution combined with Shirou's desire to be prepared for the
worst case outcome. Granted it might be a little difficult to tell that from
paranoia, but there was a distinction.

Maybe she could show him her hidden trump card later this evening; if he saw
that then there would be absolutely no way that the eighth Campione would be
able to consider her unable to take care of herself.
Shaking her head Illya dismissed the thoughts from her mind, right now she was
simply content to sit here and eat her lunch with her overprotective onii-chan. He
might be irritating and he might be overcautious, but if that was the price for
being with him then she was willing to pay it a hundred fold.

-()-

Shirou sat under the large old Japanese maple tree. Idly he wondered how it
would look once autumn came round again the leaves on this one would
probably yield a magnificent display.
However any further thoughts about future botanical splendour were cut off as
his instinctively reaching hand touched the bento box in his bag.
The bento box he hadn't been allowed to prepare.
The bento box he hadn't been allowed to prepare because he had been banished
from his beloved kitchen.
How had it come to this?
-()Flashback to the evening of the day after Godou defeats Ama no
Murakumo no Tsurugi.
"And this is the kitchen." Shirou finished as he showed his pride and joy to
Suzuki Asuka, his new head maid.
That morning, right after having breakfast, he had set about finding someone
who had recently died and fitted the profile that he was looking for. What he
needed was someone who would know not only how to train Renjou-san and
Kuhoutsuka-san in their new role but also be well versed in the running of a
household. Renjou-san had been right in her summation that he was going to
build his own organization, though granted it had been her that had given him
the idea in the first place, and when he did this manor would be at its centre.
Right now for all its size the mansion only had three occupants. When the two
new maids arrived then that number would increase to five, and then to six once
he got hold of someone to watch over them. Still the manor had been designed
to house an entire extended family, as well as assorted servants and retainers,
and still have room to hold guests and visitors. Once Shirou began recruitment in
earnest then the number of occupants in the mansion would begin to climb quite
quickly. Once that took place he'd need someone who could manage the details
of housing and caring for such numbers.
And of course if he had to give someone another shot at life he'd rather it be
someone that he felt deserved it. Certainly the souls he brought back into this
world were rendered loyal to him by the power of his Authority. And even if they

did disobey him in some way regardless of that loyalty he could easily issue
them with commands they could not refuse.
In terms of the Holy Grail War and Servants it was as though he had an unlimited
number of Command Seals with regards to his undead servitors. Certainly he
couldn't issue orders that violated reality such as ordering his servitors to come
to his side when they were separated from him. On the other hand if he issued
them with a direct order that had the force of his Authority behind it then they
simply were unable to disobey, it wasn't a matter of will power, it was simply the
fact that they could no more disobey than they could breathe out of their ears.
He'd tested it on a volunteering Yusuke. Despite the accountants greatest efforts
to the contrary at Shirou's command he had emptied a bottle of soy sauce over
his head. He'd said that it was as though he had known that he didn't want to do
it, but as soon as his King had issued the command he simply hadn't been able
to stop himself.
With such control over those he returned to the mortal realm Shirou could have
recruited anyone he so chose. Even hardened serial killers or notoriously corrupt
individuals would have been perfectly loyal and obedient. However such were
not the type that he wanted to be in his home, which was why he tried to find
those who he felt deserved a second chance.
Suzuki Asuka had been one such person. A career house keeper she had served
under a number of powerful individuals such as politicians and CEOs. What had
been even more remarkable was that she had only ever worked for those who
could be considered 'honest'. There were a number of occasions where she had
handed in her resignation, and when those individuals were later investigated it
emerged that they had all been engaging in illegal activities. It got to the point
where the police had made it a sort of unofficial policy to investigate any
employer that she left on bad terms.
She'd married at the age of twenty three, but had lost her husband to a car
accident only two years later. She had remained unmarried and had continued to
work her profession for the next twenty years. It had been the way in which she
had met her end that had really caught Shirou's attention.
The household that she had been working in had ended up having a fire, a pretty
serious one. Despite having reached safety herself Suzuki Asuka had gone back
into the burning building once it became clear that her employer's children had
not gotten out. In an event that had made national news she had rescued the
two children, but had suffered such dire burns in the process that she had died
in the ambulance which had been taking her to a hospital.
Needless to say Shirou had been quite impressed by the accounts of both her
deeds and character, enough that he had tracked down her burial sight and used
Rule of the Underworld to call her up. After some discussion and a little
negotiation the housekeeper had agreed to return to the mortal plane and enter
his service.
This was what had led to the current situation, him showing her around the
household that he hoped she would manage.

"An excellent kitchen Shirou-sama," she commented, using the less formal mode
of address that he'd asked of her even though she still insisted on adding the
'sama' when he'd said it wasn't necessary. "I think I'll be able to cook some truly
splendid meals here."
Shirou blinked in surprise at the statement.
"Ah, that won't be needed Suzuki-san, I enjoy cooking so I'll take care of most of
the meals."
"The master of the house doing the cooking?" from the tone of her voice you
would have thought that the young Emiya had just suggested committing some
kind of esoteric perversion upon the kitchen top while the rest of the household
watched. "That would be quite improper. I shall take full charge of all the culinary
preparations from now on."
"But-but I like cooking." His answer was confused and unsure in the face of the
housekeeper's apparent outrage.
"Shirou-sama, you've asked me to train these girls that will be joining us to be
fine maids for the house. You have also told me that you wish to present a
certain image to them, that of a young ruler. What kind of impression do you
think will be produced if they see you doing the cooking? Is that how a King
would behave?"
"Well . . . no. But I-"
"Exactly. You are a King Shirou-sama; I knew that as soon as you called me out of
the afterlife. Cooking is not something that you should concern yourself with,
after all it is the role of the servants to support those that rule them."
By this point Shirou was having to fight down a little panic. He was losing his
kitchen, how would he go on without his soothing cooking to dispel the stress?
"But I find cooking to be relaxing," he tried to explain, "I've been cooking since I
can remember and it always makes me feel better."
"I'm sorry, but you did ask me to take the position of your head of housekeeping
staff. If I were to capitulate on this matter then I would be failing in my duties to
you before I even begin."
At this point the despair that was clawing at his heart must have shown on his
face because she sighed and seemed to relent somewhat.
"Perhaps we can arrange something once we have things more settled," she
offered, "Maybe arrange a day off for the maids which you can take advantage
of, or maybe some late night cooking."
At the time Shirou had been almost pathetically grateful that he wasn't totally
losing his kitchen privileges. It was only later that night, as he had been lying in
bed, that he had realized that he, the God Slaying Devil King, the supposed
ruling power in the mansion, had been arbitrarily dictated to by his newest
servant. For some reason he'd found that to be very funny and had laughed so
hard he almost fell out of his bed.
End Flashback.

-()Oh, right, that was how it had turned out like this.
Well, now was as good a time as any to see just how his own cooking matched
up to hers. With mild curiosity he took his pair of chopsticks and took a small
pastry roll. One thing he had to admit was that Suzuki-san could certainly make
the food look more attractive than his, the contents of the bento was practically
a small work of art, so much so that it was almost a shame to eat it. With a
certain professional interest he popped the roll into his mouth.
If reality was an anime Shirou was sure that at that point something suitably
dramatic would have happened. Probably he'd have frozen in place while the
background would have explosively cracked up to reveal some sort of starscape,
one that would flash into lines of light as he would go to 'warp speed', or maybe
a majestically turning galaxy seen from afar. This would no doubt be
accompanied with some sort of divine halo appearing around the bento box itself
and a host of disembodied heavenly voices singing 'Hallelujah' as a vocal
accompaniment.
This food . . . was . . . AMAZING! If this food had been a painting it would have
been one of those that sold for more that most houses. That was it; this was like
someone had crammed the works of Van Gogh into a bento in edible form.
The texture, the flavour, the wonderful contrast between the dry and flaky outer
pastry and the pulped and cooked vegetables within, it was all so good. Shirou
considered himself to be a pretty good cook, but this . . . this was like a small
town painter suddenly being faced with Michelangelo's famous fresco on the
Sistine Chapel's ceiling.
"This is soooooooo good."
It sounded as though Illya was in complete agreement in regards to his opinion
on the quality of the cooking. Glancing over at her he saw that she had largely
abandoned proper eating decorum and was holding her bento as close to her
mouth as possible so that she could use her chopsticks to shovel as much into
her mouth at a time as she could.
Suddenly worried that once she finished she'd turn on his food for seconds the
eighth Campione began tucking into his own bento in earnest.
Dear sweet Root of All worlds, this was delicious. He had to learn how to cook like
this, he had to get Suzuki-san to train him, her opinions on the proper activities
of a King be damned. If needs be he'd keep giving her gold and jewels until she
agreed.
Anything was worth the price of learning how to cook like this.

-()-

They gathered in an old abandoned theatre. The head of their order stood upon
the stage while the lesser members stood where the audience seats had once

been. All were clad in ornate silken robes of an elegant cut and decked with such
adornments as rings, amulets, earrings and armlets. Jewels of every type and
colour decorated their jewellery lending them further beauty. For the lesser
members their trinkets were silver, only their leader wore gold.
"We are the Chosen," the gold wearing cultist's voice echoed through the old
building, "For generations we have served our lord, seen to his needs, brought
him news and servants. We were his hands; we served his ends and acted to
fulfil his desires. In return he granted us his favour and shared his riches with us.
"Now our lord lies slain and his Authorities have been usurped by his murderer.
Our purpose is lost and our prosperity torn from us by the infidel that slew our
god. We have come to this land far from our homes to exact the price of
vengeance upon the Campione who killed Hades.
"Emiya Shirou shall learn the true cost of that which he has usurped; he will learn
what it means to cross our order.
"Yes, he is a Campione, a Devil King that mere mortals such as ourselves cannot
stand against. But he is human nonetheless and so has the weaknesses of a
mortal man. We shall target those weaknesses, we shall strike at him where it
shall hurt the most, we shall strike at his heart."
All the members of the cult had been told to carry two photos, now he drew one
forth and held it up for all to see.
It was of a young girl, a girl with hair as white as snow.
"We will strike at his heart." The leader repeated.

-()-

"Stand up straighter girl, honestly one would think you were raised in a barn if
they only took note of your manners."
Manaka knew that she wasn't the easiest person in the world to get along with;
she knew her attitude tended to rub people up the wrong way.
"Now you've managed to get the majority of the dust cleared away satisfactorily,
but did it ever even occur to you to move the furniture? It has wheels on it for a
reason girl."
She also knew that over the years she'd probably accumulated a fair amount of
bad karma due to that type of behaviour, karma that she'd eventually have to
pay back.
"Did you remember to change your cleaning water or have you been using the
same water this entire time?"
Still it seemed the world had an unfortunately cruel sense of humour in how it
chose to make her pay that karmic debt.
"Are you listening to me Kuhoutsuka-san?!"

"Yes Suzuki-san"
The words came to her automatically, this was only her third day serving under
the resurrected soul and the response was already practically automatic.
Kuhoutsuka Manaka was not having a very good day; in fact she wasn't having a
very good week.
When she had arrived at the mansion of the eighth Campione the day before she
hadn't been entirely sure what she should expect. She'd thought that perhaps
they would be treated as trophies, displays of Emiya-sama's power and
influence. After all Kaida-sama was a strong Hime-Miko and the witch fighter
herself had developed a reputation over the years. Being able to reduce them
both to maids in his manor would be just the sort of tactic she could see one of
the Devil Kings using to flaunt their influence.
What she hadn't expected was Suzuki Asuka, but on the other hand she doubted
anyone could have expected someone like her. The woman's Aura Sign was an
iron rod that seemed to support an iron crown. The Sign had practically radiated
resolve, confidence and an utterly unbreakable moral code.
She had soon learnt that the term 'formidable' didn't do justice to the resurrected
housekeeper. While it quickly became clear that she was unswervingly loyal to
her King she still ruled over the household with an authority that wouldn't have
been out of place in a tyrannical empress.
Idly Manaka wondered if this was what it was like for others trying to put up with
her.
Suzuki-san had been charged with training both her and Kaida-sama to be maids,
and it seemed she was taking to the task with all the fervour of a drill sergeant
putting new recruits through their paces. She was tyrannical in her control, harsh
in her criticisms and draconian in her standards, yet despite all this the
housekeeper somehow managed to not make the last step into unreasonable
overbearing. In a way it might have been easier if the wretched woman had
simply been an unpleasant control freak. Had that been the case then at least
Manaka could have hated her without compunction.
The problem was that for all her criticism, harsh comments and barked
commands there wasn't even a single hint of malice in any of her actions.
Everything that Suzuki-san did was meant to improve the performance of the two
new maids. And, as much as the warrior witch might hate to admit it, it was
proving to be remarkably effective.
It was only the second day of her training and already she could look back on her
actions from the previous day and see her mistakes.
"Excellent work Kaida-san, if I wanted to I could use this brass as a mirror."
And that was the other thing, despite her being a Hime-Miko who had been
trained in ceremony and magic for most of her life Kaida-sama was taking to the
role of a maid like a duck that had just found water. Sure Manaka had been
aware the wielder of the Dragon's Roar was almost ferocious in her efforts to
keep her shrine clean, but this seemed to be on an entirely different level. Where

she swept it was as though the dust vanished, where she polished it was as
though grime and stains ceased to exist.
The witch fighter knew that she had a somewhat competitive streak in her, and it
seemed that it was coming out despite her dislike of the competition and the fact
that Kaida-sama was her competitor.
"Ah, Yusuke-san just rang. It seems that he'll be dropping off the young master
first and then bringing in the young mistress later after she finishes her club
activities. Come along, it is only polite to greet him upon his return."
Well that was something at least, she wasn't going to have to deal with the over
affectionate enthusiasm of the eighth Campione's adopted sister.
That had been quite a shock to say the least. Yesterday afternoon both she and
Kaida-sama had presented themselves to the siblings after having changed into
their new maids uniforms. That had been a pleasant surprise, despite her fears
the outfits had been neither perverse nor fetishist. Instead they had been long
sleeved navy blue dresses that reached down to the ankles with neat white
aprons worn over them. She wasn't too sure about the maid headpieces that
were also parts of the uniform, but she had to admit they certainly looked cute.
It had perhaps been that cuteness that had been responsible for Einzbernsan's . . . enthusiastic reaction to them when she first saw them. The white
haired girl had gone ramrod still upon first seeing them, then she'd practically
jumped on Kaida-sama demanding that she call her 'Goshujinsama' and
practically molesting the thoroughly confused Hime-Miko.
Once she'd calmed down the young magus had been very apologetic for her
actions, saying that she wasn't sure what had gotten into her. However ever
since then Manaka had always felt rather like a lamb confronted by a wolf
whenever she encountered the Campione's sister while dressed as a maid.
Well whatever the case may be this was her life, for the time being anyway. She
was sure that once Emiya-sama and Einzbern-san got more into the books and
information that the Committee had supplied them with then both she and Kaidasan would find themselves with some more important work to do than dusting
out some old rooms.
All she had to do was continue to wait.

-()-

Kusanagi Shizuka was making her way out of the school grounds while chatting
with Illya-chan. It was about six o'clock in the afternoon and the brown haired girl
was in a fairly good mood.
Today had been a pleasant meeting of the tea ceremony club, meaning there had
been no dramas, no interruptions and no new girls inexplicably chasing after her
no-good lady killer brother. It had simply been a nice quiet session where she
had further instructed Illya in how to go through the various steps.

That had been something of a surprise; despite how her own stern nature and
Illya's playfulness should have been incompatible the two of them had ended up
becoming friendly quite quickly. It didn't hurt that the German girl was a
marvellous student to teach the art of the tea ceremony to. She always listened
and remembered what she had been told, and yet at the same time wasn't so
wonderfully talented as to be intimidating or disagreeable.
"So Shizuka-chan, what are you planning to do this weekend?" Illya-chan asked
as the two of them passed through the school gates and started walking by the
road.
"Honestly I'm not too sure. I was thinking about taking the time to redo my room
a bit, maybe see if I can shift things around enough that I can fit my own TV in
there. That way I won't have to share the main one with onii-chan."
"I'm thinking of-"
THFFFFCHUK
Illya-chan's words were cut of by a strange whooshing noise that ended in a dull
thunk. For a moment the brown haired Kusanagi simply blinked in confusion as
she saw that a small length of plastic with bright synthetic feathers on its end
was now poking out of her friend's side.
"Wha-"
THFFFFCHUK
Illya's confused question was cut off as another dart suddenly impacted on her
shoulder. The red eyed girl started to reach for her shoulder, but then seemed to
lose all energy as she collapsed to the ground like a puppet that had just had its
strings cut.
Before Shizuka could even think to react two men leapt from around the corner
and seized her friend's still form. As they did so a car came screaming round the
corner only to come to a dead stop right in front of them and for one of the doors
facing them to come open so violently that it must have been kicked.
"Get her in! Come on, move it!"
The shouted demands from within the car were enough to jolt Shizuka from the
shocked daze that she'd fallen into. Seeing her friend being kidnapped right in
front of her she threw herself at one of the men carrying Illya in an attempt to
slow them down.
"HELP! HELP, KIDNAPPERS! HE-"
Her effort was valiant, but she wasn't a very large girl and the man she had
moved against was a large guy with broad shoulders. Without even looking at
her he swung an arm to brush her away as though she were little more than a
mosquito. The negligent blow caught her on the shoulder and knocked her to the
ground. Before the young Kusanagi could get back up the men and their captive
had scrambled into the car, slammed the door shut and were tearing off down
the road.

-()-

Shirou sat in his study and read through the file in his left had while absent
mindedly tapping on the arm of his chair with his right.
The study was a recently reopened room. Originally it had served as the main
place of work for the house's previous owner, but since Shirou spent the majority
of his time at home in his workshop, the dojo or the kitchen it hadn't seen much
use recently.
However when the agents from the History Compilation Committee had arrived
the day before with their delivery of books, scrolls files and tomes they had
needed to go somewhere, so he directed that they all be dumped in the
reopened study. By the time they had all been brought in and piled together the
mass of information had mounted up into a heap the size of a small desk. Shirou
had already made plans to take some extra time off from his research this
coming weekend so that he could spend some time sorting it out.
Right now though he was having a read through what he regarded as some of
the most important data that he'd received, a summary of all the data that the
Committee had on the current Campione.
Having already skim read through the file once he had already formed his own
general opinions about his fellow God Slayers, but he was now reading the thing
through in more detail to see if those impressions were correct.
So far two of his fellow Kings had been the principle targets of his interest.
The first was Kusanagi Godou, the other Campione of Japan and the only other of
his peers that he had yet met.
If the file was to be believed it seemed that out of all the Campione, with Shirou
himself included, Kusanagi was the sanest and most normal one out of them all.
To all accounts it seemed that he'd just been an ordinary high school student
with a talent for baseball before he'd become involved in the hidden world of
gods and magic. Yet despite his apparent normality he had succeeded in
defeating the previously invincible Persian god of victory and attained an
unheard of number of Authorities.
Since then the young Kusanagi had fought three gods, two of his fellow
Campione and at least one monster of divine origin. The gods he had either
defeated or driven off, the Campione he had either drawn with or emerged
victorious in their contest. The monster had apparently been blasted out of
existence, along with a good sized portion of the local landscape.
The eighth Campione's eyes narrowed slightly as he once more went over the list
of Kusanagi's accomplishments. So many victories in so short a time, and all of
them from someone who was so new to their powers and had never had any
contact with the mystic world until only shortly before he'd become a King.
That said something to Shirou, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Allowing his
mind to wander he found himself searching through EMIYA'S memories. So many
battles, so many wars. Wars in which humans had cast aside their thin veneer of
civilization and reverted to the savage that lurked within all mankind.

The thin veneer . . .

That was it, the red haired Emiya smiled as he made the connection. In time of
strife and uncertainty, when everyone had to defend themselves and what they
held dear with the strength and skill of their arms, legends would always emerge.
They were the men and women who could stand out above all others, those who
could fight the hardest, run the furthest, persist the longest. Inevitably those like
them rose to the forefront of history as the heroes and villains of legend.
But what about in modern times? What happened when the ones that could have
become the next great hero never even had to pick up a sword? Never had to
hunt their own food? Never had to defend their family from attackers? In times of
peace and prosperity what would happen if the one who could be the next
Genghis Khan spent his or her days behind the till at a supermarket?
Perhaps that had been the case with Kusanagi Godou. In time long past rather
than being interested in baseball he would have instead led hunting and raiding
parties on horseback across the wild plains. Yes, given his ability to gather up
women that seemed to become unexpectedly devoted to him Shirou could see
him as the leader of some tribe or clan. It was probably that same subconscious
will to fight that had allowed him to become a Campione in the first place.
Of course that was all just speculation, suppositions that could turn out to be
completely wrong. Still the more he learnt about the other Japanese Campione
the more certain Shirou became that he wasn't the kind of person that would
stab someone else in the back, in short he was someone whom the eighth
Campione might be able to safely trust.
The other Campione that had captured his attention was John Pluto Smith, the
King of Los Angeles.
Ever since he could remember Shirou had wanted to save others, to attain the
same joy that Kiritsugu had felt when he'd found his future adopted son alive in
the ashes of the great fire that was the aftermath of the fourth Heavens Feel. For
years he had held that dream close, to be a superhero, an ally of justice that
would save everyone. During the fifth Heavens Feel he had chosen to cast that
dream away, to choose the one over the many. But despite that the allure of
heroism had not faded from his eyes completely. Some dreams could survive
even their abandonment, in some small way at least.
John Pluto Smith was true living superhero though. He dressed in an outlandish
costume, engaged in fantastic battles and wielded enormous power. There
wasn't too much information on the American Campione due to his operating so
far outside the Committee's normal sphere of influence, but what they had been
able to provide him with was of great interest.
For a brief moment Shirou allowed himself to indulge in a brief fantasy of doing
something similar, of dressing up in some sort of masked armour and playing the
part of a sentai hero. He could see it now, Sword Rider Saber X. That would be
cool. With his pegasus he'd have the mystic mount, Dragon Slaying Hero would
provide all the physical power he could need and Tracing would supply special
moves galore. Using Excalibur would make for a great show stopper finishing
move, even the name was appropriate.

With a shake of his head the eighth Campione dismissed the idea. From what he
could tell John Pluto Smith had engaged in that behaviour because America was
plagued by a surfeit of immoral magi who had fled there after having to escape
the consequences of their crimes in Europe. With so many miscreants stirring up
trouble the agents of the Committee theorized that the man behind the mask
had created the identity of John Pluto Smith in order to make their enemy more
illusive. It was also the surplus of corrupted magic users that provided enough
foes for the masked God Slayer to have a steady stream of adventures. By
comparison Japan was far more quiet and law abiding.
Shirou's thoughts were interrupted by the door to his study suddenly being
slammed open by Asuka-san. Contrary to her usual appearance she was quite
flustered, her face red and her eyes wide in worry.
"Shirou-sama!" Her exclamation brought him out of his chair and onto his feet in
an instant, after all anything that could rattle his housekeeper had to be serious.
"It's Yamada-san, he just called us."
"What's happened?" Yusuke had been going to the school to pick up Illya after
her club activities, at that thought a ball of ice began to grow in the young
Emiya's stomach.
"It's the young mistress Shirou-sama; she was kidnapped just as she was leaving
the school. One of her friends was there to witness the entire thing.
The ice was no longer in his stomach now; rather it had reached his heart and
spread throughout his veins. Shirou felt as though he were made out of ice cold
metal. Paradoxically his thoughts had simultaneously frozen and accelerated to
near light speed. On the one hand he could not feel or react properly, his heart
having frozen on hearing what had happened. On the other hand his thoughts
had flashed through memories at a rate that should have left him unconscious.
Illya being taken by a corrupted Sakura, Illya having been taken by Kirei and
used as his Vessel for the Grail, Illya dying in the arms of the version of himself
that would become EMIYA, Illya weeping in fear as her heart was torn out by
Gilgamesh.
All those images flashed through his mind again and again in a horrific slideshow
of failure and tragedy. And yet for all its repeated length it came to an end in less
than a second, and when it did so it brought Shirou to a single simple conclusion.
"If whoever has done this has harmed even one hair on her head then I'm going
to kill them. And then I'm going to bring them back so I can kill them all over
again."
The words were spoken almost matter of factly, as though he were discussing his
choice as to whether or not to take an umbrella with him today.
Someone was going to seriously regret this.

-()-

Kusanagi Godou walked through the corridors of Emiya-san's manor and couldn't
help but feel slightly awed. He'd been in great houses before, mansions like the
home of Lucretia Zola or the manor of Old Man Zamparini, enough that he felt
he'd gained a certain level of familiarity with them. However this was his first
time being in such a dwelling that was both of the Japanese style and in Tokyo
itself. As a lifetime resident of the city he was well aware of just how much the
property prices in the city had soared over the years, and yet his house and its
gardens were so large. The amount of wealth that it must have cost to buy this
place . . .
With a small shake of his head he dismissed the line of thought. Now wasn't the
time for him to be thinking about such things, right now there were more
important matters to consider.
It had only been half an hour ago that a car containing Amakasu-san and Mariya
had pulled up in front of his house and had practically kidnapped him. During the
drive he'd been told of the situation, of how his sister was the only witness and
how the eighth Campione had had her brought to his home so he could question
her himself.
When he'd first heard that Godou had felt his heart leap into his throat, but
Mariya had been quick to reassure him the Emiya-sama simply wanted to find
out what she knew and had specifically told the Committee to inform him that he
meant her no harm whatsoever. The seventh Campione had felt his fear ease a
bit at the reassurance, but he was well aware of just what lengths he'd go to if it
meant protecting Shizuka, what might someone as apparently ruthless as the red
haired God Slayer do?
He'd been met at the gate to the mansion by Erica and Liliana, both of whom had
also been either informed of had found out by their own means. Once all of them
had been shown into the manor they had been met by Emiya-san himself and
were now being led to the room where he'd left Godou's sister.
"Am I right in assuming that your sister has been kept uninformed as to the
existence of the supernatural?"
His host's questions broke into Godou's thoughts and pulled him out of his
contemplations of the recent events.
"Yes, I'd prefer that she doesn't have to become involved in such troublesome
things."
That was only the truth, he didn't regard his powers as something that was in
any way useful or important, to Godou such unreasonable powers only existed in
order to serve as opposition to the Heretic Gods that were an equally
unreasonable existence. The last thing he wanted was Shizuka getting involved
in such things, he had the distinct impression that if she did she'd probably be an
existence as terrifying as a rogue deity.
Emiya-san nodded.
"Understood. Would you be offended if I borrowed one of your knights for a small
task?"

The request was unexpected but the black haired Campione didn't let his
surprise show on his face.
"I'm aware that Liliana-san can use hypnosis and as far as I know Erica-san is her
equal. If one of them could use such an ability to put your sister to sleep after
I've finished questioning her then I'll have one of my servants place her in a
guest room while I work on whatever she might reveal. That way there shouldn't
be any chance of her learning about the world of Magi."
Godou glanced over his shoulder at the two magus knights that were following
the two Campione and were themselves being followed by the members of the
History Compilation Committee. In all honesty he was surprised both of them had
remained as quiet as they had, but it seemed that they'd read the mood and
were holding their peace. At the questioning look that he sent them both nodded
their accent.
Honestly, when he'd gotten out of bed this morning he hadn't expected that
giving his consent to having his little sister hypnotized would be one of the
things he'd do today.
"That should be fine."
"Excellent." Emiya-san nodded his thanks and indicated a set of large sliding
door they had reached, "This is where Shizuka-san has been waiting. Are you
ready?"
At the nods of all present the slightly older teen slid the door open and gestured
for them to follow him in.
The room into which they all entered was a western style living room, one
complete with a couple of settees and a fair number of large plush sitting chairs.
Large widows dominated one wall and allowed plenty of light in while a few
artfully place house plants gave the place a certain life. All in all it was quite a
pleasant place, one suitable to house a good dozen individuals.
Right now the small figure of Godou's younger sister was sitting in one of the
plush sitting chairs and nursing a cup of tea.
"Onii-chan? Why are you here? And why did you bring your girlfriends?"
The young Kusanagi's questions were brought up short by Emiya-san sitting in
the chair next to her and holding his hand up as though to halt traffic.
"I'm afraid that's my fault. After I had you brought here I contacted your brother
and he insisted in coming over here to lend his support. It seems his . . . friends
decided to come with him."
"Why did you bring me here anyway? Have you called the police yet? Have they
been able to find out who took Illya-chan yet?"
There was a pause as the red haired Campione just looked at his young
questioner, then he sighed and seemed to relent.
"I haven't contacted any authorities yet Kusanagi-san, I'm worried about what
might happen if the kidnappers get in touch with me and demand that I don't go

to the police for help. If they find I've already done so then they might panic and
hurt Illya."
He gestured in a wide motion that took in the entire mansion.
"As you can see when we split from the Einzberns we were able to do fairly well
for ourselves, that's another reason I'm a bit reluctant to go to the police.
Strange as it might sound I wouldn't put it past them to pull something like this
as some sort of power play; they were like that, thinking that the rules don't
apply to them. I told you that when we left the various branches of the clan were
in a veritable civil war, if one of them could gain control over Illya, who's the
technical heir of the main branch, they'd become the dominant faction."
Godou fought to keep a frown from his face as he watched Emiya-san explain the
situation to his sister. His character, the way he was acting, it wasn't at all like
the first time they'd met on the roof, not like the regal and commanding way he
usually acted. Which was the young King's real self?
As the red haired teen began to ask his sister for details about the kidnapping
the seventh Campione offered up a silent prayer for the white haired girl's safety.
Granted it might be a bit strange for a God Slayer to offer a prayer, but he did it
anyway.

-()-

Illya dragged herself out of the darkness and was immediately greeted with the
sounds of unfamiliar voices.
". . . message been sent?"
"Yes sir, a messenger was hired to deliver it for us, one who had no connections
to any of us. It should arrive within the hour and then the wretched God Slayer
shall know our demands."
The white haired girl was very careful, she didn't make a sound, she didn't twitch
a muscle. From what she could tell she was sitting in some sort of chair with her
wrists bound to the chair's arms and her ankles tied to the chair's legs, she
couldn't feel a gag in her mouth and she didn't feel anything that could have
been a blindfold. Careful not to give away her return to consciousness she
remained slumped in her bonds and continued to breathe deeply and regularly.
"Are the preparations ready? Has the alter been set up?" That was the first voice
again, the one that seemed to be in charge.
"Yes sir," and that would be the one she had now mentally labelled as 'minion
number one'. "All is in readiness. Except . . ."
"Except what? If there's a problem then let me know it."
"It's just . . . some of the men are worried. The alter, the ritual, will it really be
able to bind a Campione? I thought such a thing was impossible, that their
magical resistance would dispel any such compulsion." There was a definite hint
of fear in the minion's voice now.

"There is no danger to us. A Devil King must keep an oath that he makes to a
god, and it is that aspect of his power that we will exploit. So long as he willingly
sacrifices blood to that altar his oath shall bind him as if he had sworn to a deity.
After all, its centre is crafted from a Dragon's Bone; the divine power that still
resides within it will be enough to bind the Campione if he doesn't fight it."
Illya heard footsteps drawing nearer to her.
"And he will not, not so long as we hold his weakness in our fist. We will take our
price, we will take our revenge and we shall have our surety. A fine victory
wouldn't you say?"
No. She would not accept this, she would not endure this. She was not some
helpless princess that could only wail in terror as she waited for her knight to
save her. She had been helpless once before and she would not allow herself to
be in that state again.
Okay, first things first, test the bonds to see how strong they are. Being careful to
be as subtle as she could Illya flexed her arms slightly then her legs. By the feel
of it both sets of bindings were more than strong enough to restrain her, and
there was no convenient slack or looseness for her to take advantage of. For a
brief moment she wished that she'd sent a bit more time trying to perfect her
self reinforcement, the ability to increase her physical abilities would certainly be
convenient to have at this point.
Still it wasn't too much of a worry; she still had her magic and her two trump
cards available to her. The real question was whether she should bring them into
play now or wait and see if she could find out more about her captors and their
plans.
"How long should we expect her to be unconscious sir? If I remember the
information we received she's meant to have quite some power of her own."
"We hit her with two of those tranquilizers," the leader replied, "just one of those
should have left her out cold for a couple of days, two will leave her knocked out
for the better part of a week."
Well, that answered that question; they weren't paying any attention to her
because they were sure that she'd be drugged into insensibility. Too bad for them
that even an Einzbern homunculus specializing in prana production was still a bit
hardier than a normal human. Her body had been able to metabolize the
chemicals and restored her to full wakefulness far sooner than they had
expected.
Had it been her onii-chan that had found himself in this position then he might
have laid low for a little longer and seen if he could gather any further
information. Illya wasn't Shirou though, she was more childish, less patient and,
oddly enough, far more accustomed to general violence and slaughter than her
adopted sibling. Quite simply she was less inclined to investigation and far more
comfortable with total annihilation.
And she had the tools for that.
Abandoning all pretence at unconsciousness the white haired girl sat up in her
chair and surveyed her surroundings. She seemed to be in some sort of

abandoned theatre, the basic structure was still there but all the seats and
furnishings had been stripped out. Right now she was off to one side of the stage
and could see that the centre was taken up by a collection of stone blocks that
served to hold up one great slab of mottled grey stone. She supposed that with
some imagination the piled up affair could be called an altar.
There seemed to be a fair number of people in the building, about twenty or so.
The majority of them were men, but there were several women among their
number. All were of Caucasian features and were dressed in clearly expensive
robes and bedecked with a generous amount of silver jewellery.
Illya took a deep breath, finalized her plan in her mind and acted.
The first step was the formation of a Bounded Field around the entire theatre.
Under normal circumstances such an action would have required time and effort,
but through the use of her Wishcraft, the use of the Einzbern Sorcery Trait, she
was able to skip the steps and simply actualize the mystery. Granted such a
method would have been prohibitively costly to any normal Magus, but the white
haired girl was far from ordinary.
Interestingly the people present didn't react as she had expected them to. Back
in her home world any Magus of even passing ability would have noticed the field
coming up; she hadn't been stealthy or subtle in its construction after all.
However rather than immediate panic or action most of the small crowd simply
looked around themselves in confusion.
Then she remembered what had been written about her in the report that the
Committee had supplied to her and Shirou. All the agents of the various agencies
had been unable to find them due to the security Bounded Field that she'd set up
as simple precaution. Even though she didn't know what they were capable of in
other areas it seemed that the construction and operation of Bounded Fields was
something that was either unknown or totally different in this world.
Regardless of the reason it seemed that they hadn't realized the cause of the odd
sensation that they were experiencing, time to clarify things for them.
Alchemy was one of the fields of magic that she'd received proper training in, it
had been necessary for her to be trained in the art of homunculus creation. At its
most basic level the art of alchemy was the alteration of the flow and
composition of matter. She now used that magecraft, used it to weaken and
dissolve the bonds in the matter that made up her bindings. In the space of an
instant they went from strong enough to hold her to being as fragile as old paper.
With a single motion Illya rose to her feet, casually brushing the crumbled
remains of her restraints from her school uniform as she did so. Her sudden
movement drew the eyes of some in the great room, but she ignored them as
she stepped into the middle of the stage.
"Concetto, Fiorino, restrain her!"
The leader's voice echoed through the desolate theatre and rang with urgency.
Two men ran towards the young Einzbern, they were both tall men, though one
was notably more muscular than the other. The slimmer one seemed to be

carrying some sort of short stave and was clearly muttering under his breath. As
she took the sight of them in a slightly cruel smile crossed Illya's face.
Perfect, guinea pigs.
In the time it took for the two men to reach her the snowy haired girl calmly
materialized Beautiful Head Taker and allowed the skills within it to flow into her.
From an outsider's perspective the resulting clash between the two men and the
slight girl was rather like something from a classic samurai movie. One instant
the two cultists were charging at their target, the next there was a steely flash
and both men were tumbling past Illya, groaning in pain and bleeding from
debilitating but non-lethal wounds.
You know," Illya commented as she set the butt of the naginata on the floor and
then leaned the shaft of the weapon casually against her shoulder while
addressing the room in general. "I really should thank you all for this opportunity.
I doubt you people are the only ones who think of me as onii-chan's weak point;
this will be a good chance to prove different."
Her smile now was a contrast to her earlier one, now it was positively angelic.
There was a pause that could only be described as confused. This wasn't how
things were supposed to go, the kidnapped party wasn't supposed to be so
cheerful about their situation. The snowy haired girl could practically see the
thoughts running through her abductors' heads.
She had considered killing them all, when one took into account her magic as
well as her new weapon it probably wouldn't have been too difficult unless they
had some trump card that would surprise her. But somehow she doubted that
Shirou would be too happy with her if she went with such a course of action.
After all he'd told her that the best reputation to develop was one of being strong
but fair, it apparently made future interactions easier.
Very well, since total slaughter was not a viable option she'd have to go with
terror tactics instead. Normally that would be a bit hard for her, even with the aid
of her own Noble Phantasm. After all she was a small figure and not exactly
intimidating, even when using her magic she was more dangerous than she was
frightening. Fortunately her other trump card would be more than suitable for the
task.
"Berserker!"
One word, that was all it took to summon her secret trump card, something she
kept hidden even from Shirou.

-()-

Michelangelo Beradino was the current Voice of the Circle of the Chosen. For
sixteen years he had served as the principle servant and aid to the great god
Hades during his centuries on the mortal plane and had been only the latest in a
long line of individuals who had served in the same capacity.

The Circle had been established just over a millennium ago. During that time
both Hades and his wife Persephone had entered the mortal realm as Heretic
Gods and freely rampaged and indulged their desires. However during a time
when they had been separated a Campione of that age had come across the
goddess and had slain her.
Hades had been filled with wrath and outrage and had set about hunting down
the mortal who had dared to strike down his wife. However the Campione had
mysteriously disappeared, and neither the efforts of the god of the underworld
nor the works of his worshippers could uncover the illusive King.
Eventually another Campione had arrived to challenge the Greek god, but he had
been weak by the standards of Devil Kings and Hades had slain him thus giving
vent to his fury.
His need for vengeance satisfied but unwilling to enter the Netherworld the god
of riches had fallen into a sort of depressed stupor where he was content to
spend the majority of his time indulging in the food and drink his servants
brought him or just sleeping for decades on end. In return for the faithful services
of his worshippers he provided them with the wealth of a king's ransom every
time he woke.
That had been the only responsibilities of the Circle for over ten centuries, to
guard the sleep of their god and to tend to his appetites every time he briefly
awoke. In return for these relatively minor duties they received wealth beyond
the dreams of most mortal men. Over time the Circle had used the riches they
received to expand their control, purchasing property and businesses and
building up a small empire.
Among the various magical organizations they kept a relatively low profile. Their
members were taught to specialize in alchemy and similar disciplines, this
served as a smokescreen to conceal the true source off their limitless wealth.
For centuries it had been thus, generation after generation of easy service with
huge rewards.
And then it had all ended.
Nobody knew how their god came to be aware of the presence of a Campione
nearby. None of the members of the Circle had told him, of that Michelangelo
was sure. It had been their organization's policy never to let Hades know of any
King that could be close, they had known what could happen if he knew. Why
endanger their source of wealth? It would serve no function to place him in
danger or disturb his rest.
And yet it had somehow happened. One day, for no apparent reason, the great
god had stormed out of the underground temple in which he slept, had
summoned his godly chariot and ridden off into the distance. The Circle had been
in chaos for the next few days, feverishly trying to track down their missing lord.
Then they had received the report, the newest Campione had fought the Heretic
God Hades and had slain him.
There had been no words to describe the despair that the Voice of the Circle had
felt. To the rest of the cult it had been about the death of their God, the loss of

the reason for their existence. For Michelangelo it had been a different sort of
melancholy that had assailed him. In all truth he had long ago ceased to think of
Hades as a god to be worshipped and had come to regard him as nothing more
than a source of gold and jewels. He would mouth the words of worship and go
through the motions of respect, but there was very little awe of the deity left in
him.
He supposed it was a case of familiarity breeding contempt. To anyone else the
Greek deity would have been imposing beyond mortal comprehension. However
the current Voice had been seeing the sleeping god since he was three years old,
he had grown accustomed to the divine presence he radiated. It was because of
this that he could look beyond the more immediate effects of their god's
vanquishing.
Without the continuous influxes of wealth the Circle had grown accustomed to
their small empire would eventually collapse. The entire base of their power was
built on their wealth, without it their property and magical knowledge would not
be enough to continue to support them.
It had only been after he had managed to get his hands on a report on the
Campione that had slain Hades that a plan had started to form in his mind. It was
clear that the new King had gained an Authority that granted him access to the
limitless wealth of the god. If Michelangelo could somehow force the God Slayer
to grant him a single mass of great wealth then he could use those riches to tie
off the 'loose ends' of the Circle's small empire, thus stabilizing it.
The only problems were how to force him to do it and how to ensure that he
didn't have a vengeful God Slayer hot on his heels afterwards.
The second problem's solution had been found inside his families treasure vault.
Over the generations the Beradino had used their wealth to collect a number of
artefacts that might be of use to them. The Dragon's Bone altar was one such
relic, and its ability to enforce an oath upon even gods and Campione was the
answer to his difficulty.
The solution to the issue of how to force the God Slayer to obey his will had
become obvious to him as soon as he had read the report. The girl that followed
him was clearly of value to him, sufficiently so that he had been willing to fight
and kill a god for her sake. If that was the case then if he had control over her
then the King would likely acquiesce to his demands in order to guarantee her
safety.
With this plan in mind he had been able to convince the majority of the Circle to
follow him in his plan to 'punish' the slayer of their god. It had been the perfect
move, it had cemented his control over the remains of the splintering cult and
would hopefully provide the means by which to preserve their financial empire.
Everything had been going well, they had secretly arrived in the country, had
established a base of operations in which to set up the altar and had succeeded
in capturing the girl that would allow them to control their lord's murderer and
extort their price from him. How then had things come to this?
Despite all reason the slip of a girl that should have been unconscious for days
yet was on her feet and standing in the centre of the abandoned theatre's stage

like a princess addressing a rabble of commoners. Behind her lay the moaning
forms of the agents he had sent to capture her, blood slowly forming into small
puddles around them. Resting against her right shoulder was a weapon so
magnificent that it would not have been out of place in the hands of a god, and
on her face was a thing of sweet beauty.
Then she spoke a single word.
"Berserker!"
What appeared behind her was humanoid in shape, but never could it be
mistaken for a human. It was too huge to be any sort of mortal, too massive to
be natural. It towered more than two and a half metres tall, bare skinned save for
an armoured kilt and metal bracers on its wrists and ankles. Its skin was a dark
leaden grey that no human could ever have naturally attained and that skin
covered a body that seemed to be composed entirely of muscle, muscle so dense
and heavy that it appeared unnatural. No mortal could possibly attain a
comparable physique, not even through the reckless abuse of drugs and steroids.
The inhumanity of the creature's body was further highlighted by the bony black
protrusions that emerged from its forearms and elbows and by its strangely
distorted face. Budging veins ran across its countenance giving it a look of
perpetual rage. Even its hair seemed inhuman, more like the black mane of some
carnivorous beast than the locks of a man. As though in some final touch even
the monsters eyes were inhuman, one of them molten gold while the other was a
glaring blood red.
The creature was obviously male, but despite that the Voice of the Circle could
not bring himself to think of it as a 'he', it was simply too inhuman for the
connection to be made in his mind. This . . . this thing wascompletely outside his
frame of understanding, it wasn't a god, it wasn't an angel and it wasn't some
sort of divine beast. But it was clearly far more than human; it practically
radiated power that surpassed anything he had ever experienced. Even the
sleeping form of Hades hadn't possessed such an overt aura of power.
But it was more than its appearance or even the power that it radiated that
rooted him to the spot with fear.
Death.
Death Death.
Death Death Death.
Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death!
The feeling was overwhelming, utterly beyond anything he had ever
experienced. Everything about him, his blood, his sinew, his organs, every scrap
of his body seemed to scream at him that he was going to die. All he had to do
was shift, shudder, even twitch, the instant he moved he would die. The menace
that flowed off the creature like water drowned all reason, all thought, all hope
beneath a crushing tide of fear and dread.
Behind him Michelangelo could hear other members of the Circle whimpering in
fear. In his state of terrified heightened awareness he could smell the rank scent

of their sweat as they perspired. Without even having to turn he knew that at
least one member of the cult had soiled themselves in fear.
But the leader of the Circle was not a man of faint heart, he had been raised all
his life to tend to a god, and though the aura of this monstrosity was enough to
stun him it wasn't enough to break him.
With a wordless bellow of defiance he channelled his mana through the bracelet
on his right arm and sent a ball of fire and lightning shooting at the grey giant's
face. The sound of its impact was deafening in the silence that had fallen and the
small cloud of smoke it yielded temporarily obscured the creature from view.
"FIGHT!" Both his action and his shout seemed to have the desired effect; all
around him members of the Circle were emerging from the terrified stupor they
had fallen into. "DO NOT FAIL OUR LORD, FIGHT, SLAY THE MONSTER AND
RECAPTURE THE GIRL!"
There was still a chance he could make the plan work, if he could somehow lead
the cult to successfully bring this brute down then they might be able to once
more take the girl hostage. And if they could do that then the plan could still go
through.
"!"
It couldn't be described as a roar or howl, to do so would suggest that it came
from human vocal cords. The . . . the sound was just like the monster's body; it
bore a vague resemblance to the sounds humans made but was distorted in all
other ways. It was too loud, too deep, too forceful. The sound practically struck
you all on its own.
No, he couldn't allow himself to be intimidated . . . alright; he couldn't allow
himself to be further intimidated. He had nearly twenty mages backing him up,
that was not a negligible power to any that weren't gods or Campione. He still
had a chance.

-()-

"!"
Illya gazed down as the scattered ranks of the magi before her began to
assemble into some semblance of order. The roar that Berserker had released at
her mental command had served to further unnerve them, but not enough to
totally break their morale.
This was her ultimate achievement, the supreme Mystery that she had created
that surpassed any other she was aware of short of one of the True Magics.
However despite the unparallel success of her experiment it was still a failure.
Her original intent had been the resummoning of Berserker, not as a Servant, but
as a familiar. Under normal circumstances such a feat would have been
impossible to achieve and would have almost certainly have been fatal to
attempt. However right now she was in a world where the rules were different,

where the very mana in the air seemed ready to aid in her attempt rather than
hinder it.
Also there were other factors to consider; she had access to her full power
without any external drains on it. She had the Dress of Heaven available to her
which gave her access to an incomplete form of the Heaven's Feel magic. She
had access to reagents such as pure platinum and perfectly cut gems. And she
had her own knowledge, incomplete though it was, of Einzbern homunculus
crafting.
However the most important thing she had was a clear and intimate knowledge
of Berserker's Prana comprised body. She had supported his existence for two
and a half months; she had spent all that time in his presence and had come to
learn how the power he took from her ran through him. It was a natural side
effect of the partnership between a master as skilled as her and a Servant that
drew such huge amounts of her prana. She had simply come to know him, know
how he was put together, how his Noble Phantasm felt.
So she had attempted the impossible, she had tried to call the strongest Servant
of the fifth Heaven's Feel back to her side. She expected to once more be
tormented by the pain of having to support his existence without the Grail's aid,
but she had been willing to endure it. She had wanted it once more, both the
power of her seemingly invincible protector and the simple comfort of his
presence. Plus she felt that he simply deserved something better. Berserker had
always given his all to protect her, even after the Shadow had eaten him and
spat him out again as a blind and crippled version of himself he had still fought
to protect her. He had even halted his last strike when he had sensed her
presence nearby.
So she had poured her vast prana into the task and hoped that the advantages
available to her would be enough to overcome the limitations she faced.
The result would have been a resounding success to anyone else, but to her it
had been a sad failure.
She hadn't been able to reach the Throne of Heroes to gather the Soul of
Heracles. She had felt her magic reaching out; using the Dress of Heaven to
enact a broken version of the Heaven's Feel, but it hadn't been enough. It had
been like trying to reach through a shut window and grasp an apple from a tree
down the road. She could perceive the Throne; she could even perceive the soul
she sought. But something was blocking her path to it, and even if that
impediment hadn't been there her target was too metaphysically 'far' away for
her to touch it. This world she was in was definitely connected to the Root, to
Akasha, but somehow it was 'further away' than her home world had been. Was
this why Shirou hadn't used his Rule of the Underworld and some Traced
weapons to summon up some Heroic Spirits as his Servants? Could it be that his
Authority had the same problem?
Regardless she had achieved something incredible; it just hadn't been what she
wanted.
In a way she supposed that the copy of Berserker she had accidentally created in
her efforts could be compared to one of Shirou's Traced weapons, though
perhaps not completely the same. What she had made had been an imperfect

copy of Berserker's body and abilities, but without any soul or mind inhabiting it.
Instead the construct had been linked to her mind at the moment of its creation;
it responded to her will, she could perceive its senses through the connection
with ease.
Quite simply it could be considered to be a puppet with the power of a Servant.
In a sense that made her new Berserker more of a Mystic Code than a Mystery.
Quite by accident she had created something that most Magi would have been
willing to cut their own arm off with a blunt saw in order to attain. Perhaps even
better than the absolute control she had over it was the fact that like a Servant
her puppet Berserker could shift into a spiritual form, and when he did the
amount of prana he drew from her was practically nonexistent. When she
materialized it the drain on her Prana was considerable, but nowhere near as
severe as what she had experienced before when she had supported Berserker
without the Grails aid. Her best guess was that since her puppet both lacked a
soul and was inferior to the genuine article the drain upon her was likewise
reduced.
However for all her unintended success her creation was not without its flaws. In
terms of pure power her puppet was one rank lower than the true Berserker's
stats would have been. Additionally since there was no mind or soul other than
her own operating the body it had no personal skills other than Battle
Continuation, which had remained at A rank, and Divinity, which had suffered a
reduction in Rank to B level.
The Noble Phantasm God Hand had also been copied, but as with Berserker the
duplication had been imperfect. It wasn't quite as strong as the original, meaning
that it didn't require quite as much force to break through it. Additionally it
wasn't able to hold the same number of stock lives that the true God Hand had
possessed, rather than having eleven extra lives she estimated that her puppet
Berserker would only be able to resurrect itself about five or six times.
Additionally the construct was unarmed. It lacked the huge stone axe-sword that
the true Berserker had wielded as his main weapon. That in itself was only a
minor problem though, the young Einzbern knew that Shirou could Trace a copy
of it, and with his creations now lasting indefinitely it would make a fine
replacement for her creation to use if so she saw fit.
However the greatest limiter to her puppets power was the simple fact that since
it had no driving conscious other than her own it possessed none of the skill of
the true Berserker. Certainly the body still possessed a certain level of muscle
memory, but Illya had quickly come to the conclusion that she'd need to practice
with the puppet Berserker a good deal if she wanted to use it to full effect.
Quite simply rather than the most powerful Servant she had an insanely powerful
remote control robot, or at least the magical equivalent thereof.
Still for the moment at least that would be more than enough. She was familiar
with the true Berserker's style of motion and combat, certainly she could never
have emulated it herself, but with the perfect response that the puppet had to
her will she could at least manage an emulation of it.
At her will the behemoth stepped around her and charged towards the knot of
magi that had come together around their leader. They released a hail of spells

upon the charging giant, fire, lightning, ice, pure force in various hues of colour,
all of them rained down upon him.
And yet for all their destructive potential the spells might as well have been a
mild summer shower. Her creation's God Hand might be inferior to the real thing,
but even so not one of these spells could have been ranked higher than D rank,
utterly useless against her Berserker's Noble Phantasm skin.
In an instant he was among them, his sweeping arms brushing them aside like
feathers and sending them flying through the air. It would have been so much
easier to simply kill them all, to release the full power of her pseudo Servant and
splatter them all with blows too fast for them even to see. Instead she carefully
regulated the amount of force being used and incapacitate rather than slay.
However a good number of the magi had been able to retreat in time to avoid
the puppet's actions. Some of them continued to futilely hurl spells against the
grey giant, but the leader pulled two aside and whispered to them frantically.
By now some of the cultists had lost their nerve and had fled to the doors out of
the theatre in an attempt to escape. Unfortunately for them Illya's Bounded Field
had sealed them in, doors that should have come open easily of broken under
force were suddenly solid as steel. Walls that the desperate tried to break
through proved to be similarly impervious to harm. It gradually began to dawn on
the terrified cultists that there was no way out anymore.
"NOW!"
The sudden shout from the side brought her attention back to where the leader
was standing with his two flunkies. All three of them were pointing their hands
down at the same point on the ground before them.
The young Einzbern watched with mild interest as the floorboards at which the
trio pointed bulged upwards and then split to reveal a mounting mass of rock. As
she watched the stone reshaped itself into a roughly humanoid form that was
even larger than her puppet Berserker. Towering at nearly five metres tall the
vaguely man shaped colossus wielded a massive stone club in one hand as
though it were no heavier than a stick from the garden.
"GO! CRUSH THAT THING, DESTROY IT COMPLETELY!"
The shout from the chief of this rabble was now tinged with a strange mix of
hysterical fear and manic hope. He thought that his construct had a chance
against her puppet, and it was that hope that he was pinning all his plans upon.
"Berserker!"
"!"
She carefully kept up the illusion that the huge creature was an independent
being. She wasn't quite sure why, perhaps it was in some strange way an
attempt to preserve her own Servant's honour. It was as though if she could
make her puppet a worthy successor to her former protector then it would in
some way be alright that she had made such a copy of him.
At her mental command the construct charged fearlessly at the stone giant. The
rock hulk swung its huge club at its attacker, but though the move had power it

was slow. For all its size and mass the copy of her old Servant was able to move
at speeds that would beggar even an expert of Self Reinforcement. Before the
golem could react the puppet was inside its reach.
Illya already knew what she wanted to do, earlier she had lamented that her
creation lacked a weapon of its own, now her captors had been so kind as to
provide her with one. All that was necessary was for her to take it.
The puppet Berserker's hands reached out and the enchanted stone briefly
resisted false divine flesh then shattered beneath the force applied to it. The
golem's arm came apart in a burst of pebbles and as the stone club fell the
imitation Servant snatched it up and immediately swung it at its foe's head.
It was a swing without grace or skill, since the young Einzbern had no training in
any kind of weapon, and it seemed that the skills imparted upon her by the
Beautiful Head Taker didn't translate into anything she could have her construct
use. However the simple fact of the matter was that there comes a point at
which sheer physical force is so great that skill becomes unnecessary. In this
particular clash that was the case, though the puppet Berserker only possessed
at most eighty percent of the original's power that was more than enough to
utterly overwhelm its foe.
The club's head impacted on the imitation cranium of the golem with such force
that both vanished in an explosion of rock dust. That wasn't enough for the grey
giant though; grasping the remains of the club like a sword the false Servant
drove it into the 'wound' where the golem's head had been and pressed
downwards with all the strength at its command.
More of the club shattered under the force as Illya forced her puppet on to
continue its relentless assault, but even as the crude weapon came apart it had
done what was needed of it, an ugly rent ran down the 'chest' of the stone
monster. Casting aside the last splintered remains of the club the young white
haired magus directed her creation to drive its hands forward and seize either
side of the 'wound', then she ordered it to widen the rent.
Like some titan out of myth the grey giant strained, and with a sound like a
mountain collapsing it tore the huge golem in two.
Silence reigned supreme in the theatre once more, a silence broken only by
whimpers of fear or quiet groans of pain.
Illya smiled at the captive audience that was alternating between staring at her
puppet Berserker and staring at her. Despite its intensity the fight with the golem
had been brief, barely five seconds in length. They had had just enough time to
experience a surge of hope at the golem's appearance before that hope was
shattered along with the construct itself. To her side she noted that the two magi
that had aided the leader by summoning up the stone construct were now
unconscious on the floor while the leader was sitting on the ground in a sprawled
manner as though his legs had given out on him.
"Now, does anybody else want to make a fuss?"
In response one of the cultists huddling against the outermost edge of the
theatre hall shakily raised an arm and sent a blue fireball hurtling directly at her.

The white haired magus watched the spell speed at her dispassionately. In all
truth she was a bit surprised that no-one had thought to attack her sooner. That
had been one of the most basic strategies of the Holy Grail War; if you couldn't
kill the Servant then go for the Master. It's what she would have done had she
found herself in their situation.
Still she didn't even flinch as the fireball flew at her. Why should she? She wasn't
worried. As soon as she had brought her puppet Berserker into the physical
realm she had prepared for the magi to strike at her in order to save themselves
and had taken appropriate steps. The magical defence she had set up with her
Wishcraft would have been enough to protect her from even a B rank spell,
however against this it seemed her preparations might have been overkill. Not
only wasn't it a big spell in terms of size it also seemed to have been poorly
constructed and underpowered. She doubted that it would even qualify as an E
rank were someone to test it.
As it struck her defences the most it produced was a slight shimmer in the air
before her.
It had been a futile gesture, one no doubt born of panic and desperation,
however it merited a response. In a split second her creation had covered the
distance separating it from the foolish magus and was towering over him. The
desperate magic user stared at the huge dark giant glaring down at him with an
expression of apocalyptic rage on its face for an instant. Then with a sort of sigh
his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the ground.
"Anyone else?"
When nobody answered her Illya simply allowed her smile to grow. Now for the
next part of her plan.
"Well, you've all been very rude, kidnapping me like this, trying to use me as a
hostage against onii-chan, trying to hurt me when I got free. These are all insults
that need to be . . . punished."
As she said that last word a mental command caused her puppet to growl deep
in its throat, a rumble like grinding stone that echoed around the theatre. Many
of the magi flinched at the noise; one even fell to his knees and started to sob.
"First though I want to know about this altar. Hands up everyone who knows
anything about it."
She noted that the leader didn't respond to her order, still on his knees he simply
continued to glare at her with a sort of defeated but sullen resentment. Still that
didn't matter since four hands had risen out of the knot of cultists that had
formed as they came to huddle together.
"You, come here." The young Einzbern ordered as she pointed at one of them at
random.
The cultist hesitantly made his way up onto the stage next to her, visibly
flinching as he was forced to pass the puppet Berserker in order to reach her. As
he came close Illya gestured imperiously at the crude altar that had been set up
in the centre of the stage.

"You were going to force Shirou to keep an oath to you using that, correct?" At a
hesitant nod from the cultist she continued, "Will it work on anyone? Will it work
on you? Because if it doesn't then we might have a problem since it would limit
my options in how I can deal with all of you."
"I-I don't k-know my lady. According to the records it once bound a Campione t-to
th-their oath, but there was nothing about it b-being used on anyone else."
"Well then, let's try it out then. Go over there and swear your loyalty and
obedience in all things to me."
The man looked at her in horror.
"M-My lady, it must be an oath made of my free will."
"And you have a choice," Illya assured him with a smile, "You can choose to make
the oath or you can choose to take the matter up with my friend here. You have a
choice, so therefore you have free will."
At her words the imitation Servant leaned forwards slightly and rumbled its growl
once more.
Under both Illya's smile and the baleful glare of her puppet the cultist stumbled
over to the altar and picked up the knife that was resting on it. His stare, now
somewhat wild, went from the blade in his hand to his fellows who were watching
him to the girl child and her pet monster and then back to the knife.
"Go on," said the white haired Einzbern encouragingly, "I know the altar needs a
blood sacrifice. If you don't want to do it I can have Berserker here help you."
A shudder ran through the man as his gaze went to her puppet once more, then
he turned a face whose expression could only be called 'broken' to Illya.
"What's your name? I need to know in order to swear."
"I'm Illyasviel Von Einzbern"
With a final shudder the cultist extended his arm and drew the knife across the
underside of his bare forearm cutting a shallow wound. Droplets of blood spilled
forth and pattered down onto the stone in the middle of the altar.
"I . . . I do swear my loyalty and obedience in all things to Illyasviel Von
Einzbern."
The words were barely more than a whisper but as the cultist spoke them the
white haired magus felt something take place. It was as though an invisible
lead now connected them, one end around his neck and the other rested in her
metaphorical hand. Curios she tugged on that lead and sent a command along it.
-SleepLike a doll with its strings cut the man fell to the floor completely unconscious.
-AwakenHis eyes blinked open and he pulled himself to his feet.
The smile that was now on her face would not have looked out of place on a tiger
that had just spotted a gazelle so fat that it had no chance of escape.

"We have a solution to our problems. All of you are going to swear to me on that
altar. Does anybody have any objections?"
"I . . ." the voice came from the leader, who was now struggling to his feet, his
voice was laden with contempt and hatred, "I will not submit to this. I am the
Voice of-"
Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as her creation's huge hand
closed around his face.
"If that's how you want it." Her own voice was clear and calm, utterly unaffected
by the situation.
CRUUGH!
With a noise that was both brittle and wet the puppet Berserker's hand closed
into a fist. Illya noted with mild interest that contrary to what she'd seen in some
movies and anime a great spray of blood didn't burst forth. Instead a relatively
small amount dripped forth from her construct's fist, along with a couple of other
fluids.
Earlier she'd made the decision not to kill them all, but she was willing to accept
one or two deaths as long as it ensured that the rest of the cultists would follow
her orders. Shirou was someone that tried to avoid as many deaths as he could,
though he had grown to be able to accept the deaths he couldn't prevent. Illya,
on the other hand, was her father's daughter through and through. Killing was
something she had grown accustomed to after those first weeks with Berserker.
As the two of them had struggled in the forest filled with the rejected creations of
her family she had grown used to the sight and smell of blood. By the time they
were let back into the Family castle she had been splattered with the life fluid of
many 'failures' but she had no longer cared.
The rest of the magi present stared at the sight before them like hypnotized mice
confronting a snake. As her puppet let the headless body fall to the ground a
couple of the watchers turned and threw up.
"Does anyone else have any objections?"
Quite predictably there were no further dissenters. One by one they filed past the
altar shedding their blood upon it and mumbling the oath she demanded.
Eventually they were all sworn and stood looking at her with a kind of stunned
questioning on their faces, for some reason she was reminded of cattle being led
to the slaughter. She could feel the connection between them, as though she
held twenty two invisible leashes with her will. These men and women were hers
now, she could order then to die and their hearts would stop beating at her
command.
"Alright, my first order it that you will show my onii-chan, Emiya Shirou, the same
obedience and respect that your oaths compel for me. Secondly you will not
cause harm or allow harm to come to myself, Shirou or our interests by your
actions or inactions." She looked out at them and could practically see the order
settling into her new minions, as well as their utter helplessness to disobey. She
also saw the panic growing in their eyes as they came to realize just what it
meant for her to have this level of control over them. Deciding to show them
some mercy in her victory she added a small amendment.

"Should you come into conflict with this order in some way that would be
dangerous or ruinous to you you may contact me to try to find a resolution."
There, it was probably more than they deserved, but it was what Shirou would
have approved of.
"M-My lady," the first cultist to have been sworn to her had stepped forwards and
was addressing her, "W-What shall we do now? What are your orders?"
Illya paused for moment as she considered her options. She'd certainly have to
question her new followers on why they had wanted to compel Shirou to keep
some oath to them, but that could come later. These oaths they had taken would
not fade any time soon, of that she was sure; she could feel the strength of the
bond they made. No, questions could wait until later; right now the most
important thing to do was to secure this altar somewhere safe.
"How did you transport the altar here? Do you have some sort of vehicle or did
you bring it in pieces?"
Her question seemed to catch the man off guard, but he quickly answered
despite his confusion.
"We have a transport van out the back; the altar can be disassembled and
loaded into that."
"Please do that then; once we have it all loaded up all of you are going to take
me back home. Then all of us can have a long talk with my onii-chan."

-()-

Shirou glared at the note in his hand as though he could get it to change its
message if he directed enough malice at it.
The content was a long rambling discourse on the supposed crime that he had
committed in slaying Hades, some justifications for the actions that this so called
'Circle of the Chosen' had taken and finally an outline of the demands that they
wished from him. Those demands had been left vague, the only things he was
sure of was that they'd want a considerable amount of wealth and some sort of
promise. The message ended by saying that another such note would soon be
sent and that one would have contact details so that they could set up a meeting
and exchange.
Across from him were Kusanagi-san and his companions, all of them had seen
the message as well and had been equally outraged. For all their talk of
honouring their god this entire affair was little more than a kidnapping and
extortion for money.
Once he found those responsible for this he was going to make them pay, they
would pay in blood. Nobody would harm Illya, he'd protect her, he'dHis thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, which was followed by
Yusuke letting himself in.

"Shirou-sama, Illya-sama has just arrived at the gate!"

The eighth Campione sat there for a second staring dumbly at his servant. It took
that long for the full meaning of the words to filter through his confusion and into
his conscious thoughts. Then he was leaping out of his chair and bolting through
the door so fast that he almost knocked the resurrected accountant over.
At the back of his mind he noted that his actions probably weren't in keeping
with the image that he'd been carefully cultivating with his fellow Campione and
his attendants, but right now he really didn't care. All that mattered was that Illya
was back, that Illya was safe.
He came running out of the mansion and saw his adopted sister calmly walking
down the path towards him. For a moment the urge to simply pick her up and
hug her was almost overwhelming, but the combat instincts he'd inherited from
his other selves pulled his attention away from his returned sibling and to those
who were following her.
There were more than twenty of them, a mix of men and women, and from what
he could sense from them the majority of them were magi.
Scenarios ran through his head in the merest blink of an eye. Was Illya under
some sort of control and was now leading her captors through the manor's
defences? Was she being threatened in some manner to ensure her cooperation? Had she perhaps been tricked?
However his worries were dispelled when upon seeing him the snowy haired girl
smiled and waved.
"Heeeyyyy onii-chan, come on and have a look at this. I've got minions."
"Huh?" That was just about the most articulate response that Shirou was able to
manage.
"Well you know that group that kidnapped me? I got loose, killed their leader and
took them over, now they're all my minions. Cool huh?"
The red haired Campione could definitely feel a headache coming on at this
point. Somehow he knew that whatever Illya had done was going to lead to
problems, or at least further headaches, in the future.
But for now he didn't worry about that, all he cared about was that his sister was
back home and safe.
Wait, hang on a minute. Did she say she'd killed the group leader?

-()-

Around the world many schemes were taking form.

The schemers were Divine Ancestors, former goddesses each working to their
own agenda.

In one country the Witch Queen Guinevere escorted the heavily wounded form of
her fellow Divine Ancestor Leviathan to meet with the Campione of China Luo
Hao. Both of them had their own reasons for working together and were only in
co-operation because those reasons coincided. One sought to uncover a secret
and the other sought revenge. Neither of them cared about whether or not the
other succeeded as long as their own goals were met.
In one part of Japan another Divine Ancestor, one with hair that was both red and
blue, laboured in her work as she carefully inscribed ancient ruins onto golden
plates using a tool dipped in her own blood. She wanted power, the return of
what she had once lost.
And on a tiny uncharted island off the eastern shore of Japan another former
goddess stood waiting.
She had been patient these last few weeks, had not rushed or pushed but had
simply waited as the god that slept in the earth of the tiny isle roused himself to
full consciousness once more.
Now she stood to one side as the ground before her began to heave. The god
that had slept was now awake and slowly but surely he was rising from his bed of
soil and stone. Before her eyes a great bulge as big as a house rose in the small
clearing, then, in an movement shocking in its suddenness, an arm tore out of
the mound.
It was an arm covered in black metal, armour black as night and studded with
spikes and hooked blades. As more of the god's form emerged from the earth the
former goddess couldn't help but feel a shudder run down her spine.
This was an old god, one who had undergone many changes over the ages as his
worshippers had been assimilated into other cultures and their image of him had
changed. Now he wore the same form that he had possessed when last he
rampaged on the plane of the mortals. Black armour covered every inch of him,
armour that was of vaguely European design, but not something any mortal had
ever worn. At one side of his belt hung a sheathed broadsword and on the other
a coiled whip. On his back was hung a large kite shaped shield, one bearing no
crest but only as solid a black as his armour. And he stood tall, taller than any
mortal; his metal covered form stood more than three metres in height and
nearly two metres wide at the shoulders.
She could feel the power radiating from him; feel the strength that had slain two
Devil Kings.
This was a god who had become a follower of the King Who Manifests at the
World's End. He had served as one of his greatest knights for years, but in the
end his envy and battle lust had led him to betray his lord and strike out at him.
He was the only god to have ever succeeded in wounding the one known as the
'Strongest Steel', and for that his name had been immortalized and become
synonymous with betrayal.
Yes, he was the knight of betrayal.
A small smile touched the Divine Ancestor's lips as she felt his eyes focus upon
her.

"Art thou the one who hast roused me from my slumber?"

Despite his huge frame his voice was oddly gentle, that of a gentleman knight
rather than some despoiler and ravager.
In response she curtsied low as she bowed to him.
"Indeed I am, welcome back Sir Mordred."

Chapter Nine: The Four Kings Part 1

Athena was currently engaging in her favourite pastime in this country, namely
stalking her chosen prey Kusanagi Godou.
Right now the boy was in a car along with his collection of female companions.
Interestingly there was also a young girl with them, the sister of priestess she
believed.
Normally the powerful goddess wouldn't have even bothered to take note of the
King's followers, they were mortal and therefore of no consequence. However

she was, among other aspects, a goddess of the art of war, and only a true fool
didn't learn from the past. In their last battle Kusanagi Godou's allies had
provided him with the edge he had needed in order to win, she would not make
the mistake of dismissing them again.
Athena was currently hovering above them, hidden behind a cloud, and using her
divine senses to observe her future foe. With a sigh and a tiny smile she
abandoned her pursuit and settled down in a small clearing not too far from the
road. She couldn't afford to spend too much time observing her prey, especially
not in circumstances that necessitated the use of her powers. There was too
much of a chance that he or one of his companions might sense her.
Recently though she hadn't been able to devote as much time as she would have
preferred to this activity. Her agreement with her allies meant that she had to
lend them her power as a true deity for parts of their plan. For the most part that
had mainly consisted of her charging certain artefacts and symbols with her
power so they would count as divine instruments. That wasn't a particularly
difficult task, but it was annoyingly time consuming and somewhat tiring.
As soon as her obligations had been fulfilled and her stamina restored she had
taken the chance to check upon her target's progress.
Having last seen him just after his victory over the unknown subordinate god she
hadn't had the chance to pay close attention to him since then. Having
conducted a better inspection of her future opponent she had found herself
pleasantly surprised by what she discovered. It seemed that not only had he
finally learnt how to grasp all ten Authorities that he had usurped from
Verethragna but he had also gained a new one from the deity she had witnessed
him defeat. She had allowed her Authority of Wisdom to tap into the Memories of
the Void, a most useful Authority to possess, and soon identified it.
Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi, a fine subordinate god of Steel, and a decent
match for her young quarry. Idly she wondered if he would learn to swing the
blade properly or whether he would instead focus upon mastering its power,
either course had its merits and failings.
Either way it was good that he had found further conflict: it would help him to
sharpen his fangs for when it was time for the two of them to have their own
fated battle.
"And hast thy curiosities been sated by thy observations honoured Athena?"
It took a great deal of the goddess's self control not to jump in a most undignified
manner when the unexpected voice came from behind her.
Spinning around she drew on her powers, readying herself in case she would be
called to combat.
Behind her stood a towering figure clad entirely in heavy plated armour and
carrying weapons on both hips and a great shield upon his back. He was without
any doubt a god, but to her surprise even though the armoured giant radiated
power and menace she had not sensed him until she had laid eyes on him. How
was that possible? How could she have missed such blatant power?
"Honoured Mother, I would like to present our latest ally, Sir Mordred."

The voice came from beside the steel clad titan and the Snake goddess looked
down to see her golden haired ally standing next to the god's left leg. It was an
almost farcical sight, given that the seemingly young girl only came up to just
above the knight's knee, like a tiny child standing next to her father.
"He is our ally?"
"Indeed," there was a definite note of triumph to the Divine Ancestor's voice, "In
return for the service of rousing him from his sleep and letting him know of the
new God Slayers that walk the world Sir Mordred has pledged to serve me as my
protector and champion until I have regained my lost power."
Now that was cause for concern. The majority of her security in their alliance had
stemmed from the fact that if they somehow betrayed or deceived her, despite
their oaths, then it was well within her power to dispose of both of them.
However now this new arrival brought that truth into question.
Even without using her Authorities to learn more about him she could tell that he
was a powerful god, it practically radiated from him. With a slight frown on her
face she reached out with her Wisdom, she would not be intimidated by this
hulking warrior. Revealing his true identity would be a small show of strength, a
demonstration that she was not to be taken lightly.
But when she reached out into the Memories of the Void she found . . . nothing,
no hints to his identity, no accessible knowledge of his origins. There was quite
simply nothing.
Something must have shown on her face, despite her attempts to keep her
expression blank, because a deep throated chuckle came from the towering
knight.
"Thou canst not discern mine identity so easily honoured Athena," he said, "I am
the Black Knight of legend, the first and the greatest, mine true self is secret and
mine designs and actions hidden, such is the burden and privilege of those who
bear the black armour."
So that was it, he actually had an Authority that worked to not only protect his
true identity but also served to conceal his movements and actions save for
when he chose to move openly. Small wonder that she hadn't noticed him enter
her presence until such time as he chose to alert her to his existence.
This was worrying. With such an Authority this Mordred was the natural enemy of
Kusanagi Godou as it provided a perfect counter to his trump card, the golden
sword of spell words that could slice a target's divinity.
Under normal circumstances the seventh Campione relied upon his female
attendants to supply him with the knowledge of his target's history and nature so
that he could create the sword needed to slash their Authorities and seal their
powers. However against this deity such would be impossible, his priestess might
be talented, but if Athena's Wisdom could not discern the true identity of the
hulking black knight then her weaker abilities would have no hope of success.
Having been denied his principle advantage the black haired Campione would be
forced to fall back on his other Authorities, and though they were powerful he
was perhaps less practiced in their use.

Simply put she was slightly concerned that if this Sir Mordred was set as an
opponent for her prey then there might be the chance that her prey would be
poached by another.
On the other hand this might be an excellent chance to further force her target
to improve himself. Denied his arguably most potent weapon might he not
instead be forced to further improve himself in the use of his other Authorities?
That was something worth considering.
For the time being it was unlikely that Kusanagi Godou would come into conflict
with her allies, their focus was upon the other Japanese Campione. As long as
this remained the case then there would no conflict of interests for her.

-()-

There are times in your life when you realize that you could have gone through
your entire existence without realizing that there is something that you not only
enjoy but are in fact very good at.
Renjou Kaida had been raised as a Hime-Miko for as long as she could remember;
she had trained in the use of her natural powers and had been taught the various
spells that she had shown an aptitude for. Her education had involved learning
the history of the various deities and spirits that had appeared in her country
over the last few hundred years as well as the history of the Committee and the
various smaller organizations that it had absorbed into itself over the years.
She had dutifully taken to all these tasks and had been accordingly praised by
her teacher for her excellent diligence and fine attitude. She'd always been
aware that her powers and privileges came with responsibilities, so she'd always
worked hard to meet what she felt was her duty.
She had also always taken a certain pleasure in the correct execution of her
duties. Every time she had consecrated some ground, purified a victim of some
curse or correctly honoured some spirit she had been content in the knowledge
that she had done her tasks well.
When she had volunteered to take the position of a maid at the mansion of
Emiya-sama it had been a spur of the moment action, something done without
properly thinking it through. When her training had begun she'd expected to
have to tackle it with the same grinding determination that she'd applied to her
lessons in magic and ritual. However she'd discovered something that had
surprised her considerably.
She liked being a maid.
Not only did she like it, it turned out that she also had some considerable talent
for the profession. She'd always been fastidious about keeping her shrine tidy,
but it seemed that those habits translated well into her new tasks.
And she had been kept busy these last couple of weeks. When she had first
begun her work here there had only been six inhabitants of the manor, including
herself and Manaka. Despite the large size of the mansion she'd soon estimated

that it would be relatively easy to do her new duties with so few people living
there.
Then Illya-sama had been kidnapped and had then proceeded to turn her captors
into her minions.
Once she had returned with her new underlings thing had certainly become more
interesting in the mansion. It had been on the first night that they'd arrived that
she'd seen just how scary Emiya-sama could be. The Campione had assembled
all the members of the Circle in one of the larger empty rooms of the mansion,
locked the door and spent the next twenty minutes explaining his views on what
they had done. Kaida hadn't been able to find out exactly what he'd said to
them, but when they'd come stumbling out of that room afterwards she'd been
there to see it and had noted every one of them had been chalk white and
trembling slightly.
Also she had later noted that all of them seemed to have developed a minor
phobia of blades, even when sitting down to a meal they seemed to watch their
knives with suspicion, as though expecting them to attack as soon as they
weren't paying attention.
Things had certainly become busier since then; nearly half of Illya-sama's
minions had moved into the mansion and become the direct subordinates of
Yusuke-san. When the black haired Hime-Miko had asked as to the details of what
was going on the resurrected accountant had been more than happy to fill her in.
It seemed that the Circle of the Chosen owned a small empire of properties and
businesses, but that empire had been very poorly managed and was on the
verge of collapse. At Illya-sama's orders total control of it had been turned over
to Yusuke-san and Shirou has granted his chief servant full access to any
financial backing he might need. When the re-embodied soul had talked to the
former shrine maiden it was after a fifty six hour working marathon. Granted
Emiya-sama's undead servants didn't require nearly as much sleep as normal
humans, but even so being focused on a single task for so long had been
exhausting. However regardless of his tiredness Yusuke-san had said it was some
of the most fun he'd had in ages.
Kaida had expressed her surprise at that statement; the accountant had said
that it was all a matter of preference. For some who had that inclination painting
a masterpiece was a joy, for others taking a seemingly useless lump of wood and
carving it into something useful was their pleasure. He, on the other hand, was a
man whose aptitude was for numbers. So for him the task of taking the mess
that was the Circle's financial state and fixing it into something that would not
only support itself but also yield a profit, that was his pleasure.
Things in the Emiya mansion were still mostly informal. For the most part the
new arrivals kept to themselves. They were well aware that they were not held in
any sort of favour by the master of the manor, in fact he was only tolerating
them as a favour to his adopted sister. That was probably why they were working
so hard; they knew that right now that their only chance to avoid dismissal was
to prove themselves useful. At the moment they were a novelty to Illya-sama,
her own personal minions as she described them, but young girls were prone to
losing interest in old novelties fairly quickly. If they wanted to secure their
position they had to do it soon.

In all truth the young Renjou could understand their urgency. From what she
could understand access to Emiya-sama's wealth was the only chance they had
to avoid bankruptcy. In addition to that was the simple fact that they were, to all
intents and purposes, slaves to the siblings. At least if they were able to stay
here then they would have some sort of influence on their masters, if not then
they would have to answer to distant controllers that they knew nothing of.
Also there was the simple matter that practically any organization worth its salt
would be willing to pay in blood if it allowed them to have agents in this manor.
This was the home of a Campione, not only that it was the home of a Campione
that seemed to be taking a fairly unique approach in the use of his position's
power. The closest thing that she could think of was how the Black Prince Alec
had built up the organization Royal Arsenal. However that Campione had only
assembled his faction in order to provide him with some support, but mainly
simply so that they would oppose the elite magical associations led by the
Witenagemot.
Emiya-sama seemed to be putting something completely different together. His
organization seemed to be about acquiring power and influence as quickly as
possible in order to aid the eighth Campione in finding something. Exactly what
that something was Kaida had no idea, but she was willing to bet that in less
than a month a good many people around the world would be willing to cut off
their own arms in order to find out.
All that meant that this mansion was soon going to be the place where some
very important things would take place. For example during Illya-sama's
kidnapping Kusanagi-sama and his harem had come round to offer their support
and aid. That alone was a momentous occurrence, two Campione in the same
dwelling and no conflict between them. Suzuki-san had taken the task of serving
at that meeting upon herself, so both Kaida and Manaka hadn't been aware of
what had happened until after the seventh Campione and his lover had left. It
still seemed surreal to her, two of the most powerful mortals in the world had
been conversing not more than a hundred metres from where she had been. And
what had she been doing at the time? She'd been happily polishing some old
silver western cutlery. It was so unbelievable it was almost funny.
Still being a maid hadn't been the only thing that had been taking up her time. A
couple of days after the failed kidnapping and the forceful recruitment of Illyasama's new servants the adopted siblings had begun to look through the
information that the Committee had sent them in earnest.
So far they had only made a few minor questions to her and Manaka, minor
queries such as asking for clarification on the details of a document that they
were researching. In time they would expand their knowledge and their
questions would likewise grow in depth. Soon they would be in further need of
what she and her friend could teach them, and then they would be able to
demonstrate their full value to the Campione and his adopted sister.
"Ah, Renjou-san, could I have a moment of your time please?"
The Hime-Miko turned maid looked up from the table she'd been polishing and
saw that she was being addressed by one of the former members of the Circle of
the Chosen. This one was one of the few women among them, a young lady in

her early twenties with brown hair and matching brown eyes. She was quite
pretty, but it was the sort of good looks that failed to be really striking.
Her stance and bearing were both nervous and subservient, Kaida could
understand that. One thing that she'd learnt about the talk that Emiya-sama had
given to them was that he had been very clear about their position in the
manor's hierarchy. He was largely tolerating their presence as a favour to his
adopted sister. In his words they 'ranked above the worms in the earth and any
cockroaches that might have found their way into the mansion, but until they
proved themselves to be useful they still ranked below the bottles of wine in
Yusuke's collection'.
She could imagine that being told that one's position in the chain of command
was inferior to an inanimate object wasn't too good for ones ego. On the other
hand it seemed to have lent the manor's new occupants considerable motivation
to prove their worth to their new masters.
This one was . . .
"Delfavero-san, what can I do for you?" Yes that was her name, Ersilia Delfavero.
She had been one of the more subdued members of the former cult when she'd
first been ordered to remain in the mansion under Yusuke-san's command rather
than return to her home country. However she'd shown an admirable drive to
improve her situation, which had made her stand out in the former shrine
maiden's mind. If her memory served her correctly Delfavero-san was now acting
as one of the resurrected accountant's personal assistants.
"Illya-sama asked me to tell you to come to her workshop, there's something
going on that she needs to speak to you about."
On hearing that Kaida gave a quick nod of thanks and shot off.
Her behaviour was rather unusual for her; normally the black haired Hime-Miko
was an extremely polite person and would have given a more courteous farewell.
However she had been given the opportunity to go inside the white haired
mage's Workshop, and that was something she dearly wanted to experience
once more.
The only other time that she'd been inside had been shortly after the kidnapping
incident. Back then she'd been bringing Illya-sama some refreshments after
she'd spent more than four hours in the small building. It had been a hot day and
Suzuki-san had thought a pitcher of iced water and some sandwiches should be
delivered. Kaida had arrived and knocked on the door and waited. She was aware
of how secretive both the adopted siblings were of what took place in their
Workshops, one of the first rules that they always laid down with new staff was
that nobody went into those sheds without their expressed permission. As such
the black haired young woman had expected to simply hand the tray to the
young mistress without even seeing inside the Workshop.
Instead she'd heard Illya-sama shouting out a reply for her to come in.
When Kaida had stepped into the Workshop she had forgotten to breathe for an
instant, so great was her amazement at what she saw. The single room of the
shed was divided into two portions; one half was mainly taken up by a large open
area around some sort of circle that had been carved into the floor. She hadn't

recognized many of the markings and designs used, but she could tell that the
style was definitely of European origin. The circle also sparkled metallically
leading the Hime-Miko to think that it was made of silver, however a closer look
showed her that the colour was slightly off for it to be so. It had taken her a
couple of seconds to realize that every line, symbol and curve of the circle had
been picked out in perfectly shaped platinum.
Still, despite how fascinating that had been the other half of the shed had been
even more eye-catching. The tiny golden city wrought in exquisite detail and
rippling in constant motion as it seemed to update itself from one instant to the
next. Tiny cars the size of ants moved between trees like toothpicks and
buildings the sizes of cigarette stubs. She'd immediately recognized what it was;
a tiny recreation of Tokyo city.
She'd only had time to look at it briefly though; Illya-sama had called to her from
where she'd been bent over a work bench and asked her to hold onto the end of
a curled wire. With someone else holding the wire the white haired girl had been
able to carefully weld another wire into its side. As soon as she was done Illyasama had thanked her and quickly shooed her out of the Workshop.
Kaida freely admitted that she was probably not the most knowledgeable person
in the world when it came to the various schools of magic in the world. However
she was generally well educated and knew at least the generalities. However the
strange unknown form of magic that both Emiya-sama and Illya-sama practiced
was a source of endless fascination to her. Certainly someone of great skill might
have been able to assemble something like the miniature city, but the black
haired maid knew that it had been done without any invocations of gods or
angels. The thought that it was possible for humans to do such without the aid of
higher powers amazed her.
Well, now she was getting a chance to go in there again, she wondered why that
was and what she might learn.

-()-

Shirou brought his left sword up to block the weapon swinging at him. The
weapon he held in that hand was a polish Karabela, a kind of European scimitar,
and in his grip it redirected the blade of his foe to the side and away. The curve
of the blade allowed him to further direct the weapon, catching it in a sort of
forced path. As his foe lost control of his sword the young Emiya brought his
other sword around. This one was a falchion, a short but heavy sword favoured
by knights around the time of the Crusades. His blow brushed aside the short
sword that had been raised in a hasty defence . . . and stopped just as it touched
the skin of his opponent's neck.
"That's my win Ian-sensei."
The eighth Campione stepped back and bowed to the knight that was standing
across the dojo from him. In response the armoured warrior sheathed his
weapons and bowed in return.

"It was my pleasure to spar with you my King, please call upon me at any time
should you have need of my services or swords."
As he finished talking the knight seemed to dissolve into dust in the wind which
itself soon faded from existence.
Shirou breathed out in a long sigh and allowed himself to collapse into a rather
unsightly sitting sprawl as his blades faded from existence. That had been a
good workout. Ian-sensei might lack the grace and consummate skill of a
samurai, but he more than made up for it with his experience and his cunning.
The Knight was from Britain during the eighth century, he had been a knight who
had fought in many battles and survived many wars. One of the acquisitions that
Shirou had made with his internet purchases had been the hilt of one of his
favourite swords.
Since his first summoning the knight had been more than happy to answer his
new King's call whenever it was made.
Ian had been the last of three sparring matches that the young Emiya had put
himself through in order to test the modifications that he'd made to the style that
he'd assimilated from EMIYA.
That style was something that his counterpart had painstakingly created over
many years of his life while engaging in endless battles and facing countless
opponents. It was a style ideal for the one known as Emiya Shirou because it had
been made by the very one that could in many ways be regarded as Emiya
Shirou's ideal.
However that was no longer completely true of this Emiya Shirou. This one had
cast aside the ideals that had formed the core of his otherworldly counterparts,
but it went beyond that to something far simpler. This Shirou was physically
different from EMIYA; who had built his style up in a certain way because he
could only move so fast, because he could only be so strong. The end result had
been a style that limited the opponent's choices to avenues that EMIYA had been
able to predict and prepare for, an insane style that allowed the future Archer to
fight those many times his strength and skill.
However while that style was still of immense value to the eighth Campione it
was no longer as perfectly suited for him as it had once been. With his improved
body and Authorities he now possessed completely different performance
parameters than the Counter Guardian had. In terms of pure physical power,
prana capacity and physical quality Shirou could definitely say he was superior to
the Servant of the bow. Of course he was also aware that in many ways Archer
was still far more advanced than him despite the skills he had assimilated from
his arm.
Archer had been far more skilled in the construction and modification of Noble
Phantasms, he had been able to break them perfectly to get the maximum
performance out of them as Broken Phantasms, and of course he had fully
realized his Reality Marble. Shirou might have the memories and some of the
skills of his older counterpart, but he was still a ways off from being able to
match his expertise.

Idly he wondered if he would ever be able to fully manifest Unlimited Blade

Works as his counterparts had. He knew that he still possessed the same Reality
Marble within him, but his internal world and EMIYA's was incompatible due to
the changes in his personality. As a result he couldn't use the same method to
actualize his internal world upon reality; he had to find a new method, one that
worked for him and his new set of beliefs.
Still, that was a far off goal, for now he'd be more than happy to settle for
successfully modifying his style to take full advantages of the changes he'd
undergone.
And there was only one road for that that he knew how to take.
Experience.
Experience. Experience. Experience.
That was how his counterpart had developed it, and that was how he was going
to modify it. He'd simply keep fighting opponent after opponent, slowly modifying
his approach using what he learnt in battle. It was a painful and exhaustive
method, but it gave him the advantage of also gaining combat experience at a
rapid rate in comparison to regular practice. His resurrected servants knew not to
kill him, but apart from that anything else was acceptable. His newly
strengthened bones ensured that his losing a limb wasn't likely, and his healing,
boosted by both his nature as a Campione and Avalon in his body, ensured he'd
recover quickly. As such he was growing used to slashes, stabs and
bludgeonings, he didn't like them, but he was getting used to them.
Still, little by little he was learning what worked better for him. It was a small
alteration, but it was only the first step after all. If he wanted to make further
progress he was going to have to face enemies of his own level or higher, his
servants were helpful, but none of them could match up to him when he was
using the power of his Dragon Slaying Hero Authority.
Idly he wondered if there was any way he could convince Kusanagi-san into
sparring with him, as a fellow Campione then surely they could operate on the
same . . .
What was he thinking?
At just what point had he stopped thinking of the seventh Campione as a
potential threat that needed to be deceived and misled? Certainly his own
observations had led him to conclude that the younger teen wasn't some
egotistical tyrant nor was he some ambition driven power seeker, so that had
eliminated the gravest of his worries. He even knew that Kusanagi-san had a set
of ethics that he could approve of, his rescue of Ena-san even when it had proven
to be inconvenient to him had proven that.
Still despite all that the black haired King was not someone he could regard as a
comrade or someone he could trust.
So why had he just thought of offering to have a friendly spar to his fellow King?
A spar was something conducted with those you trusted since it gave away so
much knowledge of what you were capable of.

With a sigh Shirou let himself fall back and lay flat out on the dojo's floor staring
at the ceiling. Maybe he should just admit it to himself. He'd put all that effort
into his actions and his preparation and the whole time the principle threat to
him had existed nowhere but inside his own head. Actually the more he thought
about it the more of a kinship the red haired teen found himself feeling with his
fellow Devil King.
Having read the file that the Committee had provided him about Kusanagi-san's
history he could see certain parallels between them. The seventh Campione had
been to all intents and purposes a normal person until a series of bizarre events
had led to him becoming a God Slayer. For all his personal problems and his
passing knowledge of Magecraft Shirou had also been a pretty normal teenager
until he got dragged into the Fifth Heaven's Feel.
The simple fact of the matter was that Kusanagi Godou, far from being corrupted
or intoxicated by his powers, in fact regarded his position as a Campione as
something of a nuisance. As a result the chances that he was planning a surprise
attack on Shirou were as close to zero as made no odds.
By the same token it seemed that it was unlikely that the History Compilation
Committee would double cross their agreement with him and launch their own
surprise attack. All the tomes and scrolls that he'd been supplied with on the
subject of Campione agreed that throughout history the only people that could
hope to defy a Devil King were Gods, some mysterious beings referred to as
'Angels' and their fellow God Slayers. There had been a couple of exceptions to
this rule such as ridiculously powerful sages, but they were few and far between.
Quite simply the accepted rules for dealing with Campione could be summed up
fairly easily.
1: Don't bother fighting them; it's utterly pointless unless you've got a power of
an equal level backing you up.
2: Obey the orders of a Campione no matter what they are. If you don't its well
within their power to force your obedience and doing so usually results in
massive property damage.
3: Lend all aid possible to a Campione when they're hunting or fighting a god. It
helps the situation get resolved quicker so that with any luck they'll go away that
much sooner.
4: Under no circumstances try to control, manipulate, brainwash, hypnotize, drug
or in any way forcefully influence a Campione's will. Pompeii is an excellent
example of what can happen if you try.
Naturally the 'official' versions of those rules used more elaborate language and
far more words, as though they could bury the facts beneath diplomatic niceties.
But once you stripped away all the excess that was what it boiled down to.
It seemed that for the most part all his and Illya's careful preparations had been
unnecessary. They'd spent feverish days working to have the mansion as close to
an impregnable fortress as they could, and it looked like there'd be nobody crazy
enough to test them.

Quite honestly he wasn't sure how he felt about that. On the one hand it seemed
that there wouldn't be a fight and so there'd be no live lost or endangered, and
that was something he was just fine with. On the other hand he couldn't help but
feel an irrational pinprick of disappointment that he'd not get the chance to see
how well his plans would hold up to reality.
Further thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the dojo's door. Mildly annoyed
that his train of thought had been interrupted Shirou stood up and walked over to
the door.
As it turned out the knocker was one of Illya's new servants, a man in his mid
forties that was wearing an expression of acute terror.
Shirou grudgingly admitted that there might be the tiniest smidgen of an outside
chance that he might have been a tad too harsh in his dealings with his adopted
sister's new 'minions'. The problem was that he'd been absolutely furious at the
time, but had promised Illya not to harm her latest acquisitions. So he'd relieved
his temper with a detailed explanation of just what he'd do to them if they should
ever cross him again. An explanation highlighted with the use of a few Traced
swords and hastily procured manikin.
Since then the former members of the Circle of the Chosen had treated him in
much the same way one might a man of questionable mental stability who was
holding a pair of live grenades. It had been satisfying for the first couple of days,
but after that it had started to grate on his nerves quite a bit. So for the past few
weeks he'd been doing his best to at least partly allay their fears that he'd take it
into his head to go through on his threats, unfortunately it seemed that he'd
been a bit too convincing.
Still he had to keep it up if he ever wanted to have them stop treating him like a
ticking bomb with a broken timer.
"Yes, how can I help you?" He kept his tone as calm and soothing as he could, but
the older man still looked at though he were facing a drunk firing squad.
"Mistress Illya-sama asked me to ask you if you could come to her Workshop,
there's something going on that she feels she needs to speak to you about."
Shirou blinked. That was something of a surprise; Illya was normally quite
secretive of what she was doing in there. He still hadn't managed to get a second
look at her fantastic miniature city since the night that she'd first shown it to
him.
Of course she had been willing to show off her puppet Berserker, now that had
been something.
"Your Highness?"
Oh, he'd let his thoughts wander again.
"Very well, I'll just change my clothes."
He doubted it would be a good idea to show up in his sweat strained workout
clothes.

-()-

Illya frowned at her Mystic Code as though it were deliberately doing its best to
be difficult.
After the resounding success it had shown in detecting the god Ama no
Murakumo no Tsurugi the young Einzbern had been very pleased with herself.
Granted the link she'd made between herself and the miniature city had woken
her up in the middle of the night with a sensation rather similar to a dozen
temple bells going off in her head. But it had worked, a half formed idea that
she'd thrown together for as much as an exercise in fine control of Prana
manipulation as anything else and it had worked.
That had been her big project after she'd succeeded (or failed depending on how
you looked at it) in the summons that resulted in her puppet Berserker. She'd
acquired further soil and stone samples and integrated them into the existing
design. After that rather than being simply a perfect miniature map of a part of
Tokyo her Mystic Code had evolved beyond her expectations
What had once been a solid statue-scape that would periodically update itself
was now a board of animated golden mercury that continually updated itself so
fast that it was pretty much a miniature real time recreation. And it was also no
longer limited to a single area, now she could use it as a type of scrying board
that worked anywhere that she had samples from. So far she had been working
on expanding its area from just Tokyo, but on a whim had also added samples
from Kyoto and Sendai.
All in all it was what she regarded to be her greatest success, save for her
Berserker copy of course.
Now though, the beautiful golden device was giving her trouble.
A knock on the door brought her out of her irritated thoughts and back to the
matter at hand.
"Illya-sama? I'm told that you wanted to see me."
As the black haired member of the Committee came in Illya could feel what she
jokingly thought of as her 'MS Level' begin to rise. She honestly wasn't sure at
just what point she'd developed this strange fascination with maids, but aside
from her initial, and rather embarrassing, loss of control she'd managed to keep
her composure around the new housekeeping staff.
Right now though the snowy haired girl had other thoughts on her mind, so it
wasn't too difficult to ignore the little part of her that was going 'Squuueeeeeee'
in delight at how cute Kaida-san looked in that maid's uniform.
"Yes, I'm having some trouble with Mini City Guide and I was hoping that you
might know something to help. I was hoping to get it all fixed before Shirou gets
here."
She gestured at the tiny recreation of a city, which was now centred on the
Minato ward.

"I created this in order to detect the divine auras of Heretic Gods whenever they
appeared. I thought it worked fine, after all it did spot Ama no Murakumo no
Tsurugi when it appeared to fight Godou-san. The problem is that since last night
I've been getting all sorts of weird readings from it that I can't understand."
To highlight her irritation the miniature city suddenly melted away and was
replaced with an image of a forested mountain. It took her mystic link with the
Code a moment to realize that it had relocated its main area of sensing to Nikkou
National Park.
"Argh, there it is again." The shorter girl turned towards the maid while all but
throwing up her hands in frustration. "It's been like that all day; I keep getting
signals that I can't understand. They feel like Heretic Gods, but then they don't. I
really don't get it.
"Now look at it, there're one . . . two . . . three, three signals. No, wait, arghhh,
look at it! Now there're four, and none of them feel right. None of them feel like
full Gods, but they all feel similar."
However Kaida-san wasn't paying much attention to her, instead her eyes were
fixed on the tiny recreation of the National Park.

-()-

As one of the most powerful Hime-Miko in the Committee she had been tutored
by a number of high ranking teachers. To them she had been an excellent
student, eager, attentive and gifted; her sole area of disappointment had been
her utter disinterest and lack of talent for any sort of combative activity. That had
given them no end of headaches, the Dragon's Roar was a gift strong enough
that if used to its full potential it could give even Heretic Gods pause, and here it
was in the possession of one who regarded it as little more than an inconvenient
burden.
However despite that small disappointment she was a model student, so much
so that her teachers ended up giving in to her enthusiasm and curiosity and
teaching her a bit more than they should have done. By the time the higher ups
cottoned onto what was happening and put a stop to it Kaida had learnt quite a
few of the Committee's better kept secrets.
And among them was the knowledge of just what it was that was kept at the
Saitenguu at Nikkou's Toushouguu.
However while the Hime-Miko turned maid had been lost in thought Illya had
disappeared under the table that held up the tiny golden landscape and was
doing something underneath it. Despite the sudden terrible suspicion growing
within her Kaida couldn't help but restrain a giggle. Lying on her back while she
worked at the surface above her made Illya-sama look rather like a tiny adorable
mechanic.
Then there was a noise from the golden artefact, a noise that could only be
described as; 'Gwuralunk'.

"Ha-HAH!"
Illya-sama's pleased voice was muffled slightly by the large amount of gold
above her, but there was no mistaking the satisfaction in her tone.
As the small white haired young mistress wriggled out from beneath her creation
Kaida found her eyes drawn back to the model landscape. There, in the same
spot where before there had only been a miniature temple there were now four
little spires each with a glowing light at their tips. Two of those spires had blue
lights, but the other two seemed to be flashing between red, green and orange
as though they couldn't make up their minds. One thing that did strike her
though was that one of those indecisive lights was at least twice the size of the
other.
"That's what was throwing me off," the young Einzbern stood up grinning like a
generously carved pumpkin. "I didn't have the filter set up right, so most of the
signals were messing each other up. That should get it sorted out, now what . . .
do . . . we . . ."
Her voice trailed off as she stared at the small collection of glowing little spires.
"Oh dear."
"Um . . . what do those lights mean Illya-sama?" Kaida asked hesitantly.
"I don't know what the two that are changing colours are; I've never encountered
anything like them so my Code can't recognize them. But I do know what the
other two are.
"They are Campione."
The young Renjou felt her blood freeze in her veins. Two Campione? Two? This
could not be good, not good at all. The truce or alliance or whatever it was that
Emiya-sama and Kusanagi-sama had was extremely rare. She'd done a bit more
research after her first meeting with the eighth Campione and had found that
about seven times out of ten whenever Kings met then they would fight. And the
longer they remained in proximity to each other the more likely it was that such
a confrontation would occur.
To her knowledge for two Campione to be so near to each other and not battle
had only happened three times in recorded history.
Now at least one more Campione had entered the picture, meaning that the
delicate balance that had held up until now was almost certain to end. She could
only wince internally at that thought, the last time that Campione had battled in
this country it had resulted in the destruction of an iconic landmark. She
shuddered to think what could take place if three of the God Slayers were
involved.
"Now they're definitely of divine nature," Illya-sama muttered as she studied the
two shifting lights. "But they aren't like any of the gods I've met so far. Could
they be demigods? Mortals possessed by gods? Some sort of avatar? Hey Kaidasan, do you know what they could be?"

-()-

Illya glanced up in mild irritation when she received no answer to her question.
That was unusual for the newly trained maid, normally she was ready and
waiting to answer any queries the snowy haired girl might have for her.
The black haired young woman in question was staring at the small group of
indicator lights as though she were expecting them to leap from the golden
surface and attack her.
"Kaida-san?"
With a quick shake of her head the former Committee agent seemed to come out
of her internal world.
"Ah, sorry Illya-sama. Yes, what could they be, well . . . rather than gods they
might be divine beasts. Those are either spirits that serve a god or a portion of a
god's power that has been separated and given a sort of independent existence.
It . . . it could also be a priestess like Ena-sama, one with the gift of Divine
Possession, acting in concert with an affiliated god to channel a portion of their
power. It could also be a Divine Ancestor, a former goddess that has lost the
majority of their divinity, but retained their immortality and substantial power. Or
it could be a god that is in some sort of reduced state, such as hibernation or
incapacitation."
The answer was . . . informative, but there was something slightly off. Be it in her
wording or her tone there was something about the way that Kaida-san had
chosen to answer the question that set off alarm bells ringing in Illya's head.
"What aren't you telling me Kaida-san?"
The question was almost a shot in the dark, a guess and a hunch, but it seemed
to hit home since the former Hime-Miko visibly flinched.
"I'm sorry Illya-san, I find myself in something of a conundrum, I've sworn an
oath to keep the secrets of the Committee, and yet at the same time I have also
sworn an oath to serve you and Emiya-sama. Do you see the problem I find
myself in?"
The young Einzbern nodded at that. She'd only known the new maid for a couple
of weeks, but that had been long enough to get a decent impression of her
character. She was dutiful and earnest in everything that she did, so much so
that it had endeared her rather to the snowy haired young girl. After she'd
apologised to the maid for her rather embarrassing loss of control when first
confronted with the black haired young woman in her maid's uniform the two of
them had become better acquainted. It had been after that that Illya had granted
her the right to address her by the shortened version of her name.
Granted the maid still insisted on adding a 'san' to the end, saying that it
wouldn't be proper otherwise, but it was still something.
Illya was also pretty sure she knew how much Kaida's honour meant to her, so
she knew how awkward a position this was for her to be in.

"Is there anything I can do to help? What if Shirou asked you?"

"I . . ." the young maiden hesitated for a second before nodding, "That . . . yes,
that could work. If you ask me to tell you using the authority granted to you by
Emiya-sama as his sister then I think it would be acceptable. When we first came
here he told us that you had the right to speak with his full backing, though we
did have the right to query with him if we were doubtful of your orders."
"Then by my position as the sister of the eighth Campione and with the authority
empowered to me by him I ask you to reveal the secret that you believe to be
relevant."
Okay maybe that had been a bit on the pompous and flowery side, she admitted
to herself, but it seemed to be what Kaida-san had been waiting for.
"Saitenguu is a Divine Monarch's temple that is protected by a strong barrier and
sealing spell. It's in the care of the Kuhoudzuka family, one of the four great
families that originally founded the History Compilation Committee. The temple
and its spells are set up in such a way so that if certain conditions are met then it
is possible for that family to release the might of the Divine Monarch in such a
way that they can influence what it is that he'll battle."
"This Divine Monarch, that's a god, right?" Illya asked the question as she stared
at the larger of the two fluctuating lights.
"Yes, centuries ago several great sages worked a marvel that succeeded in
turning a powerful and troublesome Steel Heretic God into a sword that would
serve to protect the nation. Under the influence of the seal the Divine Monarch
serves to defeat dragons and defend Japan from the serpents of the earth."
The former agent of the Committee was breathing slightly hard as she stopped
talking, as though she had just done something strenuous.
"So you knew that there was a god that had effectively been caged. Is that why
you didn't want to tell Shirou about this?" Illya's voice was soft, but slightly flat.
"I don't have any doubts as to Emiya-sama's character," Kaida-san retorted her
face coming up to meet the young Einzbern's stare measure for measure.
"Certainly some Campione would immediately seek to release the Divine
Monarch in order to battle him, but I fully believe that Shirou-sama would never
do something so reckless or dangerous. However I swore an oath upon learning
of this, and it was not easy to break that oath, even if it was in order to keep
another."
Illya nodded at that, and as she did so she inwardly smiled. She wondered if
Kaida-san had noticed that in the midst of her passionate speech she had
referred to her adopted brother by his given name for the first time. He'd been
trying to get them to at least call him Shirou-sama instead of Emiya-sama for
almost their entire time working here. Did this mean that he'd finally gotten
through her strict sense of propriety? Would Manaka end up following suit?
With a shake of her head she dismissed the idle thought and focused back on her
Mystic Code.

"Yes," she mumbled out loud, "If a god were to be behind several layers of
Bounded Fields, or at least something similar, then that might cause the kind of
interference that might produce this kind of reaction."
Her eyes focused upon the second flickering light. It was definitely smaller than
the first, and had a look to it that made her think of it as being fragile.
"I-I think it might be a dragon." Kaida-san said cautiously.
"A dragon?"
"My sensei said that there were a number of conditions to releasing the Divine
Monarch from his temple. He never straight out said it, but I think that dragons
are involved somehow, either as a foe to be released against or as a sacrifice to
be used."
Illya turned back to her Mini City Guide (She really had to think of a better name
for it now that she thought about it. After all it wasn't just a guide to the city any
more, perhaps . . . Mini Atlas Guide?) and stared at the small collection of lights.
"So it looks like we've got at least one unknown Campione, an unknown factor
that could be a dragon, and a powerful god that has spent several centuries
trapped and could soon be released. I don't know about you Kaida-san but that
looks like a recipe for disaster if you ask me."
Wordlessly the black haired Hime-Miko nodded her agreement.
"Sorry that took me a bit," Shirou's apologetic but cheerful tone broke into the
rather grim mood so suddenly that the two girls had to restrain themselves from
jumping in startlement. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about Illya?"

-()-

Shirou had to put genuine effort into keeping his expression level as he listened
to what his adopted sister and Kaida-san had been able to learn or deduce.
Two Campione, a possible dragon and a powerful god, all in one place and all
almost certainly fighting. This was bad, very very bad.
Two Campione could be bad enough, he'd read up on what normally happened
when Campione battled, and the fact was that if only a few buildings or
landmarks got demolished then you could count yourself as lucky. In the worst
cases the battle between God Slayers could turn fertile farming fields into
blasted wastelands in a single day.
Dragons could be even more difficult to deal with if not handled correctly. Since
these mighty beasts could embody the vitality of a land simply slaying them out
of hand could prove disastrous as the land that had previously enjoyed their
blessings would suddenly lose the ability to grow trees or crops. What was even
worse was that since dragons were often closely associated with the powerful
earth mother goddesses they could be regarded as some of the stronger types of
Divine Beasts, so even if you did finish them off it could lead to unwanted
attention from their originators.

And last, but by no means least, was whatever god had been locked up in
Saitenguu. Gods, even relatively benevolent ones, could be immensely
destructive or dangerous by their mere presence alone. When a Heretic God
descended from their legend to the mortal plane they didn't have to do anything
to be a threat, though they normally did anyway, their simple existence was
enough.
It was a well documented phenomenon, and one that was part of the reason why
Campione were so revered. If a war god should descend then a war will erupt in
the place where he has appeared. If an ocean god should appear then great
storms and tidal waves will result. If a sun god should manifest then a terrible
heat wave and drought will inevitably be caused. This was a fact known to all
practioners of magic, that Heretic Gods were a threat to all mankind by their very
existence.
From what Kaida-san had said it seemed as though the sealed god was a
powerful one, and that led him to wonder just what kind of havoc would be
wrought if he was somehow set free.
Very very bad.
For a moment he stood in place, the world seeming to freeze around him. Inside
him he could feel an instinctual call to battle beginning to form. There was his
natural enemy, all else was unimportant all that needed to be done was for him
to travel there and do battle. With a conscious effort of will Shirou forced the
urge down and strained to address the situation from a totally rational
perspective.
This wasn't a simple case, if any such existed, of a god appearing and it being his
duty to face it. This situation already seemed to involve more than its fair share
of Devil Kings and had a totally unknown factor thrown in there just to make
things that much more interesting. If he was to go there himself would it simply
become a case of him throwing another burning torch into a fireworks factory?
On the other hand he was a Campione. All the privileges he enjoyed came with
but a single price, when gods appeared; it was his duty to subdue them before
they could inflict disasters upon humanity. This could be his first real opportunity
to uphold that responsibility, would he shirk it? There were already two of his
brethren there; if he chose not to go then he would have a justifiable reason for
it.
But was that what he wanted?
Since acquiring the tremendous powers that he now wielded the young Emiya
had focused on guaranteeing the safety of himself and his adopted sister and on
trying to work out a plan that might get them home. Ever since he'd learned of
the sole responsibility he now had he hadn't really thought about it. Even when
he'd gone out to investigate the god that turned out to be Ama no Murakumo no
Tsurugi it had been because he had wanted to confront a potential threat as soon
as he could and as far away from Illya as he'd been able to manage.
Now though this was different. The situation was a long way from his home and
already could be in hand.
But . . .

But he'd been labelled a King by these people, by those he had resurrected, and
by those from the Committee.
It was stupid and it was irrational, but for some reason he couldn't help but feel a
certain . . . not obligation or duty, but rather a desire to act as a King should.
He'd personally been in Saber's company for long enough that he'd come to
consider her a friend, and in his memories he'd come to consider her something
even more. He could also remember his other selves encountering Gilgamesh,
and even though the man was an egotist to the point of madness there was no
denying the regalness and majesty which he radiated like heat from an inferno.
It was a strange mix of emotions, a sense of duty to repay those who had
submitted tot him, a desire to act as a King should, a hazy want to somehow not
shame the Kings he had encountered by failing in his unwanted station and some
lingering remnants of his childhood dream to become an Ally of Justice.
It was stupid in a way, he could just imagine EMIYA glaring at him with cynical
irritation and uttering some caustic jab about useless pride or foolish naivety.
Well, he was going to do it anyway.
"Thanks Illya," he said as he walked out of the workshop and onto the gardens
lawn. "On Snow I should be able to get there pretty fast. Hopefully I won't even
be needed, but I'd best be there as insurance against anything going wrong."
Yes, that was a good reason. He'd treat it the same way that he'd treated
Kusanagi-san facing off against Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi. If the other party
had the situation in hand then he'd not interfere, but if things got out of control
then he'd at least be there to lend his own strength.
However as he turned and prepared to speak the words that would bring his
winged mount into existence a single sentence from his adopted sister stopped
him cold.
"Shirou, I'm coming with you."
He turned, ready to refuse her, ready to say that it was too dangerous, that he
wanted her to stay here, that he didn't want her in harms way. However all that
was cut off as she spoke a single word and he saw what it was that had appeared
towering beside her.
"Berserker."
He knew that she wasn't threatening him, the summoning of her most potent
weapon was meant as a reminder that she was far from helpless.
As he stared at the massive lead grey giant standing beside the white haired girl
the eighth Campione could only barely hold back a shudder of fear. He'd faced
some terrifying things in the past such as a corrupted Sakura and Saber Alter. He
had the memory of having faced other terrifying presences such as Gilgamesh in
his counterpart's memories and Dead Apostle Ancestors in EMIYA'S. However
despite having that collection of horrors rattling about in his head the mad
warrior of the fifth Heaven's Feel held a special place in his list of Most
Frightening Things. He might not be at the top, but he had a special place.

Hell, he'd damned near swallowed his own tongue when Illya had first
demonstrated her ability to call up her puppet Berserker to show him for the first
time. He knew that he could slay gods by the dozen, by the score, and
accumulate enough powers to make the Clock Tower's magi weep tears of blood
in envy, and even if he did he'd still feel a little scared if he faced Berserker
again. It was irrational he knew, with his new powers he could have faced the
original on an almost even field, so this flawed copy would only prove to be a
challenging but inevitably defeated foe. Still it wasn't anything he couldn't
handle; being slightly scared of something didn't mean he was helpless against
it.
On the other hand he supposed he should be thankful. This copy might not be
quite as strong as the original article but it was still a force to be reckoned with.
And with it he could honestly say that Illya was an individual that even Heretic
Gods wouldn't be able to take lightly.
And with that power at her disposal did he honestly have the right to tell her to
stay behind? Hell, for that matter could he even stop her if she was determined
to go? Realistically the only way he could would be to use a Noble Phantasm to
drop her into a temporary coma and then leave her in her room. And if he did
that then he imagined that she would not be happy once she regained
consciousness.
He opened his mouth to speak his assent to her declaration, but before he could
say a word Kaida-san spoke up.
"I think it would be best if I accompanied you."
The words were sufficiently startling that Shirou lost his train of thought and
turned to her in surprise.
"Why?"
Illya had beaten him to the punch on asking the obvious question.
"I . . . I think that part of the interference to your artefact is that the signals are
coming from within the Shinkyu Sacred Stables. That means this isn't as simple
as just going to the Saitenguu, that's simply near to where the true entrance is. If
you have to actually enter then you'll need me to show you where it is."
Shirou didn't argue. Oh he certainly planned to, but first he wanted to get
something done first.
"Hooves that thunder over the earth, wings that soar through the sky, sacred
beast born from a monster yet pure as finest silver, hear my call and serve as the
mount to a hero once more."
At his command the Pegasus that was the incarnation of this Authority appeared.
In his mind he could immediately feel the connection coming into being, feel the
ready steely power of his mount ready to serve.
"Look I-"
"If Kaida-sama is going then I will accompany her."

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the arrival of the Hime-Miko's
bodyguard. Manaka-san was standing straight as a soldier on a parade ground
and even though she was still clad in her maid uniform she managed to look
ready for combat.
"Manaka, you don't have to-" began Kaida-san, only to be cut off by her friend.
"Yes I do. I'm your bodyguard and attendant Kaida-sama, I swore an oath to keep
you safe and I'm not going to let you walk into this mess without my protection."
"How do you know where we're going?" asked Illya.
"As soon as I heard that you'd called both Kaida-sama and Emiya-sama I knew
something important was going on," replied the warrior witch, "So a slipped a
monitoring charm onto Kaida-sama when she passed me in the corridor. That
allowed me to hear everything and gave me enough time to get my prepared
bag."
"You-you spied on us?" the black haired young woman exclaimed in shock.
"Yes," replied her friend without a moment's hesitation or a scrap of shame. "And
it's a good thing I did or you wouldn't even have thought of me coming along.
You're entering a situation with Heretic gods, Campione and who knows what
else Kaida-sama, you'll need every scrap of protection you can find. I admit I'm
no match for anything you might run into in a fight, but I'm sure I can at least
ensure you'll get away."
"Manaka . . ."
Seeing that Kaida-san seemed to be at a loss for words Shirou decided that now
was as good a time as any to speak up.
"I understand all of you have good reasons for wanting to accompany me. The
problem is that Snow can only carry two, perhaps three at the absolute most.
Unless someone can think of a way to change that the-"
His words were once again cut off, not by any other human though. Rather he
was brought to a halt by a sense of . . . helpfulness that surged to him through
the link that he shared with his steed. Surprised by the sudden feeling he turned
to look at the winged horse and could only blink in startlement at what he saw.
Snow had always been a bit bigger than a normal horse would have been, large
enough that both he and Illya had been able to comfortably ride it together. Now
though, before its master's astonished eyes, the legendary mount was visibly
growing larger. Its dimensions swelled, but at the same time all of the
proportions remained the same. After a few seconds the growth ceased and the
eighth Campione found himself staring at the white winged stallion that was now
twice its original size. Easily large enough to carry all four of them.
For a single bleak moment he wondered if even his own Authorities were
conspiring against him in order to make this day as troublesome as possible.
Then he shook his head to dispel the thought. No point in dwelling on 'what ifs'
just deal with the world as it is, don't go chasing after what you want it to be. He
could practically hear Rin lecturing him in his head.
"Well, it looks like we can all go now."

Turning around he met the gazes of all three of the young women facing him and
tried to see if any of them might be having second thoughts. No, no such luck.
Every single one of them had enough steel in their gazes to forge a good sized
sword from, trying to dissuade them at this point would be as pointless as
beating his head against a rock.
That left him with two options, he could waste his time, and probably earn
himself a headache, trying to convince them not to go and so delay his departure
by precious minutes, or he could simply accept reality and stop wasting time.
Right now he honestly felt a flash of sympathy for Rin.
Was this what it had been like for her when she had to deal with him? If so then
he owned her an apology if he ever made it back to his home dimension. An
apology and a packet of high strength aspirin.
With a mental order he had Snow kneel down until its belly was resting on the
lawn's grass. Given its increased size this was the only way that anyone would be
able to mount it without having to literally jump onto its back.
"Alright, since all of you are determined to come with me and I'm not dumb
enough to try to stop you we might as well get going now. Everyone mount up.
"Don't worry," he added as he saw Kaida-san and Manaka-san eyeing his mount
warily, "Part of Snow's abilities is that once you're mounted the only way you can
fall off is if he's severely injured."
For a moment he'd considered not letting them into that particular fact, but he'd
seen the determination on their faces and knew that they'd be coming along
regardless of any fears that they might have. Given that he'd felt it pointless to
let them worry when he could reassure them.

-()-

Manaka was honestly having a hard time believing that she was actually awake,
that this all wasn't some sort of fever dream or the like.
She was currently on the back of a giant winged horse, her arms clasped tight
around Kaida-sama's waist and flying through the air faster than the swiftest bird
could manage.
This was it. She was actually going to follow a Campione into a battle with a god.
Granted she didn't want to do it, in all truth she'd much prefer to wave goodbye
to Emiya-sama as he went off to battle and hope that he and the god killed each
other.
No, that was just her frustration talking. She'd admit that she was a bit irritated
with how her life was going, and sure blaming the King to whom her fate was
now tied would make her feel better. In all truth he was a far better master to
serve under than most, he didn't flaunt his power or dominion over her and he
certainly never tried to abuse that same authority. If anything he seemed to be
somewhat uncomfortable with the level of power he had. He tried to hide it, but
she was gifted at reading people thanks to their Aura Signs and some of that skill

had carried over to her ability to read faces. Emiya-sama's Aura Sign might still
be incomprehensible to her, but she had caught enough hint tells that she was
sure of her assessment.
Then there was also the matter of the vision that she'd had while reading Kaidasama's Aura Sign, whatever her future was it seemed that the Devil King and his
sister were involved in it somehow. She wanted that future, wanted the joy,
power and bond that she had sensed in it.
And of course there was the Hime-Miko to whom she had sworn her life. She was
following her duty now, accompanying her King into battle even though she
knew it could well mean her death. And what could Manaka do except follow?
Even the option of cracking her over the head, knocking her out and tying her up
until common sense prevailed was denied to her. Firstly because she'd never had
the chance given that Emiya-sama had been there the whole time. And secondly
because with her Dragon's Roar Kaida-sama could have easily freed herself as
soon as she awakened.
No, it looked like the warrior witch was going to have to accompany her precious
friend into battle.
While wearing a maid's uniform.
It wasn't the first time she'd had to fight in an unusual get up; two years ago
she'd been forced to engage in a pitched battle with some assassins while
wearing nothing but her underwear. The killers had tried to murder the man
under her protection just as she'd been getting ready to get into the bath. In the
end she'd been able to take them down, but by then the fight had moved into
the middle of the street. Only a rather copious amount of hypnosis on the
bystanders had allowed her to preserve her modesty.
Granted she had a change of clothes for both her and Kaida-sama ready in the
rucksack on her shoulders, as well as her battle wands and other fighting
equipment, but she doubted they'd get much of a chance to change their garb
once they arrived.
She tried to distract herself from what was to come and instead tried to focus on
the present. She was riding the Pegasus after all, wasn't that worth some
attention? This was the mount of not one but two of the great heroes of Greek
legend, Perseus and Bellerophon, and now she was on its back. This view was
one normally reserved for heroes and gods, so she'd better appreciate it while
she could.
Below them the city had given way to countryside a long time ago. In her head
Manaka tried to work out exactly how fast they were going. Nikko was about a
hundred and twenty five kilometres from Tokyo, and as far as she could see
they'd just left the last house of what she thought was Omiya. That was a good
twenty five kilometres from the greater Tokyo area, and they couldn't have been
flying for more than five minutes. Granted they hadn't started out in the middle
of the city, but still . . .
Such speed, that meant that the winged horse was flying at roughly three
hundred kilometres an hour, and she somehow knew that it wasn't pushing as
hard as it could go. It was humbling in a way, a further highlighting of the fact

that even though she was talented in the end she was not able to operate on the
same level as a Campione, the gulf between them was simply too vast.
Shaking her head to dispel such gloomy thoughts she leaned forward and
addressed Kaida-sama.
"Do you have any plans as to what we'll do once we arrive?"
The Hime-Miko shook her head before craning her neck to look at her friend.
"Interfering in a conflict between Campione and Gods is not something that we
are really capable of. Our duty is to provide Emiya-sama with what aid we can
and then stay out of his way so as not to hold him back. I don't know what's
going on, but I do know that it's important that we accompany him. I don't know
why, I just know it."
"Is . . . is it like that day?"
Manaka didn't have to name exactly what day it was, both of them knew she was
referring to the day when, guided by her intuition, the wielder of the Dragon's
Roar had volunteered them to take up work as maids in the eighth Campione's
mansion. Even though she had no proof the warrior witch was sure that it was
some form of prophecy that had led her friend to make such a rash-seeming
decision.
As the young Renjou nodded her head in silent confirmation Manaka could only
give her own nod of understanding.
The rest of the journey was in silence. Emiya-sama and his sister exchanged a
few words, which largely amounted to telling each other to be careful and to
come out of this safely. Before long the great sides of Mount Nyoho came into
view, and Manaka knew they were getting close to their objective. Such a trip
would normally have taken an entire day by car and hours even on a train, yet
they had accomplished it in less than half an hour.
Slowly they began to draw closer to the ground.
"Isn't there a risk that people will see us if we go so low?" Kaida-sama's question
voiced the same thing that Manaka had been wondering.
"That's not a problem, Snow and all his riders are held within the range of his
divinity and so are invisible to normal people."
They were so low to the ground now that the warrior witch could make out the
figures of individuals with ease; also as they were drawing closer to their goal the
heavenly steed was slowing down. These two facts combined to allow her to take
in the area surrounding the shrine.
In a way it was a rather horrible sight, everywhere and everything seemed to be
speckled by a rain of blood. Crimson spots dotted everything, the pavement, the
plants, the buildings and even the people. And the people weren't in good shape
at all; everywhere that she looked she could see the sprawled bodies of the
unconscious tourists that had been here when this whole mess began.
She knew what had happened to them, she could practically taste it in the air
with her witchcraft. Somehow the droplets of blood that seemed to be on

everything had created a circulating network of flowing energies, which had

absorbed the life force from the surrounding people into itself. This didn't seem
to have been deadly, but staying in that state for too long could be dangerous.
Even as they moved forwards the warrior witch felt a wave of power wash over
them. That was definitely the aura of a Heretic God arriving upon the mortal
plane. It seemed they'd managed to arrive just as the situation was coming to a
head.
"We're getting close to where this is all happening," commented Emiya-sama
over his shoulder. "It's just a little bit further, get ready to jump off in case I have
to start fighting immediately."
They were moving past the main shrine now, off to the side and into the woods.
The main building whipped past below them as they sped by and Manaka could
feel her friend's muscles begin to tense. She could understand that, there was a
kind of tension in the air, one she was instinctively readying herself for action in
response to. Adrenaline was being pumped into her blood and that blood was
surging through her veins as her heart beat faster in preparation.
The instant of arrival came so fast that in normal circumstances the young
Kuhoutsuka might have missed it. However right now her entire state of being
was keyed up to the max, so it wasn't a problem to her.
The flying mount came swooping down into a corner of Okusha inner shrine that
had apparently been transformed into a small patch of wasteland. They were
moving faster than an arrow, but Manaka was still able to see several details. It
was pretty obvious that the clearing had been the site of a battle recently, quite
an awesome one if the way in which the ground had been completely razed was
anything to go by. In more or less the middle of the bared mountain land was a
small group of people, and hovering over them was what appeared to be a young
girl dressed in Beijing garb, wearing a mask hanging from the side of her face,
holding a steel staff in her hand and was apparently standing on a small golden
cloud.
Then they were flashing past them and Emiya-sama was diving off his mount and
leaping straight at the young girl.
This was it; she really really hoped that she'd make it through this alive.

-()-

Shirou knew who his opponent was the second he laid eyes on the girl. Deep
within him something had risen up, as though he had sighted a long unseen
rival, battle lust had started to flow.
However it wasn't that instinct to fight that drove him to the rather rash attack
he was conducting; it was what he'd seen of the small group facing the Heretic
God.
Both Erica-san and Liliana-san were easily recognized, their unusual hair and
their bright clothing standing out. Having identified them it was easy to divine

that one of the two young men with them was Kusanagi-san. He might be slightly
harder to immediately recognize, but once you knew to look for him he was
much easier to spot. Besides those that he knew there were two others with
them, a young woman and a boy in his early teens. Though there wasn't
anything obviously dangerous about them his combat instincts were screaming
at him that both of them were dangerous, especially the young woman.
Given that the only other times he'd felt similar pressure was from either
Servants in the Holy Grail War or from the deities he'd fought he felt it was a
fairly safe bet that she was the second Campione that Illya had detected.
However what had forced his hand was the fact that both of those whom he
either knew or guessed to be his fellow Kings seemed to be injured. Kusanagi-san
looked like he was ready to collapse and the only things holding him up were the
two young knights at his sides. The other young woman, who seemed to be
dressed in the Chinese style, seemed to be a bit better off, but still looked to be a
bit shaky on her feet and was subconsciously clutching at her middle.
Quite simply it looked as though his fellow God Slayers were in no state to be up
and about, let alone facing off against a god that was radiating as much power
as this one.
So Shirou did the only thing he could think of to distract the god from such
temptingly easy targets.
He attacked.
Hurling himself from Snow's back he directed the winged horse to get some
distance and then set the girls on its back down on the ground. He wasn't using
Dragon Slaying Hero yet, only self-reinforcement; he wanted to keep that as a
trump to up his power at a crucial time if he needed to. As he sent the hurried
mental order he Traced Kanshou and Bakuya and plunged at the small deity like
a missile.
However his arrival had not gone unnoticed, so even as the young Emiya swung
both the swords at his target the young girl was already swinging her metal staff
around to block the attack.
There was a bright shower of sparks as his Noble Phantasms clashed with the
godly weapon, then, with a strength that belied her small stature, the girl swung
the staff and sent him hurtling away from her.
Still that was alright, while it would have been nice to take her out in the first
attack he knew that such a thing was unlikely, so he'd positioned himself in order
to achieve his secondary goal. As he drew on Archer's experience he managed to
turn his fall into a controlled tumble and land in between the god and his injured
fellow Campione.
"Oh ho? What have we here? Has a third God Slayer arrived to face me? Well,
that's alright, a battle with you will be an excellent way to celebrate my return to
the world."
Her voice was that of a girl that hadn't even become a teen, but behind it was
utter confidence.

Shirou refused to let his opponent rattle him, but instead focused on the metal
staff being held by the childish deity.
Unlimited Blade Works might work best in regards to bladed weapons, but it
could easily adapt to blunt arms such as staffs, and clubs. As such the young red
head had no trouble in analysing the weapon held by his small enemy.
Unlike the blades wielded by Perseus and Hades this weapon wasn't some
nameless tool brought into existence simply as a means to an end. This Staff had
a name and a history, a legend in fact. Its tale was hundreds of years old, maybe
even thousands, and it held many useful powers. Shirou blinked slightly as he
felt a duplicate of it form within his Reality Marble. Out of all the things he had
seen since coming to this world this was definitely something special, the closest
thing to being a Noble Phantasm that he had yet seen, and yet it definitely
wasn't.
Its name was Ruyi Jingu Bang, something that literally translated as 'Ideal
Golden-bound Cudgel'. It had many powers, such as weighing an immense
amount for its size, being able to change its size, multiply itself, and fight
according to the whim of its master. It was a famous weapon, and its wielder was
just as, if not more, famous.
"Sun Wukong."
Shirou spoke the name as it appeared in his mind, and as he did so a thrill of fear
and exhilaration ran down his spine. This wasn't the god of some far off country
that he'd only ever seen on a television screen or read about in a book, this was
a god that had strong ties even to his home country.
Sun Wukong, otherwise known in Japan as Son Goku, the Great Sage Equal to
Heaven. Born of a mystical stone fertilized by the Earth, King of monkeys and
master of the Taoist arts. Consumer of the Peaches of Immortality and the Pills of
Longevity, so immortal that even being locked in a crucible and stewed by
heavenly fires for forty nine days could not kill him. Thrice times victor against
the armies of Heaven and finally hero of the Journey to the West.
And he was a little girl?
Well, if King Arthur could turn out to be a woman he supposed it was reasonable
that perhaps other mythological figures might share the same problem. Still that
wasn't exactly important right now, right now he had to get ready to fight
someone with a very fearsome reputation.
Right, best not to play defensively in this situation, best to retain the initiative.
He wasn't ready to go for full lethal force just yet, but he had to at least get her
away from the injured Campione.
Both the swords in his hands were hurled at the slight girl, whirling through the
air like black and white dervishes. The speeds they were moving at were faster
than even the best pitcher in the world could manage, but with two flicks of her
staff the child-like deity swatted them aside with contemptuous ease.
That was fine; he hadn't really been expecting to connect with such simple
attacks. Their purpose had simple been to distract her, if only for a brief fraction
of a second. That was all the time he had needed to Trace his great black bow

and ready a nameless low rank Noble Phantasm that had been modified into an
arrow. Now all he had to do was tap into Curses without End, load a curse of"Don't hurt her!"
The sharp declaration was accompanied by a hand grabbing at his shoulder.
Turning his head slightly, though still keeping a careful eye on the still smiling
goddess, he saw that a trembling Kusanagi-san.
"Why?" It was a single word question, and one that held the tension Shirou was
feeling.
"That's Mariya's little sister, he's possessed her somehow."
Oh. Damn. This could be complicated. How do you fight an enemy that's got a
built in hostage?
THNNK
The blow came so fast that he didn't even have time to react. One instant he'd
been watching the possessed girl, the next the metal staff had lengthened at
speeds faster than the flight of a bullet and had driven its head into his
midsection. Damn, stupid stupid stupid, he should have invoked Dragon Slaying
Hero as soon as he'd realized whom it was he was facing. With that power he
might have been able to dodge the attack, or at least see it coming. At the very
least he wouldn't have been quite so hurt by it.
Right now though, he felt as though he'd just been hit by a fired cannonball.
"Oh? So you're not going to give it your best right now?" the tone and question
were both mocking despite the sweet voice that was speaking them. "That's a
fortunate turn for me. Very well then, even though there are three of you here, I
will take care of you all together."
Shirou tried to get to his feet, to force heat back into the body that was trembling
with phantom cold, but his limbs wouldn't seem to respond properly. As he
shakily got back on his feet a memory of Archer's tugged at his mind, memories
of being hit by a martial artist.
That must be it, not only had the blow been powerful, it had also been
masterfully accurate, striking at a pressure point or one of his chakras. He didn't
know exactly what it was, but whatever it had been was devastatingly effective,
though he retained motion his limbs still felt as though the muscles were only
slightly stronger than cooked noodles.
"The earth's condition is receptive devotion / Thus the superior man who has
breadth of character / Carries the outer world. Kun is the nature of earth!"
That wasn't good. Shirou wasn't any great Authority on magic, but that sounded
like some sort of Mantra. In his legend Sun Wukong had been depicted as having
mastered many of the secrets of the Taoist arts such as shape shifting and other
magics. Shirou really didn't want to see what a god could do with spells, but it
looked like he might not have a choice.
The effect became obvious almost immediately, petrification. The ground of the
now barren mountain of the Nikkou Toushouguu's Okusha inner shrine was

completely changed into solid rock, bleached white as if snow had just fallen to
cover the land. Where the small group had previously been standing on blasted
earth before, now they were stood upon solid grey stone.
"Hahahaha! I will use the secret art of the stone mountain's rocky caves to
imprison you three!"
To the god the mortal companions of the Campione were so insignificant that
they didn't even register, all his/her focus was upon the three God Slayers.
Shirou found himself beginning to sink into the earth. It was as though the stone
that he stood upon had suddenly taken on the consistency of a bog. Yet his
descent into the seemingly liquid rock was swift, by the time he realized what
was happening he was already up to his knees and sinking fast. A quick glance
behind him showed that both Kusanagi-san and the young woman in Chinese
clothing were also sharing the same fate, though their companions seemed to be
unaffected.
"Hmm...! Planning on sealing us away!?" the female Campione's voice was
beautiful he idly noted. For a brief instant he thought about calling Snow back. If
it swooped low enough he could catch hold of one of its hooves and maybe use
the force to pull himself free. The only problem with that would be that it would
bring Illya and the other two right into the most dangerous place possible if they
hadn't dismounted yet.
"Haha, correct! Though you're both injured, I'm not going to underestimate you
god-slayers... Eh, rather I should say that being injured makes things more
frightening because you are a crazy bunch who doesn't follow common sense. I
didn't come to revive all this way just to take a stupid risk like that!"
Shirou heard the cries of distress from the other members of the group as well as
from Illya who was apparently watching things from the other side of this new
clearing. As the liquid rock closed over him Shirou hoped she wouldn't do
anything foolish.
Despite the severity of the situation the eighth Campione wasn't too panicked.
The Monkey King had confirmed that they were being sealed rather than slain,
that meant imprisonment. If that was the case he was confident that he'd be
able to escape using a Traced Noble Phantasm if needed.
"Sun Wukong has mastered the Immortal arts, and is a deity with unlimited
divine powers. Though he carries the traits of the warlord of Steel, he is also a
god highly skilled in magic. To be imprisoned by such tricks of his, I was far too
careless."
The tones of the female Campione's voice were self berating, but surprisingly
clear despite their circumstances. Instinctively glancing around Shirou was
surprised to find that he could still see the other Devil Kings as though they were
underwater rather than within liquid rock, despite how dark their passage was.
For that matter he was intrigued to find that they could all breathe enough to
speak.
"Did you use up all your strength in the battle just now? Though it is the privilege
of young ones to fight without considering the future, for you to obtain victory
from me at such a bargain... King Kusanagi... You are quite something."

That was interesting; it seemed that rather than them being defeated by the
Monkey King they had been instead weakened by fighting each other. At least
that meant that the foe this time wasn't one able to defeat two of his peers at
once.
"I-I defeated you? Please don't joke with me."
"It is fine. Even though it is officially a draw, taking into account the difference in
experience, the victor is apparent. For a renowned master like me to lose to a
young upstart like you, it is an unforgivable mistake. I, Luo Hao, am not one of
those stupid fools who deceive themselves."
The dark haired woman showed a slightly displeased expression.
"As the Ruler of the Martial Realm, I approve of your ability. In the match just
now, I definitely lost."
So it seemed that Kusanagi-san had emerged as the victor in the match between
them, though by the sounds of it the young man didn't seem to share that
opinion. Still, it was about time that he broke his silence.
"I don't suppose that either of you have any means at your disposal to escape
this situation? If not then we might have a problem."
Both the other Campione turned to face him the dark haired teen with a look that
could only be described as put upon while the young woman bore a look that he
could only describe as 'innocent arrogance'.
"Ah, Emiya-san, I don't think I've got anything available to me right now that'd do
the job." His tone was almost apologetic.
"And what about yourself Madam Luo Hao?"
"You seem to be the better informed than the other King of Wakoku; it is good
that you recognize your senior upon the path of domination though."
"It's important to know about one's senpais." The seventh Campione answered.
The deduction of her identity had been relatively simple once he had a moment
to think. There were only two female Campione, Luo Hao and Madam Aisha,
given that the Chinese King was a famed martial artist and that the woman
before him was clearly a capable fighter and dressed in the Chinese style he'd
been fairly confident in his guess.
"However at the moment there are more pressing concerns than your proper
recognition of me, King Kusanagi, King . . . Emiya, do either of you know magic
that allows you to survive without water and air?"
"I believe I could manage something if I had to." Replied Shirou as he went over
the Noble Phantasms available to him. Though the majority of them were purely
combat oriented a surprising number of the weapons EMIYA had accumulated
over the years could be used in other ways if you had a bit of imagination.
"How could I? Other than the ability to fight gods, I'm just an ordinary person."
Kusanagi-san's answer was much less ambiguous.
"I see... If that's the case, it would be best to return you back to the surface King
Kusanagi."

"Back to the surface!? I can get out of here!?"

"Yes. Until the Great Sage's spell finishes, there is still a window of opportunity. If
I use my remaining qi, I can send one of us back to the surface."
Luo Hao's offer seemed to come as a quite surprise to the younger teen, but as
soon as he recovered he immediately objected.
"But in that case, you and Emiya-san will have to stay in the Netherworld!"
"I don't mind. King Kusanagi, have you not noticed? The air here is getting
thinner. The Great Sage is not so merciful as to provide food and water for us
captives."
The young Emiya had to admit that he hadn't noticed, but as soon as it was
pointed out to him he could taste it. The 'air' they were breathing did taste
flatter, stale like the air in a room that hadn't had any ventilation for far too long.
"I am the Ruler of the Martial Realm, the one standing at the pinnacle of Daoist
practices. I have long conquered this kind of ascetic training over a hundred
years ago, so let me stay."
"Y-You can survive without air and water, that's really amazing. But what about-"
"Don't worry about me," Shirou said breaking the other Campione off, "While I
might not be able to match our sempai I do have some methods available to me
that should be enough."
The young man's face seemed to crease in indecision.
"I can't just-"
This time it was Luo Hao that cut him off.
"It is no problem. If I abandon you and return to the surface alone . . . Just the
thought of that brings a horrible outcome!"
"Ho... Horrible outcome?"
"Correct. Think about it. If I abandon you who just won our match, rumours will
begin to spread, saying I took revenge for my defeat. I will be seen as a
despicable scoundrel who has betrayed the path of heroism and chivalry!"
"Ah... I see now."
So did Shirou. It would seem that this was a woman that greatly valued her
reputation and her pride. Still, he got the impression that she was using that as
an excuse to cover for a largely benevolent act to the less experienced King in
their number.
An interesting person of exceptional pride.
"Of course, I don't plan on remaining submerged here forever; I will surely find a
way to escape... King Kusanagi, in the meantime before I return, you shall have a
splendid battle with the Great Sage Equalling Heaven in my stead."
Shirou spoke up again.

"I to will entrust that girl's fate to you Kusanagi-san. My resources are suited to
combat, but not to the rescue of one already under possession, certainly not
from a God. I shall gamble upon you in this matter.
"Incidentally, please tell my sister I'm safe and will return soon. Please try to
keep her and my subordinates safe until I do."
It really was surprising how easily he could now slip into the role of the 'Fake
King'. It was only as he finished speaking that he realized he'd adopted the
faade as soon as he had addressed his fellow Campione.
Perhaps even stranger was the fact that he was willing to entrust Illya's safety to
him. Granted he was powerful and lucky, at least from what he'd seen of him so
far, but there was something else. Some quality about him that the red haired
teen couldn't quite put his finger on, something that made him think he could be
trusted.
"There shall be no problem. I cannot speak for this fellow," and here she waved a
hand at the young Emiya, "But I am the one at the Daoist pinnacle, and will
surely find this prison's weakness and destroy it. You don't have to worry."
"Indeed," Shirou added, "If something like this was enough to kill me then I'd
have stayed dead the first time I died."
Damn, he hadn't meant to say that last bit. Was he becoming so caught up in his
role that he was becoming careless? He'd have to be more careful.
Both the other Campione cast slightly puzzled looks at him, but then the martial
arts mistress dismissed his words and turned back to the other King of Japan.
"Then let's start Great Sage of the Seven Stars of the Big Dipper, dispel the
disaster of the inauspicious spirits!"
In a voice that put most professional singers to shame Luo Hao chanted her
incantation, and took out a rectangular piece of paper. On it was written
complicated script along with the six large characters Ba Gua Zhi Jing Ji Ji, after a
brief moment she threw this talisman away.
The piece of paper transformed into a white tiger before Shirou's astonished
eyes. The mystical construct seemed to fly through the strange liquid
environment in a rapid yet graceful ark. Then the ferocious beast lunged at
Godou.
The great white cat opened its great jaws and the fangs skilfully caught the
seventh Campione's neck and lifted him. Godou found his body rising
continuously.
Within the blink of an eye, he was greatly distanced from the slowly sinking pair
of Devil Kings.
"King Kusanagi, I wish you victory. Go fight a battle worthy of a hero."
The transcendent beauty continued to maintain her airs of superiority and spoke
these parting words to Godou.
"I'm entrusting my last family to you Kusanagi, take care of her until I free myself
or I promise you there'll be Hell to pay."

The eighth Campione's might not have been quite as encouraging, but he meant
them quite sincerely.
The white tiger was moving faster now; shooting up into the gloom until even
with Reinforcement Shirou's eyes could no longer track him. Having lost sight of
the escaping King the young Emiya turned in place and cast his eyes downwards,
trying to see how much further they had to fall.
The air was still breathable, but it had heaviness to it, already he could feel his
breathing becoming more laboured. Concentrating Shirou employed one of the
many tricks that Archer had developed through his life of battle. This one was
one that had given him an advantage while pursuing an unscrupulous mage into
a high altitude mountain range. It was a form of Reinforcement that worked on
the lungs allowing them to extract more oxygen from thin air than would have
otherwise been possible. Almost at once his breathing grew easier and his
growing headache retreated.
"Ah, so you possess some knowledge of ascetic training as well King Emiya."
He glanced over to the Ruler of the Martial Realm, as she was often known, who
was watching him with some interest.
"Merely a few minor skills senpai, enough to ease my difficulties until I can
achieve a more suitable solution."
His eyes fixed downwards Emiya Shirou continued to descend into the darkness
together with Luo Hao.

-()-

Nikkou Toushouguu was now the realm of the Monkey King, the Great Sage Equal
to Heaven, Sun Wukong. Throughout the streets, shops and houses men, women
and children were transformed into monkeys by the descent of the Heretic God.
They were now his worshippers, his subjects.
At Narita airport a young woman who was secretly a Devil King arrived in the
country of Japan as part of her hunt for the Divine Ancestor that had escaped
her.
In a hidden temple the towering black knight watched silently over the former
goddess that had revived him and wondered if she knew what it meant to have
the Knight of Betrayal for an ally.
Allies and foes gathered.
For the Gathering of the Four Kings had begun.

Chapter Ten: The Four Kings Part 2

Kusanagi Godou could not say that he'd been having a good day.

It had all started so simply, this was meant to be a sort of weekend holiday
combined with doing a favour for Mariya Yuri's younger sister, Hikari. This was
meant to be just a chance for her to 'try out' what the role of Shrine Maiden to
the Divine Monarch would be like. If she liked it then she could assure
Kuhoudzuka-san that she would take up the duties when she was ready, which
would also hopefully get him off her back until that time. If she didn't like it then
she could say so and he'd use his authority as a Campione to get the young man
to drop the matter.
All in all it had seemed to be a win-win situation, he'd help Hikari, have a
pleasant weekend holiday and finally get some use out of his troublesome title as
a King.
Unfortunately things had started to go wrong just after he, Yuri and Hikari had
entered the Netherworld to meet the Divine Monarch. There they met the
captured deity who turned out to be the Monkey King and learned that Hikari was
supposed to watch over him and act as a playmate if she agreed to serve at this
shrine in the future.
That was when Luo Hao had suddenly appeared, having apparently slipped in
using the form of a lizard, and stated her intentions to free the god and fight him.
Due to Godou and Luo Hao disagreement right from the start, they ended up
engaging each other in combat. However it quickly emerged that the Chinese
Campione possessed an overwhelming advantage over the more junior King. Her
combination of martial arts mastery and powerful Authorities proved to be
overwhelming. When Godou was finally cornered, he somehow managed to
escape deeper into the Netherworld along with the Mariya sisters.
They later escaped from there with a little help from a young woman named
Alice whom the sisters identified as a very important person among the
associations of Europe. She'd saved them from the servants of the Monkey King
and bought them the time Yuri needed to endow Godou with knowledge about
Luo Hao's Authorities. It had been shortly thereafter that he'd used his Gust
Authority to answer the summoning from Erica carrying them all out of the
Netherworld. Upon returning to the living world again, the seventh Campione had
requested Erica to stand back and Princess Alice to take care of the Mariya
sisters while he engaged Luo Hao in combat again. The battled had been fierce
and caused no small amount of damage, but it ended as a draw, though the
elder Devil King claimed it to be her loss.
However right after the battle ended, the Monkey King had shown up, having
somehow taken over Hikari's body. He'd then proudly announced his true identity
as Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.
It had been at that point that Emiya Shirou had shown up, seemingly out of
nowhere and attacked the possessed young girl. The exchange had only been
brief, though that was largely due to Godou having distracted the eighth
Campione by revealing Hikari's status as a possessed victim. Perhaps it had been
his distraction, but the Great Sage had managed to score a great blow upon the
red haired teen, one strong enough to leave him stunned and immobilized for the
time it took the Monkey King to seal all three of the God Slayers in some sort of
spell.

After that the three Kings had spoken briefly while sinking into the seal and the
other two had elected to return Godou to the surface.
This was what led to him being held in the jaws of a flying white tiger. There were
days when he honestly wished he'd never gotten out of bed.
Still, regardless of the depression assailing its charge the white tiger flew
upwards fulfilling the will of its creator.
The flight probably lasted only a couple dozen seconds, it was hard to tell in the
strange world of liquid stone that behaved like air, but suddenly he had left the
darkness and returned to the surface.
This was the area of Toushouguu Okusha, which had been turned to stone by the
Heretic god's first spell. Still possessing the stolen body of Mariya Hikari, the
Great Sage Equalling Heaven continued to casually ride his cloud.
On the ground, Liliana was in a battle stance, wielding a naginata that Godou
had never seen before, while Erica endured her injuries to hold Cuore di Leone
and Lu Yinghua extended his palms. Off to the other side of the area were Emiyasan's sister, who was wielding a naginata of her own and looking positively
murderous, and two . . . maids? He actually did a double take to make sure he
wasn't seeing things.
What on Earth were maids doing here? Never mind, he'd find out later, right now
he had other things to worry about.
Everyone's gazes were drawn to the returned Godou.
Having accomplished its mission of bringing the young King back to the mortal
plane, the white tiger disappeared like a puff of smoke.
"Godou, you came back safely! But where are Her Eminence Luo Hao and Emiyasama?"
"They fell down in order to save me, but Emiya said he'd be alright and Luo Hao
said she will escape by her own power."
Godou answered Erica's question simply.
Since he was still in his immobilized condition from having overused the Raptor,
the act of speaking took great effort. With an understanding expression, Lu
Yinghua nodded at Godou.
"That's very like one of Master's typical excuses. She probably thought that if she
abandoned Kusanagi-sama and Emiya-sama and came back alone, unpleasant
rumours would spread about her in the field."
Apparently the young teen was quite knowledgeable about his master's
personality; Lu Yinghua's answer was completely correct.
In the time it had taken for these short exchanges to take place Illya-san had
shot across the stone clearing, blithely ignoring the Monkey King, and was now
standing in front of the dark haired teen with an expression on her face that was
actually quite scary despite how cute it looked.
"You! Where's Shirou?"

"Er, we were trapped and only one of us could leave, so he decided to stay so I
could return. He told me to tell you that he's safe and will return soon."
A number of different emotions chased each other across the snow haired girl's
face. Irritation, concern, resignation and finally a sort of weary acceptance.
"Ho escaping alone? Looks like you guys are just as difficult to handle as I
expected."
The exchange was interrupted as the Monkey King finally seemed to grow bored
with watching them and finally spoke up.
Liliana face grew hard with concentration as she ran over to Godou's side.
"Everyone gather together! We are flying to the foot of the mountain to meet up
with Mariya Yuri and the rest!"
Godou guessed she was planning to use her technique of high speed Flight.
But did it have a hope of success? Could she carry so many of them? Would they
even have a chance at escape? One really couldn't expect Sun Wukong's
legendary flying cloud to be slower than witchcraft.
"Hmph, trying to escape is futile. Old Sun here is very confident in my lightning
speed. Even far into the distance, a hundred and eight thousand li away, I can
cover it with a single leap hmm!?"
On his cloud, the Great Sage suddenly grabbed his/her knees and screamed as if
suffering from some sort of invisible attack.
Though the pressure of his overwhelming divine power remained, smothering the
area like some heavy blanket, his body was not acting under his control.
"I am not sure what is going on, but here is our chance!"
Seeing the Great Sage undergoing some unexpected change, Liliana held
Godou's body in her arms.
Erica, Lu Yinghua, Illya-san and the two maids also gathered around and the
entire group began to fly, surrounded by the blue light of the silver haired girl's
magic.
Godou knew a little about the spell Liliana was using, he'd once asked her in mild
interest after the camping trip and had received a small but enthusiastic lecture
about it. Most of it had gone over his head, but a bit had stuck. If he remembered
right once the destination was decided, flight magic had to immediately take
effect and couldn't travel to an unfamiliar destination.
Though it had many restrictions it was still a very convenient magical technique.
The group passed through Tougshouguu's main and worship halls, and then flew
over Karamon Gate and the divine stable. From up above they could see that
Toushouguu, Futaarasan Shrine, and Rinnou-ji's buildings, cedar forest, land,
vegetation and springs had all been turned into stone.
As they landed on the visiting path at the foot of the mountain, Yuri and Princess
Alice ran over to them.

"Mariya! I'm sorry; Hikari was taken by that monkey... The Great Sage Equalling
Heaven stole her body..."
"Yes, I already know. The Princess used ecto that method to watch Godou-san
and Her Eminence's fight, and told me what just happened."
Just as Godou wanted to apologize, Yuri interrupted him.
The Princess skilled in spirit body separation also nodded at him.
"The entire mountain has been invaded by immense divine power as a result of
the Great Sage transforming it into a stone prison for sealing Her Eminence Luo
Hao, Emiya-sama and Kusanagi-sama away. If the spell is not dispelled in a few
months or perhaps a few years, Her Eminence and the other King of Japan may
very well be trapped forever. "
Alice's words made everyone take a look at their surroundings, where
petrification had already reached the foot of the mountain.
Everything that they could see had turned into stone, with their group apparently
being the sole exception.
"But... How come you don't seem worried about your master?"
Erica asked Lu Yinghua.
"Indeed," commented Liliana glancing at Illya, "You do not seem to be too
concerned with your brother either. Are you so confident in his abilities?"
Everyone else looked worried, but he and the snowy haired girl were the only
ones who seemed completely calm. Granted Illya-san looked to be a bit on the
irritated side, but there wasn't any fear in her expression. The Disciple of Luo Hao
on the other had seemed to be utterly unruffled.
"I'm not too worried about Shirou; onii-chan's way too stubborn to die that easily,
I'm absolutely sure he'll be fine."
The young girl that often made Godou think of a snow fairy spoke with a calm
surety that was slightly unnerving in its strength. It seemed that she really
possessed unshakable faith in her adopted brother.
"As for my master, she is just imprisoned, not dead. Assuming that is the case,
let us gamble and see if Master can find a way to free herself alone."
The proper-looking handsome youth scratched his head with poor manners as he
answered in a disinterested tone.
"Right," agreed Illya, "There's no point in assuming they're dead, and even if you
showed me Shirou's broken corpse I'd still believe he'd come back. Let's not get
bogged down by that, because right now we've got more than enough problems
without looking for more."
"K-Kaida-san? Manaka-san? What are you doing dressed like that?"
It seemed that Mariya Yuri had finally recognized the two maids accompanying
the young Einzbern. It was obvious to anyone that their current state of dress
had caught her by considerable surprise.

"There weren't any available openings on Emiya-sama's staff except for maids
when we applied," answered the darker haired of the pair, "It's been an
interesting experience to say the least."
"While I'm sure it'll be interesting for you to catch up later I think we may have
other problems on our plate at the moment. I've been curious about this for a
while now . . . where have all the people, who were here this evening, gone to
now? There were no people at all in the area near Master and Kusanagi-sama's
battle."
Lu Yinghua's observation prompted Godou to look around for the first time. The
young martial artist was right, there should have been people around, the
victims of the earlier life force draining, however now the entire area was empty.
There was no sign of any humans other than themselves.
But as that thought crossed his mind he felt a presence approaching.
Out of the shadows of the petrified cedar forest, a group of small animals were
approaching monkeys.
There were almost a hundred of them. Many of the monkeys hid in the petrified
tree, and were watching Godou's group from amongst the branches they had
climbed up onto.
"What's with these guys? Did the Great Sage summon wild monkeys?"
"If he did, then there are too many. I have a bad feeling about this."
Yuri was the one to answer Godou's question, her eyes faintly glowing as her
natural power of spirit vision stirred.
"These monkeys . . . No, they were originally humans, transformed into monkeys
by the Great Sage's divine power. I am wondering if they are the tourists and
people on the streets who had stayed in Nikkou mountain just now . . ."
The Hime-Miko explained in a trembling voice. This was the result of the
appearance of the Heretic God Sun Wukong. Before he was a sage, before he
was a warrior and even before he was a trickster he was a monkey. With his
appearance on the mortal plane his influence had manifested by changing the
mortals in the area into his subjects, into monkeys.
As Godou was left speechless by the revelation the voice of the Monkey King
could be heard booming through the pitch dark night.
"People of my kingdom, listen well! My enemy the god-slayer and his group have
escaped! I will reward well the one who catches them!"
It was Hikari's voice, but definitely the Great Sage from the tone being used.
The monkeys began to whoop and shout as the words of their god died down,
then they turned their gaze to the group, their eyes full of murderous intent.
"If they were to attack, as knights... We cannot hit them recklessly. This is not
good."
"Very true, try not to harm them and simply make them lose the ability to fight."
As Erica complained, Liliana spoke gloomily.

"I can immobilize quite a few of them," commented Illya, "But there are so many,
I'm not sure I can hold against such numbers without killing some."
"I have the same problem," the brown haired maid that Yuri had called Manakasan agreed, "I know several spells of restraint, but against so many I doubt they
would be enough."
On the other hand Lu Yinghua looked very relaxed when compared to the female
combatants of the group.
"I won't feel sorrow even if I kill them, but there'd still be a shred of guilt. How
about letting me prepare us a car to escape?"
"Prepare a . . . Did you guys come here by car?"
The young master of the Lu family smiled at Godou in a way that could only be
described as 'malicious'.
"Of course not, but right now in the nearby parking lot over there, aren't there
many cars with owners who had been turned into monkeys? We can have our
free pick. Luckily the Lu family has many subordinates with talents in this area,
and I picked up a bit of skill from them. Opening locks and driving are not a
problem."
"Ah, so you're a criminal, onii-chan told me to be careful around people like you,"
Illya commented brightly as she pointed at the Chinese youth, "Next you'll
probably try to sell me stolen goods or something like that."
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the growing sound of the
monkeys, as everyone in the group turned to look at the snow haired girl.
"I think that perhaps you all have misconceptions about this guy, so let me
clarify." Said Erica, "It is rumoured that the ancestors of the Lu family have roots
in triads, or in other words, you can call them the likes of gangsters and robbers
directly."
"Hah! So I was right!" The eighth Campione's sister declared in triumph.
"Really, Erica-neesan, please use something a little more classy like 'heroic
outlaws', OK?"
Lu Yinghua turned a slightly amused face to Illya as he continued.
"Probably like the Three Heroes and the Five Gallants or the Outlaws of the
Marsh, those who call themselves heroes or martial artists often have their roots
as outlaws. Tracing back the exploits of the ancestors, they did take part in
activities like "thievery", but the Lu family prides itself for never having a
member who turned out to be an evil villain."
"Ah," the young Einzbern nodded her head in understanding, "You mean like
Robin Hood and his Merry Men right? Outlaws who were heroic, rebels rather
than simple brigands?"
Before the short debate could continue Liliana broke in with her own opinion.
"Though the current situation is dire, if given a choice we should not deliberately
break the law. . . Erica, I will use flight magic once more. Help me stall for time."

"Got it. Please find us a safe hiding place."

As Erica nodded, Liliana closed her eyes. Godou remembered what she had said
about this kind of magic, when using it in an unfamiliar land it was necessary to
use vision spells to confirm the destination.
"Embers cast into the black metal cauldron. May the essence of the red wheel
appear above my hand!"
Erica chanted spell words, and fire surrounded Godou and the rest of the group.
The one-metre tall flames blocked the gaze and murderous intent of the
monkeys like a wall. This was a move intended to restrain and defend against the
monkey army.
A few particularly vigorous monkeys tried to make a leap, but the fire wall's
height instantly doubled. Burnt by the dancing tongues of fire, the monkeys beat
a noisy retreat back to their group. Several climbed up into the petrified trees
and seemed to be preparing to either hurl stones at their targets or jump down
over the flames. Illya seemed to just glare at the transformed humans who then
seemed to freeze and then slump in place. The seventh Campione wasn't entirely
sure what she was doing, but it seemed to be restraining the primates without
hurting them so he didn't have any problem with it.
"Oh... You realized that my servants are actually your fellow humans? How
clever! Then I must prepare even more interesting tricks to handle you guys."
It was Hikari's voice once again . . . No, it was the voice of the Great Sage. He
seemed to be planning more trouble for them, but did not sound like he was
going to attack. Perhaps he/she couldn't fight personally at the moment,
whatever had incapacitated him earlier might still be in effect.
As those thoughts ran through Godou's head Yuri tried to survey the
surroundings.
"Yuri, did your spirit vision see something?" Erica's voice was, as always,
confident and unruffled.
"Yes Erica-san! Something very dangerous is approaching, a threat that requires
high alert, it should be here soon . . . everyone, look up!"
Godou turned his gaze upwards and then felt his mouth drop open in shock.
A monkey was descending from the pitch black darkness of the sky, its fur had a
copper colour with a shade of orange, with the body size far exceeding normal
monkeys.
Roughly twelve, thirteen metres in height, it had a strongly-built physique, long
arms and short legs, and a stout and giant body resembling something in
between a gorilla or an ape. Simply put, it looked like King Kong's long lost
cousin.
Needless to say Erica's wall of flames was pretty much useless against such a
being.

"This is not like the monkeys we saw before, it's a divine beast! A divine monkey
beast that serves the Great Sage Equalling Heaven, it could have strength that
rivals dragons, and be unimaginably powerful!"
Warning them all Erica kept her ready stance and carefully watched the huge
creature's movements. Godou looked at Liliana but saw that her flight magic
wasn't ready yet, however as he did so he noticed that a rather scary smile had
spread across Illya's face.
Yet another giant monkey fell from the sky. Even for Erica and the rest, divine
beasts were challenging opponents. For two enemies like that to appear, it
looked like they had just managed to run into even deeper trouble.

-()-

Illya gazed at the two huge monkeys before her and allowed a somewhat feral
smile to cross her lips.
On the one hand she knew she was now facing Divine Beasts, shards of a god's
power given autonomous form. Back in her own world such creatures were
regarded as being almost on par with one of the True Magics by virtue of their
very existence. Naturally their strength varied, but the strongest ones could be
regarded as being on par with Servants. That in mind it seemed almost lunatic to
be pleased to face them.
On the other hand these weren't transformed innocents, which made them
viable, if dangerous, targets.
Hearing the Chinese boy saying that he'd lead one of them off the young
Einzbern decided to speak up once more.
"If you can distract one of them then I'll be able to take care of the other."
Pretty much everyone in the group turned and blinked at her after she said that.
However it was the blonde young woman that didn't feel quite right to her
senses that voiced what was surely the prevalent opinion.
"That's not something a human can safely confront, are you sure?"
Illya's answer was accompanied by a smile that wouldn't have been out of place
on a crocodile that had just seen a nice fatted pig fall into the water.
"Then I won't confront it with a human."
The young martial artist was as good as his word, in a few seconds he had shot
off taking one of the giant simians and the majority of the transformed humans
with him as they gave chase. The lone remaining goliath monkey seemed to be
overcoming its remaining reluctance to brave Erica's flames and was shambling
forwards.
"Berserker!"

As she spoke the word she willed her magnificent but flawed creation out of its
immaterial state and into the world of flesh and blood. As her gigantic servitor
manifested she directed it to release a roar of challenge.
"!"
As the wordless bellow of mindless aggression echoed off the nearby trees the
effects were easy to see.
Every single monkey that had once been a human had fled, the only sign that
they had ever been here was the fading echoes of their terrified screeching as
they had run, jumped or swung away. Even the giant ape seemed to be taken
aback by the sheer menace that was pouring off her puppet.
Behind her she heard several gasps, but she paid them no mind. All her attention
was on the huge divine monkey in front of her.
"Kill."
The single word was spoken quietly, but with the dreadful authority of the judge
giving orders to the headsman at the block.
There was no hesitation in the huge puppet's steps, how could there be? It was in
many regards a near perfect weapon, one directed solely by her will. The giant
ape responded immediately, despite the speed of the false Servant's charge, and
swung an arm with more mass than a car at its attacker.
However that could be regarded as possibly the worst move the Divine Beast
could have made.
A shrieking wail of pain echoed off the petrified trees as the huge simian recoiled
while clutching at the stump where its left arm had once been. The cry of its
anguish drew the eyes of all present save for Liliana who was still concentrating
on her magic.
Illya could understand their shock. Her servitor was now wielding a Traced copy
of the stone Axe-Sword that her Servant had used in the Holy Grail War, a
weapon provided by Shirou at her request. Holding the enormous weapon, that
now dripped blood down its length, in only one hand and towering taller than any
human could ever hope to match her creation was a sight to behold.
"Wh-What is-"
She didn't know who had spoken, but whoever it was their question was cut off
by the now enraged roar of the giant ape. It had recovered somewhat, its wound
having scabbed over at great speed and the flow of blood having been
staunched. It now glared at the puppet Berserker with maddened red eyes filled
with hate and anger.
In a single movement it reached out with its remaining arm and seized hold of
one of the petrified trees that stood next to the path. Muscles rippled and bulged
under its fur as it strained, then with a thunderous CRACK the stone trunk
snapped in two just above the ground. The tree was large, but when held by the
enormous form of the godly beast it looked as though it had uprooted a trimmed
bush rather than a tree.

Now that both of the inhuman combatants were armed with stone weapons an
odd kind of hush descended upon the path. Her servitor stood eerily still, like a
statue, while the great ape shuffled from side to side and snorted as it
brandished its new weapon.
"How close are you to having your spell ready?" Illya asked quietly as she kept
her eyes on the ape.
"Almost there . . ." answered Liliana without opening her eyes.
"Then I'll kill it now so it can't attack us later." The white haired girl's words were
a calm statement, a decision that she had come to by logical reasoning and
would now go through with.
"!"
With another wordless roar that seemed to shake the very earth beneath them
the false Servant once more charged. The Divine Beast answered with its own
roar and swung the huge mass of rock leaves, twigs and branches that had once
been a living tree. Any other foe would have been forced to dodge; any other foe
would have been lacerated or shredded by being flayed with such a weapon. The
stone foliage and branches would have snapped into sharp points and become a
thousand raking claws, hundreds of stone blades. Anything mortal enduring such
an attack would have been either slain or heavily wounded.
But the puppet Berserker was not mortal, so it didn't dodge. It charged right into
the mass of stone leafs and limbs smashing through them as though they were
made of nothing but sugar paper.
Why should he fear? Why should she fear? Those were the thoughts that passed
though Illya's mind as she watched her creation tear through her enemy's
weapon. Even if it wasn't the equal of the original her servitor still possessed a
copy of the God Hand Noble Phantasm that her Servant had borne. Certainly it
couldn't protect the puppet from attacks as strong as those the true Berserker
had endured, but it was more than sufficient to endure this assault.
Her false Berserker came smashing through the remains of the improvised
weapon, emerging in a cloud of rock dust right in front of the shocked Divine
Beast. It let out a sort of strangled shriek as its hand let go of the remnants of
the stone trunk so as to direct a frantic slap at its attacker. It was a desperate
and instinctual act, but given its sheer size it may have been enough to divert
the black maned giant, had Illya not spotted it in time.
In response to its mistress's mental commands the puppet twisted in midair,
reached out with its free hand and latched onto the giant ape's hand as it
impacted on it. The blow struck the young Einzbern's creation, but failed to
knock it away as its fingers dug into the flesh of the giant palm that had
delivered the blow.
Before the godly ape could react the false Servant swung his huge weapon in
another cruel arc and severed the huge limb at its elbow. Screaming in pain the
giant ape stumbled back, but this time the dark giant pursued it relentlessly.
From someone else's perspective Illya supposed that the sight might have been
darkly comical in a way. The giant ape was nearly five times the size of her

puppet, yet it was retreating as though faced with a foe even larger than itself.
However at her mental orders the puppet Berserker was offering no quarter. A
slash to its legs nearly cut one of its feet off and halted its retreat. A following
blow to its belly tore it open in a fountain of gore. As the Divine Beast wailed in
pain a final overhead chop caught it on the neck silencing it forever and nearly
cutting through it entirely.
"Dear Heavens protect us."
That had been Manaka-san, her voice hushed with awe and fear. Before them the
blood spattered form of her creation turned away from the slaughtered carcass
of the huge monkey, its form already dissolving into sparkles of light that in turn
faded.
With a wave of her hand the snowy haired girl dismissed her tool back into its
astral form
"Now we can go." She said evenly.

-()-

Shirou sat on a stone and looked about his confines.

The 'Stone Mountain's Rocky Caves' was apparently a recreation of the cave in
which the Monkey King had been trapped by the Buddha. To him it was a large
underground cave about the size of a school classroom. A few boulders were
lying about, and that was pretty much it.
Of course for most people the more pressing concern wouldn't have been its lack
of excitement, but rather the fact that since the cave was totally buried there
was a pressing limit on such resources as light, water and, most importantly, air.
No, had it been two normal people that had been caught in here he was pretty
sure that they wouldn't have lasted very long.
However the current two occupants of the cave were not what could be called
ordinary by any stretch of the imagination.
The young Emiya had been quite impressed by his fellow Campione. Upon their
arrival in this cave Luo Hao had immediately gone into a meditative trance that
seemed to be of extremely high level. Archer's memories had supplied him with
knowledge of this kind of thing, martial artists that chose to train their spirits by
allowing themselves to be buried alive. Through sheer willpower and discipline
they could slow their body's functions so that they could subsist on absurdly
small amounts of air and go for weeks without food or water. It was a dangerous
training method, but those who succeeded gained phenomenal control over their
bodies and spirits.
Shirou had absolutely no doubt that the Ruler of the Martial Realm could have
comfortably survived here on her own for months had she needed to.
He himself didn't have such talent available to him. Even with the skills he'd
gained from EMIYA he knew his physical control wasn't near to the level

necessary to manage such a feat. Instead he'd taken another route to ensure his
survival.
To manage this he had Traced four Noble Phantasms and put them to use.
The first had been the Sword of Yao, a D rank Noble Phantasm that he had
stabbed into the ceiling. In response to the light it had begun to shine, clearly
illuminating the entire underground chamber. It was perhaps a bit irreverent to
reduce such a weapon to the function of a light bulb, but it certainly did the job
well.
Next he had recreated one of the Wind-and-Fire wheels that had been wielded by
the Chinese immortal Nezha and stabbed it into the wall. Unlike his other weapon
its abilities weren't passive, so he had to feed it a minor but steady stream of
Prana for it to accomplish the task he set it. When used at its full power the
circular bladed weapon could conjure up tempests strong enough to demolish
buildings, now though he used it simply to circulate the air in the chamber with a
light breeze.
He'd then attached a Traced wire cord to the ceiling of the cave, next to where
he had embedded the Sword of Yao, and used it to hang his third Traced Noble
Phantasm, on Domhanda. The simply forged iron blade was suspended directly
in the path of the breeze produced by the Wind Wheel, and purified the air that
passed it, restoring its freshness again and again thus eliminating the threat of
suffocation.
Lastly he'd Traced a large metal basin, almost a small bathtub, and set the last of
his Traced Swords in it.
This sword was Thuan Thien, a powerful A+ rank sword which could be regarded
as the Excalibur of Vietnam. Despite its rank it was not too expensive a Noble
Phantasm to Trace, actually activating its abilities on the other hand would have
been very costly.
Fortunately it wasn't the blade's active abilities that he wanted to use, rather it
was its passive effect that was of interest.
Thuan Thien was a sword that had belonged to the Dragon King of a great lake.
Due to this strong tie to water the blade of the sword constanly released a thin
flow of fesh water as long as it was unsheathed. Right now the basin was
catching that flow and soon there'd be more than enough water in it to sustain
Shirou and Luo Hao, should it be necessary, for days if needed.
His lips curved into a smile again as he realized that he'd done it again. He'd
turned the sword of one emperor into a light bulb and the sword of another into a
water tap.
Well, it might be irreverant but it was effective. Through the use of these Noble
Phantasms he'd elimianted any risk of suffocation or dying of thirst. Granted he
didn't have any way to provide himself with food, but he was fairly confident that
he'd be able to get himself out of here before that became an issue.
Of course that might be a bit optomistic, he thought. The fact was that this
method of imprisionment was fairly simple, but also quite effective. The spells
around the cave not only acted to keep them in but also to support the rocks

about them, should they tamper with those spells then they might risk getting
imediately buried alive. It was this same predicament that kept him from Tracing
a copy of Excalibur and simply blasting his way out.
The sword of Saber certainly had more than enough power to break through the
spells and bore a path through all the way to the surface. The problem was that
doing so would no doubt also trigger a cave in that he was unlikely to survive
regardless of how much his Authority reinforced him. What he needed was a way
to create a path straight out of the mountain that wouldn't end up with multiple
thousands of tonnes of rock coming crashing down on him.
The problem was that he had literally thousands of Noble Phantasms at his
disposal, and even with Archer's memories integrated into his own it would take
him a while to mentally sort through them as well as work out which could be
used in concert to do what. That was what his preparations were about, ensuring
he had enough time to sort through his options.
"King Emiya, when you said you would be able to manage something I confess
that this was not what I was expecting."
Shirou almost jumped as Luo Hao spoke for the first time since they had arrived
in the cave. Glancing over at the dark haired beauty he saw that she hadn't
changed position, merely opened her eyes to look at him.
"Sempai, I confess I wasn't expecting to hear form you so soon, I thought you'd
require more time in meditation."
"Normally that would be the case," She answered, "However with your own
preparations I need no longer focus upon using my ascetic training. All I need do
now is circulate my internal energies to aid my recovery of my Qi. To do so I do
not even require remaining still, this Luo Cuilian has long since surpassed such
limitations."
There it was again, a sense of overwhelming self assurance that reminded him
slightly of Gilgamesh. There were differences though, some indefinable quality
that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
For the first time since meeting her the young Campione took the time to take a
good look at the Chinese King. She was beautiful, unquestionably so. Shirou had
been privileged to meet such supernatural beauties as Rider and Caster; even
Saber had possessed her own loveliness when it wasn't overshadowed by her
stern regality. EMIYA had encountered others in his life whose beauty had
entered into the supernatural realms and those memories were now his. Mentally
reviewing all these incarnations of fairness he found that the young appearing
Chinese woman before him could have compared well against many of them if
she so chose.
Giving himself a mental shake Shirou reminded himself that there were more
pressing concerns at the moment than admiring his fellow God Slayer.
"It's fortunate that we can converse, can you tell me what led to you and
Kusanagi-san fighting? And how did Sun Wukong manage to escape the spells
keeping him beneath control? As I understand it they've held him for centuries,
what caused them to fail now?"

"You certainly have many questions King Emiya, still it is only right that the
ignorant should seek to enlighten themselves by seeking answers from those
more knowledgeable. Very well I shall answer your questions and dispel your
ignorance."
Once again she radiated that sense of titanic ego. What was it that made it so
dissimilar to that of the Golden King? Was it . . . yes, that was it. The best way
that he could think to describe it would be 'innocent'. Gilgamesh had been
utterly convinced of his own superiority and the total worthlessness of all others
in comparison to himself. To be fair the King of Heroes had been an existence
that had towered over practically all others, but he had not even acknowledged
other Heroic Spirits despite their own statuses as legends.
By contrast Luo Hao's own ego seemed to be based upon her own self image as
being heroic or elevated due to her accomplishments. Simply put Gilgamesh felt
himself above all others because they were so far beneath him whereas Luo
Cuilian felt herself to be above all other because she had climbed to heights far
above them. It was a subtle distinction, but it was one that made the difference
and made it easier to speak to her than would have been the case with the King
of Heroes. Naturally he'd need to get to know her a bit better if he wanted to
confirm his hypothesis, but he was fairly sure he'd got it more or less right.
Putting such thoughts to the side he instead concentrated upon listening to the
martial artist's explanation.
"I had learnt that the god of Steel Sun Wukong, with whom I once battled but was
unable to reach a conclusion with, was being held in this land. Having learnt of
the conditions needed in order to free him and restore his full power I sent my
disciple to ensure that my will was carried out and the Great Sage Equalling
Heaven would be released.
"However due to chance King Kusanagi accompanied the priestess that would
loosen the spells holding the Monkey King. We encountered each other within the
Palace of the Divine Monarch and came to blows due to a disagreement between
us. I was able to subdue him with my martial splendour; however he was cunning
and able to escape me. He later returned to duel me again and was able to
achieve a draw against me that I have declared to be his victory."
A rather fond little smile crossed her lips as she declared her defeat.
"I was most surprised that such a young Rakshasa Raja was able to attain such a
victory over me. Still, it is most heartening to see such young talent emerge."
The eighth Campione was frowning though, his mind on something else that
she'd said.
"It was your actions that led to the Monkey King's release? You are responsible
for his freedom?"
"Indeed," Luo Hao answered without a trace of guilt or remorse, "Such was
necessary for me to once again face the Great Sage and exterminate him."
"But . . . to release a Heretic God upon the world would be to invite disaster upon
the innocent populous in the immediate area."

"I see that you are a young King with morals like those of King Kusanagi. I shall
tell you what I told him. My will is the will of the heavens and the truth of the
earth. However, in my view, humans are undeserving of mercy or benevolence.
From the perspective of the earth and the sky, it is debatable whether human
existence is good or bad. Therefore I hold no such concerns."
Totally devoid of malice and without a hint of evil the Ruler of the Martial Realm
delivered her reasons for not caring about the regular people that might be
caught in catastrophe due to her actions.
For a moment Shirou genuinely considered attacking her right then and there.
From a purely cold blooded point of view now was probably the best opportunity
he'd ever have, she was weakened from her battle with Kusanagi and her
internal energies were only a step of two away from total exhaustion. By contrast
he was at peak strength and had recovered from the Monkey King's strike. He
probably wouldn't even have to use one of his Authorities; he could just imitate
Gilgamesh and rain Traced Noble Phantasms down on her until there was nothing
left.
Then it struck him that he had actually considering cold blooded murder.
With a deliberate effort of will he relaxed the muscles he hadn't realized that he'd
tensed. He would not go down that road; he would not give in to a baseless
instinct.
He'd first noticed it when he'd met Kusanagi for the second time, the first time
that he'd knowingly met another Campione. It was a small thing, a tiny seed of
emotion that would otherwise have been missed had he not been examining his
own feelings during the encounter. It hadn't been antagonism or aggression;
rather it had been . . . competitiveness, perhaps even rivalry. It was akin to when
two master swordsmen met in friendly circumstances. They could both be kind
and courteous, but underneath it all, right at the back of their minds, was a little
voice asking a very awkward question; 'which of us is stronger?' it would say.
He supposed it was similar with God Slayers, when two such impossible
existences encountered one another it only made sense that there would be
some sort of rivalry.
It seemed that that sense of competition had entwined with his flash of anger at
her cool disregard for innocent bystanders to produce his brief murderous
thought. Granted it wasn't something he'd honestly taken seriously, but it had
been a thought he'd given genuine attention.
Aside from anything else though he knew that he couldn't afford to kill her, even
if he had wanted to. The number of Campione in the world was always low, not
once in all recorded history had it ever gone over ten at once. By contrast the
world was a very large place, and there were many many gods and legends that
were always waiting to return. If he were to kill or even severely wound her that
would leave the area that had previously been her territory vulnerable to any
whim from a Heretic God that might manifest there.
No, no matter how much she might infuriate him he'd have to grit his teeth and
retain control since it looked as though she was the lesser of two evils in this
case.

"So then, it would seem that we will not exchange blows this day King Emiya."
The voice of his fellow King brought him out of his thoughts and his attention
back to her. She was standing in a casual pose, but the memories of his older self
let him notice the subtle way her balance was set, the almost imperceptible ways
her muscles were tensed.
"You noticed then?" There was no need to say of what he spoke, it was clear that
she'd sensed his momentary surge of killing intent.
"Of course, to the Ruler of the Martial Realm the task of detecting such blatant
intent is the simplest of feats. You do not guard your thoughts enough King
Emiya." The beautiful God Slayer stood proudly and placed both her hands on
her hips, "Still I take no insult at your thoughts, to take down a foe that is beyond
you by waiting until she has exhausted herself against another, some may call
this contemptible, but in the world of battle it is merely sound strategy."
She paused for a second before continuing.
"Though I, Luo Hao, have long since reached the pinnacle of martial perfection
and thus need not use such methods."
Honestly he didn't know what to make of her, one minute she was saying that
such a method should not be frowned upon, the next she was hastily adding that
she'd never employ such means herself.
"I would still hear why you would direct such murderous intent at me and then
dismiss it."
Shirou leaned against a large boulder on his right and regarded his fellow King.
Her words could be taken as a request, but at the same time they carried the
authority of a command. This was a woman as used to command as she was to
breathing.
"I think . . . that we have a different view upon our rights to Kingship." He
answered slowly. "I have my own path, and your casual disregard for those
threatened by your actions is an affront to that path."
"Oh, and what path would that be King of Wakoku?"
"I would hear your own path first," the young Emiya replied, quietly amazed at
how easy it was to talk to her like this. All he really had to do was think to himself
of what Saber or Gilgamesh might say and then use that as a reference for the
development of his own answers.
"Naturally my path of Kingship is the Road of Domination. I have achieved this
through my authority and martial arts. It is as I said to King Kusanagi; Luo Cuilian
can slaughter thousands of soldiers with a simple punch or kick, and slay tens of
thousands with just a wave of a blade or a spear. Were I to display the true
essence of martial arts, mighty armies of millions will be turned into mountains
of corpses and rivers of blood. All lands will be wiped out, leaving nothing but
mountains and rivers."
Shirou blinked at that, momentarily overwhelmed by the absolute faith the
beautiful fighter had in her martial skills.

"So the entire basis of your rule is your strength?"

"Of course not. I am one that walks the path of chivalry and heroism for every
step of my life. I have subdued monsters and gods, safeguarded cities from
devastation with my prowess. I have reached the pinnacle of achievement and
surpassed all rulers and emperors before me. As a result it is only natural that I
should enjoy greater privilege than they. If an emperor in the past could sacrifice
a dozen innocents in the advancement of their goals then it is only natural that I
should be able to sacrifice dozens of thousands. This is what is known as
hierarchy."
That was it, her reasoning and innocent callousness stemmed for that
unshakable feeling of self worth. She honestly saw herself as being so far above
others that for her not to act in such a manner would be a betrayal of her
position and of those beneath her. He had to acknowledge that there was a
certain logic to her claims, after all a great deal of the authority a ruler could
possess was based upon their military strength. When looked at from that point
of view it was unquestionable that the Chinese beauty possessed martial power
that probably surpassed the armies of Rome at their empire's height.
Quite simply put her reasoning wasn't that of a modern person, rather it was
something that belonged centuries in the past.
This was actually rather ironically understandable given that Luo Hao was more
than two centuries old. Was that the simple truth behind her reasoning? Was that
the explanation for her oddly callous innocence? It was almost pitiable in a way,
that she should be so . . . out of her time.
On the other hand he doubted that she was too distressed by it, from what he
could tell this wasn't someone that would be brought down by something so
simple.
"And what of you King Emiya, what path of Kingship do you follow?"
Now that was an interesting question, one that he'd been thinking about a good
deal since Illya's kidnapping and her acquisition of her 'minions'. It had become
increasingly clear that he was going to have to take a more . . . active role in the
world of magic practioners. Whether it was his intention or not his power and
influence were growing at a considerable rate. Yusuke was well on his way to
turning the failing business empire of the Circle into a minor powerhouse that
would only grow in profit and size. The Committee continued to send him more
scrolls and books and promises of good will. His own mastery of his Authorities
grew at a considerable rate.
All in all it was adding up to the fact that pretty soon he'd be a King in more than
mere name. It had been that realization that had led him to think more about the
two Kings that he'd encountered, as well as about the king that he'd learnt
about.
EMIYA had done many things in his life to ensure he could add more Noble
Phantasms to his arsenal. After all the more weapons he had at his disposal the
more effective he'd be in a fight and the better he'd be able to pursue his dream.
To that end he'd gone to obscure museums, cut deals with various magi families
and sought out long forgotten stores of weapons.

And of course he'd made it a point to meet with the last living participant of the
Fourth Holy Grail War
Lord El-Melloi II, Waver Velvet, was one of the people that the version of Emiya
Shirou had been eager to meet. While that version of himself had not been
Saber's lover he had come to care for her a great deal and had been eager to
gain new memories of her. After some negotiation the elder magus had agreed to
share all his memories of the war he had taken part in with EMIYA in exchange
for certain future aid.
As a result the future Archer had gained several new Noble Phantasms,
recollections not his own of several battles and all of Waver Velvet's memories of
his unofficial liege, Iskander the King of Conquerors.
So in the final analysis Shirou found himself with three prime examples of
kingship to take as examples. It had been from those examples that he'd begun
to put together the basic concepts of his 'rule'.
"I believe that as Kings we loom far over those that are our subjects. We hold
greater power, greater authority, we may do as we wish and they have no means
by which to defy us." He paused and glanced over to Luo Hao who was nodding
in agreement. "But I feel that Kings that enjoy such privileges have
responsibilities of equal weight. We must serve as the champions of our subjects,
rule in such a way that their safety and prosperity is assured. They grant us
supreme power over them; it is only equivalent exchange that we employ that
power to support them in return. To do otherwise is not Kingship, but tyranny."
Ultimately his envisioned rule was based on the simple concept of 'you do right
by me and I'll do right by you', an almost juvenile way of approaching it, but it
was honestly the best he thought he could do.
Had he still held to his former ideal he might have tried to emulate the self
sacrificing rule of Saber, abandoning everything, even his very humanity, in
order to safeguard his people. But after having cast that dream aside he didn't
think he could follow such a path. The road of conquest that the Rider of the
Fourth Heaven's Feel had followed had a certain appeal with its grandness and
embrace of humanity. But honestly conquest and dominion held little interest to
Shirou and he knew himself well enough to know he lacked the charismatic
personality needed to pull it off. As for him trying to follow Gilgamesh's despotic
rule of Absolute Dominion, well the less said of that the better.
In the end the rule he had chosen to attempt was small when compared to the
Kingships of the three Kings of the Fourth Holy Grail War, but it was one he felt
suited his personality and abilities.
"So you would follow the path of a 'Just' King? Well it is the prerogative of a
monarch to choose how they should rule. I shall wait to see how this path will
develop for you King Emiya."
Far from being offended by the implication that Shirou viewed her as a tyrant the
beautiful Campione seemed to be honestly intrigued as well as amused by the
eighth King's decisions and resolve.
"If one intends to follow a path to its end then it's best to choose an interesting
path, would you not agree?"

As he spoke those words the eighth Campione felt a rather wry smile tug at his
lips.
Luo Hao blinked in surprise, as though having expected some other response to
her pronouncement, then a smile of pure good humour spread across her face.
"A fine answer indeed," she declared, "I confess that my initial impression of you
was not the most favourable King Emiya. A surprise attack that was so easily
countered and which followed by you leaving such a careless opening, one that
led to your swift imprisonment. At first I thought that you might have deliberately
allowed yourself to be caught in the Great Sage's trap simply because you feared
doing battle with him, that you had allowed King Kusanagi to return to the
surface so that you wouldn't have to face the Monkey King."
The beautiful martial artist spoke blithely on while remaining completely
oblivious to the dark cloud of depression that was gathering around the younger
King's head as she listed his errors and shortcoming in the short time since
they'd met. Shirou might not be the most sensitive of people, but it was very
disheartening to hear how just a few slips on his part, foolish though they had
been, had led to such a poor impression.
"Still, I am pleased to find that such an impression was incorrect. No craven
coward would dare to speak to Luo Cuilian as you have done, they would cower
and grovel before me. Also such a one would never have directed that surge of
killing intent towards me, no matter how brief it may have been. And of course
no such weakling could muster the courage to contest Kingship with me. I am
most pleased to find that you have surpassed my initial notion of your
character."
"My thanks for your kind words," Shirou said as he felt the cloud of gloom start to
fade somewhat, "But I think we should move to a more pressing topic, namely
how are we going to get out of here?"
Luo Hao glanced around the cave and then fixed her eyes upon the ceiling.
"Indeed it may prove difficult to destroy this prison, the Daoist arts of the Monkey
King are impressive to have so casually have created this confine." She looked
over at her fellow captive as she ran a hand over one wall.
"Do you not have an Authority that would allow you to escape from here? Surely
one who can slay a god would possess such power."
"I have a number of options available to me," he confirmed, "However anything
that could destroy the spells around this place would also bring the whole
mountain down on our heads. I don't know about you but I don't think being
buried alive would count as a successful escape."
The look that the Ruler of the Martial Realm directed at him was both lofty and
indulgent, the look of a teacher addressing an enthusiastic but somewhat slow
student.
"Allow me to impart a piece of wisdom that I have gained over the course of
more than two centauries. Campione, as we are widely known, are the Kings of
this world. There is no prison that can hold us, no chains that can bind us, no
force that can control us. This cave we are caught in might seem daunting to

you, but I know beyond any shadow of a doubt that it is destined to fall before
my martial splendour. And if this mountain should also try to confine me, well,
then the mountain shall simply share the same fate."
It was inspiring in a way, such absolute confidence in oneself that there was no
doubt whatsoever that reality itself would bow to fulfil her expectations. To speak
so casually of brushing a mountain, a mountain, out of her way, and to
completely and utterly mean it, it defied all rational sense.
But then again she was a Campione, and every document that he'd read about
the God Slaying Devil King agreed on one thing.
Common rationality doesn't apply when it comes to the Kings.
"To me it is a simple matter of waiting until such time as my Qi has recovered
enough and my Authorities. Once my strength has been fully restored I shall
smash this prison and march proudly out through its ruined gates."
Against his better judgement Shirou felt a small spark of competitiveness start to
burn within him. This wasn't anything combative; it was more along the nature of
wanting to race someone to see who is the faster in a friendly contest.
"Well then Sempai, I'll have to step up my own efforts if I do not wish to allow my
senior to show me up."
"Hah, very well then," declared the beautiful martial artist with a smile, "Let us
see if you can demonstrate a talent that will let you impress me."
Well at least it was a decent motivation to work with.

-()-

The Divine Ancestor known as Guinevere used her magic to observe the
developing situation and frowned in irritation.
It would seem that the god imprisoned here wasn't the one that she had
searched for. Oh the Monkey King was unquestionably a powerful god of Steel, of
that there could be no doubt. However he wasn't the god she sought.
On the other hand it wasn't unknown for gods to change in both form and
character over time. Their legend would alter as the ages passed, sometimes
absorbing other legends into itself or having new elements added. She supposed
it was possible that her Lord's legend had somehow been merged with that of
the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Unlikely, but possible.
So she stayed where she was, upon the peak of Nantaisan, and continued to use
her magic to observe the situation. So far it seemed that the Monkey King was
far from fully manifested, he was still using that young Hime-Miko's body and still
seemed to be partly bound by the enchantments that had held him for so many
decades. Perhaps when she saw him fully released she'd be able to tell whether
or not he was the one she sought.
"So, thou still seekest to return to thy Lord's side Guinevere."

She was a former goddess, a Divine Ancestor of such wisdom and power that she
was known by the title of Witch Queen. She was the bearer of the Holy Grail and
the beloved ward of Sir Lancelot of the Lake. In her quest to revive her liege she
had faced mortals, Campione and gods.
Therefore she did not squeak and jump in surprise as she turned . . .
Really.
Well . . . alright, maybe she did release a somewhat undignified exclamation of
startlement. But she did not squeak.
Still she had reason to be so . . . surprised. As a person with many enemies she
habitually surrounded herself with many spells of warding and detection. With
them in place she should have been able to sense the approach of anyone
coming close to her well before they had entered speaking range.
Yet this voice had come from right behind her.
All these thoughts flashed through her mind as she completed her turn, before
she even laid eyes upon the one who had spoken to her. When she did set eyes
upon him she felt the blood drain from her face and her fingers clench into fists.
She knew that she'd recognized that voice, she simply hadn't been able to quite
place it. The sight of that titanic form and black armour were all the clues that
she needed to immediately realize to whom she was speaking.
"Mordred!"
It was quite remarkable how much hatred and rage one could load into a single
word. Despite her sweet features and gentle voice the Divine Ancestor was able
to load enough venom onto the name that it was a wonder her lips didn't melt.
"Ah, tis good that thou hast not forgotten me after thy fall from true divinity. Truly
I had feared that thy diminishment might have stripped thy memories of our time
together." As always his voice was oddly charming and pleasant, totally in
contrast o his fearsome appearance.
"Would that Guinevere had been so fortunate," the Divine Witch Queen replied,
the venom in her voice impossibly growing even more caustic, "I still remember
your betrayal of our Lord, how your actions broke our circle and led to his decent
back into the earth."
The huge black helmet seemed to tilt ever so slightly to the side, as though in
puzzlement, as the burning red shapes of eyes shone out through the visor's
slitted opening.
"In truth I have always been vexed by thy claim that mine challenge to Artus was
some act of base betrayal. I didst not stab him from behind and I did not seek
battle when he was weakened and tired. I faced him honourably, face to face."
Guinevere let out a most unladylike snort of derision in response to the Heretic
God's words and crossed her arms in unafraid defiance.
"Choose your words as you see fit, it will not change the truth, you stayed our
Lord's ally only until he lost his greatest defence. Once you saw that weakness
you abandoned your oaths and turned your sword upon him."

The black armoured giant didn't even try to refute her words; he simply spread
his as though in question.
"What other outcome couldst there be? I was drawn to Artus by his splendour of
war, both his strength and the strength of his foes was intoxicating. To be in the
presence of such power, such strength. Is it so strange that admiration shouldst
change to covetousness? That I shouldst come to desire to claim that strength
for mine own?"
He turned from her and waved a hand at the city that could be seen from their
vantage point.
"And for this thou hast sullied mine name through the ages, naming me the great
betrayer of our lord. Dost that grant thee pleasure? Dost that grant thee
satisfaction?"
She'd forgotten how eloquent and charming he could be when he wanted, how
he could twist words and make the meanings of actions and deeds until the most
heinous of crimes seemed to be a completely reasonable act. She must not allow
herself to be caught in his words lest he beguile her away to his side.
"Say what you will, since the day you broke your oaths you have been the enemy
of my Lord and so my enemy as well. Is that why you are here? Do you seek to
slay Guinevere?"
The Divine Ancestor freely admitted that it was unlike her to be this
confrontational. Normally her nature was more playful but slightly timid, like
when she had confronted the Black Prince. However this was the one person she
would never show weakness before, the one person she could never forgive.
It didn't matter if it led to her capture, it didn't matter if it led to her injury it
didn't matter even if it led to her death. Mordred the Betrayer was not someone
to whom she could give an inch and still claim to remain loyal to her Lord.
Not that she intended to die of course. On her lips waited the words that would
summon her protector, the one in whom she placed all her trust. The highest and
most perfect knight and the only one of Artus' servants that had been a match
for Mordred. Lancelot du Lac. If any could protect her from the traitor's wrath it
was him.
However instead of showing anger the black titan actually chuckled as he turned
back to face her.
"Slay thee Guinevere? Why wouldst I do such a thing? To do so wouldst only
delay mine long awaited second battle with thy King."
The childish Queen's mouth dropped open in surprise at his response.
"Wh-What do you mean by that?"
"Tis something that occurred to me when I returned to this Plane after recovering
from mine defeat at Artus' blade," the armoured giant explained, "When I fought
him it was because I sought to face the strongest, however that was no longer
enough. Mine desire is no longer to face the strongest, but to become the
strongest.

"Thus I chose to emulate thy Lord, seeking out the bastard children of Pandora
and vanquishing them. To mine shame at first I was defeated and barely escaped
with mine life. But those defeats made me stronger, and in time I returned and
slew mine defeater.
"From there I followed a rumour that hinted at the return of Thy Lord to these
isles. On my way I faced another of the Devil Kings and slew him too. When I
camest to these shores I found no hint of Artus though. Being fatigued from mine
battles I chose to emulate him once more and slept within the earth to regain
mine strength.
"However mortal mages found me in mine slumber and cast enchantments to
ensure mine sleep would be most long, deep and undisturbed. However now I am
awake once more and I have learnt that there are many of Pandora's children in
this era.
"Mine quest shall continue, I shall vanquish the children here and then seek out
the others and vanquish them in turn. Thee I shall leave undisturbed to continue
thy search, indeed I shall slay all that try to impede thee. Thou efforts shall once
more raise up Artus, and when he strides the earth once more I shall be there to
face him, battle him and slay him.
"Thus shall thou serve my ends and thus shall I wrest the title of the strongest
from him."
Guinevere found herself unable to breathe. The absolute certainty with which he
spoke of his mad design was overwhelming. This was not merely the rantings of
a god gone mad, this was something he intended to force to come to pass
through sheer will if needs be.
"You . . . you can't defeat him. You can't."
Her words sounded weak even to herself. In the face of his burning resolution her
own faith in her beloved Lord seemed to be such a small thing.
"Art thou so certain? King Arthur shall fall by Morderd's blade, this is the legend
that thou hast carefully propagated around the world is it not?"
His paused a second as she knew surprise flashed across her features.
"Oh yes, mine allies in this era have been most forthcoming about thine
activities. To think that thy efforts would be so successful that thou wouldst
inadvertently birth a new god."
He leaned towards her and his voice grew softer, almost honeyed.
"But dost thou think that such was enough to sever the legend? That the fate of
Arthur meanest that Artus be safe from it? I do not; I believe that in thy efforts
thou hast only ensured that when I once more face thy Lord that the advantage
will be mine. Thinkest thou upon that as thou continue in thy efforts to raise
Artus from the earth's embrace."
With a laugh that was both triumphant and mocking the towering knight turned
from her and strode away.

Guinevere did not see him go, she wasn't even looking up. As the full meaning of
his words had come down upon her legs had lost all strength and she'd collapsed
into the dirt at her feet, unmindful of how it stained her pristine dress.
Was it true? Had all her efforts into reviving her beloved King at the End of Eras
only ensured her Lord's death upon his return? Had she inadvertently lent her aid
to the one god that she despised above all others? Surely that could not be true;
surely the fates would not be so cruel to her.
No!
No, she would not accept that.
Guinevere might be childish in her behaviour and sometimes fearful enough to
shy away from danger, but beneath it all was a core of iron determination and
will that would do a god of Steel proud. She would not meekly accept this and
lead her dear Lord to his potential slaughter. If Mordred was a threat to her Lord
then the obvious answer was to eliminate him.
The title of Witch Queen was not merely some name she had assumed as a
vanity, it was a name earned many times over by her skill and power. Among the
many feats she was capable of that had allowed her to earn that title was the
ability to sense the presence of Campione.
She could feel them now, one close by, free but weakened, two more locked
away within some sort of spell, one weak but regaining strength and the other
strong already, and away in the distance she could feel one more. That one
approaching swiftly.
Four Campione, four of the Devil Kings. Though she had lived a long time in this
life and had lived twice before that never had she heard of such a convergence
of the supreme Rulers.
Perhaps one among them would be able to face her foe for her. All that would be
needed would be to choose the most likely to succeed and to aid them as she
could.

-()-

Illya looked off the porch of the small wooden cabin she was staying in and
glanced over at the one in which Godou and his harem were staying in.
After they'd escaped the Monkey King's servants Liliana's magic had carried
them here, to a camping site on the Kirifuri Plateau. Here the tourists had
continued their lives completely unaware of the crisis that was taking place so
nearby. At first she'd been concerned that those here might stumble into the
domain now claimed by the Great Sage, but Yuri had assured her that the History
Compilation Committee had measures prepared that would prevent further
involvement by innocent citizens.
The entire area claimed by Sun Wukong would be completely cordoned off using
a mix of official methods, hypnosis and various other memory manipulation

techniques. For the time being at least the influence of the Heretic God was, if
not contained, then at least isolated.
The evening had been spent largely allowing Godou to rest and heal while his trio
of women prepared the meal and got the rooms in the cabin ready. Apparently
Yuri had been able to use some magic to retrieve the lost luggage of her group;
however Illya, Kaida and Manaka had brought no such preparations other than
the simple change of clothes the warrior witch had brought for herself and her
charge. Still that hadn't proven to be too much of a hindrance, camping sites like
these always had small shops to supply those things that tourists had forgotten,
lighters, clothes, sleeping bags or even entire tents.
The young Einzbern had the credit card that Yusuke had supplied her with and
consequently had access to enough money to buy the entire contents of the
store if she so chose.
Not that it had been needed to pay for that much, other than three sleeping bags
and a few things like toothbrushes and toothpaste Erica had been able to charm
it out of the camp ground owners. In all truth the snowy haired girl had felt a
good bit of awe at the physically older girl's suave talking skills. Illya had been
prepared to pay for the evening meal, since she'd seen that none of Godou's
group had foodstuffs with them. Instead, after chatting to the owners for ten
minutes, she'd not only managed to obtain the main ingredients for a supper but
also desserts and fruit.
The rest of the evening had been spent mostly with Illya quietly enjoying the
comedic entertainment of the antics of Godou and his Harem and listening to
their discussion about Sun Wukong. From what she could determine the seventh
Campione had some sort of Authority that depended upon possessing knowledge
of his foe. However she hadn't known any information that would have been of
much use, so she'd stayed quiet.
That had seemed to suit pretty much everyone present. She'd noticed that that'd
been the way of it for most of the day. They hadn't been rude or unpleasant, but
she got the distinct impression that they didn't quite know how to deal with her.
In the end she had just begun to feel a bit on the resentful side when Alice had
taken her aside for some private words.

Flashback to earlier that evening.

"Ah, Miss Einzbern, could I have a word?"
Illya looked up to see that the unknown blonde woman that had been
accompanying Yuri earlier was standing next to her. She was a beautiful young
woman in her early twenties with long blonde hair and sea blue eyes. Her
ancestry was clearly European and she carried herself with a certain authority,
as though used to her words carrying weight. This was offset somewhat by her
personality, which from what she had seen could be described as 'bright and
bubbly', which gave her the illusion of being younger than she was.
"Can I help you?" she asked in return, wondering why this stranger was
addressing her.

"I'm Alice Goddodin, speaker of the Witenagemot. Could I speak to you privately
for a bit? I'm afraid I don't have much time."
The white haired girl looked at her closer, focussing her mystic senses as she did
so. There was something distinctly off about this woman, something not quite
right. It wasn't anything particularly threatening; rather it was as though she
wasn't properly . . .
"You're not really here, are you?"
The European magus shook her head in agreement.
"Would you look at that, two people in the same day have found me out so
quickly, that's really amazing, Campione keep such talented company. No I'm
afraid I'm not. Due to various circumstances I've got to use this spirit body of
ectoplasm so I can interact with people. My real body is safely sleeping in my
bed back home in London . . . could you please keep this a secret? If too many
people find out it could become most troublesome."
Yes, that was it. Her existence somehow reminded the young Einzbern of a
Servant, but only in the crudest and most basic sense. To compare this
improvised construct body to the perfection of a Heroic Spirits incarnation was
like comparing a brittle twig to a finely carved war staff. Still it was impressive to
a degree; the feat of creating an ectoplasmic vessel for her soul was something
that came close to the powers of the Heaven's Feel magic.
Quite an impressive achievement, idly Illya wondered if she could learn to do
something similar. It would be cool if she could somehow have regained at least
part of the lost True Magic before she returned home. That would be something
to rub in her grandfather's face if they ever met up again.
Still, now wasn't the time to get lost in such thoughts. She'd been asked a
question and it wouldn't be polite to delay her answer.
"Of course, I'd never be so rude as to reveal another's secrets without just
cause." Ah, the old good manners came back to her so easily. Living with Shirou
might have left her more comfortable with an informal situation, but it seemed
that the courtly good manners that the Einzbern family had drilled into her were
still lurking beneath the surface waiting to be of use. "Also what was it you
wished to speak to me about?"
"In truth I wanted to ask you about yourself Miss Einzbern," the blonde British
lady said with a smile, "The Witenagemot has made it a priority to acquire more
information on your brother, but in truth I'm even more interested in yourself."
"Oh? Am I so much more interesting than a Campione? You flatter me Princess
Alice." Illya returned her words with a bright smile of her own and a deliberate
use of the title by which she was more widely know. It was a small thing, one
designed to show that she wasn't some unaware innocent, but not threatening
enough to be hostile.
"Oh, we're very interested in your brother," answered the soul projecting magus,
"For someone to appear out of nowhere and gain so many Authorities so quickly,
how could we be anything other than interested? Still he's a Campione, and

mighty and important though they are we at least have some idea of what we're
dealing with.
"Unlike you."
Both of them were now facing each other, having left the room in which Godou
and his girls were still talking. Kaida had turned as though to follow them, but a
small wave of Illya's hand had indicated to her to stay put. The two female
practioners of the mystic arts now faced each other across the porch of the small
log cabin. There was a certain tension between them, nothing hostile or violent,
more the wary pacing of two wolves that didn't want to fight but were sizing
each other up in case they did.
"At first it was believed that you were some descendant of divinity, maybe one
as close as only three or four generations removed from the source. That would
have accounted for your power and skill, but now I'm not so sure."
Alice turned her face, still smiling despite the gravity of the situation, away from
the younger girl and waved at the lands that the Monkey King had claimed.
"I saw what you did there, what you called and commanded. I really thought that
I'd have to use the rest of my strength to cover King Godou's escape, but then
you used that . . . thing to tear a Divine Beast apart. Thanks for that by the way,
it let this form last until now and gave me more of a chance to observe his
majesty.
"Anyway, what it boils down to is that I don't know what you are. At first I
thought you might be a Divine Ancestor that had somehow attached herself to
King Emiya, but having watched you I'm sure that isn't the case. On the other
hand you're simply too powerful to be a normal mage, so I thought that since I
don't have much time left with this form I'd go with honesty and just ask you flat
out. I know that I do not have any sort of authority to demand answers from you,
but might I entreat you to give us an answer? Just what are you Illyasviel Von
Einzbern?"
That was an interesting question, and in all honesty one that the white haired
girl wasn't entirely sure she knew the answer to. In theory she knew what she
was, a modified Einzbern homunculus/human hybrid that had received special
modification in preparation to both win the Holy Grail War and act as the vessel
for the completed Holy Grail. However since coming to this world things had
changed, she'd changed. Her full lifespan had been restored and she'd begun to
dabble in experiments verging on True Magic. Her success in the creation of her
puppet version of Berserker alone might be enough to earn her some sort of title
back in her world. Well, that and probably a Sealing Designation, not that it'd be
very easy to enforce given that she had such a protection available to her.
Still now wasn't the time to fall into existentialistic contemplation. She had to
think of how she could answer the question. It was part of the plan that her and
Shirou had worked out to take what opportunities appeared to spread useful
disinformation, and this seemed to be a good such opening. Besides which,
refusing to answer might lead to some tension between Shirou and the
Witenagemot, something that might prove to be highly inconvenient in the
future given their wide sphere of influence. The question was how to answer her
without contradicting the story that she and Shirou had put into circulation? On

top of that if she gave at least a partial answer then she'd have somebody in the
upper echelons of the European magic Circles in her debt.
"How about . . . I answer you and we'll say that you'll owe me a favour in the
future?"
The blonde princess seemed to consider the suggestion for a bit, then smiled
and nodded.
"I'm . . . what my family made me to be." She declared after a moment's
consideration. "I was changed, altered, very early in life to meet the
'requirements' of their expectations. Those changes cost much of my lifespan
and would have left me dead less than a year from now. In exchange though
they provided me with the power I wield and advanced mental maturation. Then
they sent me off to kill Shirou and complete their precious ritual."
She glanced up at the older woman and saw she was watching her closely. Well
that was alright, it wasn't as if she'd even said a single lie after all.
"Everything ended up going to Hell, but by the end of it at least I'd learnt that
onii-chan wasn't my enemy, he was the only family I could really count on.
Shortly after that he became a Campione and we decided to come back to Japan.
"Now I'm not going to die you know? One of Shirou's Authorities was able to
reverse the damage done to my body by the changes. Now I've got all the power
that the Einzbern's gave me, and I get to live as well. Best of all they can't
control me anymore, I'm free of them."
Okay, it was a bit of a spur of the moment ab lib, but it seemed to have the hint
of mystery and threat that she wanted.
"I've searched through our records at our headquarters," commented Alice, "I
couldn't find any mention of a family by the name of Einzbern."
"They changed their name so as not to associate with the 'tainted'." Illya replied
beginning to warm to the game she was playing. "You probably won't hear from
them in the future either, they . . . didn't take my intention to stay with Shirou
well."
Silence settled onto the porch as the Princess of the Witenagemot read what she
would into that statement.
"And your summon?"
"Now now," the snowy haired girl answered as she playfully waved an
admonishing finger, "I've told you quite a bit, but I'm not going to give away all
my secrets. Where's the fun in that after all?"
Sometimes it was good to look so much younger than she actually was, it let her
get away with some things that she wouldn't have been able to manage
otherwise.
Alice opened her mouth to ask another question, but halted as some unheard
sound seemed to draw her attention.
"Ah, it looks like my times up. Thanks a lot for your answers; I'm sure that lots of
the old fuddie duddies back at HQ will have lots of time chasing them about.

"Goodbye then Miss Einzbern, it's been fun!"

With a wave and a wink the beautiful blonde mage vanished from sight. Illya was
left wondering just how much of her story the Princess had bought and just how
much she was going to pass on. One thing was for sure, the young Einzbern was
pretty sure that she'd underestimated the ectoplasm using mage.
End flashback.

The evening had been . . . interesting, to say the least.

Well, now wasn't the time to get lost in thoughts about the recent past. She'd
best be getting to bed and getting some sleep if she wanted to be at her best
tomorrow.
As she turned to enter the cabin she idly wondered what Shirou was doing right
now. That he was alive was a given as far as she was concerned. If Berserker
couldn't kill him, if a corrupted Saber couldn't kill him, if jamming the powers of a
Heroic Spirit into his body couldn't kill him, if the birth of a god of Evil couldn't kill
him then she highly doubted that being trapped like this could manage it.
She dearly loved Shirou, but even if the comparison was a bit unflattering she
felt there was some truth to her occasional thought that he was hardier than a
cockroach on steroids.
Well, he was probably devoting all his energies to trying to escape.

-()-

The eighth Campione glared down at the Traced sword held in his hands and
frowned in irritation. Another dead end, he'd had high hopes for this sword,
enough that he'd Traced it into physical existence so as to get a better handle on
its capabilities. Unfortunately it wasn't the answer to his difficulties, if he were to
use it to try to escape then he'd probably end up drowned in lava rather than
simply buried alive. It might protect him from the heat of the molten rock, but
he'd still need to breathe.
"That Authority of yours is most interesting King Emiya," Luo Hao's musical voice
broke into his thoughts as he allowed the weapon to break back down into Prana,
"To be able to manifest so many different weapons of power. Tell me from which
God did you usurp it?"
That made the young man blink in surprise. It seemed that the elder King had
assumed his ability to produce mystic weapons out of nowhere was actually an
Authority. A reasonable assumption he supposed, from what his research had
yielded it seemed that weapons on par with Noble Phantasms were quite rare in
this world, especially ones that could be wielded by mortals.
Now the question was whether or not he'd allow that continued impression to go
on or if he would correct her with the truth. Allowing the mistaken belief to
continue would have the advantage of increasing his apparent strength,

something that was always a plus when dealing with people of equal or greater
power. Granted he wasn't aware of exactly how dangerous an existence the Ruler
of the Martial Realm was, but he highly doubted that she was someone that
could be taken lightly.
Still, Shirou had to admit that he was beginning to get tired of the false face he
was having to put up. Sure he intellectually realized their importance and he
might even take a certain pride in how he could pull them off. However at the
end of the day beneath all the experience and cunning he'd gained from Archer
the red haired teen was, at his core, an awkwardly honest person.
Certainly he didn't plan to simply abandon the persona that he'd constructed, it
had its uses after all, but perhaps some honesty wouldn't be a bad thing.
And of course there was the purely practical side to consider. Luo Cuilian was an
expert martial artist that had already demonstrated her skills in reading body
language, if he did try to lie to her there was a chance that she'd see through
him. Aside from cluing her into the fact that he had something to lie about it
might also serve to poison the amicable relationship that seemed to be
developing so far.
"It's not actually an Authority; it's a form of magic that I've learnt."
"Oh? So you have devoted yourself to the path of the magical arts then? Perhaps
you seek to follow a path similar to one of the Great Knights?" The beautiful
martial artist's voice sounded mildly curious as to the path that her junior
intended to follow.
"Well, not really," Shirou admitted as he rubbed the back of his head in
embarrassment, "the thing is that even after becoming a Campione I'm not very
good at magic. My Element and my Origin aren't aligned in such a way that
typical mage craft will work for me. Compared to my sister I'm actually pretty
third rate in almost every area you can think of. The thing is that I managed to
find the one thing that I excel at above all else, giving form to my mind."
To highlight his statement Shirou held up a hand and Traced a nameless sword,
then let it dissipate back into Prana.
"Now would you mind if I ask you a question in turn?" He said, hoping to change
the subject somewhat.
"Of course," her tone could only be described as magnanimous, "What ignorance
can this Luo Hao dispel for you?"
Unbelievable, she could make the act of agreeing to answer a question sound
like a benevolent and heroic act and yet be completely sincere about it.
"I was wondering if you could tell me how you became a Campione in the first
place. It's something of an interest of mine, but the only Kings for whom I've
been able to find that out have been Kusanagi and Salvatori Doni."
That had been something that had nagged at him, in every era Campione would
appear, but the exact method by which they achieved the kill that earned them
the title of King was often unknown. Kusanagi's was only known because he'd
related it to Mariya-san who had in turn passed it onto the Committee who had

passed it on to him. As for Salvatori Doni, well, it seemed that rather than being
secretive about it he simply blithely told anyone who asked him.
However that left five other God Slayers out there, and if he wanted to confirm a
theory that had been growing in his mind then he'd need to find out that piece of
information for at least two more of them.
"A fine tale to choose to here!" declared the elder Campione, "Normally such
account would only be revealed to my personal disciples after many years of
study, even my Young Hawk has yet to hear it. However if my junior upon the
path of Domination asks it of me this Luo Cuilian would be happy to relate it.
"It was back during the last of the great years of the Qing Dynasty. At the time I
was still a mere novice on the path of the Martial Arts, but even then I
demonstrated my splendour by defeating those years my senior in the Arts.
Though the arts of Wushumay not have been as valued as they once were due to
the advent of Gunpowder there were still many masters from whom to learn from
and I had embarked upon a journey to meet as many as I could and to learn their
wisdom."
This sounded like the plot to one of those old seventies Kung Fu films, still he
could see it happening. A younger version of the woman in front of him setting
out on her adventure determined to improve herself as much as she could. It
seemed quite plausible.
"I had already learnt a great many of the secrets to the mundane side of the Arts
and was ready to take my first steps into the manipulation of Qi and the spirit.
My last instructor had been so impressed by my progress that he'd directed me
to seek out his own teacher, a Sage that had mastered many secrets of his own.
"However when I arrived at the temple I found it in ruins and a giant wrathful
man tearing it apart.
"Naturally I challenged him upon his actions and he attacked me in response.
However though his strength was immense and his skin as hard as diamond I
had learnt my own lessons well and was able to counter his ferocity with
softness. After several exchanges I earned enough of his recognition that he
revealed his identity to be Vajrapani. We battled on for several more passes, but
in the ended I was able to subdue him with my martial prowess and claim his
Authority of Strength as my own."
Shirou waited for a moment, but it seemed that there would be no more of the
story forthcoming.
"So . . . how did you do it?"
"To what do you refer?"
"How did you actually manage to kill him," the red haired teen clarified, "I
understand how you could use martial arts to counter his force, but surely that
couldn't have let you pierce his skin or choke him or anything like that. How'd
you manage to deal the final blow?"
"Oh, is that what confused you? Well it was true that at the time I had no way to
harm him, I could use my martial arts to redirect his force against him, but I had
no way to harm him. However after failing to strike me several times Vajrapani

used his divine power to become a pair of Benevolent Kings in an attempt to trap
me. He nearly succeeded in striking me down several times, but in the end I got
the better of him. I succeeded in redirecting simultaneous punches from both
Kings so that they dealt each other fatal blows. For this Pandora saw fit to adopt
me as her child."
Shirou nodded in absent minded acknowledgement as she spoke, but the
majority of his focus had turned inwards. Another piece had been added to the
puzzle that he was assembling in his mind. It still wasn't conclusive though, he
needed at least one more example before he could be sure. Two, if it was at all
possible.
"Thank you Sempai," he said as he emerged from his thoughts, "That helps with
a question that I've been thinking about for some time now.
"Still I'm thinking of turning in for the night, I think some sleep might be what I
need if I'm going to think of a way out of here."
Reaching a hand out to one side he Traced a simple futon and a sleeping bag.
That was a convenient skill to have, especially when his normal projections had
tended to last about a day in Archer's memories, so long as they were nothing
complicated. It certainly made travelling easier when the vast majority of your
luggage could be substituted in this way. Granted Shirou could use his far larger
Prana reserves to take much greater advantage of it than EMIYA ever could have
despite all his finesse. Still, the point remained.
"Would you like one?" He asked his fellow Campione, even though he was
already pretty sure what her answer would be.
"No King Emiya," she replied as she sat herself down on one of the boulders in a
Lotus position, "My thanks for your offer, but this shall be sufficient for my
needs."
With an acknowledging nod of his head Shirou laid the sleeping bag out over the
futon and then lay down on top of them both. In all truth he didn't really need the
sleeping bag; the cave was warm enough that it wasn't necessary; he was simply
using it for a little extra cushioning. Closing his eyes against the light eliminating
from the Sword of Yao he soon found himself slipping into a dreamless sleep.

-()-

"So the Great Sage Equal to Heaven sealed him away along with another of the
Devil Kings?"
The red and blue haired Divine Ancestor looked up from her work as her blonde
ally spoke to her.
"Yes, for the time being he is beyond our reach, however when he emerges Sir
Mordred has offered to subdue him and bring him to us for the ritual."
The two hair-toned former goddess glanced over to where the towering knight
was resting against one of the walls of the cavern in which they stood. His

presence unsettled her and she had no trouble admitting it to herself. In all the
millennia of their partnership she had always been the more dominant party
between them. Such was to be expected since she was the elder of them and
had been the stronger when a goddess. Her golden haired ally had accepted this
and never shown any particular dissatisfaction with the arrangement.
Now though the balance of power between them had tipped decidedly in the
blonde former goddess's favour. This Sir Mordred was clearly a powerful deity
and for the time being he seemed grateful enough to act as her ally's champion.
That meant that if she decided to abandon their current efforts and instead
pursue their other target there was little that the fallen mother of monsters could
do to prevent her.
Their current course was aimed at restoring the blue and red haired Divine
Ancestor's full divinity, once that was achieved she would aid her ally to regain
her own and together they would take their revenge upon those that had
wronged them. Now that she had other options would her golden haired partner
alter that plan?
And beyond her concerns about how he would affect her plans was the fear of
what the Heretic God himself would do. The infuriating thing about him was that
that wretched Authority of anonymity prevented her from divining any of his
attributes or aspects. She couldn't even tell if he was truly a god of Steel or not,
for all she knew beneath his armour he might be a deity of wine and song,
ridiculous as the thought might be.
That was her ally's flaw; her need for revenge often blinded her to the potential
risks that she was taking, especially if she thought they would advance her ends.
Didn't she see the danger? They were in their current situation because of deities
of Steel, then she essentially invited a Heretic God that might well be one to aid
them when they were at their most vulnerable.
To the mind of the red and blue haired former goddess that seemed like a risk on
par with asking a fox to guard the henhouse.
Still, it seemed as though her partner was still willing to stick to the original plan.
If that was the case then the elder fallen deity wasn't about to question her good
fortune. She'd still keep a sharp eye upon the Heretic God that was assisting
them, but if he could bring the Campione she sought to her then it wouldn't
matter. Once she'd regained her full power she'd be far too strong for him to
threaten, she'd be far too strong for any to stand against.
She'd spent centuries learning to focus her diminished power for maximum
effect; she'd survived far longer than any other Divine Ancestor had ever done. If
she could combine that knowledge with her true power then even her former
husband would not be able to defeat her.
Abandoning her thoughts she nodded to her ally.
"That would serve our ends well; have him bring the boy here after he has been
subdued. With Honoured Athena's aid we'll be able to complete the ritual and
restore my divinity before his allies become fully aware of his disappearance."
"T'would be mine pleasure to accomplish this task mine Lady Mistress."

It never ceased to surprise the former mother of monsters of just how much of a
contrast there was between the knight's almost brutal appearance and his
smooth and charming voice.
"Oh Sir Mordred," her ally smiled charmingly, "There's no need to address me so
formally, you are free to use my name."
"Very well then, mine Lady Brynhildr."

Chapter Eleven: The Four Kings Part 3

Illya followed after Godou and his group as they talked to the androgynous young
woman that had been introduced to her as Sayanomiya Kaoru, the Committee
Department Head for the general area. She joined up with them earlier this
morning and had commandeered a small mini-bus to transport all nine of them
back to the petrified shrine.

She listened with half an ear as the Department Head explained how their
capacities had grown over time and then began to discuss the fate of some
agent that had gone missing. It wasn't so much that she was uninterested; under
other circumstances she'd have found the information to be intriguing to say the
least. The problem was that right now she had other things on her mind.
Shirou wasn't back yet.
She knew that last night she'd spoken confidently of her certainty that he'd be
alright, and in all truth she was still sure that he was alive and well. The thing
was that she was becoming concerned that he hadn't freed himself yet. She'd
honestly thought that by now he'd have come blasting his way out from the
depths of the mountain using Excalibur or some similar Noble Phantasm.
It wasn't that she was losing faith in him; she was still completely convinced that
his escape was a forgone conclusion; rather she was simply apprehensive as to
what it was that was delaying him. her treacherous imagination was supplying
her with a number of reasons ranging from the reasonable, such as the spells
holding him being particularly well made, to the absurd, like Shirou and the
female Campione engaging in some sort of whirlwind romance and were so busy
getting hot and heavy they'd forgotten they had to get out.
"Hahahahaha! Being buried alive for merely half a day, how could that possibly
kill Master! For someone like her, this kind of method would take three years to
work!"
The derisive laugh brought her out of her thoughts as she saw that the young
Chinese boy that had distracted one of the giant aped last night had rejoined the
group. He seemed to be in fine health and none the worse for wear despite the
fact that the last time she'd seen him he was being pursued by a golden ape
taller than a three story building. He gravely greeted Godou in a traditional
martial arts salute, holding his left fist in his right hand and he bowed his head.
"Lu Yinghua apologizes for his lateness. Kusanagi Godou-sama, the revered king
worshiped by the masses, may your longevity rival the heavens, and your might
bring peace and order to this world!"
Illya was honestly impressed, it might be absurdly over the top but she had to
admit that the fellow had a way with words.
"Lu-kun... Please use a more normal choice of words."
"Sorry, due to Master's teaching, I have a habit of greeting all Campiones in a
solemn manner. If I ever displease that person, I risk ending up on the verge of
death."
Lu Yinghua's face twitched slightly as he said that, so sharply in fact that the
white haired girl found herself wondering if he was being forced to deal with
suppressed memories. Whatever the case he was continuing.
"Then I will obediently speak without reservation. By the way, Kusanagi-sama,
please call me directly by name. Or, if your prefer, do as Master and use a
nickname. I don't mind."
"OK, then I'll call you Yinghua."

"Excuse me Lu Yinghua-san, how long do you believe it will take your Master to
escape on her own?"
The young martial artist and the seventh Campione glanced towards her as Illya
took the opening to break into their conversation.
"That's . . . not an easy question to be sure of." The foreign teen admitted, "I'd
say that the latest that she'll leave the prison is as long as it takes for her full
strength to return. The problem is that I'm not sure how long that recovery will
take. Even when battling with Heretic Gods Master has never had her Authorities
severed and shattered as Kusanagi-sama managed to do.
"I doubt that it would be longer than a week, the recovery time of a Campione is
legendary for a reason after all. Also Master has long ago surpassed mere
mastery of her internal flows so that should increase her recovery as well. I
imagine that it will only be a few more days until she frees herself."
Illya nodded at the martial artist's assessment.
"Of course that's simply assuming onii-chan doesn't simply blast his way out of
there before then." She noted absently.
"He can do that?"
Godou's rather worried question brought her attention back to him. On his face
was clearly written his worry at the thought of Shirou freeing himself in such a
way.
"Sure, it wouldn't be easy but he could manage it," the young Einzbern replied
with no small amount of pride in her voice at her adopted siblings strength, "I
don't know why he hasn't yet. Maybe . . . maybe he doesn't know the mountains
been abandoned. Yes, if he thought that bystanders might get caught in the blast
that might be why he's not using it. But then what about . . ."
Her voice trailed off into an inaudible murmur as her eyes drifted from them and
she largely forgot they were there.
Ignoring the by play taking place behind her Illya made her way over to where
Kaida and Manaka were waiting. The two of them had served as excellent
comrades in this crisis, in a way they reminded her of Sella and Leyritt. However
unlike her fellow homunculi the former agents of the History Compilation
Committee had plans and agendas that she wasn't entirely aware of.
"I think it would be best if we stayed with Godou and his group," she said to
them, "By the looks of things that's where the majority of the action will be
taking place and I want to be there when it does."
"Ah, Illya-sama, are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Kaida with a concerned
look on her face.
"A Heretic God has appeared and that means it's the duty of the Campione to
subdue it. Shirou can't because he's got himself stuck underground for the time
being, so as his sister it's my duty to take up his responsibilities until he gets
back." The snow haired girl declared as she gave herself a light thump on the
chest.

"Illya-sama," Manaka said, her tone sterner than her friends, more forceful, "I
freely agree that your . . . protector is a formidable force, as you clearly
demonstrated last night. However a world of difference exists between fighting a
Divine Beast and taking on a true God. I've sworn to serve your brother, and I
would be a poor servant if I allowed you to engage on such a suicidal course."
Illya frowned as she looked at the warrior witch. Now that she was no longer
dressed in her maid's uniform but was instead clad in a close fitting reddish
brown suit that matched her hair it seemed that her attitude had slipped out of
its earlier subservience into something a bit more . . . combatively professional?
Still, even though she raised a valid point the young Einzbern didn't like the
insinuation that Manaka wouldn't allow her to take such action.
The air shimmered slightly behind her as she began to materialize Berserker with
deliberate slowness. She didn't intend to pull her puppet out; all she wanted to
do was to remind the brown haired girl of the fact that the adopted brother of her
King was far from powerless without him.
"Really?" She asked a note of danger in her question.
Before Manaka could respond Kaida had stepped between them.
"No, no, none of that both of you. I might not be sure about too much in regards
to Emiya-sama, but I do know that he wouldn't want us to fight."
A frown creased Illya's forehead, but she returned her servitor back to its
spiritual state.
"Good," the Hime-Miko said, "We aren't enemies here; we're all on the same side.
Now the question is: what are we going to do next?"
"We'll have to stay with Godou," their young charge declared, "Don't worry, I'm
not going to do something like try to take a god on, however until Shirou and Luo
Hao free themselves he's the only one who can stand up to the Monkey King. I'll
act to keep him safe until he's recovered enough to face Sun Wukong."
"Recovered enough . . . ? Are you saying that he's not yet regained his full
strength?"
Manaka's voice was concerned at the possibility that the only free Campione
wasn't fully recovered yet. In response the young Einzbern blinked at her in
surprise.
"Yes, he's healed up superficially just fine, but underneath he's still not recovered
from the damage he took or the energy he expended. Right now he can't use any
of his stronger Authorities without exacerbating those injuries. I say that we
should lend him our strength until he's back in fighting form or until onii-chan
frees himself."
Both the part time maids nodded at that and Illya let out a breath that she'd
been subtly holding. She had no doubt that if it came down to it she could
overpower the pair, even if their capabilities were largely unknown to her.
However right now they were the closest allies she had available and she didn't
relish the idea of alienating them simply because they took their duties seriously.

However further thoughts were cut off as an alarm bell went off inside the young
Einzbern's head.
It was something that she'd been working on since just after her first encounter
with Godou. She'd thought that it had been absurd that she could end up
spending the lunch break with a Campione and not realize it, so she'd set out to
do something about it. To that end she'd made it a habit to use a basic Prana
detection spell at regular intervals while out. The spell was actually very simple,
more of a training exercise than anything else. All it did was release a light pulse
of her own Prana; if that pulse came into contact with another Prana source then
it would simply bounce back to her, rather like a sonar ping. She could refine the
pulse so that it would ignore the Prana signatures of people she already knew.
Under normal circumstances this spell was largely useless since there were more
than a dozen ways that any half competent mage could hide themselves from it.
Even non-humans had their own ways of concealing themselves from it. As a
result it had little use as anything other than an exercise in control and
refinement.
Except that in this world nobody knew the tricks to thwart it. Here she could use
it as she wished without having to worry about anyone else even noticing. The
thing about this world was that since it was so rich in user friendly magic the
magi here hadn't developed the level of fine control that was the norm for her
own home world. While they were far more advanced in handling larger amounts
when it came to the small work they were hopeless. As a result they couldn't
detect her tiny pulses.
What had caught her attention was the surprising strength of the pulses return.
While not meant to be used to measure the strength of the Prana it had detected
it was possible to get a vague impression from how 'hard' the return of the pulse
was.
If the strength of the return that she'd just received was anything to go by then it
meant that a major new player had just joined the game. Turning round she
headed to rejoin Godou's group, since that seemed to be the place where the
source of the 'ping' could be found.
When she arrived Godou was speaking to two new arrivals. One was a young
man dressed in a suit that looked as though he'd been forced to roll about in the
dirt and mud for several minutes. His black hair was long for a man and currently
in a state of total disarray. Even the glasses he was wearing looked somewhat
askew and dishevelled. She was getting a return from him with her spell, but the
return was unremarkable, meaning that he was one of only average talent in the
mystic arts.
The one that Illya really noticed was the Caucasian lady standing behind him.
Her short hair was a brilliant shade of red, not the same shade as Shirou's but
rather a more vivid crimson. Her elegant face was highly intellectual and had an
extremely strong-willed look about it that didn't detract from her good looks. She
was wearing a leather jacket with leather pants and was managing to carry off
the look with the ease of one utterly confident in their appearance.
In short she was a completely flawless, cool and ethereal beauty, that was the
initial impression that this woman gave.

"T-This is Miss Annie Charlton. S-She is the one who fortuitously saved me when I
was unconscious and completely drenched. I-I owe my life to her, my saviour."
The dishevelled man's body trembled incessantly, and he kept wiping his nose as
he introduced the one who had apparently brought him here.
The ethereal beauty greeted with impeccable Japanese.
"My name is Annie, pleased to meet you."
Illya's eyes narrowed slightly as she took the newly introduced woman in. There
was something about her, some odd quality that the white haired girl couldn't
quite put her finger on. It was quite clear that this Annie Charlton was strong in
the ways of magic, possibly even stronger than Erica or Liliana. Definitely she
was someone that should be kept an eye on, but there was something else.
The white haired girl listened in silence as they spoke about the young man,
Amakasu Touma, and how he'd ended up in his current state. And then went on
to explain the situation with the magic life in America. By the sounds of it the
newly arrived woman was part of the law abiding faction. For the most part it
wasn't anything of particular note, that was until something caught her ear.
". . . secrecy is not essential for this incident; let me begin by revealing my
mission. I was sent here by Los Angeles' king to confirm Asherah's death. My
mission ends once the witch is dead. However, I think it would be rude to leave
without greeting everyone here at the site of this cataclysmic event, so let me
assist you all."
"Los Angeles' king? Then you must be...?"
"John Pluto Smith's subordinate?"
Both Yuri and Liliana voiced the thought that was running through the young
Einzbern's head. While she hadn't made quite as close a study of the other
Campione as Shirou had she'd taken a bit of extra time to read up on the
American King since his fanciful style and outrageous adventures appealed to
her immensely. To meet somebody that was apparently one of his aids . . . well,
she had plenty of questions to ask as soon as she had the chance.
"Please do not call me his subordinate, but refer to me as his collaborator
instead. Though he does lord over Los Angeles like a king, the thought of building
his own kingdom has never been his plan. That's the personal style of John Pluto
Smith, please remember that."
"This is exactly why I was so intent on introducing her to Kusanagi-san. Perhaps
this is an excellent opportunity to sign a friendship treaty between Japan and
America."
As Kaoru mischievously made her request, Godou gave her a quick glance and so
did Illya. She knew that the Committee had been in contact with the seventh
Campione for longer than they had with her adopted brother. She also knew that
Godou was far less involved with the secret world of magi and practioners than
Shirou was. Could this be some sort of ploy to attempt to reduce Shirou's
standing?

No, that didn't strike her as likely. Even if it worked out as she was thinking it
wouldn't really accomplish much for the Committee, all they'd really succeed in
doing would be to promote the reputation of the King that wanted to remain as
uninvolved as possible and incite the potential wrath of the King that was more
active in the mystic circles. Rather than a serious offer this was probably just
some teasing to the mild mannered God Slayer.
"One must possess substantial magical power in order to pass through
Okunikkou without being transformed into a monkey. I have already confirmed
with her guarantors the Three Sages of North America, that Annie Charlton is
completely above suspicion and has no problems in ability either."
The Committee Department head advised the young Kusanagi before turning to
speak to the foreign mage.
"Miss Charlton, this is the leader of our crisis team, Kusanagi Godou-san."
That was interesting; she'd deliberately omitted the fact that the young man she
was introducing was one of the two Campione living in the country. The
masculinely dressed young woman was providing him with the option as to
whether or not to reveal his identity to the newcomer.
Godou didn't volunteer his status; rather he simply nodded gratefully in answer
to the young American's earlier offer of aid.
"Anyway... Before we decide whether we accept Miss Annie or not, let me report
the latest findings."
Sayanomiya Kaoru provided news from the scouting personnel at the scene. This
was then followed by Lu Yinghua summarizing his eyewitness account of the
three deities gathering on the peak of Nantaisan, as well as the disappearance of
the Keeper of the Horses enchantment.
All in all the situation was starting to look fairly grim. Even though the area of
effect seemed to be contained for the moment the fact remained that anyone
who entered the domain of the Monkey King, without any magic of their own to
protect them at least, would be immediately transformed into a monkey. The
number of gods was growing as Sun Wukong called in his allies to aid him,
meaning that even if they were only subordinate deities there were still two more
gods to worry about. Lastly there was the failure of the Keeper of the Horses
enchantment to take into account. Illya wasn't sure, but she was pretty certain
that it had been the remnants of that spell that had restrained the Monkey King
after he'd possessed Yuri's sister and that had allowed them to escape from him.
If those last restraints were now gone then it meant that a very powerful Heretic
God was now, quite literally, unleashed.
"Is that so? The situation truly is severe. In that case, we must hurry to the scene
and try our hardest to resolve the incident. Godou, do you agree?"
Still it would seem that the latest addition to their group was undaunted by the
rising odds against them. Illya was honestly impressed by the calm composure
with which she held herself as well as the sincerity of her words.
She'd watch this woman for now; see what she could make of her.

-()-

Brynhildr walked through the passages of the underground complex that she and
her allies used with a curt shortness to her steps that spoke of her irritation.
"What vexes thee my lady?"
The smooth and charming voice of her sworn champion spoke to her from the
shadows as she entered one of the cavernous subterranean chambers that made
up the base. She didn't jump in surprise, she'd managed to quickly adapt to the
strange way in which her ally could hide from her senses. Now she simply
assumed he was always around, even when she couldn't see him.
"My partner, that-that . . . oooohh!" a number of insults waited on her tongue to
be released, but she held them in. The two of them had been allies for centuries,
millennia even, and in all that time though they had disagreed neither of them
had ever crossed certain lines. Neither of them had ever raised hand or power
against the other in violence of treachery, and neither of them had ever cursed
the other, even in private.
The golden haired Divine Ancestor knew that it was a strict system, but it had
been through it that they'd been able to continue their work together for so long
without trying to kill one another.
"Thy ally hath made a decision thou dost not agree with?"
"This is a perfect opportunity; the Campione that we seek is trapped by the Great
Sage's arts. By the time he frees himself he'll be weakened by thirst, hunger and
his efforts to liberate himself. That would be the perfect time to strike. If we all
combined our powers it would be childs play to subdue him, once that's done we
can bring him to our chambers and keep him unconscious with potions until our
preparations are complete. It's a far safer approach than waiting until we are
ready and then trying to subdue him when he might well be at full strength, she
could see that!
"But now she's changed her mind! She's decided the risks are too great!"
Yes she could see the position that her red and blue haired partner was taking.
Yes she could see the potential dangers to taking the young King captive too
early. So many things could go wrong, the other Campione could organize to hunt
for their missing peer, a god might come looking for him in order to indulge their
battle lust, the local organizations might begin to make their own inconvenient
investigations, so many things.
And of course there was the simple danger of keeping a Campione so close to
them and keeping him sedated. She freely admitted it was about as safe as
juggling sticks of dynamite along with burning torches given the way God Slayers
tended to play merry havoc with chance and destiny simply by existing.
But despite those dangers she was sure they could pull it off. They had their own
formidable powers as well as Athena and Sir Mordred to call on; surely such a
combination would be enough to keep one of Pandora's adopted children
contained if they were careful.

If they could do it then the rewards would allow their plans to advance far more
swiftly and smoothly. Wasn't that worth the risk?
"Perhaps twould be well if thou took action despite thy ally's objections,"
suggested that calm and smooth voice of her champion, "Tis easier to ask
forgiveness than permission after all, and once thou presents her with the fruits
of thy decision then twill be proof that thy belief was the correct path to take."
That made sense she had to admit, if she went through with her plan then the
acquisition of the King that they needed in order for the ritual they had planned
out to work would more than make up for her unilateral action. Besides it wasn't
as though she was her partner's subordinate, they were equals in this enterprise.
Granted Brynhildr often deferred to the other Divine Ancestor in respect for her
greater age and power, but that didn't mean she was the servant in their
relationship.
Yes, why should she simply meekly accept the elder Divine Ancestor's arbitrary
decisions? She had an equal stake in their plans, so if she saw an opportunity it
was well within her rights to claim it.
"Sir Mordred, accompany me please. There's work to be done."
Though she didn't see it, as her back was turned to the black knight as she
walked away, the red glow of his eyes within his helm seemed to grow somewhat
brighter for an instant, before fading back to its former intensity.

-()-

Manaka felt a snarl of irritation begin to form on her lips, a sign of her growing
frustration, but forced it away as she struggled to maintain her composure.
This was of course hampered by the fact that right now she was the only thing
standing between her sworn Hime and a ten metre tall Divine Beast.
Things had been going fairly well since that morning. Illya-sama had listened to
reason and seemed to be staying near to Kusanagi-sama rather than going off on
her own and the group had become stronger with the addition of the newcomer
Annie Charlton.
The American Mage was clearly someone of considerable skill and power, the
warrior witch could read in her body language and in her Aura Sign. That took
the form of a shining silver suit of armour that hovered behind the young woman.
It spoke to her of resolve, determination and competence, however it also told
her of loneliness, of frustration and a certain level of dissatisfaction with herself.
Still despite these flaws Manaka was sure that the red haired American would
make a useful addition to their group, if nothing else she was the only one
among them who could legally drive the minibus that they'd procured and were
all planning to ride.
She'd have been a bit happier if the young Chinese martial artist had
accompanied them, for all his somewhat grating personality his skills were top

notch and would have been a valuable asset. Unfortunately he'd elected to stay
behind instead due to his need to put on a show of having attempted to save his
Master. In a way it was almost comical, however Manaka didn't feel like laughing.
Despite that little hiccup things had gone well for their infiltration into the
Monkey King's territory.
That is right up until they were ambushed by three gorilla like apes the size of
houses.
Each of them was smaller than the one that Illya-sama had slaughtered the night
before, however despite their smaller size they were more aggressive than the
ones they'd run into before. The trio had immediately spread out around the
stopped minibus and begun to make threatening motions.
The white haired sister to the eighth Campione had immediately summoned her
goliath protector and sent him charging at the nearest of the apes. Both Ericasan and Liliana-san had turned their weapons upon the second while Kusanagi
Godou had faced the third. At first it seemed as though there wouldn't be a
problem, Illya's servant had shown it was more than a match for one of these
beasts while a Campione would certainly have no trouble with vanquishing one.
All the two mage knights needed to do was hold off the third until either their
mistress or the King finished off their own target.
Unfortunately things went wrong almost immediately. Kusanagi-sama had
summoned up a huge black furred boar that had thundered towards the
comparatively smaller Divine Beast with the clear intention of trampling it into
the ground. However two things had happened that had led to her current
situation, firstly the ape had demonstrated surprising agility and had dodged the
boar in rather the same way that a matador might avoid a bull. Having missed its
target the Boar had gone charging on, a prisoner of its own momentum, and had
disappeared down the mountain side amidst a thunderous cracking of trees,
branches and rocks.
The second, and by far direr, problem was that as soon as he'd summoned the
beast the Devil King had collapsed to the ground as though his legs had lost all
their strength.
Manaka had been internally cursing as she'd remembered Illya-sama's earlier
words about how the King was far from completely healed. Kaida-sama and
Mariya-san had rushed to the fallen teen's side, but that had only left the
adopted Kuhoutsuka maiden to act in their defence as the colossal ape advanced
upon them.
Which was what had led to her current predicament. Biting back a few choice
curses Manaka snapped out her battle wands and leapt into action.
She knew that she had no chance of victory; she knew there was no way that she
could defeat a Divine Beast in battle. Certainly it was theoretically possible for a
mortal spell caster to defeat one, if they were correctly armed, fully prepared and
in possession of the necessary spells. Both of the foreign mage knights that
fawned over the Seventh Campione fell into this category, and should they work
well together they might well be able to bring down the huge gorilla beast that
they faced.

Unfortunately unlike them the warrior witch didn't possess a powerful mystic
weapon such as Cuore di Leone or Il Maestro, her battle wands were little more
than home made aids, skilfully crafted to be certain, but nowhere near the
calibre needed to face even a fragment of a divinity. To make matters even worse
she didn't know any spells that would be of high enough rank to harm the Divine
Beast. All her training had been aimed at fighting human mages, so rather than
raw power she'd always focused on speed in both her movements and her
casting. Rather than a single spell she preferred to blitz her targets with multiple
weaker spells that would confuse and disorient while she moved in to take them
down.
Quite simply put, she was up against the worst possible foe she could be facing,
short of a Campione or a Heretic God of course.
Still she didn't hesitate for even an instant. Manaka was regarded as one of the
best bodyguards and combat agents among the entire History Compilation
Committee for a reason. In addition to her raw magical talent and gift for reading
people the thing that made her so dangerous was her adaptability. While she
might not have studied any spells of high level destruction she had familiarized
herself with a large number of midlevel spells from a wide range of fields. In the
end the young bodyguard had cooked up her own style based upon speed,
adaptability and an uncanny knack for finding her enemies' weak points.
Consequently even though she couldn't match the two foreign mages, she knew
she couldn't be called helpless by any stretch of the imagination.
Even as the huge ape charged towards its stricken prey the dark brown haired
girl stepped forward, her battle wands swinging as she cast four spells so fast
that it appeared as though she had fired them all simultaneously. However
despite their seemingly being cast at the same time they formed a sequence
since some moved faster than the others.
The first spell was a generic thunderbolt, not much more than a small crackling
bullet of electricity. It impacted upon the monkey's face without even making it
flinch. That was completely expected and part of her plan, the first spell had
been a feint, merely a means to make the Divine Beast think it was facing
nothing but ineffectual spells.
The ploy worked because the great ape ignored the following spells, clearly
expecting them to be equally inconsequential. However before it even struck the
second spell exploded with a flash brighter even than a midday sun's glare. As
the beast shied back in pain and clamped its hands over its eyes the last two
spells split and curved around to impact upon its ears.
Both the spells went off on impact, releasing a roaring boom like a pair of bombs
going off right next to the ape's ear drums. A creature of divine origin it may
have been, but even so it was a creature of flesh while they existed in this world,
and no such being could endure such an assault unaffected.
With a scream of pain the blinded ape clapped both its hands over its ears and
went stumbling backwards as the shock of the sensory attacks left it disoriented.
That had been the opening that Manaka had been waiting for, the beast's
balance was broken and its footing unsteady. A fifth spell impacted upon the

ground at the ape's feet causing it to ripple and buck in a manner more in
keeping with the waters of a choppy sea than stone and dirt.
The result was rather satisfyingly ironic. The screeching beast lost its balance
completely and ended up falling off the mountainside and rolling down the same
path that had been made by the Boar's earlier charge.
"You . . . you just defeated a Divine Beast." Kaida-sama's awed voice sounded
from behind her.
"Nothing so dramatic Kaida-sama," Manaka corrected as she continued to keep
an eye out for potential threats, "I only drove it away briefly, and I was only able
to achieve that because the beast was operating alone and without its master's
supervision. We're extremely fortunate those apes aren't very bright."
Further words were cut off as a fourth great monkey made its appearance in the
road behind them.
Great, just great. The young witch glanced sideways to see how the others were
doing. Erica-san and Liliana-san seemed to have the monkey that they were
facing more or less stalemated, it couldn't advance upon them, but neither could
they drive it away any time soon. To the other side Illya-sama and her servant
seemed to be doing better against the other giant ape, but the huge animal was
surprisingly agile and seemed to be managing to stay out of reach to the black
maned giant despite his best efforts.
Damn, that just left her to handle the newcomer until either of the other apes
was driven off. Charlton-san had already shown that her own attack spells
weren't of much use against one of these beasts, and Mariya-san had no real
combat ability to speak of.
Kaida-sama could technically use her Dragon's Roar to send any of these
monsters flying if they attacked her, however if she did so then all the rest of
them would be caught in the blast of her power as well. If she were to completely
cut loose then most likely the only one of them that would still be sucking air by
the end of it would be the Campione.
The problem was that she had another of the Divine Beasts behind her as well,
and by this point it'd probably recovered from her trick and would soon be
making its way back up the mountainside, and when it got here it wasn't going to
be happy.
"The many-fenced place of Izumo / Of the many clouds rising To dwell there
with my spouse / Do I build a many-fenced palace: Ah, that many-fenced palace!
Seishuuin Ena has arrived!"
As she heard the words being spoken Manaka watched in happy surprise as a girl
with long black hair wearing a school's uniform leap out of the mass of reddening
leaves and took up a guard position between the ape and its intended target.
The huge monkey growled menacingly and reached for her, but its limbs were
driven back as a tornado sprang up around the girl, forcing it to step back.
Even as the witch warrior turned back to watch for the blinded monkey's return
she felt a certain sureness grow within her. Ena was one of the few people in the
Committee that Manaka respected. Granted the adopted Kuhoutsuka had only

met the Seishuuin maiden once, but that had been more than enough to leave a
lasting impression.
The user of Divine Possession was a refreshingly uncomplicated person. Her Aura
Sign was some unidentifiable animal's pelt that had been worked into a shield
and was made out of thousands of hair fine sword blades. It had spoken to her of
confidence, of surety and of a blind uncaring of the normal restraints of
conventional life. Ena wasn't someone that hid things about herself, nor was she
someone who had any ulterior motives. If her instincts told her to do something
then she followed them, if she thought something was a good idea then she did
it, if she thought something was so then she said it. Quite frankly if she hadn't
sworn herself to Kaida-sama then the young witch warrior might have tried to get
Ena to accept her into her service.
Well whatever the case, it meant she didn't have to worry about that ape for the
moment. Ena's ability to channel Divine power from her guardian deity, Susanoo,
made her arguably the strongest combatant that the Committee had access to.
Further thoughts were cut off as the ape that she'd previously sent tumbling
pulled itself back up onto the road. Its eyes were still squinting and looked more
than a bit bloodshot, but otherwise it seemed to be unhurt and was glaring at her
with clear hatred.
Manaka released another half dozen spells, but this time the beast was ready for
them. Rather than allowing them to strike it, the huge monkey like gorilla leapt
into the air with surprising agility, and completely dodged the salvo of spheres of
light coming at it. Unfortunately for it though the adopted Kuhoutsuka had again
anticipated its actions and planned accordingly. With it now in the air it had no
way of controlling where it would land, it was a prisoner of its momentum and
gravity.
Both her battle wands flared with light and four yellow bolts of energy shot out to
strike the ground where the ape would land. Where they hit the sand, dirt and
gravel became the thick oozing murk of a quicksand bog. With a howl of fear and
anger the goliath simian splashed into the thick mess and immediately sank up
to its armpits.
Its frantic thrashing was cut off as the huge grey and black form of Illya-sama's
servant loomed up behind it and brought its colossal stone sword down on the
Divine Beast's head with such force that the ape's skull was split in two.
Manaka couldn't help but shudder at the sight. Her young mistress wasn't a bad
person by any stretch of the imagination. Her general personality was cheerful,
polite and a little bit spoilt, all in all what one could expect from a young girl
brought up in a wealthy but strict family.
However the fighter witch had read her Aura Sign and she knew that beneath the
girl's pleasant exterior was someone that could be very dangerous. She'd
spoken with the members of the Circle of the Chosen that had become her
servants, so she'd heard about the almost casual way in which she had killed the
last leader of the cult. She'd had her servant crush his head into pulp and hadn't
even flinched.

As sweet and polite as she might act Manaka knew that her mistress was a killer,
in some ways an even more dangerous being than her brother despite all the
power he wielded.
Not that the power the white haired girl possessed wasn't terrifying. That thing,
that servant, was utterly outside the former Committee agent's frame of
experience. In the past she'd seen mages that would create familiars and
servitors, things like golems or animated statues, but Illya-sama's creation was
simply so far above what she had seen in the past that it was frightening. It was
almost as though she had somehow forced a powerful Divine Beast into a human
like form and bound it to her will.
The thought was almost absurd; no human could possibly control such a force
without possessing an Authority of the gods. But now, looking on as the body of
the ape faded and blood dripped off the impossible sword-thing that the grey
skinned giant held easily one handed, it was hard to hold on to that certainty.
"ROOOAAR!"
"MANAKA, COME ON!"
She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of another of the beasts
screaming in pain and by the shouted words of Kaida-sama.
Spinning round she saw that the ape that Illya-sama had been fighting was gone,
probably dead since her servitor had moved to finish her own foe off, the other
beast that Ena-sama had been facing was backing off while holding its face over
one eye, and the last of the Divine Beasts was being held off by the arrows from
Liliana-san's bow. Right now Erica-san was helping Kaida-sama to lug the limp
form of the seventh Campione into the minivan while Mariya-san fretted over
them.
Needing no further prompting the warrior witch stashed her battle wands back
into her sleeves and piled into the vehicle after the incapacitated form of the
King. She was quickly followed by Liliana-san and then finally Ena-sama.
"Annie-san, please hurry up and go!"
As soon as everyone was in Yuri hurriedly cried out her instructions to the
vehicle's driver.
The American mage wasted no time and stepped hard on the accelerator,
causing the minivan to shoot forward with surprising speed, leaving the giant
apes behind.
Panting with the exertion of having cast so many spells so fast back to back
Manaka couldn't help but realize that as intense as the brief skirmish had been it
had actually lasted for only just over a single minute. Shaking such thoughts
from her head she leaned back in her seat and listened to the voices of her
companions in this little adventure.
"Your Majesty, are you ok! Luckily Ena felt like it was about time for you to arrive,
so I have been guarding this side of the mountain pass."
"Could it be . . . No, for sure he must be the King. In other words, one known as a
Campione! Are you one of his team members?"

"Team member? No, that's not the kind of relationship Ena has with him. Ena is
His Majesty's woman. Well, I haven't been officially recognized yet, so maybe
something like an underground lover? But I'm not the only one; almost everyone
here is his majesty's woman."
"U-Underground lover!? Almost everyone here is his woman!? N-Now that it is
mentioned, I have heard that Japan's King is a terrible young sexual predator II now understand."
"Ena-sama, please don't give Charlton-san the wrong impression," Kaida-sama
spoke up in scandalized indignation; "Myself and Manaka are sworn servants to
the other Japanese king, Emiya Shirou-sama. We are here to aid since our lord is
temporarily sealed away due to the magicks of the Monkey King; our relationship
to Kusanagi Godou-sama is purely professional."
"That's right," agreed Illya-sama, "We're not part of Godou-san's harem. If he
tries to add me to it then I'd be happy to introduce him to Berserker in a much
more personal way."
As the conversation continued the adopted member of the Kuhoutsuka family
noted that Kusanagi-sama was moaning slightly, as though trying to protest
against the comments being made about him. Those moans soon ceased though
as the God Slayer lapsed into full unconsciousness.
Relaxing in her seat Manaka wondered what the next move of this motley group
would be.

-()-

Shirou looked down at the huge gemstone in his hands; it was the width and
length of a small tea tray and more than a foot thick. It was composed of an
amalgamation of diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds, and possessed a
monetary value that would probably cause any professional jeweller in the world
to suffer a stroke.
With a flick of his will he made it disappear back into the Underworld, then with
another exertion of his will it was back, this time next to another identical such
jewel block.
Still not good enough, he was getting there, but he still didn't have it quite right.
"What are you doing there King Emiya? Nothing as lacklustre as merely enjoying
your riches I hope."
The musical voice of the female Campione drew his attention away from the
gemstone blocks and back to her.
"Not at all," the eighth Campione replied, "These actually are part of my plan to
escape, though I haven't got the specifics down to my satisfaction yet."
The Chinese King dismounted from the boulder upon which she had been sitting
in the lotus posture, and walked over towards him.

"That is an interesting Authority you possess, the ability to materialize

gemstones as you see fit?" Her tone was light and her body language that of one
who was only mildly curious, so Shirou saw no problem with answering her
question, after all with her earlier tale of how she had become a Campione she
had fearlessly revealed both the origin and nature of one of her Authorities, it
seemed only fair that he allow some knowledge of his own abilities in return.
Besides, even though it was immensely useful, Ruler of the Underworld was the
Authority with the least direct combat application that he possessed.
"Rule of the Underworld allows me to access the resources of Hades' domain,
namely the riches of the earth and the souls of the departed."
Luo Hao blinked briefly before leaning back against one of the cave's walls and
adopting a contemplative expression.
"A most useful ability, though I imagine that some shallow and dull individuals
would use it to satiate their greed for wealth. As for myself, I would dearly love to
be able to resurrect the great martial artists of the past rather than drown in
avarice. Imagine, being able to test one's skills against the likes of Yue Fei or Ng
Mui, to see how my own martial prowess compares to the legends of the past."
Shirou was slightly amused to note that by the time she'd finished explaining her
thoughts her face had gained the covetous look of a child that had just seen a
toy in a shop window that she really really wanted. It could have looked
disturbing, but instead it was somehow adorable.
"Sadly I'm not so free in regards to which souls I can pull from the underworld
into my service," the red haired teen admitted, "In order for me to make the
summon I must have a physical object connected to the one I'm calling. If you
wish to face the likes of Yue Fei I would need something of his, like some part of a
favoured weapon or even one of his bones."
"Ah, such a limitation would make sense," commented the Ruler of the Martial
Realm, "Such Authorities that deal with the resurrection of the dead do have
some form of limit or condition upon them."
"Oh?" Asked Shirou, curious in spite of himself, "Have you seen many such
Authorities before?"
"Well one is that fellow from Hungary, Voban I think. I've only encountered him a
few times and never fought him, but his Cage of Dead Servants allows him to call
back any mortal whom he has slain as his undead slave. There was also a
Campione in Mongolia nearly a century ago; she possessed an Authority that
allowed her to resurrect any dead member of her followers as a hungry ghost.
She was an interesting King, but she was slain by an old Sumerian deity."
It was strange to hear her speak so casually of the time a century ago. Had he
simply met her on the street then he'd have guessed her to be no older that
twenty. Of course if he'd met her on the street then he'd have immediately
activated all the Authorities he could and got ready to Trace as many high level
Noble Phantasms as he could manage. She might be beautiful and she might
have an innocent air to her, but Luo Cuilian radiated greatness, for want of a
better word, in such a way that one could no more mistake her for a normal
person than one could a Servant in full battle gear.

As his thoughts ran through his head he noticed that the martial artist had
turned to face the wall of the cave and was running a hand across its surface.
She seemed to follow some invisible path up the wall and out to a spot on the
ceiling near one of the rounded corners of the cave.
"Ah!" she exclaimed in apparent triumph, "Yes, this should do."
"Have you found something?" Asked Shirou as he stood up and walked over to
get a better look at where she was staring. However once he got there he
couldn't see anything, just normal uncracked stone.
"There's a weakness here, a tiny flaw in the work of the Great Sage's crafting. It
isn't large, but with my own mastery of the Daoist Arts I should be able to pass
myself through it."
"I suppose that means that you're the victor of our race then," commented
Shirou, "I think it'll be at least another day until I can affect my own freedom. I
suppose by then the situation will be fully resolved. A pity, I was hoping to face
the Monkey King once more and this time give a better accounting of myself."
Luo Hao turned a slightly puzzled look to him upon hearing that.
"Hardly King Emiya. Our contest is still in full swing, I have merely found a
weakness that I will escape through to go and have some words with King
Kusanagi. Once that has been accomplished I shall return."
Shirou could only blink at that.
"You're . . . going to leave . . . and then come back? Why?"
In the face of his confusion the Chinese Campione favoured him with look that
reminded him of an older child watching a younger child try to play with a
complicated toy and not managing to get how it worked.
"I am the Ruler of the Martial Realm King Emiya, and as such I must comport
myself accordingly. If I am challenged I must crush my foe, if I am defied I must
teach those so foolish the error of their ways. None but a god or one of my fellow
Kings may stand before me and hope to suffer any fate other than total
decimation. It is therefore my policy that if I am imprisoned then I shall smash
that prison completely as soon as I achieve my liberation from the humiliation of
imprisonment, and walk out the front gates openly. Luo Cuilian shall not escape
from a prison like a rat, that would be completely unacceptable. I shall march out
from the ruins of my confines and leave nothing but a broken shell behind me.
Such is my way."
Unbelievable, once again he was faced with the bizarre combination of
overwhelming ego and totally pure innocence. For a brief moment Shirou idly
wondered if with training Luo Hao could learn to use her somewhat twisted
viewpoint to create a Reality Marble, and if so then what kind of world it would
create.
On second thoughts he probably didn't want to know, most likely it would involve
her towering above all others in some sort of throne or something of the like.
"So what is it that you wanted to do before you return here?" Shirou asked as he
tried to get his mind off the rather disturbing subject it was currently stuck on.

"It's my intention to meet with King Kusanagi once more and learn how he has
fared in the current crisis in my absence. Depending upon his answers and
actions I may take any of a number of paths."
The young Emiya's thoughts were racing at this point. Briefly he considered
trying to convince the elder God Slayer to stay out of the prison and to lend her
aid to Kusanagi, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He highly doubted he'd be
able to talk her into it, no matter how eloquent he might manage to be.
No, there was probably no chance of changing her mind, so the smartest thing to
do would probably be to try to take advantage of this rather than fighting it.
"If you'll be meeting with Kusanagi can I ask a small favour?" As he asked the
question he Traced a small pad of paper and a pen. Really, without Gaea to
interfere with its use his materialization magic was almost absurdly useful for
little things like this.
"Oh? In what manner could this Luo Cuilian be of aid to you King Emiya?"
"If I'm right then my sister is almost certainly staying close to Kusanagi, could I
give you a note and could you ask him to pass it on to her? Just a small
something to reassure her of my wellbeing and of my plans to get out of here."
As he spoke Shirou was writing out a few quick lines on the paper, it wasn't
anything particularly fancy or eloquent, just a brief message intended to sooth
any worries Illya might have.
"Very well King Emiya," the martial artist agreed, using a tone suited to a King
receiving a petition from some subordinate lord. "I shall carry this message to
our fellow King and ask him to pass it on to your sister."
"Then I thank you for this favour sempai." Shirou replied, aware of how making
this request placed him in a semi-subservient position to the older Campione, but
not really caring about it too much. He was confident enough in his skills and
power that he felt he wasn't a light enough obstacle that Luo Hao could simply
brush him aside. If she wished to presume that doing him this service meant he
was weaker than her then let her. If she chose to move upon that perceived
weakness he was sure he could provide a show of sufficient strength that she'd
reconsider.
Ripping the note from the pad he allowed the rest of the notebook and the pen to
dissolve into Prana leaving only the page he held. That he folded over and
handed to his cellmate. She arched an eyebrow ever so slightly at his casual
display of power, but said nothing as she slipped the note into the folds of her
garb.
"So, how do you intend to get out of here? Has one of your Authorities recovered
enough to manage it?"
"As of yet my Authorities that would be of use have yet to fully recover. I must
compliment King Kusanagi upon his strength; the only time that my Authorities
have suffered similar damage was when I faced a Campione thrice time my age a
hundred years ago."
With an arrogant toss of her head she turned her gaze back upon the spot on the
ceiling.

"However I have already recovered much of my Qi, sufficient that I may once
more make use of my own Daoist Arts."
As she finished speaking she began to sing some words under her breath. For a
brief moment Shirou considered reinforcing his hearing in order to catch what it
was she was saying, but before he could white smoke started to billow up around
her. Before long the smoke had obscured his view of the Chinese woman
completely. As he watched the smoke moved with a will of its own and seemed to
stream into an almost invisible crack in the ceiling. When all the smoke had
faded from view there was no sign that there had ever been another person in
the cave.
"Impressive." He murmured to himself as he once more turned back to his work.
To think that such a feat had been achieved not by any Authority, but rather by
personal skill and magic. Had anyone back home been able to accomplish
something like that, to convert themselves into another state of matter while
retaining full mental cohesion, they'd most likely have been slapped with a
Sealing Designation and immediately dissected for research.
Well, more like they'd try. For a brief moment he entertained himself with the
thought of what might take place if the Clock Tower really did try to capture Luo
Hao as a research subject. On second thoughts his imaginings were probably a
good deal more comedic than the actual results would be. If that organization did
try to take the Campione captive there'd most likely be a great deal more blood
involved than what he was thinking of.
Well, no more time to spent thinking about that. Focusing his will he called up
another two blocks of gemstones.

-()-

"Is he always like that?"

Illya glanced up and saw that Annie-san had joined her on one of the hotel's
balconies that overlooked the street.
The group had arrived here several hours ago, the minivan having screeched to a
halt in front of one of the hotels that made up this resort overlooking Lake
Chuuzenji. Originally the young Einzbern had been ready for another fight when
she'd seen that all the citizens in the small town had apparently shared the same
fate as those at the Saitenguu. However unlike the monkeys that they'd
encountered earlier these ones instead seemed to simply ignore the humans that
had stumbled into their midst.
Once it had been determined that they didn't need to worry about an immediate
attack the main focus had shifted to treating Godou-san's wounds.
That had lead to a rather interesting little drama as the members of his harem
had contested with each other as to who would apply the healing magic to him
by mouth to mouth transfer. Honestly, couldn't they just be a bit more honest

about it? They'd gotten into an arguement over who would get to kiss the boy
while he was unconscious.
That particular piece of entertainment had ended when Ena-san had spotted an
opening and seized upon it to quite enthusiastically apply the healing magic to
her King. Indeed Illya had been quite impressed with the . . . vigour with which
she had taken to the task.
After that the four girls had decided that a nice long soak in the open air hot
spring would be good for him after Ena mentioned something about hot water
therapy. Once the idea had set in both Erica-san and Ena-san had become quite
determined to follow through on it. The end result had been that despite the
protests of both Yuri-san and Liliana-san the young Campione had been stripped
of his clothes and carried naked, save for a towel, into the hot spring by the
warrior Hime-Miko. She'd offered to allow her fellow Hime-Miko to join her, which
she had claiming that she wanted to ensure that Ena-san didn't go too far. Ericasan had managed to wrangle her way into the growing mess and Liliana-san had
followed Yuri's lead and claimed to be going in to make sure things didn't go too
far.
Illya had enjoyed the show and had considered throwing her own lot in just to
see how much more chaos she could generate, but in the end had decided
against it. Instead she'd remained out of the baths and had tried to engage Annie
Charlton in conversation.
Unfortunately it seemed that the young American wasn't quite able to take the
situation that had so swiftly developed. With a blush on her face so deep one
would think the rest of her body would be in danger of blood deprivation she'd
run out of the hotel saying that she was going to investigate the town. The young
Einzbern had reinforced her hearing though and had caught her muttering such
words to herself as 'inappropriate', 'orgiastic gathering' and 'licentious
behaviour'. Had this been an anime Illya was sure there'd have been a humorous
cloud of steam collecting above her head.
The young homunculus had sat herself down in the waiting room outside the hot
springs and read a book while waiting for the inevitable fireworks. Sure enough
shortly after the girls had carried the unconscious form of the Campione into the
baths Godou-san had come running out even as he finished tugging on his short
sleeved shirt. She'd taken the time to wave to him as he ran off before turning
back to her book.
The real pay off had been when the four girls had emerged from the baths.
"I take it things didn't go quite as planned?"
Her question had been light hearted, but at the query both Yuri-san and Lilianasan had flushed deeply and adopted expressions of embarrassed mortification.
The other two, on the other hand, looked more disappointed than shamed.
"It's strange, Ena was sure that this would work. But it seems that his majesty is
more bashful than I had expected. Ah well, no matter, I won't let this deter me."
"Ena-san that is not what could be regarded as civilized behaviour." The silver
haired mage knight of the Bronze-Black Cross abolished her.

"Oh? And yet you did choose to join in Lily, tell me did you enjoy the chance to
see Godou in such a state?"
"T-That wasn't my intention, I-I merely entered to supervise that suspicious folk
remedy."
Illya had listened to them bicker as they moved away, but had elected not to
follow them. Part of the fun of watching this rom-com unfold in front of her was
that more often than not Godou's harem forgot she was there when they slipped
into their little arguments. She didn't want to risk that by pushing her presence
onto them to the point where they started to notice.
Still it was almost farcical, she'd killed not one but three Divine Beasts in their
presence, and yet when it came to the object of their mutual desire they'd all but
forget about her. Where was the sense in that? Sure if she made any sort of
aggressive move they'd probably pay attention to her quickly enough, but
otherwise . . . well it seemed that her youthful appearance had some drawbacks
she'd not encountered before.
A short time ago Godou-san had returned to the hotel accompanied by Anniesan. The young Einzbern had continued to read her book while sitting in the main
reception of the resort hotel and as such had been there to greet him. The
seventh Devil King had seemed somewhat irritated about something, but had
kept it under control and said he was going back to the baths to try to unwind.
Illya had relocated herself to this balcony to finish her reading while enjoying the
view, which brought her back to the question that Annie-san had just asked her.
"Kusanagi-san?"
"Yes. I can't seem to get a clear bead on his personality. At first I though he was
some sort of licentious hedonist, but after speaking with him today he seems to
have his head on straight, at least in regards to the current crisis."
The white haired girl paused for a second as she considered her answer.
"If you look at it from the perspective of a manga," she began, "Then the best
way to describe Godou's circumstances would be to say that he is unintentionally
building himself a harem."
"A . . . harem?" The red haired American sounded understandably dubious at her
description of the situation.
"Yes, Godou-san tends to attract almost all the girls that he has regular contact
with. He's already collected two foreign beauties, one serious and the other
passionate, a warm hearted tsundere and sexy genki tomboy. Actually I'm not
too sure about the last one, but then I haven't had too much time to observe
Ena-san. I think I also heard something about him having a foreign mistress
who's a bit older, if that's the case then he's also got a sexy onee-chan as well.
"The point is that even though he's got all these girls who are so interested in
him he didn't actually go looking for any of them, they sort of came to him on
their own."
"So . . ." said Annie-san, her voice slightly far off, "He's building himself a
collection of all the women that strike his fancy? How . . . shameless."

"Err, I did say that he didn't mean to do it, you know?"

"I'm sure that that's what you think, but I simply cannot believe that so many
women would pursue one man in such a manner without there being some sort
of effort on his part. Also if that were the case then how do you explain their
most inappropriate behaviour in the baths earlier?"
For a moment Illya considered defending the seventh Campione from the
apparently somewhat uncharitable impression that the American mage had
developed of him. However it seemed that Annie-san had firmly entrenched the
idea that 'Kusanagi Godou = Enemy to all women' in her head. She supposed
that if she tried she might be able to change her mind, but a small and slightly
malicious part of her persuaded her not to try.
After all, leaving that impression intact would certainly provide an interesting
plot twist to the little drama that was developing in front of her.
Instead she elected to change the subject.
"So what can you tell me about the Campione you work with? Onii-chan is quite
impressed with how he operates. I think Shirou might even be a bit jealous that
he didn't think about creating his own secret identity until it was too late."
"John Pluto Smith is . . . difficult to sum up. He's the kind of man that thinks as
long as things end well then it doesn't matter how he does them. It doesn't
matter if he shows up late, if he acts outrageously, if buildings or property are
destroyed. As long as he succeeds in defeating the threat and saving the day
then it's all alright."
"Does . . . does he sacrifice people in order to achieve his ends? You know,
sacrifice a few to save the many?"
Illya's question was slightly tremulous. When she'd been little her father had
been her hero, she'd known that before he married mama that he'd fought bad
people around the world and saved many lives. She'd also known that he was
getting ready to fight in the Holy Grail War with mama in order to save many
more. Later, after her father 'abandoned' her, the rest of the family had taken a
certain vindictive pleasure in shredding her illusions about her father.
They'd told her every crime, every atrocity, every murder that he'd committed in
order to fulfil his desperate need to save as many lives as he could. She'd come
to hate that point of view, come to hate the idea that he'd somehow sacrificed
her mother and abandoned her in order to pursue it. When she'd met Shirou
she'd thought that he'd be like Kiritsugu, someone that wouldn't hesitate to send
others to their end, no matter who they were, in order to save as many lives as
possible.
He'd proven her wrong though, when he'd chosen to save Sakura despite the
threats it entailed. Still, she shuddered internally as she thought of how close
she'd come to killing him before she realised that he'd forsaken the same ideals
that her father had so doggedly followed.
The thought that this American Campione might follow the same sort of ideal . . .
well, it left a bad taste in her mouth.

"No!" Annie-san's voice sounded startled at the suggestion, "John Smith has
sometimes not been able to save everyone that's been caught up in the threats
that he fights, but he's always tried. He's had to demand sacrifices from those he
protects, inconveniences such as black outs or entire buildings being destroyed,
but he needs them in order to fight. All in Los Angeles know this and accept it as
the taxation that we must pay in order to enjoy and support his protection of us.
"But for all those demands he's never asked for more than we're prepared to
give, you know? He's never even thought of taking that last step into tyranny,
that's just not his style."
Silence fell between them as Illya mulled over what she'd just heard. As she did
so a monkey ambled past the road in front of the hotel pulling along a shopping
bag on wheels. It was an oddly surreal sight, but the young Einzbern was aware
that the transformed humans in the area were following their routines despite
their changed forms. But now that they were apes it was more like watching
trained animals imitating humans than anything else.
"So what kind of a person is he? Is he easy to work with?"
Again silence reigned as the American mage cocked her head to the side as she
considered the question.
"He's flamboyant, the kind of guy that loves to make a show and draw
everyone's eyes to him. He's also the kind of person that's always cool and
relaxed, as though he's not taking things seriously enough. He loves playing the
part of a hero to the hilt and is always making his triumphs stylish or dramatic.
Still despite all that he's actually much more effective and methodical than you'd
think. He's smart and resourceful, enough that most of America doesn't have
that much trouble. Since the defeat of Asherah and her organization, Lord of the
Flies, things have been quite peaceful in Los Angeles."
Well that was interesting; it seemed that the Campione that the red haired young
woman worked with was a surprisingly competent individual despite his unusual
approach.
Leaning back in her seat she looked up at the sky that was starting to darken as
sunset approached.
What would come next, she wondered.

-()-

"Ah, welcome back sempai."

Shirou's polite greeting was in response to the reappearance of the Chinese
Campione in the cave in which he was currently trapped. The same white smoke
that he'd seen earlier had come spiralling down from the ceiling and had
condensed into the form of Luo Hao.

Then he did a double take as he took in the state in which the older Campione
was in. Her clothes seemed a bit rumpled; her hair was clearly damp and . . . was
that a blush on her face?
"Did you have a good time sempai?" He asked calmly, and was rewarded with
her flush growing even deeper.
"I-I have achieved what I sought to do King Emiya," the god slaying martial artist
said as she visibly did her best to reign her emotion back under control. "My
meeting with King Kusanagi went well and I've been able to determine what the
situation up on the surface is."
That made the eighth Campione perk up in interest. While he admitted to
deriving a certain guilty pleasure from seeing the innocently egotistical Devil
King getting embarrassed he was more than willing to shelve that if it meant
learning a bit more about what was going on outside this prison.
"So what's happened?"
"It seems that the Great Sage Equal to Heaven has managed to break the last
remnants of the Keeper of the Horses spell after summoning his brothers Zhu
Bajie and Sha Wujing to aid him. He's currently resting from his efforts, but when
he awakens he'll have his full strength once more."
Shirou paused for a moment as he mulled that over. If Sun Wukong had called
upon the companions that had accompanied him on his famed journey to the
west then that could be a dangerous development. On the other hand if they'd
been called upon as subordinate gods to the Monkey King then it was unlikely
that they'd be as powerful as they would have been had they descended to the
mortal plane of their own will.
"I suppose that means that we'll all have dancing partners when we get out of
here." He murmured.
"Be aware King Emiya, my sworn brother has taken up the responsibility of facing
the Monkey King himself. As those who chose to return him to the surface we
have forfeited the role of fighting the Great Sage to him."
The red haired teen nodded. That was true, one of the reasons he'd decided to
return Kusanagi to the surface was the thought that the seventh Campione's
abilities would hopefully be better suited to saving the girl that Sun Wukong was
possessing than his own. If the younger teen was claiming the position of fighting
the Heretic God then he'd hopefully figured something out.
Wait, hang on a second . . .
"What do you mean your sworn brother?"
"I was a bit unsure of how to deal with King Kusanagi when I saw him once more.
When I did see him he declared his intention to battle the Great Sage Equal to
Heaven and stated that both you and I had already yielded that role to him. This
was true of course, but it would also be a lowering of my standing if I simply
granted such a request, so I got to thinking, King Kusanagi was someone that has
gotten the better of me a number of times. So rather than eliminating him like
plucking a tender shoot before it has had a chance to blossom, it would be better

to cultivate him properly into a great hero. Such a course of action befits the
Ruler of the Martial Realm.
"To that end I've adopted him as my sworn brother and will educate him upon the
correct ways of conduct and courtesy."
She shook her head slightly as a thought crossed her mind.
"He seems to have some trouble addressing me correctly as 'Onee-sama', but I'm
sure in time I shall be able to properly guide him to the correct path."
Shirou on the other hand was a bit sceptical of that, he might not know his fellow
Japanese King as well as he'd like, but he was fairly sure that the black haired
Campione would probably be somewhat less than eager to accept his new 'elder
sister'. Still in the red haired teen's opinion it was a far sight better than being
the martial artist's enemy.
"So how is Kusanagi doing? When I last saw him he looked as though he'd been
fed through a thresher."
Well, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but he certainly had been on his
last leg.
"It seems that King Kusanagi has still not quite recovered from his match with
myself. However the hot spring he was bathing in should aid his recovery, and I
applied some Daoist arts to his body so as to aid his recovery."
The Chinese martial artist answered somewhat absent mindedly, but as soon as
she'd finished speaking she suddenly went stock still and the flush rose once
more to her face.
The young head of the Emiya family blinked, then blinked again. In his mind
several of Luo Cuilian's comments lined up and came to a conclusion.
Her hair was wet, she knew Kusanagi had been in a hot spring and she'd
apparently applied Daoist healing to him.
"That's surprisingly . . . forward of you sempai."
The female martial artist flushed even more crimson and seemed to be caught
half way between anger and embarrassment.
"K-King Emiya, you should not speak s-so casually of what happened. I-I merely
decided to lend aid to my newly acquired little brother. T-To spread rumours of
this would lead others to speak ill of me behind my back and undermine my
standing. P-Please do not go about speaking of how I entered a bath with a
young man or k-kissed him in order to heal him."
"You got into a bath with Kusanagi-san? I just thought you spoke to him when he
left, healed him up and then went for a bath yourself."
The expression on the god slaying martial artist's face was a true work of art. It
was remarkable how she arranged her features to perfectly convey shock, horror,
mortification, anger, fear and bemusement. For a brief moment Shirou wished
that he had a camera so he could capture that look forever. Then he abandoned
the thought and instead focussed on calming her down before she did something
violent.

"Don't worry sempai," he quickly reassured her in as soothing a voice as he could

manage, "I promise upon the honour of my Father's grave that I'll never reveal
this to any that don't already know it. I'd never do anything to smear my
sempai's honour."
Well, that seemed to have calmed her down at least a little bit. At least now she
no longer looked like she was contemplating killing him and burying the body in
this cave when she escaped.
"V-Very well, I shall place my trust in you King Emiya, however if you break your
vow this Luo Cuilian will never forgive you."
With that declaration Luo Hao stalked back to her boulder and resumed her lotus
position upon it.
With a sigh of relief and a small shake of his head Shirou turned back to his own
work. It seemed that he'd been wrong about his earlier plan, he had the right
approach but he needed a stronger sword. He had just the one to use, but if he
was to pull his plan off he'd need to cover one crucial hole in his scenario.
Back to work.

-()-

On the peak of Nantaisan, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong jumped
up with a start as he recovered from the efforts he and his brothers had
expended.
As things stood, his form was still that of Mariya Hikari. Looking up he/she gazed
at the vast heavens that were filled with twinkling stars. He/she must have slept
for roughly half a day.
Despite the hard surface of the mountain being used as a bed, the Heretic God
had rested soundly. After all, he was the divine monkey born from stone and a
sturdy soldier on top of that; he had few demands in ways of everyday comforts.
"Now, what should I do with my kingdom next?"
Even if he didn't use clairvoyance, the Great Sage could survey the entire
Okunikkou area with normal vision as he looked down from the mountain.
At the foot of Nantaisan were the wide streets around Lake Chuuzenji.
North from there were the plains of Senjougahara, and even the hot spring street
of Okuyumoto could be seen. There were also the streets next to Lake Yunoko,
and the villages gathered all sorts of different monkeys, carrying on their lives
with a hint of human feeling. The might of the Great Sage's divine power had
apparently reached that area too.
Even so, the Great Sage was not in the least bit amused.
"This is a bit too quiet. Things need to be more lively, what should I do?"

"Perhaps it would be wise to prepare for the challenge that is to come Great
Sage."
The sound of a young girl's sweet voice came from behind him/her in answer to
the question he had just carelessly spoken aloud.
Sun Wukong didn't jump or show any sign of surprise. He'd already sensed the
spells that had formed behind him as they had come together and had divined
their purpose before the voice had even sounded. Instead the god in the form of
a girl calmly turned to see who it was that had answered his idle question.
"Oh ho," he commented as he laid eyes upon the beautiful form of the blonde
Divine Ancestor that now faced him. "So another of you defeated goddesses
appears before me. Are you going to challenge me next? It would be good to face
against another snake or dragon without that enchantment holding me back."
"Hardly honoured Sun Wukong, given my current state I doubt I would be able to
provide a satisfying match. No, the threat that I refer to is the return of the God
Slayers that you sealed away. It won't be too long before they free themselves I
imagine, and when they do I dare say that they shall be quite eager to face you
once more."
The slight frame of Mariya Hikari leant against a nearby boulder and regarded
the figure in front of him/her. This was just a sent image crafted by a spell; the
real Divine Ancestor was probably miles away in some safe location. Well he was
a god of Steel; he supposed it was only natural for her to be wary of him/her.
"So what brings you to tell old Sun about this? Surely it's not out of the goodness
of your heart now is it?"
His cynical question drew a giggle like the tinkling of silver bells from the small
girl.
"Hardly honoured Sage, in truth I do have a slightly selfish motivation.
"One of the children of Pandora that you face is needed to aid in a ritual to
restore my ally. All that I ask is that should you find yourself outnumbered then
you will allow my champion to take up the task of defeating the one that I need.
That should leave you free to face the others undisrupted."
"Hah, me and my brothers don't need any help," declared the Heretic God boldly,
then paused in momentary thought, "but if your champion wants to join the
battle then he's welcome, just so long as he remembers that if we finish our
enemies before he finishes his then he'll be fair game for us."
It was an odd sight, to see the smile of rampant battle lust on the face of such a
young girl. However in some ways the look of cold cruelty that appeared on the
youthful face of the Divine Ancestor was even more out of place.
"That would be perfectly acceptable, I'm sure it won't take Sir Mordred long to
defeat the youngest and most inexperienced of the God Slayers as it will for
yourself and your brothers to defeat some more . . . seasoned fighters."
"Oh? Is that who your champion is? Hah, I think I might wish for his target to be
stronger than expected so that I'll get a chance to fight him myself."

"If my good fortune holds true then it should not come to that honoured Sun
Wukong, now if you will excuse me, I must take my leave of you."
As the Great Sage watched the image of the blonde girl fade away he felt his
borrowed lips curl into another smile. This was an interesting development, the
trapped Campione would soon be free, another god would enter the mix and
another Fallen Goddess was watching from the sides. Pretty soon things were
going to get much livelier.
Now, what could he do to keep himself entertained until then?

-()-

Guinevere was growing increasingly frustrated with her efforts.

Her original plan had been to simply stay hidden and observe the acts of the
Monkey King to learn if he was her Lord in a different incarnation, or if he wasn't
then if the Great Sage had any connection to her beloved King of the End.
However the appearance of Mordred had changed the thrust of her search
entirely.
Now she was trying to find out if the Campione that was currently opposing Sun
Wukong possessed the necessary qualities to defeat the Knight of Treachery. She
had a number of resources available to her, there was her dear guardian Sir
Lancelot, there was the Holy Grail that she held and the unfathomable power
within it, and of course as a final desperate trump card she could always
abandon her human form and take up the power of a dragon.
The problem was that Mordred was simply too strong. History and legend had
warped him, partly due to the efforts of her own past self, but some things had
remained constant. Mordred was arguably the strongest of all the knights that
had served under Artus, and he had succeeded where many Campione had
failed, he'd dealt a grievous wound to the one rightly known as the Strongest
Steel.
Sir Lancelot might be able to match him, maybe. The strength of the knight of
the lake could be found in his charge; however the downside of this was that if
the charge didn't succeed then the stamina of her protector would quickly
diminish. Of course there was also the fact that Sir Lancelot wasn't able to fully
manifest upon the mortal plane. The spell that called him forth as her protector
didn't grant him access to the full powers that he'd possess if he were a true
Heretic God. In that diminished state her champion couldn't face their betrayer
without being caught in a disadvantageous position.
The Holy Grail on the other hand did provide her with a number of options. By
using the vast amounts of power that were contained within it Guinevere could
create false gods, constructs that possessed the power of the originals, but were
subject to her will. If things became too desperate then she could use that power
to create allies to fight at her protector's side. Surely if sir Lancelot fought with
such aid then he could defeat the black knight of treachery.

The problem with that was that it would drain her treasure of huge amounts of
the power she had carefully spent centuries accumulating. The divine instrument
had drained several earth goddesses of their power in the past, and it was her
intention to use that power to revive her beloved Lord. It wasn't a card that she
could play lightly.
As for her casting aside her eternal youth and assuming the guise of a
dragon . . . that was the absolute last card that she intended to play against this
foe.
She'd never been able to fully discern the nature of Mordred. Even when he'd
been the ally of her original self that had been a secret she'd been unable to
divine. Certainly her memories of that time were fragmentary and vague at best,
but that was one thing that she was certain of. His cursed Authority of anonymity
had made it impossible to learn his true name, his nature, his origins or even his
domains. The black armoured giant had always taken a certain delight in
playfully tormenting his then allies with the fact that practically everything about
him was a secret.
She didn't know it for sure, but the Witch Queen was fairly sure that Mordred was
a war god with a nature of Steel. If that was the case then assuming the power of
a dragon against him would be foolish at best and suicidal at worst. Divinities of
Steel were the natural enemies of snakes and dragons; the relationship was as
natural as the animosity between the cobra and the mongoose. However in such
a confrontation the advantage would go to the Steel, meaning that if a dragon
Guinevere were to confront Mordred all the advantages would belong to the
traitor knight.
No, for now she would husband her resources and instead see if there was a child
of Pandora present that she could manipulate into slaying her foe for her.
The problem so far was that the only one of the God Slayers to be free at the
moment hadn't been able to show her much of his power due to his weakened
state. Certainly the Divine Beast that he'd summoned earlier that day had been
impressive, but that alone would not be enough to defeat her enemy.
For the moment waiting was her only option. Hopefully the free Campione would
soon recover and grant her a better demonstration of his power. If not then
perhaps she would begin to subtly pick at the spells keeping the other two
contained. With three Campione free surely one would be up to the task of
wounding if not slaying the black knight of treachery.
Steeling her nerves and drawing on her patience the Witch Queen returned to
her vigil.

-()-

Renjou Kaida could honestly say that today could be worse.

For example a giant meteor could be falling from the sky and be about to render
the planet lifeless. Likewise a Heretic God of war could have descended to earth

and somehow triggered a nuclear Armageddon. Yes it was possible for today to
be worse, it was simply very difficult.
She was aware of the plan that had been put together and had even approved of
it. It was a simple information gathering mission, well simple in concept anyway.
It terms of execution, that's where it became a bit more complicated.
The plan was basic enough, Kusanagi-san would challenge the Monkey King to
combat and focus entirely upon dragging the fight out as long as possible while
taking as little damage as he could manage. Yuri-sama would use this
opportunity to employ her Spirit Vision to divine information about the Great
Sage's origins and true identity.
Once she was successful Erica-san and Liliana-san would set up a diversion to
delay Sun Wukong while the rest of them escaped as quickly as they could.
The first part of the plan had gone well; Kusanagi-sama using his Authority of
speed to great effect had successfully engaged the Monkey King in battle for a
prolonged time. In the end the Heretic God had ceased to possess the younger
sister of Yuri-sama, wanting a more equal fight with the Campione. However so
as to make sure that the seventh King kept fighting him the Great Sage had
turned the girl into a ball of light and swallowed her. He'd then challenged
Kusanagi-sama to cut his belly open and pull her out if he wanted to rescue her.
Shortly after that the elder of the Mariya sisters had succeeded in gaining the
information that was needed, but had overtaxed herself and had fallen
unconscious as a result. Still the objective had been achieved so the signal to
retreat had been given.
That had been when things had started to go wrong.
The plan to distract and slow Sun Wukong had gone down well, the two foreign
mage knights had performed their tasks admirably and the Campione had been
able to disengage from his foe and arrive at their meeting spot. There the HimeMiko had met up with him and the Knights so that Illya-sama and Manaka could
act as a sort of rear guard in case the subjects of the Monkey King pursued his
fleeing foe.
None of his transformed victims seemed inclined to do so though, so they'd
made their way to where the minibus was parked and waiting for them as fast as
they could.
That had been where they had found the first deviation from their plan. Rather
than being ready and waiting in the drivers seat and prepared to step on the gas
as soon as they'd all piled in Annie-san had been missing and a large amount of
blood had been smeared over the side of the vehicle.
Just as they had all been wondering what had happened to the American mage
the seventh Campione had received a text on his cell phone with the short
message 'Annie has been hurt in an accident, and I have retrieved her. Do not
worry. JS.'
Lacking anybody with any experience driving a minibus before Erica-san had
ordered them all into the van and had jumped behind the wheel herself. Her up
front declaration that this was the first time in her life that she'd ever been

behind the wheel of any sort of motor vehicle had not exactly inspired
confidence, but at that point there hadn't really been much choice.
And that led to her current situation, in a small bus being driven by a total, if
surprisingly skilled, amateur, the immobile form of the seventh Devil King on the
seat just in front of her and, to top it all off, an absolutely HUGE Heretic God
trying to catch them.
That had come as a very unpleasant shock. By the look of things the Monkey
King hadn't been quite ready to let his foe escape so easily, so as soon as he'd
dealt with the obstruction the foreign mages had placed in his path he'd set
about chasing them.
To that end Sun Wukong had swollen in size until he blotted out the sky. He was
now so huge that he didn't even have to chase them; he simply reached out his
arm and tried to grab them up in his titanic fingers. Twice he'd reached for them,
but Erica-san's wild swerves had kept them from his grasp.
That couldn't last forever though; all that was needed was for the deity to stop
treating this as a game and he'd have them.
Kaida couldn't let that happen.
Various thoughts rushed through her mind as she contemplated her reasons and
options. In the end though it came down to duty. Duty to Emiya-sama, duty to
Kusanagi-sama, duty to the Committee and duty to her fellow mortals.
"Manaka, stay with the rest. That is my one and only order to you."
"Wha-"
The rest of the warrior witches question was cut off and Kaida threw the back
door of the minibus and jumped out.
Normally that would have been an extremely dangerous, if not suicidal, to jump
out of a moving vehicle going at more than 65miles per hour, but the black
haired Hime-Miko wasn't any normal person. While she might not have had much
talent for combat spells she had shown an eclectic natural skill for several
harmless spells.
It was one of these enchantments that she used now; a simple cushion of air that
let her hit the road without getting smeared across it in a bloody mess.
Behind her the minivan swerved for a moment, then steadied out and
accelerated further. Good, it looked like they'd followed her wishes.
"SUN WUKONG!"
She shouted at the vast deity of Steel and Monkeys that loomed over her.
"Oh ho, what's this?"
A quick glance over her shoulder told her that the minivan was pulling away from
her as fast as the Monkey King was approaching. That was fine with her; it tied in
nicely to her plan.
"Leave . . . them . . . ALONE!"

If the truth were to be told Kaida didn't really like being the possessor of the
Dragon's Roar. The power might have been potent and the subject of respect and
reverence in the mystic community, but it's violent and dangerous nature didn't
mesh well with her personality. Also there was the fact that she was a bit afraid
of her own power.
The first time that it had manifested had been when she was six and she'd ended
up throwing her minder at the time across the room due to a tantrum released
Roar. It had only been a small one, but it had been more than enough to bruise
muscles and jolt bones.
That image had stayed with her ever since, the sight of an adult that had been
an unquestionable authority cast down like a broken doll. Was it any wonder that
deep in her heart nested fear of her own power?
Because of that fear she'd never pushed her gift as far as she could, instead
she'd kept it chained and locked away. Certainly there had been occasions when
her control had slipped and small Roars had been released, but they had always
been restrained and muted.
Now, for the first time in her life, she not only took all restraints off, she actually
pushed her gift as hard as she could.
The Dragon's Roar was an ability that had manifested twice before in the
Committee's recorded history. Though the details were a bit hazy both agreed
that the power was potent, sufficiently so that not even Heretic Gods could brush
it aside.
That certainly seemed to be the case here. With her last shouted word a visible
hemisphere shaped ripple in the air burst from the black haired shrine maiden
and expanded outwards away from her. And everything that the barely visible
distortion touched was pushed away. Abandoned cars tumbled as though struck
by the winds of a hurricane, trees were uprooted and thrown into the distance,
the very grass was wrent from the ground and cast into the air.
As for the Monkey King, as the hazy ripple hit him the effect was rather like a
man dressed in protective gear being hit by a pane of glass. The pane shattered
upon impact, but enough of the kinetic energy from the glass was transferred
into the man to knock him back.
As Kaida collapsed to her knees, feeling as though she'd just been forced to run a
marathon, the enormous form of Sun Wukong stumbled backwards and only just
managed to keep from falling over.
"Ho, that was impressive shrine girl; I don't think I can remember ever having
been hit that hard by a mortal. A shame it seems to have taken everything out of
you though."
It was all that she could do to keep herself sitting upright, the Hime-Miko felt so
exhausted that her vision was actually swimming slightly. Still she refused to sink
into the darkness that beckoned her, every second she kept this divinities
attention on her was another second for her friends and allies to get further
away.

"Hmmm, the god slaying brat seems to be quite obsessed with rescuing the little
girl in my belly, perhaps if you join her then he'll be forced to face me again, this
time without running away."
The huge blur that was the Money King began to shrink, the looming form
contracting down to more human dimensions.
As the figure reached for her Kaida dragged up every scrap of her remaining
energy together and prepared to release a second Dragon's Roar. It would not be
anywhere near as strong as the first that she'd released, but with any luck at all
it might buy the others a few extra seconds.
Then her head swam and she knew she couldn't do it, she simply didn't have
enough left in her to knock over a pile of leaves, let alone a Heretic God. With no
strength left she felt herself starting to collapse.
"Suddenly there was somebody there catching her before she could strike the
ground. Strong but soft arms wrapped around her and something she couldn't
make out through her blurred vision wrapped itself around her.
"A fine display indeed, it would seem that it is not only Kusanagi Godou who has
a fine eye for subordinates. Emiya Shirou seems to have a keen eye as well."
She didn't recognize that voice, but there was something about it that was
familiar. It sounded like it should belong to an actor on a stage or in a movie, but
below the theatrical intonation there was something else . . . authority, yes that
was it, authority.
"To think I would encounter yet another of the God Slayers here. First two, then a
third and now a fourth shows up. Hahaha, having no lack of opponents sure will
be fun!"
The voice of the Monkey King broke into her thoughts and managed to jolt her
back to partial wakefulness. Another God Slayer? Had another of the Kings
arrived?
"Great Sage Equal to Heaven . . . All deities who cower secluded in my homeland
know of my name. If possible, you would do well to remember the name of John
Pluto Smith."
Ah, that made sense. The Devil King that Annie-san served had decided to join
the fray it seemed. Well that was a good thing she supposed, Manaka spoke well
of the King that had saved her life years ago. If her friend thought him a good
person then that meant everything would be fine. After all Manaka was a very
good judge of character.
No, wait. Had she said that John Pluto Smith-sama was a good person? Or had
she just said that he wasn't as bad as some of the others? She couldn't think
properly, it was as though her brain was going to sleep in a nice warm blanket.
Nice warm . . .
Nice . . .
Kaida sank into the warm comfort of exhausted sleep.

-()-

Illya was being pushed; there was no getting around it.

Things had gone from bad to worse since Annie had disappeared. The Monkey
King had come after them, Kaida had jumped out to stall him, Manaka had
practically gone into hysterics and had only held back from jumping out herself
due to her determination to follow her friend and mistress's last order.
Whatever the black haired girl had done had worked because the Great Sage had
stopped chasing them; unfortunately a trio of his Divine Beasts had taken up the
task in his place. In the end despite Erica's surprisingly skilled amateur driving
they'd been forced off the road by the huge apes. With both Yuri and Godou
immobilized for the time being and Manaka unfortunately unconscious due to
having banged her head when one of the apes rammed the minibus further flight
was not an option. Instead they'd divided to take on the Divine Beasts, Illya
handling one, Ena another and Erica and Liliana teaming up against the third.
The young Einzbern hadn't been too worried, why should she be, hadn't she
already killed three of these creatures? They might be strong, but her imitation
of her one time Servant was more so. She'd simply kill this one and then move
on to support whichever of her allies was having the most trouble.
Except things weren't going to plan.
Rather than charging in to fight this huge ape was keeping its distance and
employing long range elemental attacks. Whenever her puppet tried to close
with it then it would lash out with breaths of fire or gales of cutting wind. So far
her false Servant had needed to stay near her to act as a shield against the
attacks. Her own spells might be tough, but they weren't at the level where they
could weather such forces.
It seemed that the Divine Beast had been smart enough to understand what it
was seeing, now all its attacks were aimed at her and Berserker was essentially
pinned down acting as a mobile shield.
Stalemate.
She couldn't attack, but at the same time unless the huge monkey closed with
them it didn't seem to have anything that could get past her protector. Outside
her sight she could hear the sounds of battle as well as gasps of pain. Damn it,
that meant that the others weren't doing so well. She had to get past this one
and get to their aid as fast as she could.
However even as she called out Beautiful Head Taker and braced herself for a
charge something happened. Two flashes of white light, bright as the sun and
shaped like dragons from what she could see suddenly roared up into the sky. At
the same time though the powerful pressure of the presence of the other two
apes vanished.
The abrupt disappearance of its allies seemed to cause the Beast she was facing
to freeze for an instant in shock.

That was all the time Illya's puppet needed. With a wordless roar of challenge the
false son of Zeus surged forwards with such force that the ground beneath his
feet actually caved in from the pressure he placed upon it. In the blink of an eye
the grey giant had closed the distance and was swinging at the Divine Beast with
his huge stone sword.
However the huge ape was already moving, retreating from the source of the
attacks that had slain its brethren. Consequently the slash that should have torn
its chest open only inflicted a shallow cut instead.
With an ear splitting screech the Divine Beast beat a hasty retreat into the
nearby trees and quickly became lost from her view. For a moment she
considered sending her servitor after it, to make sure she wouldn't have to face it
again. But after a moment's consideration she dismissed the thought and instead
turned to investigate whatever it was that had so effortlessly managed to slay
the two other giant apes.
Before long her search brought her to where . . . Godou was speaking to a man
wearing a black cape and a strange helmet/mask?
There wasn't any need for introductions, Shirou had shown her all the photos
that the Committee had supplied him of the other Campione. This was the King
of Los Angeles and the God Slayer that reigned over the entire continent of North
America.
"John Pluto Smith-sama, it is a pleasure to meet you."
Illya accompanied her words with a polite curtsy as she addressed the masked
Devil King.
"Yet another girl King Kusanagi? Truly, Annie was right when she described your
freedom to love."
The foreign King's words brought an embarrassed flush to Godou's face and an
exasperated scowl to the young girl's.
"That was a misunderstanding on her part; I'm not part of Godou's harem. I think
he's planning to add Yuri's sister to fill in the loli slot, but I'm here only as an ally."
"Illya-san . . ." The seventh Campione's voice was pained as he looked at her with
a slightly betrayed expression on his face.
For just an instant Illya considered being cruel and deliberately misunderstanding
him. She could pretend that she thought he was hurt that she wouldn't join his
harem and say that she was sorry but her first loyalty was to Shirou. It was a
cruel joke though, even if it might be funny to see him frantically protest, so in
the end she decided to forego it.
"A harem you say? Kusanagi Godou you impress me with your . . . ability. Truly
my collaborator only scratched the surface of the romantic undercurrents
running through your life."
The young Einzbern was absolutely sure that if that mask could have formed
expressions it would have been smiling like an amused demon by this point.
"T-That's Annie-san's misunderstanding. It's actually not that serious."

"You don't have to entertain me with excuses. I am a far more open-minded

person than that woman. Freedom of love is justice. The important thing is that
you don't abandon your responsibilities as a result of pursuing multiple romantic
relationships. You have already proven your character when you took initiative in
fighting gods on the front lines."
The masked hero from America dressed in black was truly a living legend of
contrived justifications it would seem.
Flaring his cape dramatically he extended his leather-gloved right hand.
"Kusanagi Godou, as long as the fact of your becoming the ally of John Pluto
Smith does not pose a particular hindrance to me, I will accede to your request
and simply stand back and observe. Of course, if a suitable opportunity arises for
a grand entrance, I reserve the right to make my move!"
As Godou took the offered hand and shook it Illya spoke up once more.
Perhaps we should go somewhere safer to make plans? Also I'm pretty sure I
heard the others getting hurt, so they'll want some rest. On top of that Sun
Wukong's probably taken Kaida hostage as well."
With a sigh she spread her arms as though imploring to the heavens in
exasperation.
"Your presence is most welcome you majesty, but the situation seems to be
growing more complicated."
"Actually I think I may be able to alleviate some of those concerns for you."
John Pluto Smith snapped his fingers.
Despite dampened by the leather glove, the sound was still quite clear. Roughly
thirty seconds passed, during which Illya began to wonder just what she was
waiting for. Then, with a thud, the sound of something heavy being dropped was
heard.
Before the white haired girl's astonished eyes Kaida, Erica and Liliana's bodies
appeared lying on the ground.
The knights were in a delirious state, as if struggling against some kind of illness,
and both were hyperventilating. Kaida was simply unconscious, lying on the
ground as though in a deep sleep.
"I tasked Astral Realm spirits to carry them over . . . The Hime-Miko exhausted
herself stalling the Monkey King before I rescued her, and the knights were
brought down by the beast they faced. They appear to be poisoned. You must
reward your lovers well for having fought hard for your sake."
"Of course! But they are not my lovers, okay?"
"That's right," commented Illya, causing Godou to nod in thanks, "Kaida is here
simply as an allied servant of my onii-chan. If Godou wants to add her to his
harem he'll have to discuss it with Shirou first since she's sworn to his service."
The thankful look on the black haired teen's face disappeared and was replaced
by a look of aggrieved suffering.

"I see, as expected. Right, because of unfavourable rumours, other euphemisms

have to be used normally. You may be young, but what a clever and slippery
fellow you are!"
After making this final joke, Smith walked into the darkness, once again turning
into a jaguar and disappeared.
Illya couldn't help but stare at the place where the masked hero had been a
second ago. The Holy Grail War had led her to be witness to many miraculous
feats, but such effortless shape shifting and seeming teleportation were
something new to her even so. It simply brought home to her that despite his
almost humorous costume the man she had just spoken to was a Campione, a
mortal who had slain a god and claimed their power.
Shaking her head she turned to where the injured Erica Blandelli, Liliana Kranjcar
and the unconscious Renjou Kaida lay.
Not far away, there was also the exhausted Ena Seishuuin, as well as Yuri and
Manaka who had both yet to recover consciousness.
"I can heal up Manaka and Ena without too much trouble," the childlike teenager
said, "Kaida will just need some rest in order to recover, but I don't know how to
help any of the others."
Despite her best efforts to keep her voice level a tremor of worry was audible.
Illya was on fairly good terms with Yuri due to their interactions at the Tea
Ceremony club, and she'd spoken to Liliana enough times to regard her as a
friendly acquaintance. She might not know Erica as well as the other two, but
she didn't want her to die either.
For most of her life the daughter of Emiya Kiritsugu hadn't had any friends or
even friendly contact with people. However since she'd started to live with Shirou
that had changed, she was loved by her adopted brother and had developed
friendships with others. But despite that there was a part of her deep inside that
felt somehow all these new connections would somehow disappear and she'd be
left alone again.
It was this fear that was welling up in her now.
"I . . . I think I can help them." Godou said hesitantly, "But I'll need some privacy.
If I help you get Manaka-san into the bus will you look after her while I take care
of the others?"
Illya wasn't entirely sure why Godou's face had gone so red, but if he could help
the injured girls then she wasn't going to argue. In short order she was in the
minibus with her two unconscious maids while the young Kusanagi was in a
clearing just out of sight with his injured allies.
As the snow haired girl set to work healing the bang to Manaka's head she
wondered what they were doing.

-()-

A plane had just touched down in Tokyo Airport, one that had just arrived from
Greece.
On that plane there had been only one passenger. A man with worn clothes, a
gaunt and dishevelled appearance and twitching eyes that glared at anyone who
approached him. The flight attendants had originally thought him to be some
bum that had somehow gotten on, but his passport and papers had been angrily
thrust at them as soon as they approached him.
To their immense surprise the man who looked as though he'd been living on the
streets for the last few days was actually the man who had bought every ticket
on this entire plane, as ludicrous as it sounded. For that amount it might well
have been cheaper to simply hire a private plane and pilot instead.
The various staff on the plane had been a bit unsure of what to do. Under normal
circumstances they would at least have received some sort of warning of such an
unusual occurrence happening on their flight, but for some reason that hadn't
happened this time. For the most part the cabin crew decided to treat this as a
flight off and proceeded to take it easy in the first class seats while enjoying the
in flight entertainment.
However one of the stewardesses decided to keep an eye on their sole
passenger to see if he needed anything.
She had to say that he was a very strange person. Aside from his appearance he
had many odd habits, for example he was staying in the business class despite
having purchased every first class seat on the plane. Then there was the fact
that he never stayed in one seat for more than a few minutes before randomly
choosing another one and moving there. He only had a single piece of luggage, a
black leather satchel, but he always kept it close and glanced at it every few
seconds as though to check that it was still there. He also was constantly
scribbling in a thick note book while muttering incoherently to himself. At one
point he'd apparently filled the notebook completely and had practically
screamed at the stewardess to provide him with something to write on.
Fortunately art was a hobby of hers so among her personal effects was a large
almost unused sketch pad.
The man had seized it and thrust a roll of money into her hands easily ten times
the pads original price.
Despite his odd generosity by the time the flight ended the young stewardess
was happy to se the strange man go. The way he talked to himself as he stepped
of the plane was totally unnerving, almost as though at any minute he'd snap
into total insanity.
As he made his way through the customs at the airport the dishevelled man
continued to mutter to himself.
"Yes, there are two here. Two Kings, two, two, too too many, too many. There's
another one too, one from China, come to find someone to fight. Two's too many,
three's too too many many many. They also sent someone from the SSI, there's
one of them there too. Will he come? Won't he come? Will he, won't he, will he,
won't he, will he join the dance? If he does then it's four. Four, four, four for me,
for me and my pretty pretty thief.

"The thief that takes, the thief that breaks, the thief that makes the King a
beggar. Takes only a little at first, not much, not enough to be noticed, but it adds
up, up up up. Up into a big heap, big big big, big enough to bury a King."
All around him people turned to stare as the strangely dishevelled man suddenly
burst into loud raucous laughter. He laughed so hard that he lost his balance and
had to sit down in the middle of the floor.
"Four!" he gasped in between his mirth, "Four for me and my thief!"
His laughter echoed throughout the building.

-()-

"Now I am ready."
Shirou looked up as Luo Hao got down from the boulder she'd been seated on;
her face was set into an expression of satisfaction.
"What do you mean sempai?"
"My Qi is fully replenished and my Authorities have completed their recovery.
This Luo Cuilian will now begin her destruction of this prison. If you wish then you
may follow in my footsteps King Emiya. You have done well to survive the prison
of Sun Wukong as you have, and there is no shame in following after your more
experienced senior upon the road of Supremacy."
Standing Shirou walked over to the one of the walls and placed his hand on it.
"This cave is bound by a barrier designed to keep us trapped, how were you
planning to deal with it?"
The Ruler of the Martial Realm frowned slightly at his failure to answer her
question, but chose to answer anyway.
"Naturally I shall overwhelm it with my martial power. Since it is part of the
prison that holds me it shall be destroyed as I destroy my prison."
With a nod of his head Shirou turned to face her again.
"Please, allow me."
Before she could respond the red haired teen Traced Rule Breaker and stabbed it
into a crack in the wall.
The jagged multi-coloured dagger that had been the Noble Phantasm of Medea
of Colchis was a thin, brittle and blunt weapon that wasn't really suited for
combat. Had Shirou tried to stab it into the rock chances were that it would end
up snapping rather than penetrating the stone.
But that was alright, because it wasn't the stone he was aiming for.
As the point of the Noble Phantasm slid into the crack it came into contact with
the spells that wrapped around the entire cave. And as it did so its unique ability
came into effect.

Rule Breaker had a deserved reputation as the ultimate anti-magic Noble

Phantasm, in another existence it had stolen Saber from him and in this one it
had severed the hold Angra Mainyu had possessed upon Sakura. Its effect
allowed him to revert practically any spell, enchantment or contract back to the
state 'before they were made'. A powerful effect, but at the same time limited
since it couldn't dispel Noble Phantasms or other works of that scale.
On the other hand the spells surrounding this cave could not be said to be on
quite that level.
A tremor ran through the small cavern and dust briefly drifted down from the
ceiling as something almost imperceptible shattered under the power of the
jagged knife.
The Chinese Campione tensed slightly as she glanced first at the ceiling and then
back at her fellow captive.
"What have you just done King Emiya?"
"That's my way of marking the final sprint of our race," Shirou declared with a
friendly grin, "I'm only a little bit away from being ready for my own escape
sempai, but once I'm ready I'll be moving very quickly, consider this my granting
you a head start."
Luo Hao simply stared at him for a moment with an unreadable expression on
her face. Then she returned his smile with one of her own.
"Ha, well if you are so foolish as to grant me an advantage then far be it for me
to refuse. Still be sure not to complain about unfair advantages when I emerge
victorious in this competition."
"I wouldn't dream of it sempai."
"Very well then, I shall now begin my destruction of this prison."
Walking up to one wall the martial artist drew one arm back . . . and slammed
one of her delicate fists into it.
Shirou couldn't help but gape at the results. He'd been aware intellectually that
one of her Authorities was based on pure strength, so he'd been expecting
something of this nature. Still to see it with his own eyes . . .
The wall had cratered in as though impacted not by a human fist but rather by
some invisible battering ram of colossal size and power. This was something that
he'd have expected from Berserker, not from a slim woman like his cell mate.
The blow was followed by another, then another. Before long he'd lost sight of
the senior Campione in a cloud of rock dust produced by her pulverizing all in her
path to powder.
When the dust finally settled the eighth Campione found himself staring at a
wide tunnel that had been smashed into one end of the cave. The newly made
passage was so wide that it would have been possible to comfortably drive a car
through it.

Shaking his head in disbelief at the sheer insane strength of the Chinese King
Shirou returned to his work. He almost had everything ready, all he needed was
to fine tune this last bit and he'd be ready for his own jail break.
He was aware that what he was doing was not the most efficient path open to
him. From a purely objective point of view his best course of action would have
been to simply follow Luo Cuilian out and so conserve his own energy while she
expended her own.
However it wasn't pure pragmatism that drove him, there were also a number of
other factors that were affecting his choice.
First and foremost was the simple fact that he didn't want the relationship that
he'd started to build with the elder King to fail. Right now he'd succeeded in
gaining a certain measure of her respect, however if he took the easy route out
then there was a good chance that that regard would be lost. That would in turn
lead to the loss of an ally, or at least the chance to reduce the possibility of her
becoming his enemy.
Secondly was the fact that he didn't wish to tarnish his standing as a King. While
he may have had the mantle and responsibilities thrust upon him he had used
them to his advantage and so had accepted it. If he was to be a King then he
intended to be one that he could approve of, that was the decision he'd come to
after talking to the Ruler of the Martial Realm.
Last and most definitely least was that he didn't want to waste the effort that
he'd put into this plan. He'd spent the last couple of days working on it and he
was honestly curious to see if it would work. Granted if it didn't then he'd
probably end up blasting a fair sized chunk out of the mountain with his back up
plan, but he was confident that his plan would succeed.
All he needed was a little more time.

-()-

Athena looked on with interest as her beloved prey faced off against the Great
Sage Equal to Heaven.
Truly it had been a fine spectacle to behold, upon the plains of Senjougahara the
forms of Kusanagi Godou and Sun Wukong were locked in mortal combat.
She had been right to not interfere in this confrontation. She'd hoped that facing
such a powerful foe would allow her dear enemy to sharpen his fangs, and that
indeed seemed to be the result. Together with those girls that were his servants
the young Campione had faced his foe and succeeded in stalemating him. The
descendant of a Divine Ancestor used her spirit vision to determine the Heretic
God's movements; the two mage knights from her second homeland and the
user of Divine Possession acted as defenders and protected her prey while he
attacked.
It was a fine strategy, one that seemed to be working, but it was not that which
drew a small pleased smile from her lips.

What achieved that was when Kusanagi Godou succeeded in drawing upon two
of his Authorities simultaneously and melded them into one. She remembered
the Golden spell sword that had severed her divinity in their last battle, and she
also remembered the shining white horse of sun fire that had struck her down.
Now she watched with interest as her beloved foe pushed himself to the limit
and created a burning sword of light.
The fallen Goddess watched with interest as the battle renewed itself. Intoning
spell words that described the root of Sun Wukong's legend the black haired teen
began to forge his sword. As words and knowledge were added he began to
release more blades from the blazing sword that he held. Athena watched with
interest as those swords flew away from the battle, aiming not for the deity that
their master fought but instead for the victims of the Monkey King's divinity.
Even as far distant as miles away the swords made from light sought out and
stabbed into those that had been transformed by the power of the Great Sage.
As the swords impaled them the divine Authority that had changed them was
severed. Before long the uncounted thousands that had been under the thrall of
Sun Wukong were freed from their states as animals and had been returned to
human form.
Words were exchanged between the combatants, but she didn't pay them any
mind. What they said was of little concern to her; it was their actions that were
her interest.
In response to Kusanagi Godou's allies the Monkey King conjured up more of his
Divine Beasts, nine of them. But before they could make a move of their own
they were set upon by the black haired Hime-Miko, who was now wielding a
Divine Sword, and a . . . Athena's eyes narrowed slightly as she focussed her
mystic gaze upon the huge lead skinned giant that fighting alongside her prey's
ally.
She was an old goddess, despite her youthful appearance. She had seen
civilizations rise and fall, outlived entire cultures and seen the passage of many
millennia, and yet for all that experience she found that the creature she now
stared upon was utterly unknown to her. It was not a god, a divine servitor or
some scion or demigod. She could feel divinity from it, but it was of a sort she
had never sensed before, the 'taste', the 'scent' was completely . . . foreign was
the best word that came to mind.
With a shake of her head she dismissed the strange being from her mind. Her
purpose in being here was the observation of her future enemy; she could devote
time to learning about this unusual being later.
Her beloved prey and the Great Sage continued to play their game of cat and
mouse under her watchful gaze. For the moment the deity seemed to be content
with merely evading the swords of light that were sent against him, but she
wondered how long that would last. The Heretic Goddess was vaguely aware that
around them the women that followed Kusanagi Godou were being hard pressed
in their own battles, but she paid them little heed. She did blink in surprise when
the blonde one succeeded in breaking the Ruyi Staff that Sun Wukong wielded in
two.

Despite this though the fight seemed to be turning against her target as he
found himself having to endure more and more blows as his defenders became
exhausted. Things seemed to take an even worse turn when the Monkey King
used his Daoist arts to restore his weapon to its undamaged state, so much so
that Athena began to wonder if she would need to intervene in order to protect
her future prey.
Then, just as Sun Wukong swung his staff in a blow that would have brained the
young Campione, the staff inexplicably shattered once more.
The look of stunned stupefaction on the Great Sage's face was a memory that
the fallen goddess of darkness would treasure. It was so satisfying to see one of
the gods of Steel so utterly taken aback.
Kusanagi Godou didn't hesitate for an instant and took full advantage of the
presented opening. With a last string of spell words describing the origin of Sun
Wukong's origins the sword of solar fire slashed into the Great Sage's physical
body. Reaching into the momentarily immobilised god her black haired prey
pulled a young girl clad in the robes of a Japanese shrine maiden out of the
Monkey King's body.
As she watched the young man comfortingly hug the girl that he'd just rescued
Athena gave a slight nod of approval.
Yes, his fangs had indeed become sharper. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven was
a powerful god with a strong ego. Even at her full power she would have been
hesitant to face him. And yet despite facing those odds her beloved prey had
been successful in achieving his goal.
Still the fight was yet far from over. The young Campione might have achieved a
small victory, but if he was not careful he might still lose the fight.

-()-

Shirou stood up within the cave and nodded to himself.

He was ready, all preparations were complete and all conditions were met.
Glancing to the side he looked at the huge tunnel that Luo Hao had pulverized
into the rock of the mountain as she made her way out. If he reinforced his
hearing to the maximum he could hear the unmistakeable sound of stone
shattering . . . crushed, broken and pulverized by sheer brute force directed by
peerless martial skill. She was a long way out now, probably getting close to
being free.
If he wanted to win their race he'd have to begin his escape now.
"Hooves that thunder over the earth, wings that soar through the sky, sacred
beast born from a monster yet pure as finest silver, hear my call and serve as the
mount to a hero once more."
As he voiced the spell words his winged mount appeared before him.

"Best tuck those wings in Snow," the eighth Campione advised his steed as he
mounted its back. "I'm going to need you galloping for this, not flying."
With an answering neigh the divine horse brought its white wings in tight against
its body. Shirou was actually sure that he saw them shrink as they pressed into
place, but he didn't pay too much attention because something far more urgent
was demanding his concentration.
"Trace on."
With his will he reached into his Reality Marble and pulled forth the weapon that
he needed. This was a powerful sword, one that even gods would be wise to fear;
however it was precisely that destructive power that would enable his escape.
"Ragnarok."
The sword that materialized beside him was so huge that it seemed absurd that
he'd try to wield it. Even Berserker would have appeared too small to suitably
use the weapon. The Burning Twilight of the Gods was proportionately shaped
like a short sword, however it was a short sword three and a half metres long,
with a hilt that was less a grip and more of leather bound log and a length that
was less a blade and more a sharpened slab of metal.
As soon as he had finished Tracing it Shirou slowly moved it through the air until
it was hovering directly in front of himself and Snow. This was a trick that he'd
inherited from EMIYA and the version of himself that had achieved a manifested
Unlimited Blade Works. In their case they normally simply kept the swords
hovering around them until they were 'fired' at an enemy. Instead he was
bringing it to float right in front of him, close enough to touch but far enough
away that the sword's blade, which was horizontally parallel to the ground,
wasn't touching Snow. If he leaned forwards slightly both his hands could grasp
the hilt giving him the appearance of wielding the absurdly huge weapon.
What the eighth Campione planned was a bit different, but that would come
later. First there was one last preparation to be made.
"Trace on."
This time the sword he Traced was of far more modest power. It was the same
sword that he'd used to keep the air breathable during his stay here, on
Domhanda: The Purification of the World.
As the crude iron weapon appeared in his free hand he moved to the next part of
his plan.
"Structural recomposition."
This was also a trick he'd inherited form the Archer that had given him his arm.
EMIYA had been skilled in the restructuring of the weapons he Traced, specifically
their alteration into a form more suited to being fired from his bow. Theoretically
it was possible to make further alterations, perhaps even mixing and matching
powers and abilities. If taken to the ultimate conclusion it would be theoretically
possible for him to create an arrow which could, for example, simultaneously
used Gae Bolg's causality inversion and Rule Breaker's anti-magic effect, thus
making for a sure killing anti-magus arrow.

However his other self had never been able to advance to such a level and
Shirou himself estimated that it would be the work of a lifetime to manage it.
Fortunately he wasn't trying anything so advanced right now.
Under his will the shape of the sword in his hand began to change. Under normal
circumstances such an alteration, one that he hadn't inherited from his other
selves, would have been beyond his skill. However on Domhanda was
something of a unique case, because during its existence it had been reforged a
number of times. It had been made into a talisman, a goblet, a crown and a
plate. In each form it had retained its purifying traits, but always it had returned
to its form as a sword. Consequently it was far more responsive to his efforts to
change its shape than a Noble Phantasm normally would be.
In his hand it slowly compressed into a formless lump of metal, then flattened
out and began to form into a barred structure. Before long he was holding a sort
of ninja mask, the type that covered the nose and mouth, made entirely of thin
bars of iron. The whole thing hooked over his ears and then clasped around his
neck. As he carefully put it on he noted that, just as he'd hoped, the sword's
effect remained and each breath he took was as fresh as that on a field in the
days of mid-spring.
Alright, all the preparations were complete, now to get moving.
Backing Snow to the far end of the cave he pointed the floating sword at the wall
that he knew faced the eastern side of the mountain, the side away from the
town and shrine.
Taking a deep breath he channelled Prana into the Sword and activated its
powers.
A jet of flames as wide as a single decker bus erupted from the now glowing red
blade and slammed into the stone wall at the far end of the cavern. These
weren't the yellow and orange flames that came from burning mundane items
such as wood or coal, nor were they the bright blue of industrial flames used for
cutting and welding. These flames were red as blood and shone with a strange
light that mortal fire did not possess.
Though they were a pale and weak remnant of what they had once been these
were the flames of the fire giant Surtr, these were the flames that were
prophesied to burn down all creation when the end of all days came.
The effect they had upon the stone at which he aimed them was visible almost
instantly. The rock melted even faster than an ice cube faced with a blowtorch, in
less than ten seconds a small river of molten stone was flowing out of the tunnel
being melted into the side of the cave. The air was now clogged with the fumes
of the burning stone, but Shirou had anticipated that and had prepared his
modified on Domhanda accordingly.
Now for the hardest part.
"Come on Snow, HYAH!"
With a shout of encouragement to his mount the eighth Campione urged the
winged horse onwards. Snow was a Divine Beast, one whose strength was back
by being the vassal of a Devil King. To it normal dangers such as bullets or

missiles were of no concern, even lava was only of minimal worry. The heat of
the melted stone couldn't harm the Pegasus, but its consistency was like thick
mud, impossible to gallop through.
And that was what Shirou had been preparing for.
As the white horse was about to set a hoof into the lava the young Emiya used
Rule of the Underworld to materialized a large block of gemstone underneath the
falling hoof. The tile was big enough to reach up through the magma by a
comfortable margin, wide enough to provide an easy target, rough enough to
ensure grip and heavy enough to be stable. That was what had taken him so long
to get right, not only the size but also the speed and accuracy with which the
blocks could be brought into being.
As his mount stepped forwards he materialized more blocks under its hooves
with each step. As it stepped off them the blocks would fade back into the
Underworld only to be called up again in front of his steed as it moved forward.
At first the pace was slow, Snow advancing into the tunnel even as the sword
continued to spew forth its flames over its head. But as the Divine Beast grew
more accustomed to the situation it began to pick up speed, by the time they
had crossed the cavern and entered the melted out tunnel they were charging at
a full gallop. It wasn't to hard, since the blocks were large enough to make a
short pathway beneath the Divine Beast, the trick, which he'd had to spend a fair
while practicing to get right, was to vanish the tiles behind him fast enough to
get them in front. In the end it was a mental exercise of sheer speed and focus.
Now they were in the passage, the only light coming from the ruby flames of his
sword and the dull glow of melted rock. He'd aimed the blast slightly upwards, so
the flow of lava ran downhill past the Campione and his mount. Shirou paid no
attention to any of this, right then his focus was concentrated entirely on two
tasks. Maintaining control over the output of Ragnarok's fires and the creation of
the gemstone blocks that formed the 'path' that Snow was running on.
A thought tugged at his mind as he focussed, one that brought a smile to his lips.
Right now he was using huge blocks of precious stones, each worth enough to
buy a nation out of debt, as glorified paving stones. If Rin ever found out she was
either going to strangle him or suffer a heart attack . . . or have a heart attack
while strangling him . . . or maybe strangle him and then have the heart attack.
The sound of crashing stones brought him out of his thoughts and back to his
current situation. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the tunnel was
beginning to cave in behind him, but this was something he'd anticipated. As
soon as the rock had cooled enough it was to be expected that it would become
unstable and begin to cave in.
Now it was a race, one to see if he and Snow could keep ahead of the collapse.
All thought was abandoned as he focussed back upon his tasks. Keep the torrent
of stone-melting flames steady, keep the gemstone path in time to the pegasus'
gallop, don't lose the rhythm.

-()-

Hayate Homura was, in his own humble opinion, one of the more talented field
agents that the History Compilation Committee possessed. Granted he wasn't
nearly as skilled in combat as Seishuuin Ena-sama or as adapt at concealment as
Touma-san, but he was skilled in other areas, particularly the analysis and
dismantlement of spells.
It had been this talent that had served him well earlier. At the time he and his
small team had been scouting the back of the mountain in order to see if any of
the transformed tourists had fled there. But as they'd been searching Homura
had suddenly felt a cold surge of dread running down his spine. While nowhere
near the level of the Hime-Miko the field agent did possess a limited form of spirit
vision inherited from his great grandmother, and he'd learnt to pay attention to
the occasional 'hunches' it gave him.
With a shout of warning to his subordinates he'd begun to set up the best
defences that he could hastily erect. They'd immediately scrambled to set up
their own defences, but hadn't been fast enough, even his own protections had
only barely held as a wind infused with divine power had swept over them.
Homura had watched in horror as the members of his team had been
transformed into all sorts of different apes, then he'd been forced to run as the
transformed humans attacked him.
He'd managed to get away, but in the end had found himself cut off from any
route that would take him back to where the Committee had set up their base of
operations. Mind you, now that he thought about it, he didn't imagine they'd
fared much better than him. The more talented individuals such as Touma-san
and Kaoru-sama would probably be alright, but the vast majority of the rest
would probably have been turned into vicious simians.
It had been that conclusion which had led him to his current course of action,
namely hiding and waiting for the Campione in the area to defeat the Heretic
God. Not the most courageous approach he was willing to admit, but given his
own abilities it was the best option available to him.
Earlier he'd seen many swords made of light flashing through the sky, a clear
sign that combat between the Heretic God and the Campione had resumed. With
that in mind he'd lowly begun to make his way down the mountain in order to get
to one of the roads or pathways that would make his return to civilization easier.
Now though things weren't looking too good.
It had started when he felt a faint tremor in the ground below his feet. At first
he'd ignored it, but then it had come again, stronger than before. With a sudden
flash of insight he'd realized that remaining where he was would probably be a
very very bad idea and had immediately begun to run down hill as fast as he
could. But when a third and far stronger tremor had struck it had been so forceful
that Homura had been knocked off his feet.
Using a nearby tree to support himself the field agent had struggled back to his
feet and stared upwards at the spot where he'd been standing a few instants
before.

Before his staring eyes the side of the mountain exploded outwards in a violent
eruption of unnaturally red flames, molten magma and flying stones. The
Committee agent had to shelter behind the tree he was leaning against in order
to protect himself from the burning pebbles that were raining down around him.
However that soon became a secondary concern as the dry leaves on the forest
floor around him caught fire. Stumbling sideways Homura backed away from the
dancing flames, but even as he did so he noticed a sound, one that was growing
louder.
It wasn't falling rock, it was a sort of drumming that was far too rhythmic and
steady for that, but whatever it was it was getting louder. He paused in place,
despite the nearing fires, that volume wasn't quite natural, it was as though the
sound was growing beyond its mere cause.
And as it grew louder it was also drawing closer.
It was a stupid thing to do, the smart thing would have been to hightail it down
the mountain side and get as far away from where he was as he could. Instead
he chose to stay, something deep inside him telling him that if he did run then
not only would he regret it but he'd also miss seeing something . . . grand,
something he'd never see again in his life.
Then, just as the thundering drumming reached deafening loudness, it
happened.
The gushing stream of blood red fire that had been spewing forth from the
mountain suddenly swelled and redoubled its output going from a jet into a
continuous eruption like a crimson volcano. More of the mountainside was torn
up by the explosion and boulders the size of basket balls came raining down
about the field agent causing him to swallow in horrified realization. If he had run
he'd have been right where those large chunks of burning rock were falling right
now. Once again he thanked the heavens for the instincts that had saved him
Now the thundering was so loud he thought he could feel the earth vibrating in
sympathy to its beat, so loud, so louWith one final burst of flames and a sound like a mountain of glass splitting in
two the mouth of the strange volcano erupted in a final burst of flames and . . .
glitter? For a moment Homura couldn't believe his eyes as he saw a haze of
multicoloured flecks that faded from view even as he watched.
However it was what emerged from the cloud of flames and colours that trapped
his gaze.
A pure white horse with outstretched wings of an equally pristine whiteness tore
out of the cloud like some phoenix rebirthing itself from the fires of its demise.
On its back was a young man who couldn't have been older than eighteen, but
there was something about him, the way he held himself, the look of exultant
triumph on his face.
There was absolutely no doubt in Hayate Homura's mind; this was a Campione, a
supreme King.
The white Pegasus came around in a slow arc to face the mountain, and then
gave a single forceful beat of its wings. The action produced a wind that washed

across the face of the mountainside, and where that wind passed fires simple
vanished. Within the space of a second a potential forest fire had been
completely extinguished.
W-was this the power of a Campione? To so easily subdue the flame, did the
natural world itself bow to this King's power? He'd known of the supposed power
of the God Slayers, but to witness it with his own eyes, to feel the overwhelming
presence of such a Divine Beast and to know that it was the servant of that
young man . . .
Hayate Homura had witnessed the power of the one called Emiya Shirou, and
though he didn't know it yet that experience would in time come to change the
course of his life forever.

-()-

Shirou felt the wind on his face and gloried in its freshness. Even though he'd
been wearing the adapted sword of purification something about the air in the
tunnel hadn't smelt quite right. In addition to that even though being the wielder
of Ragnarok had protected him from the effects of its flames it hadn't kept him
from feeling as though he had been trapped in a sauna. Now, as he soared
through the air on Snow's back, the coolness and cleanness of the breeze on his
face was a pure joy.
Still, right now he couldn't allow himself to get lost in the joy of his liberation.
There was something nearby that his very blood demanded he seek out.
Honestly he wasn't sure if this was a personal instinct or something that came
with being a Campione, all he knew was that something inside him was shouting
that over in that direction were his natural enemies. It felt as right as a compass
needle pointing north.
Bringing his mount around in a wide turn he pointed them both in the direction of
the sensation and gently spurred the winged horse onwards with his heels.
Suddenly the eighth Campione lost sight of the ground as an
absolutely enormous bird flew underneath him. The great golden avian must
have had a wingspan of more than four hundred metres, the mere thought that
something so huge could so easily glide through the sky was preposterous, but
nonetheless it was there before his very eyes.
"Ho King Emiya, I see you have not been lax in your efforts to win our race."
The voice called to him even through the rushing winds of flight. Shirou
reinforced his eyes and saw the figure of Luo Hao standing proudly at the base of
the huge bird's back. With a mental command he brought Snow in closer to her
until only a couple dozen paces separated them. As he drew closer he could see
that she'd apparently gotten her hands on a change of clothes because her
formerly dusty garb had been exchanged for a mandarin style gown of white and
cyan that showed off her figure quite pleasantly. The cut was obviously modified
though since it would clearly allow her full movement for her martial arts.

Unbelievable, he used a Divine Beast and a powerful Noble Phantasm and she
was still able to make it to the surface first. She must have been charging
upwards at full speed as she pulverized the rock before her into powder the
whole time since she left him.
Unbelievable.
"Sempai, I see you're free as well. Does this mean I've lost our race?"
"Hardly King Emiya, I heard the thunder of your own escape as I destroyed the
last barriers of my prison, therefore I shall declare this contest to be a draw." The
Ruler of the Martial Realm shook her head with a pleased look on her face. "To
think that this Luo Cuilian would face both of Wakoku's Kings in competition and
be brought to a draw both times. Truly this land has raised some fine young
warriors."
It seemed that his plan to gain more of her respect seemed to have worked,
excellent. Despite how their beliefs might clash he couldn't help but find himself
liking the Chinese Campione. She might be egotistical and utterly archaic in her
mindset, but he honestly couldn't see her as a bad person. It was a good thing
they wouldn't have to fight.
The fact that he guessed that she might be a challenge only slightly easier to
face than Gilgamesh himself only factored slightly into that opinion.
Glancing up and using his reinforced sight he saw that Kusanagi was now facing
off against not one but three gods. All of them were unfamiliar, but one was of
both human and monkey-like appearance. Since he could also see the figure of
the girl that had earlier been identified as Mariya-san's younger sister the red
haired teen guessed that Sun Wukong had abandoned his possession of the girl
and had incarnated fully into his own body.
"There currently seems to be a surfeit of gods sempai," he called to the female
King, "What say we settle this by seeing who can defeat their target first?"
"A fine game indeed," she shouted back as her huge bird began to dive for the
great plain where the seventh Campione had been fighting, "Very well, I accept
your challenge, let us see who may claim victory over our foe first."
Shirou knew that he was acting somewhat unlike himself, but for some reason he
couldn't help it. His blood was boiling with anticipation for battle and he could
practically feel the adrenaline pumping into him in preparation for combat. When
taken together the effect was something akin to what he thought people must
experience when they begin to get drunk.
With a slightly wild grin on his face he directed Snow into his own dive towards
where the combatants were gathered.
The winged horse came down with a clattering of hooves and a spray of dirt and
grass just off to the side of where his fellow Japanese King stood. Even as he slid
from the Divine Beast's back he noted that Luo Hao had jumped from her bird
and was majestically descending to the earth as gently as a falling feather.
Shirou frowned as he saw another figure standing next to Godou, someone he
hadn't noticed before due to the angle of his view.

His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the individual, black cape, fanciful
clothes and a strange mask. This was the Campione that ruled over Los Angeles
and could honestly lay claim to the title of superhero, John Pluto Smith.
What on earth was he doing here? And why right now? This was almost absurd, a
full half of the Campione in the world were gathered together in a single land.
While his research had only been cursory so far, due to the constraints on his
time that he'd had to deal with, but to the best of his knowledge there hadn't
been such a meeting for more that fifteen centuries. As he thought that a seed of
an idea formed in his mind, not something to bring up now, but if they all
survived and defeated their foes it might be something worth considering.
He was brought out of his thoughts by the Ruler of the Martial Realm addressing
the Monkey King.
"Thank you for your patience, Great Sage! You as well as my little brother."
Hearing her words, the Great Sage Equalling Heaven raised an eyebrow in
question.
"Oh? Little brother?"
"Correct. Kusanagi Godou here is the sworn little brother of me, Luo Cuilian. A
relationship akin to you and your fellow brothers."
"Haha! But are you able to become as large as us?"
"In that case, together with our fellow ruler, King Emiya, we will defeat you all at
once, burying your oath of sworn fraternity at the same time!"
"Emiya-san, you were able to escape as well?" Godou's question was directed at
the eighth Devil King.
"Of course," Shirou replied as he allowed himself to slip into his role as the 'Fake
King', "I could hardly allow myself to be shown up by our sempai now could I?
Incidentally please allow me to congratulate you on your newly acquired sibling, I
fear she may prove to be something of a handful, but at least you can be assured
that things will be far from dull."
The look on the seventh Campione's face was quite the sight, a strange mix of
dawning horror, disbelief and a hint of pained betrayal as he stared back at
Shirou.
"Hohoho, it's not a bad idea to decide right here which side's sworn siblings are
stronger. Wouldn't you agree Little brother, together with our ally, your fellow
Wakoku King, we shall crush these foes!"
"Umm, actually it's not just us three, there's also another participant . . ."
The younger Devil King tried to bring the presence of the fourth Campione
present to his sworn sister's attention. But his sworn elder sister, as well as
senior along the path of domination, simply glared at him in response.
"Do you intend to spoil the first chance for us siblings to fight in cooperation with
our ally by inserting this man of suspicious origins!? Foolish! This is a profane
insult to me, your elder sister!"

Shirou watched in amusement as the mask wearing King leaned in closer to the
beleaguered young man and whispered to him. Though he felt a little guilty for
eavesdropping the young Emiya couldn't help but reinforce his hearing in order
to catch what was being said.
"Oh . . . Elder sister eh? Having met merely days ago and she's already taken
such a liking to you . . . You are truly outstanding in the ways of stealing
maidens' hearts."
"Stop saying weird stuff about her taking a liking to me, please shut up for a bit!"
"There are three gods appearing before us, and there are we two siblings and our
ally ready to battle them. Were we to include this interloper then we would be
dishonestly relying upon our numbers. Also it could disrupt the honourable
competition between your older sister and King Emiya; surely you don't seek to
disgrace me so!"
There was a brief pause as the black haired teen groped for a response, but in
the end the quiet was broken not by him but by Shirou instead.
"Your concern is appreciated sempai, but it looks like we'll all be able to select a
dancing partner."
Perhaps it was due to his reinforced eyesight, maybe it was simply because he'd
been paying more attention, whatever the case it seemed that the young Emiya
was the first to spot the approach of the fourth god.
He had flown into the plain by first travelling over the mountain that bordered
the plain, while crossing them his speed had been slow, but as he descended to
the grass covered field his speed increased dramatically.
It was impossible to make out exactly what method the new god was using to fly
since save for his helmet all else was obscured by a great cloud of black mist or
smoke. He could have been riding a steed, vehicle or even using wings and it
would have been impossible to tell. The whole thing moved in a way that no
natural cloud could have managed, one driven by wind would have been torn
apart, but this black mist held together even as it boiled onto the plains faster
than any bird could have managed.
In the space of only a few seconds the black cloud had rushed up to beside the
Monkey King and his sworn brothers and had solidified into a huge black
armoured figure. The figure was huge, taller even than Berserker, and yet even
his physical size was dwarfed by the sheer presence the armoured titan exuded
Deep inside him, within the knot of sensations and impressions that Shirou knew
represented his Reality Marble, the red haired Campione felt
something shift. Something within his world of weapons had moved on its own,
though only slightly. He didn't know why but the emotions of aggressiveness and
battle lust that had previously been directed indiscriminately at all the deities
present suddenly condensed and focused themselves entirely onto the
newcomer.
This one was his enemy, nobody else's. His blood which had been roaring before
was now practically singing a war song to him.

" Well Great Sage," the newcomer spoke, his voice not booming or forceful, as
one would have expected from one of such great size, but rather charming and
light, the voice of some high paid actor on the movie screen. "Twould seem that
thou and thy brother face numbers beyond thine own. Wouldst thou permit mine
entry into this battle that I may even the number of combatants?"
"Oh ho, well I did say to your mistress that I'd let you join in the fun if there were
more people to play with on their side. Who do you want to have fun with?"
Wordlessly the armoured giant's gauntleted left hand rose up and the metal clad
finger pointed at Shirou.
"Ah, you want to fight the brat I defeated with a single blow? Well that's fine, as
long as you don't interfere in my fight with the Kusanagi brat its fine with me."
The eighth Campione felt his eyes narrowing in irritation at that pronouncement.
He might not be a prideful individual but he realized the value of a reputation
and an image, after all he'd placed a fair bit of effort into the cultivation of both.
For the Monkey King to so easily dismiss him was . . . irksome.
"Really Sun Wukong? Perhaps you'd like to try me again now that you're no
longer hiding behind a shield made of a child's body."
That . . . was unusual for him. Normally he wouldn't respond to an insult with his
own baiting, still doing so seemed the correct thing to do since he was now
solidly in his role as a King.
"Oh? Are you so eager to be beaten by old Sun again brat? Maybe I'll save this
fellow the trouble of fighting you and just hand your beaten carcass over to him."
It came again, the same blow that had brought him down before, the Ruyi staff
extended at a speed that would have put the fastest arrow to shame.
But this time Shirou was ready.
Last time he'd made a foolish mistake by attacking a God without having
activated his full physical capacities, this time he'd made no such error. Dragon
Slaying Hero had been brought into effect as soon as he'd emerged from the
tunnel on Snow's back. This time he was ready for combat with a Heretic Deity,
this time rather than being too fast for him to follow he could see the attack
coming.
Sparks exploded in a great shower in front of him as Kanshou and Bakuya
appeared in his hands in an instant then came flashing up at speeds that would
have been exceptional even in the Holy Grail War. He didn't try to block with
them, he knew that would be pointless. The Ruyi Jingu Bang was the closest
thing he'd seen to a Noble Phantasm since coming to this world and it was
powerful. If he wanted to defend against it he'd either need something that
specialized in defence, such as Rho Aias, or a weapon of even higher rank to
wield against it, such as Excalibur.
Instead rather than trying to block he brought both the Traced blades up
underneath the staff and knocked it upwards, changing its trajectory. As the staff
continued to extend and pass harmlessly over his left shoulder Shirou maintained
eye contact with its wielder.

"Don't take me too lightly, it might be the last thing you do on this plane."
"Twould seem that the prey mine mistress has sent me to hunt is not so toothless
as thou believe Great Sage." The armoured titan commented as the Monkey King
retracted his weapon with a look of irritated disappointment on his face. "Enjoy
thy battle with the black haired youth; Emiya Shirou is mine selected foe."
"Hmmm," Lou Hao's wordless sound of irritation drew the attention of the rest of
the Campione. "I am still less that satisfied with this, though there are now
sufficient foes for all us Kings, I am still displeased with the thought of sharing
this bounty of foes with this suspicious individual. Would there not be more
honour and glory to be had if we three were to vanquish all four of them?"
Shirou opened his mouth to make a suggestion, but was surprisingly beaten to
the punch by Kusanagi.
"But this is a rare situation with four gods appearing at the same time. If we are
down by one person on our side, wouldn't it be shameful?"
"Shameful?"
Luo Cuilian reacted. As expected, her prodigious pride meant that she was
fiercely sensitive to such insinuations.
"If we don't prepare an army with the same formation as our opponents, it
means that there will be a problem with respect."
"I see, that makes a bit of sense. Very well, I will accept your advice and we shall
face them with equal numbers. As befitting for great generals and marshals, it is
only right for us to lead armies into battle in the spirit of proper martial way . . .
Still, little brother, there is something about your behaviour that displeases me."
Luo Hao grumbled as she stared at Godou. The red haired Campione allowed
himself a certain guilty pleasure in watching the younger teen sweat under the
Chinese God Slayer's stare.
"D-Displeased? I don't think I did anything wrong . . ."
"Of course you are wrong. I am the martial pinnacle, the elder sister to whom
you should be offering the utmost respect. And how do you address someone of
exalted stature such as myself? I believe I have already taught you the most
appropriate form of address."
Comprehension dawned on Kusanagi's face and a slightly exasperated sigh
escaped his lips, though he did a good job of covering it up.
"O, O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o . . . Nee-san..."
Looked like he was having a little trouble saying the word, this really was
amusing to watch, a sort of floor show before the main event.
"You should be calling me 'Onee-sama. I never expected a little brother with such
poor memory. Fine, since it is the proposal of my sworn little brother, I will accept
it."
On hearing her words the red haired King turned to the masked hero of Los
Angeles and offered a tight smile.

"Well King John Pluto Smith, it would seem that we shall be allies in this battle.
Allow me to introduce myself; I'm Emiya Shirou the other King of this land. I
would offer more formal welcomes, but I'm sure you'll understand if I choose to
skip them given our current circumstances."
Shirou didn't quite know how, but he had the distinct impression that the black
mask with the strangely insectile compound eyes was smiling right back at him
with good humour.
"Well, one can hardly complain given what's going on, still the thought is
appreciated."
"King Emiya," the Ruler of the Martial World's voice sounded from behind him.
"As the senior King here it should be my duty to welcome the American King into
the ranks of my army. Don't ignore propriety."
"But sempai, I can't be in your army right now, only act as an ally. After all we are
in competition; it would be unseemly for me to be subordinate to my competitor.
Others might get the wrong impression that our contest would not be completely
fair."
There was a pause as Luo Hao took a couple of seconds to digest his argument.
"Yes, I see what you mean. Well done King Emiya, I am grateful to you for taking
this step to protect my reputation."
Shirou simply nodded his head in acknowledgement of her words, then turned
around and scanned the rest of the plain. It seemed that Kusanagi's harem had
retreated to the edge of the woods next to the plains fields and were holding
there as they watched what was happening. With them he could make out three
figures, a short one with white hair and two taller ones beside them. All three
were waving to him so he raised an arm and waved back.
Good, it looked like Illya and the others were safe, that was one weight off his
mind.
Turning back to face the gods he prepared himself. It looked like the time for talk
had passed, very soon there would only be battle.
"Since mine prey is to be dealt with separately from thine own I shall remove him
from the area of thy battle." The black armoured giant said.
Even though he had Dragon Slaying Hero active, even though he had been
waiting for it, it still nearly caught him totally unprepared. The great black knight
suddenly surged forwards in a boiling cloud of darkness and slammed into
Shirou. The eighth Campione barely had time to cross his Traced blades in front
of himself in order to act as an improvised shield.
However the Heretic God wasn't attacking, rather as soon as he impacted on the
crossed swords he pushed, pushed so hard that Shirou found himself lifted off
his feet and flying through the air as though he were being propelled by a rocket.
Dimly he heard the sound of the others commencing their own battles and the
alarmed and loud snorting neigh of Snow, but those quickly died away.

He didn't have a chance to look over his shoulder, but when the force that had
been pushing against him suddenly vanished as the God suddenly stopped in
midair he took the chance to throw himself around.
As it turned out he did so just in time to crash into and then through the trunk of
a tree. Had he not been a Campione the impact alone would probably have killed
him. Since he was though the crash simply slowed him down enough to grab a
tree limb as he fell to the ground to arrest his fall.
It looked like the armoured giant had carried him to the foot of the mountains
that bordered the plain. In the distance he could make out the forms of the
others, but they were at least a mile or so away. For this fight it looked like he'd
be on his own.
"Well then Emiya Shirou, thou spoke fine words of defiance before, now thou
must prove them against mine person as we battle."
With all the regality of an emperor descending a marble staircase the black cloud
lowered itself to the ground and condensed into the huge armoured Heretic God.
"If we're to fight then at least let me know who my opponent shall be." The
eighth Campione demanded as he once again Traced Kanshou and Bakuya into
his hands.
"Tis only fitting that thou knowest the name of thy future defeater." the giant
knight spoke with absolute confidence as he unsheathed a sword large enough
for Berserker to use comfortably.
Shirou frowned as he felt his Reality Marble try to add the blade to his internal
world. Try and fail. It was as though Unlimited Blade Works couldn't 'see' the
sword accurately enough to get a full reading. It wasn't painful like when his
alternate self had gazed upon Ea, rather than feeling as though his mind was
breaking by trying to understand it, it was as though his thoughts were . . .
sliding off it, for want of a better description.
"I am the greatest Knight to serve the King Who Appears at the End of the World.
I am Sir Mordred!"
Mordred, the name ran through the red haired teen's mind bringing back
memories inherited from his alternate selves. The homunculus female 'son' of
Saber and Morgana. For years a loyal follower to the King of Knights until she
rejected her upon learning her origins. Despair had become hatred and that
hatred had led to the battle of Camlann where the reign of Saber ended as she
slew her 'son' and received a mortal wound in turn.
Was this Mordred the same? Did he have a different history? Was it even a he,
might not a woman hide beneath that mass of armour? So many questions and
thoughts, but only one thing was completely clear.
This wasn't the child of his Servant; this was a Heretic God and his enemy.
There wasn't any need to know more at this point.
Spreading his arms into the ready stance of the style that he'd inherited from
Archer Emiya Shirou prepared himself for battle.

Chapter Twelve: The Four Kings Part 4

There once was a god in the lands of Africa, a god of war and blood, of violence
and death. Where he went conflict erupted and where there was conflict there he
went. He had no name for none would name him; he was what he was and
needed nothing more.
In time though his worshippers crossed the sea and integrated themselves into
the culture that they found there. Their god of violence and war went with them
and was changed by the belief of his people. He was given the name Laran and
his form was changed into that of a naked man wearing a helmet and carrying a
spear.
In essence the once wild god of blood and slaughter had been 'civilized', though
his naked stature remained as a reminder of his berserker past when those
suffused with his influence would tear the armour from their bodies and charge
into battle naked in order to savour the injuries they took as much as they did
the wounds they inflicted.
In time his worshippers were once more assimilated into another culture, this
time the Greeks, and Laran became Ares.
The Greeks though, feared the violent and bloody past of the god of war. And
because of that fear he was changed.
The once fearsome god of war and slaughter was reduced to a fool amongst his
new pantheon. He was still the patron of violence and slaughter, but true
warriors no longer paid him homage, instead they sought the blessings of the
goddess of the art of war Athena. For years the god was bound by his myth,
forced to play the part of the fool hated by his new 'family' and treated largely
ambivalently by his people.
Then the Greeks were absorbed into the Roman Empire and their gods changed
once more. Foolish Ares became fearsome Mars, far more dignified and
disciplined than his earlier self. The god of battle and slaughter was now truly a
god of war in all its forms, for the Romans took the militant aspect of the
goddess of crafts and passed it to their god of warfare.
For centuries the god gloried in his new position granting his grace to generals
and soldiers alike as the mighty empire spread and flourished. But then came the
great decline as the Roman Rule finally began to degrade.
At that time the god had been carried by his worshippers to the island nation of
Briton, and it was there that he met his destiny.
Faced with the majesty of the Strongest Steel the god of war chose to become a
follower of the King of the End. In so doing he took a new name and in time his
appearance changed as the image of the knight became inextricably linked to
the legend of the one called Artus.

Thus was the black knight Mordred born.

-()-

From the very first blow Shirou knew this was not going to be anything like his
previous battles with Heretic Gods.
Granted though, none of the battles he'd undertaken since coming to this world
had been very usual. As far as his fragmented memories of the fight went and
from what Illya had been able to tell him, his 'fight' with Angra Mainyu had been
little more than the final suicidal charge of a dying man against a foe that had
yet to come into his full strength. In the case of Perseus, well it could be said that
the Heretic God was never actually fighting him in the first place. Throughout
their whole battle he was competing against a memory of one he thought he was
fated to defeat, and as such never took the fight seriously.
As for Hades, the god had possessed power, strength and stealth, more than
enough of each to have killed the young Emiya if he had fought intelligently.
Instead he'd squandered his advantages in pointless displays of anger and
unskilled frontal assaults.
This, though, this was something completely different.
As the armoured giant had swung his sword at the young red head Shirou had
shifted his centre of balance so that he could roll with the blow as he deflected it
rather than try to flat out block it. Even so the force of the sword stroke nearly
dashed him from his feet despite the boost he was receiving from his Authority.
Damn, his foe was every bit as strong as Hades, maybe even a little bit stronger.
The only other time he'd faced a stronger foe had been during his battle with
Berserker. Also that blow hadn't been some wild flail; there had been skill and
balance behind it as well as raw power. This was the worst kind of foe to be
facing, one that sacrificed neither power nor skill, but rather combined both.
The force of the blow caused him to stumble, and as a result Shirou was off
balance when the follow up stroke came only an instant later. With no other
options available to him he relied on a desperate strategy that he could vaguely
remember Archer having used a time or two in the past.
Rather than trying to firm his stance as he crossed his swords to block, he
instead threw himself backwards as the blow connected bleeding a bit of the
force off and allowing the rest of it to hurl him away from his enemy, thus
opening some distance between them. If executed properly he'd come down in a
controlled tumble and be back on his feet in an instant.
Instead the Traced Noble Phantasms in his hands exploded into shards of Prana
as he was sent hurtling backwards as though he'd just tried to block a cannon
ball fired at point blank range.
Shirou's short flight was arrested by him crashing into a tree, quite a nice sized
one, hard enough to crack the trunk and bring it crashing down next to him in a

cloud of leaves and twigs. The brief instant that it concealed him was enough
time for him to recover his wits and Trace two new weapons.
This time he didn't produce Kanshou and Bakuya, those were good blades but
not suitable for the current situation. Instead he Traced two nameless Noble
Phantasm broad swords, each was more than a metre long and meant to be
wielded two handed, but with the power of Dragon Slaying Hero running through
him Shirou found it easy to wield one in each hand.
Pushing off the fallen tree with his legs, the red haired teen shot towards his foe.
As he closed he couldn't help but wonder, was this what it was like for Servants?
Being able to shrug off impacts that would have broken a regular human, being
able to move so fast the rest of the world seemed to slow, was this what being a
Heroic Spirit was like?
The huge black broad sword came at him again, the cut sharp and accurate. His
own left hand sword met it mid-blow with enough force to send a jolt of displaced
energy down his arm to the shoulder. He knew that his own blade should have
shattered on contact, it might be a Noble Phantasm but even so the forces being
placed upon it were beyond its limits, but it didn't.
He could feel it once more, the sensation of the steely Authority flowing into his
weapons, strengthening them, enhancing them. The steel in his hands would not
yield as easily as it once would; its mettle was being reinforced by his own
power.
Still he mustn't let his exultation distract him; his successful clash with his larger
foe had produced an opening that he could use. With their swords locked as they
were Shirou could use his swords' position as well as his enhanced strength to
pull himself into a jump straight at Mordred's head. As he closed the distance he
twisted his body in a full turn as he built up centrifugal force to lend to his stroke.
He'd aim it right at the God's neck, right where the armour was weak. If he could
deal a blow there thenHe didn't know quite what happened. He'd only lost sight of the armoured giant
for an instant as he'd whipped his head around as his body spun. The time that
he hadn't been watching the black knight couldn't have been more than a split
second, and yet it had happened. In the brief fraction of a second in which
Mordred had been out of his view the black armoured knight's position
had changed. It wasn't by much, only as though he'd moved a step and altered
the set of his shoulders while raising his free arm, but it was more than enough.
It wasn't speed, of that he was sure, it was as though he'd somehow gone from
one position to the other without having to take the intervening steps.
Now rather than being idly placed to deliver a decapitating blow the red haired
King found himself swinging at empty air as a gauntleted fist slammed towards
him. With only an instant to spare Shirou was able to bring the flat of his
swinging sword round against himself to act as an impromptu shield. The swords
flat took the blow rather than his own exposed side, but the force of the impact
was still enough to send him rolling across the ground as he hit it.
"What-"

"Tis as I said to the fallen Goddess," Mordred answered with total calm and
confidence, the voice of one who was well aware that they had control of the
battle field, "The actions and designs of the black knight art hidden to others,
such is the right and privilege of they who abandon their old self and takest up
the armour of the Black Knight. Try as hard as thou wishest, thou canst not divine
nor fully read mine actions."
Damn, this was like an inherent Noble Phantasm, which explained why he hadn't
been able to properly Trace his sword. Doing so would have let him read this
god's history and so discover his true identity.
Further contemplation was cut off as the huge knight came charging at him, his
long strides eating the separating distance. Using his swords as levers Shirou
pulled himself to his feet and was in a ready stance just in time to meet his
enemy's attack.
Sparks flew once more as his Authority reinforced Noble Phantasms met with the
divine weapon wielded by Mordred. Twice, thrice, four times in rapid succession,
the bursts of sparks bright enough to cast shadows. The eighth Campione held
his ground this time, his feet shifting constantly to secure his balance, but not
retreating a step. Then the black armoured titan ceased his swift blows and
instead raised his blade for a massive overhead downwards chop. The attack
would have little in the way of skill or elegance to commend it; in truth it would
be closer to the stroke of a butcher than it would be to the blows of a warrior. But
it would possess far too much power for the young faker to block as he had been
doing.
Before the stroke could even begin its decent Shirou was already dodging back
and to the side, it wouldn't put him out of range of that huge blade but it would
make the chop more awkward, less dangerous.
He saw the blade begin to fall and readied his own swords for the deflection and
counter. When he diverted the sword to the side with one of his own weapons
he'd use the other to strike out at the exposed armpit whereSomething happened again, it wasn't movement or him losing sight of his
enemy. It was as though for an instant he couldn't read Mordred's movements. It
was as though he'd been reading a page of perfectly legible script and then
suddenly the familiar characters had been replaced with Egyptian hieroglyphs.
Shirou bit back a curse as he was forced to use both swords to block the blow
that he'd previously been planning to deflect. He was able to stop the stroke
from cutting into him, but couldn't prevent himself from once more being sent
tumbling as the sheer strength behind the sword's swing knocked him off his
feet.
This . . . this wasn't going well at all. Right now Mordred was dominating the fight
and all his options were either bad or not ones that he wanted to use yet.
The thing was that even with Dragon Slaying Hero boosting his physical
attributes the huge black knight was still stronger and faster than he was. The
red haired Emiya was able to compensate that to a degree by being able to wield
two swords against the one that Mordred had, but even that was being negated
by this Root be damned unreadability.

Right now the only Authority he could reliably use was the one he was using.
Rule of the Underworld might let him call up some help, but he doubted his
resurrected warriors would be on a level where they could prove a threat to the
Heretic God. He could try dropping a few tonnes of gold and silver on the black
knight, but he doubted such a mundane approach would be good for more than a
distraction
Curses without End was a dangerously double edged sword, potentially it could
prove the deciding factor, but if his hold on it got broken before the fight ended
then the price for its use would leave him helpless.
That left Noble Phantasms, but that same unknowableness that kept him from
getting a read on his foe's weapon also kept from learning anything else about
him. Against Perseus and Hades reading their swords had given him an idea of
their strengths. He'd had at least some knowledge of which of his Noble
Phantasms would have been suitable to use against them and which would have
been powerless.
Now though he had no such idea, and that unfamiliar ignorance was causing him
to be a bit more hesitant in his decisions than he normally would be.
The worst, and possibly best, part of this mess was that Mordred was obviously
not taking him seriously. He was clearly a powerful deity, but rather than using
his Authorities he was content to fight the eighth Campione in a purely physical
fight. He might be slanting the odds in his favour using that strange . . .
distortion around him that made it impossible to properly read him, but that
seemed to be a passive ability that was on all the time. If he really wanted to end
the battle now he'd be bringing out his more active powers. Still that same thing
was also Shirou's advantage. If he wasn't being taken too seriously then it meant
he was being underestimated.
And that he could work with.
Deciding to abandon close combat for the time being he threw both of his swords
at the knight of Treachery. Both blades spun through the air like buzz saws, but
were casually swatted aside with ease. Still they'd accomplished their task as
distractions and Shirou had used the instant they'd provided to get some more
room as well as to Trace his Bow.
"Oh? Hast thou chosen to abandon thy blade for another strategy boy?"
Despite the distance that separated them the young Emiya could hear his
enemy's voice with ease. There was something there that irritated him, that
pulled at his nerves and heated his temper. It seemed such an attractive option
to cast his bow aside and simply charge at the knight in black with his swords
swinging. Certainly it would be more satisfying than hitting him with an arrow.
Shirou clamped down on those thoughts and tried to imitate the iron discipline
that his memories told him EMIYA had been so good at. He wasn't fighting for
satisfaction, he was fighting to win. If using the bow could help his chances then
he was more than willing to forgo some enjoyment.
"Trace, on."

In his left hand formed Caladbolg II, a modified form of the original Caladbolg
that had been the sword of Fergus mac Rich, a heroic spirit from Ireland. This
was one of the Noble Phantasms that the Archer of the fifth Holy Grail War had
been able to best alter into an arrow that could be fired by his bow.
And it was also one of the few Noble Phantasms that Shirou could Break properly.
Breaking a Phantasm was normally very easy for its true wielder. To them the
treasure was as much a part of them as their own fingers, therefore they knew it
intimately in ways no others could. On the other hand even with his use of
Tracing to reproduce the skills of the original owner the art of correctly Breaking
his creations in such a way as to guarantee maximum output was something he
was still working on. However there were some which Archer had consistently
broken due to their usefulness, so much so that the knowledge of how to do it
had been passed directly to him rather than going into the slight limbo in his
mind that much of it had.
And Caladbolg II was one such Noble Phantasm.
"Caladbolg!"
Speaking its name in order to activate its power Shirou released the arrow from
his bow. The altered sword ceased to be a physical object and instead became an
arrow of pure energy, red at its head and then fading to blue at its tail,
surrounded by a twisting wind.
The time it took to cross the distance between them was less than an eye blink,
yet somehow in that time Mordred managed to take the shield off his back and
had it braced on his left arm in front of him to block the arrow.
Caladbolg II might not have an 'official' rank due to its modified nature, but given
that it had been able to wound Berserker despite his God Hand that meant its
Broken Phantasm state was A rank. Its mere passage had been enough to break
through Caster's defensive spells; no direct hit had been needed. Its impact
produced an explosion large enough to raze a substantial plot of land making it
not merely an anti-unit type but also a minor anti-army Noble Phantasm.
All in all the Fake Spiral Sword was a formidable weapon when used in this
fashion.
This was why Shirou was understandably shocked when he saw the great bulk of
the black armoured knight come charging out of the smoke thrown up by the
arrow's detonation. Even worse was the fact that he seemed to be largely
undamaged, only a few scuffs and scrapes on the metal of his garb gave any hint
that he'd just had to weather such a destructive attack.
Letting his bow fade back into prana fragments the red haired teen dove to the
side and away from the reach of the knight's weapon. Even as he moved Shirou
was careful to keep his eyes on the figure of his foe. The last thing he wanted
right now was to lose sight of him only to find he'd somehow used his Authority
to shift about again, this time into range of a sword stroke.
"Thou!" For the first time there was heat in the Heretic God's voice. Not the
irritating confidence and surety of before, now there was some real anger there.
"How dare thou rend mine shield thus? Knowest thou what thou hast done?"

A thin smile crossed the eighth Campione's face as more of the smoke cleared
and he could get a better look. It seemed that his shot hadn't been as ineffective
as he had originally feared. Lying on the scorched earth were three pieces of
ruined metal that might once have been the shield that Mordred had defended
himself with. Even as the King watched those remnants dissolved into energy
and disappeared like one of his dismissed Tracings. The shield must have been
an instrument of divine protection, and a powerful one to have stood up to the
Broken Phantasm as it had. Still by the look of it not even its sacrifice had been
sufficient to block all of his arrows power.
It also seemed that the knight himself was a little more damaged by the
experience than he'd originally thought. Mordred had worn the shield on his left
arm, and it seemed as though all the armour between his wrist and just above
his elbow had been broken. The metal had fallen away to reveal some sort of
black leather sleeve beneath, but the main protection was gone. Clearly it hadn't
been able to withstand whatever force had made it past the shield.
"Thou shalt pay for this," the Kinght of Treachery snarled, "Thou shalt pay in
blood."
The arm that Shirou had been watching dropped to the Heretic God's waist
where the still gauntleted hand seized the coiled whip that was hanging there.
Again thought wasn't the deciding factor, if it had been he would have been too
late. Before his mind had even finished making the connection between the whip
and potential danger his body was already throwing itself backwards.
Only just in time as well, where the eighth Campione had just been crouched the
earth suddenly tore upwards in a horizontal slash across the ground. A second
frantic leap backwards just managed to get him to safety before a second such
gash tore through his former location.
That whip changed the rules of this engagement, he realized as he got to his feet
once more. Before it had been a close quarter's battle, sword against swords,
now though the 'range' had changed with the introduction of his enemy's new
weapon. That whip was fast, powerful and had a good range; if he wanted to
avoid experiencing how potent it was first hand then he'd need to adjust his own
approach.
Fortunately he had a suitable weapon ready in his Reality Marble.
"Trace, on."
Once more he felt the heat of Prana running through his magic circuits, not
painful, merely hot.
"Ai Qubla."
The weapon that formed in his hand was a long sword of a design that clearly
hinted at its Persian origins even though the blade was straight. Though long as
a broad sword the width of the blade was much thinner than the broad swords
that Shirou had been wielding before. All in all it didn't look like a suitable
weapon with which to fight that huge knight.
However he had no intention of using it as a sword.

As Mordred swung his arm in order to deliver another lash Shirou swung out the
sword while at the same time pressing a switch cunningly worked into the hilt of
the sword.
With a jingling sound the blade came apart into a long series of bladed chain
links.
Ai Qubla was a chain sword possessing a number of useful abilities, but right
now the ones that were of greatest interest to its wielder were its speed and
length. At a mental command the three metre long chain extended itself to five
time its original length while at the same time coming to life in the Campione's
hand as though it were a new limb.
A loud and rapid series of cracks echoed through the clearing as the two whips
met again and again in midair. Both flicked back and forth at speeds that most
human eyes simply wouldn't have been able to follow. Both moved in ways that
no mortal weapon of their type would ever have been able to mimic. However as
a result the battle was at a stalemate since both weapons were so evenly
matched that it was impossible for either wielder to gain the advantage.
No, wait, that wasn't quite true.
Straining his reinforced eyes right up to the level that was almost dangerous
Shirou was able to note the condition of his enemy's weapon.
It seemed that the Serpent's Kiss had a slight advantage over the whip that the
knight of treachery was using. The Traced Noble Phantasm was a weapon of
metal, whereas the black whip that Mordred wielded was leather instead.
Certainly it was leather reinforced by the power of his divinity, but in the end
even that only went so far.
The edges of his weapon were growing ragged, not by much, but the wear was
definitely there. The longer this battle went on the more the advantage would
shift in his favour as the weapon of his foe lost more and more power. The only
problem was, then what? Even if he ended up breaking this weapon it would only
put him back in the place he was originally since Ai Qubla wasn't a weapon that
could penetrate even the weak spots in the black knight's armour. the only place
it could harm the Heretic God was on the arm where the armour was broken,
however he doubted the whip sword could inflict a serious wound even there. he
also guessed that its venom would be unlikely to affect a god.
Sure he could try to use another Broken Phantasm arrow, but Mordred would
probably be ready for such a tactic now, and with that blasted unreadability of
his he'd probably dodge and . . .
His thoughts paused as he realized something; he was reading his opponent's
moves now wasn't he? For the last hundred moves he'd been able to read and
anticipate his enemy's actions with all the ease of his normal ability.
What had changed, what had brought this about? Was it the whip? Was it
somehow exempt from the effect of the Authority? No, that couldn't be it, the
sword had been affected after all, so had the shield, so why should the whip be
any different? It had to be something else.

Hold on, the whip was being wielded by the left arm, the arm which had had
most of its armour blasted off by the detonation of the Caladbolg II arrow. Sure
his hand was still covered in a gauntlet, but that metal glove wasn't connected to
the rest of his armour.
And there was what he'd said earlier? 'Such is the right and privilege of they who
abandon their old self and take up the armour of the Black Knight.'
That was it, his Authority that allowed him to be unreadable and to distort his
actions and movements whenever he was unobserved must be somehow tied to
his armour.
His eyes narrowed. Now he had a goal, a target, the destruction of his foe's
armour and that Root blasted Authority. First though he was going to have to get
rid of this whip.
Fortunately that wasn't going to be too much of a problem, not for someone with
his edges in this particular fight.
The next time that the two whips met rather than using the impact to accelerate
his rebound and speed into the next move Shirou allowed the bladed chain to
absorb the impact instead of reflecting it. The sudden change of strategy caught
the Heretic God off guard and for a brief instant his movements halted as he
tried to decide what to do next.
That was all the opening that the young Emiya needed. At his mental command
the chain sword responded and moved with the same speed that had allowed it
to slay a demon faster than the wind. In a single instant the two long weapons
were intertwined like wrestling snakes, both unable to move properly while in this
state.
"Ai Qubla!" the faker declared as he Broke the Noble Phantasm.
Granted it wasn't a very elegant or even well done breaking. Archer would have
been able to do something more effective he was sure. Maybe have the links
spew forth a highly concentrated dose of their venom before exploding into a
cloud of poisonous shrapnel. Still at this point elegance wasn't really needed,
what he wanted was raw destructive power.
And that was what he got. The entire length of the chain whip exploded as
though every link had been replaced with a hand grenade. Shirou had to drop the
handle and leap back in order to avoid being caught in the blast. Mordred
remained unmoving, his armour easily protecting him from the stones and pieces
of metal being flung up by the destructive eruptions.
The same could not be said of his whip though. Having been entangled with Ai
Qubla as it exploded the black knight's weapon had been effectively shredded
since even divine leather wasn't able to stand up to a point blank Broken
Phantasm, even an inexpertly done one.
"You-"
"Yes, yes, I know," Kiritsugu's adopted son cut the god off, "I'm going to be sorry I
did that, I'll rue the day I was born, I'll pay in blood. Can't you say anything that I
haven't already heard in one of my sister's anime?"

His words were mocking, insolent and irreverent, intended to enrage his foe.
In that they were a resounding success.
With a wordless bellow of rage Mordred grasped his sword in both hands and
began a direct charge. Shirou stood calmly in place as he waited for his foe to
come to him.
In a way the situation mirrored another battle that he had been in before, the
one where he had first fully committed all his resolve to and the first he had won
with his own strength. Once again he was facing a hulking foe bearing down on
him like an avalanche, only this time his enemy wasn't a blinded and crippled
version of what he had once been, this time the black giant bearing down on him
had all his power and strength intact.
At the back of his mind he wondered to himself why he wasn't going with an
overkill option. Out here, far from any hint of civilization, there was nothing to
hold him back. There were no innocents to risk and no structures to destroy. So
why was he fighting in this manner? Why hadn't he simply Traced Excalibur and
unleashed it against his foe? Even if he was a god and had some sort of defence
he doubted there was anyone or anything that could endure an attack by the
Sword of Promised Victory without being at least partially weakened.
However something about that just didn't seem right. It was a tiny nagging at the
back of his mind, but he'd long since come to at least listen to his instincts, if not
always follow them. Perhaps it was because this enemy was an alternate version
of Saber's 'son', or it might be because this Heretic God was a member of this
world's Round Table, whatever the case it just didn't seem . . . right to use the
blade of King Arthur against him, not yet at least.
From a purely practical point of view Excalibur was probably the single most
powerful Noble Phantasm he was capable of Tracing, it made sense to keep it as
a last resort rather than bringing it out right away.
Right now though he didn't have to dwell on that, right now his goal wasn't the
defeat of his foe but rather a step in that direction. The destruction of his armour
was what was needed now, and he had a good idea on how to achieve it. Earlier
the explosion of Caladbolg II had been enough to shatter both the shield and the
armour of the arm that had been wielding the shield, but not done damage to
the rest of it. Using that as a basis he estimated that the shield might have been
roughly equal to a B rank defensive Noble Phantasm that possessed no other
special powers. That meant that the armour itself must be slightly below B rank
in terms of its own power.
So the problem wasn't in what level of power to use, since he had dozens if not
hundreds of B rank weapons, but rather in how to attack all parts of the armour
together in order to shatter it completely. There were a number of options open
to him since several of the weapons in his Reality Marble fitted the bill; however
he chose one that he felt a certain connection to.
"Trace, on"
He didn't hold his hand above himself as he Traced the weapon, that would have
been absurd; rather he stretched his left hand over himself as he performed his

unique magic. Normally he was right handed, but to employ this weapon it felt
oddly 'right' to use his left arm instead.
The weapon that formed in his grip could only barely be called a sword. In all
truth it was more of a huge stone club that had been chipped into a roughly
bladed shape. This huge stone axe/sword had no name; it was simply the
weapon that the Berserker of the fifth Holy Grail War had wielded before his
demise. Carved from the same stone pillar that had been used to summon him it
had been infused with a portion of his power and turned into a weapon capable
of standing up to Noble Phantasms.
However for Shirou this mammoth sword of chiselled rock held a special
significance, it was the weapon he'd first used after making the decision to
unseal the arm of EMIYA, even though he had known that doing so would mean
his death. It had been the tool he had used to achieve the first victory, the first
time that he'd used his own power to fight against his death and win. Granted it
had only been Illya's aid that let him survive, but it had been with his own power
that he'd slain a Servant.
This time though things were different. Before he'd relied upon reinforcement to
allow him to duplicate the strength needed to use this huge weapon. Doing so
had placed a huge strain upon his body even as the knowledge that he'd been
using placed an even greater strain upon his mind. He could still remember it,
the feeling of pain as he actually felt a part of his brain break under the
pressure.
This time though, this time his body already possessed the strength needed to
perform the technique that he drew forth from the weapon. This time the
knowledge of how to do so flowed into him as easily as water running downhill
between stones.
"Trigger, off."
He could see them once more, nine of them in his head just like before. Upper
right arm, collar bone, windpipe, temple, diaphragm, rib, testicles ad thigh, the
eight targets to hit followed by the ninth and final blow.
Torrent and swirling vigour, just like before.
The huge black knight bore down on him, but somehow the sight of the huge
figure didn't seem to be as intimidating as it had been an instant before. In the
strange almost meditative state that Shirou had slipped into he couldn't help but
compare the knight of treachery to the mad warrior he had faced with this
technique. In the end though Mordred was fierce he couldn't quite match up to
the terror of Berserker. The knight might have been larger even than the mad
Servant, but there had been a terrible . . . resolution to the insane warrior's
actions.
The young Emiya had seen it in their last clash. Berserker had been consumed by
Sakura's shadow after being mauled by a corrupted Saber and then regurgitated
as another Servant for the corrupted girl. He'd been mad, blind, been slain twice
over and had his skin rotted off, and yet he had still been fighting to protect Illya
even though he no longer knew who his foe was.

In the face of such unearthly determination could even a god hope to measure
up?
But enough of such thoughts, his enemy wasn't in the past but rather in front of
him.
"Set . . . Nine Lives Blade Works."
It happened in an instant. Even with the enhancements that Dragon Slaying Hero
granted him Shirou had always used it more for power than speed, now though
that changed.
With almost mechanical precision he felt his body move through the motions of
the eight attacks at a pace that could only be described as Godspeed. One,
three, five, seven blows of his weapon slammed into the black knight. His sword
went spinning into the air having been wrenched out of his hands as he
succeeded in blocking the first of the attacks. His skill had been able to intercept
the swing, but the sudden sheer force of the attack had taken the Heretic God by
surprise. The brute force of the impacts arrested his forward charge and seemed
to freeze him in place.
CH-CH-CH-CH-CH-CCHNK!
With a sound like two boulder sized chunks of metal slamming into each other
the entirety of the black armour shattered into shards of metal that went flying in
all directions. The red haired teen abandoned his Traced weapon, allowing it to
dissolve back into Prana, and brought his arms up to protect his face.
The first step towards victory had been taken, now the only question was
whether or not he could keep taking them.

-()-

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

Brynhildr was mildly surprised to see her long time companion lose her cool like
this, she was normally so reserved. Certainly once in a while she'd let her
frustration or irritation get the best of her, but those occasions were normally
marked by sullenness or argumentativeness. This wholesale loss of composure or
control was something she'd never seen before.
It was actually somewhat amusing.
"I've done what needed to be done," she replied her own posture unruffled. "Sir
Mordred will subdue the young child of Pandora and bring him back to us. Once
that is accomplished we'll be able to move forward with the ritual as soon as we
are ready."
"And what of the other Campione? They all saw your champion challenge him
and take off with him, if he does not return then they will begin searching for
him, all three of them. We cannot afford to draw such attention yet, not until we
have regained our power." The blue and red haired Divine Ancestor was
practically snarling.

"We will only need to hide from them for a week or two at most. Should worst
come to worst Sir Mordred has told me that he has no problem with leading them
off on some wild goose chase through the lands of the main continent. He'll be
happy to draw them off, separate them and face them one by one in combat.
While he does this we will remain undisturbed as we restore your full power and
move on to our next target."
The golden haired child-woman answered with total calm and no concern. In the
face of her partners composure the older Divine Ancestor visibly exercised her
will and reclaimed her calm.
"You play a dangerous game in this Brynhildr; even if your plan succeeds it will
leave us deprived of your champion's aid when we seek to subdue our next
target. That fellow in Italy may be an idiot, but he has not gained such power as
he has by being weak. While I am sure that with my full strength restored I can
kill him, I 'm unsure if I can capture him for our ritual without slaying him."
"That will not be a problem," the younger of the two answered, "Even if my
champion is distracted with dealing with the other God Slayers you will not need
to face the King of Swords alone."
From seemingly nowhere she produced a globe of crystal radiating golden light.
It was the one that she had shown to her ally and Athena in Naples all those
weeks ago, but in the time since then the sphere had changed. Before it had only
been the size of a tennis ball, now it had swollen into the size of a well grown
melon.
"He will be returning to this world soon, the aid that honoured Athena has given
me has allowed me to accelerate his return to this plane by more than a decade.
Though we have yet to speak formally I have sensed his gratitude and am sure
that he will be willing to aid us in the capture of our target before he departs to
face the one who defeated him the last time he was in the mortal realm."
That caused the elder Divine Ancestor to pause. The god her ally proposed to aid
in returning to the world was powerful and famous for bearing a grudge. He'd be
well motivated to face his old enemy, and if they could persuade him to aid them
as a sort of 'trial run' then the chances of their success would increase
considerably.
"Very well, I will admit that your plans are well thought out and could well work,"
she conceded, "However they all hinge upon Sir Mordred being able to subdue
his foe without killing him. His corpse might serve in our ritual, but the results
that would yield would be far from what we seek."
"Do not be so worried," her partner reassured her, "We both know that he's
powerful, when last he travelled he slew two of the bastard children of Pandora
and Epimetheus. I doubt that this youngling will prove to be too much of a
challenge for him."

-()-

Shirou backed off slightly as he stared at his foe. In the instant that his armour
had been broken the same strange black haze that had covered him when he
had been flying had sprung up once more to conceal him completely. The young
Emiya had backed away a goodly distance and now stood, poised for any sudden
action and ready to Trace whichever Noble Phantasm was most appropriate for
whatever came next.
Slowly the black cloud faded away to reveal what was beneath it.
It was . . . another suit of armour?
No, something was definitely different now. The figure before him was smaller
than he had been before, still tall, but rather than being superhumanly massive
the dimensions of this new figure were more in keeping with those of a man of
mortal stature. At a guess Shirou would say that this new suit of armour stood at
about two and a bit metres, taller than the Archer of his war, but shorter than
Berserker.
The design of the armour was also different now, before the entire thing had
been black as coal and bedecked with hooked blades and strange curves that
had lent the entire thing a certain malevolent feel. In other words, it had been
the armour that one would have instinctually have attributed to an evil knight.
This new suit was likewise black, but the design was oddly different. It still felt
dangerous, but the lines and curves of its design no longer felt malevolent as
they had before, the impression he now got from looking at them was more . . .
military was the closest word he could think to describe it. This armour wasn't so
much meant to intimidate as it was meant to be functional.
"Impressive young one," once more red eyes glowed through the visor as the
strangely charming and sophisticated voice of his foe reached him across the
distance that separated them. "Only twice before hast mine outer armour been
shattered thus. One who succeeded in doing so was the Strongest Steel; the
other was one of thy kind, a child of Pandora who was more than a century old
when we battled. Thou art young when compared to he, and yet thou hast
matched his feat. I hope thou dost feel appropriately proud."
With a wave of his hand the black knight once more summoned up the black
haze and sent it boiling forth from him in a wave. At first Shirou thought that it
was an attack, that the dark tide would try to engulf him. But before it even
covered half the distance separating them the billowing wave of mist seemed to
fall back to the earth and then fade.
At first the red haired Campione wasn't sure what the purpose of the action had
been, then the last of the haze cleared and he saw what had been left behind in
its wake.
Rank after rank of armoured soldiers, they stood in lines of thirty every one of
them six feet tall, ramrod straight and armed with swords and shields. Their
armour was of similar design to that which Mordred wore, though theirs was
clearly of inferior quality, not poor by any stretch of the imagination, but it was
abundantly clear who was the commander of this force and who were the
common soldiers. He couldn't see exactly who wore the suits of armour as they
were all as completely concealed as the Heretic God that commanded them.

However where he at least showed some sign of his existence with his burning
eyes that shone from within his helm these newcomers showed no such hint of
life. They all gave the disturbing impression that there wasn't actually anybody
inside the armour, that the suits of metal were somehow animated and moving
on their own.
"Perhaps I have been too . . . dismissive of thee my foe. In mine eagerness for
battle have I abandoned mine caution. It seemeth to me that twould be the most
prudent path to take if mine servants were to test thine mettle before mine
eyes."
Damn, though he'd managed to get rid of the Authority that was keeping him
from properly reading his enemy's actions it seemed that in doing so he'd also
caused some sort of shift in his character. That made sense; if what he
understood was correct then the Authorities of a god were linked to the aspects
that made him or her up. Whichever god had become Mordred had been
changed by the experience, by breaking an Authority that was an intrinsic part of
that 'Mordred' persona it allowed more of the original personality behind it to
leak through.
In this case it seemed that had resulted in his foe taking on a more military
mindset as well as setting aside the overwhelming confidence he had shown
earlier. That wasn't good for Shirou, confidence could too easily become
arrogance and arrogance could become error with very little effort. Before
Mordred hadn't pressed his advantage nearly as much as he could have due to
that arrogance. He'd been willing to 'play' with his foe, secure in the knowledge
that he held the advantage.
Now though he was using a strategy that Shirou could approve of, were it not
being used against him. Many deities possessed some Authority that let them
produce minions of some sort or another. Using them as expendable drones with
which to test the power and ability of an unknown foe was a smart approach in
his opinion, one that he would have considered employing himself in other
circumstances.
Right now though wasn't the time to be thinking complimentary thoughts about
his enemies battle tactics, now was the time to start working out a way to beat
them.
Alright, first work out just how many enemies he was facing. There were five
lines of those armoured warriors, given that each line consisted of thirty people
that meant that the Heretic God he was facing had called up a hundred and fifty
soldiers. The question now was how to deal with them?
In that regard Shirou had a number of available options. Firstly there was simply
charging at them with weapons in hand and just keep hacking at them until there
were none left. Despite their numbers he was quite confident that using Dragon
Slaying Hero would provide him with enough of an enhancement to his abilities
that he'd be able to pull it off regardless of what powers those summoned
soldiers might have.
The downside to such an approach would be that Mordred would receive ample
opportunity to evaluate both his skills and his powers. Though he might not have

shown too much of a strategic mind so far the young Emiya wasn't willing to take
the risk of showing so much of his hand if he could help it.
His second option was Tracing, either through the creation of an anti-army Noble
Phantasm or through the same rain of swords that he'd used to take down
Hades' army of the undead. Of course that was a rather wasteful move as far as
Prana was concerned. His reserves might be enough to make even a Caster
envious, but they weren't infinite and the last thing he wanted to happen was for
him to run out of magical energy while still in combat.
That left him with his third option, and the one that he elected to go with.
"Past the jaws of Cerberus, down the twisting path to the kingdoms three, before
me lies the domain over which I am monarch. Beneath the earth, beneath the
darkness, all within is my possession."
Rule of the Underworld was a very useful Authority. It had to all intents and
purposes librated him from financial concerns and had allowed him to recruit
extremely capable and totally loyal subordinates. Granted in terms of combat
use it was the least of his godly powers. Though the servants that he summoned
up were formidable, even terrifying, by human standards against the likes of
Heretic Gods or Divine Beasts they were little more than beetles. Certainly they
could sting or bite if one wasn't careful, but even so they were easily stepped on.
Still despite that his undead were a useful resource, so Shirou had invested
several hours into the construction of what he jokingly referred to as his 'battle
bag'. It was a small thing, about the size of his empty palm, and was put
together out of a combination of kevlar, heavy duty polyester mesh and a
treated leather shell. Inside this extremely tough bag he had placed carefully cut
fragments from eighty eight of the focuses he used to call up warriors.
Experimentation had shown that as long as he'd used the focus first it was
possible to chip off a tiny part and use that as a focus at a later time. He'd spent
those hours after putting the bag together shaving off those small fragments
from the focuses of the warriors that were the most skilled and eager for battle.
Each of them was aware of his preparations and knew that if he summoned them
they should be ready for combat unless he told them otherwise.
Now, as he recited his spell words, they materialized about his person in their
skeletal forms. European knights, Native American braves, Chinese soldiers,
Indian assassins, Viking raiders, Japanese samurai, warriors from more than a
dozen cultures and of all sorts of types and styles. When compared to the
ordered and identical ranks of his foe's troops his own servants looked more like
a motley gang than anything else, a mob of individuals rather than a united
fighting force.
Still as his summoned undead formed up into a vague sort of formation about
him Shirou saw how Mordred was reacting and knew that he'd made the right
choice. Rather than drawing his sword from its sheath once more he instead
folded his arms behind his back and gave the red haired teen a very slight nod.
It was strange how much could be read into such a tiny gesture, but for some
reason Shirou could understand it clearly. His armoured foe was willing to
temporarily forgo direct combat and would instead allow their servants to serve
proxies.

Well if that was how he wanted to do it then fine.

"I thank you for answering my call to war." He said, addressing his undead
servants, "Let us show this god what you can do."
No further words were spoken as with inarticulate battle cries the two small
armies charged at each other.

-()-

Illya really wasn't too sure of what to do right now.

Earlier her role in the conflict had been pretty clear, hold off the Divine Beasts
while Godou fought the Monkey King and hopefully rescued Yuri's younger sister.
It had been a furious battle, one with more of the huge apes than any of her
previous encounters.
In the end the white haired girl had been forced to split her attention between
controlling her puppet Berserker and wielding Beautiful Head Taker in self
defence. It had been a strange experience, but between her own formidable
mental strength and the skills imparted upon her by wielding the Noble
Phantasm she'd been able to manage it.
She hadn't really been paying much attention to what else had been going on,
fighting giant golden haired fire breathing monkeys had taken up all her focus. As
such it had only been when she realized that there were no longer any enemies
to fight anymore that she'd noticed what was going on.
Four Campione were facing off against four Heretic Gods.
It was a historic event since to the best of her knowledge there had never in
recorded history ever been such an occurrence. Faced with this monumental
event Illya had exchanged glances with the other girls present and they had all
wordlessly agreed on the best course of action.
They'd all turned and ran for the nearest edge of the plain as fast as they
possibly could.
Once there they had turned to watch what was taking place while the younger
Mariya sister, freed by Godou's efforts, had begun to employ her limited
knowledge of healing upon the more injured members of the group. Manaka had
recovered nicely from the knock she'd taken to the head earlier, but Kaida was
still suffering from fatigue after having over exerted herself earlier.
As it turned out their decision, that being at ground zero for a confrontation of
this magnitude would be only a step or two removed from suicide, had been
correct. After one of the gods had flown off taking Shirou with him the fight had
begun once more in earnest. One of the gods had become some sort of six
armed giant while the other had taken to riding on some sort of serpentine
dragon.
In retaliation John Pluto Smith had transformed into a gigantic demon bird after
causing an earthquake and flown into the sky to engage in a supernatural

dogfight with the water dragon riding god. Meanwhile Luo Hao had used one of
her Authorities to manifest an enormous golden benevolent king and had
actually thrown her foe, through sheer brute strength, to the other end of the
plain.
Illya knew, at least on an intellectual basis, that the Servants of the Heaven's
Feel ritual were capable of similar feats of prowess. However her own
experiences in combat had been to witness the battles between Saber and
Berserker, first when Saber had just been summoned and then later when she
was corrupted. Both battles had been magnificent and awe inspiring, but since
they hadn't involved the release of Noble Phantasms they lacked the raw . . .
hugeness of these clashes.
That led to her current predicament, she didn't know what to do.
What she wanted to do was rush to her onii-chan's side and unleash her puppet
Berserker upon the Heretic God he was facing. The problem was that her reason
was getting in the way.
Whether or not she wanted to admit it fighting so many Divine Beasts had left
her tired. Her reserves of Prana might be on a level surpassing any mortal mage,
but powering her counterfeit Servant was no easy task. Right now she was at
about just under half her normal Prana reserves, fuelling her puppet and
reinforcing her body had proven to be quite draining when done to the maximum
levels.
That meant that though she dearly wished it wasn't the case she simply wasn't in
any state to help Shirou. Had she been at her best then she could have stayed a
safe distance away and sent in her creation alone. His destruction would have
been a foregone conclusion, but with his imperfect God Hand Noble Phantasm
such destruction wouldn't be permanent and would possibly provide an opening
for her adopted brother to exploit.
The problem was that the range at which she could send her puppet dropped
rather sharply as her Prana reserves fell. In her current state she'd have to be
dangerously close to the fight in order to operate her puppet as well as was
necessary. And if she got that close she was more likely to distract Shirou at a
critical point than help him. The simple fact was that in a battle between
Campione and Gods even with the strength of her creation and the Noble
Phantasm that she'd received she was simply out of her league.
It was a hard conclusion to come to, but right now the best thing that she could
do was to stay out of her adopted brother's way.
That and hope.

-()-

The best way to describe the clash between the two small armies was as simply
a collision between chaos and order.

There was no teamwork or discipline in the actions of the warriors that Shirou
had summoned up. The only hint of teamwork that any of them showed was that
they took barely enough care not to accidentally inflict damage on each other.
The thing was that any sort of discipline between them was almost impossible.
Every one of them came from different cultures, combat styles and honour
systems. Every one of them fought in their own way and at the beat of their own
drum.
By contrast the armoured knights of Mordred were absolute models of rigid
uniformity. They advanced in perfect step, held their shields in an almost
mathematically ideal overlapping pattern and maintained identical stances. This
wasn't to say that they were inflexible or incapable of independent action; it
simply meant that the principle thrust of their fighting method was the group
rather than the individual.
So far the battle had been surprisingly even despite Shirou's force being
outnumbered. By holding their formation the armoured knights had the defensive
advantage, but were unable to bring the full force of their numbers to bear. On
the other hand his skeletal fighters were far more mobile and somewhat
protected by the fact that their bodies no longer had any flesh or organs to stab
or slash.
There had been some losses on both sides. A small group of his undead had
become overenthusiastic for a fight and had charged the mass of knights, though
they had 'died' they'd been able to take out an equal number of their enemies
before their bodies crumbled into glowing powder which then dissipated.
That had also confirmed his theory that what he was facing was animated
armour. When the sword of a Viking berserker had stabbed into a joint and taken
a leg off the inside had been filled with a thick rubber like substance. As soon as
it was cut though it dissolved into the strange black mist that the armours had
appeared from. The armour had sagged and then fallen completely as though
whatever had inhabited it had simply vanished.
He needed to change the odds somehow. Right now things were pretty even
between the two forces, but that would change as time went by. With the
formation slowly but surely bearing down on him his forces would be forced to be
more aggressive even though the shield wall stacked the odds against them.
Sure he could move back and buy them more time, but somehow he knew that if
he retreated, if he abandoned the spot where he now stood, then even if he
destroyed the opposing force then it would still be his enemy's victory.
What he needed was some way to break the formation, some way to neutralize
the advantage of that magic armour. Something toHis thoughts suddenly cut off as a memory that was not that of any Emiya Shirou
crossed his mind, a memory that had been bargained for and then shared by the
lone surviving master of the fourth Holy Grail War. It was a memory of Saber
fighting against a Lancer wielding twin spears. It was a memory of a weapon that
passed through magic armour as though it weren't there.
"Trace, on"

There it was, waiting patiently in his Reality Marble. Granted it wasn't a sword,
but it was a melee weapon, the kind of thing Unlimited Blade Works excelled at
recording and recreating. He now tapped that record, that blueprint, and loaded
it into his mind again and again.
"Gae Dearg."
As he spoke the name of the Crimson Rose of Exorcism he began to Trace it,
again and again and again.
First one red spear thudded into the ground before him, then it was two, then
four, then eight. The number continued to double and redouble until forty eight
of the crimson spears were embedded in a line before him.
"EVERYONE THAT KNOWS HOW TO USE A SPEAR OR A LANCE GET OVER HERE
AND GRAB ONE!" he shouted at his undead warriors, "EVERYONE ELSE HELP
COVER THEM!"
Out of his remaining seventy nine fighters just over half broke off their attack
and dashed back to seize up one of the waiting spears. The rest acted as
defenders for those who had broken combat, but there turned out to be little
need. The knights didn't break formation to chase their foes, instead they
continued to advance at the same slow but deliberate and relentless pace.
The undead warriors turned as soon as they'd taken up the new weapons and
returned to the fray. None stopped to question his ordering them to use the
spears instead of their own weapons, they had no need to. Every one of the
resurrected souls had sworn their loyalty and obedience to the King that called
them even without him having to enforce his will upon them. Without hesitation
or worry they attacked with the weapons he had provided.
In all truth Shirou was quite surprised at just how effective the Traced spears
were.
Gae Dearg wasn't the most powerful or efficient of Noble Phantasms. Its ability
was useful, but hardly overwhelming, and its legend was old, but not epically
famous. What did set it apart was that it needed no additional Prana in order to
activate because its effect was a passive one that was constantly active.
Consequently it was one of the few Noble Phantasms that could be used by
anyone, not just their original owner.
Quite simply this meant that the eighth Campione had armed more than half his
servants with legendary weapons that they could use.
The first of his skeletal warriors to reach the enemy formation was a former Zulu
warrior. In life he had been a massive and muscled man, fast and strong,
someone that Shirou had enjoyed sparring with. Now he was little more than a
skeleton wearing some scant furs. In one hand he grasped a shield of wood and
animal hides, in the other was one of the copies of Diarmuid Ua Duibhne's
crimson spear. He'd ducked beneath a sword blow and thrust the lance at his
attacker. The knight had tried to block with his shield, but the scarlet head of the
spear passed through both shield and armour as though they weren't there. The
knight seemed to freeze in mid-stride, then collapsed the black mist seeping out
of every joint and opening.

From there on it was less of a fight and more of a rout. With their shields and
armour unable to defend them from the red lances the armoured knights
abandoned their defensive formation and went on the attack, however this
proved to be too little too late. Shirou's servants proved to be too agile and
aggressive, and despite their earlier unco-ordination they fell into a simple but
effective bit of teamwork.
The warriors without the lances would attack and engage the knights to create
an opening, then those armed with the Traced spears would dart in and deliver a
killing blow. It was simple but devastating, so much so that by the time the
knights had managed to disengage their formation more than half their numbers
were 'dead' with only two casualties on the God Slayer's side.
The thing was that the Crimson Rose of Exorcism was proving to be an ideal
weapon against these knights. With its ability to pass through the magically
created protections of the warriors of Mordred the major advantage of the
knights was lost. With the red lances being used against them they were soon
overwhelmed. It wasn't that they were unskilled fighters; it was simply that they
were at their best working together. With that advantage lost to them it was soon
only a matter of time.
Shirou remained standing in place as the last of the knights fell, impaled by three
separate spears. Across the field the Knight of Treachery hadn't moved, not even
as his forces were slaughtered. However there was a tenseness to him, some
vague sense of power straining to be unleashed but still securely chained.
For his part Shirou was starting to feel a sweat build down the back of his neck
and back. Though not the most costly Noble Phantasm to Trace Gae Dearg still
took a fair bit of Prana to make, and he'd made four dozen in the space of
seconds. Even with his expanded reserves and the increased quality of his
circuits that wasn't a feat that could be undertaken lightly.
THNK!
He was brought out of his thoughts as he heard a noise that was oddly familiar,
but yet had a different . . . note to it. Looking up he tried to find the source, only
to blink in surprise when he found it.
It was one of his servants, a samurai from the Kamakura period. He was standing
transfixed with a . . . sword of an odd red metal running through him?
Shirou had only enough time to blink one more time in confusion before suddenly
dozens more swords came flying down on his servants as though fired from a
cannon. Some tried to dodge, others tried to block, but all were cut down by the
rain of blades. In less than five seconds all his remaining warriors had been
impaled and dissipated. On a purely intellectual level the young red head knew
that they weren't dead, how could they be when they were already dead, simply
returned to where he'd summoned them from. However even so he couldn't help
but feel a growing anger at their decimation.
So far none of the swords had actually been directed at him, that had been why
they'd taken him by surprise, they'd not tripped his senses as a direct threat to
himself. In addition there'd been a slight moment of shock at finding himself on
the receiving end of one of his favoured combat methods. His counterparts had

all experienced something like this at Gilgamesh's hand before their own Tracing
was advanced enough to emulate it. However while he had their memories it had
been something else to personally experience it.
As the last of the skeletal warriors faded from view, back into the underworld
that held them, Mordred's voice rang across the clearing.
"Thy servants fight well, especially with those spears thou provided them.
However if thou shalt lend them thy spears then I shall bring forth mine swords."
As he spoke those words that same black mist rose up once more. No, wait, it
wasn't the same. Where before it had been black as a starless night now it had
another tinge to it. It was still dark, but the young Emiya was sure that he could
catch a hint of red in there now.
Regardless of its colour the Mist surged up behind him in a huge cloud bank so
thick that even with reinforced sight he couldn't see through it. Before five
seconds had passed he could no longer see the mountains behind the Heretic
God or even much of the sky at this back, all that could be seen was that huge
wall of mist that was such a dark red it might as well have been black.
Then the cloud began to thin, no, that wasn't quite right, rather than thinning it
was condensing. Before his eyes the fog shrank and condensed into hundreds of
swords made from a red metal and now floating in the air. Their design was
strange, not European, not ancient Greek or roman, but rather a sort of hybrid of
all three.
"So many wars hath been under mine dominion, through ages long past hast I
been the patron of that violence. And from each bloodletting was born a sword
that twas mine right to claim. Feel honoured that thou now faceth them, twas by
their might that a most challenging member of thy kind was cut down. His
Authorities were strong, but even they couldst not protect him from a shower of
more than a thousand blades."
Shirou listened to the Heretic God's speech with only half an ear, the majority of
his attention was being taken up but those strange red swords.
They were . . . strange, with the Authority of mystery broken he could analyse
them, but despite that he couldn't feel them being recreated within his Reality
Marble. Despite their solidness it seemed that they weren't so much swords as
they were spells in the shape of swords. He could read them just fine, but
despite that they simply would not appear within Unlimited Blade Works.
And that was something for which he was extremely grateful.
Those swords . . . it might not hurt him to look at them as it had when he'd seen
Ea, on the other hand gazing upon them made him want to throw up. Each sword
was a sort of condensed history of a war given semi physical form. Every death,
every murder, every rape, every theft, every atrocity that had been committed
during the course of the war that the blade represented was written into their
existence in perfect crystal clear detail. And as his natural affinity to the
weapons tried to copy them into his internal world he found himself forced to
experience the knowledge stored in each one.

Thankfully that knowledge faded as soon as he looked away, like the skills he
accessed from the weapons he Traced, or he wasn't sure his sanity would have
been able to endure. Still simply the memory of the memory of what was in
those red metal blades was enough to cause his stomach to almost heave up its
contents.
With a conscious act of will he suppressed his urge to vomit in revulsion and
instead focussed back on his enemy. The swords that he had been able to
analyse hadn't contained any information about the true identity of Mordred,
instead they simply told of the pain and bloodshed that had taken place during
the wars they represented. No dates, names or locations, just atrocity after
mindless atrocity. Still it all did tell him one thing. Whoever the Knight of
Treachery was he was certainly a god of war. Not a god of warriors or discipline,
this Authority had the 'flavour' of a god of violence and bloodshed only.
Still, even that bit of information was of minimal importance right now, of greater
concern were the swords pointed at him.
But he knew how to handle them.
"Trace-" he whispered under his breath.
"Perish." The word wasn't a command or even a threat, it was a pronouncement,
a statement of what was going to happen as immutable as someone saying; 'the
sun will rise'. Mordred had absolute confidence that no matter what defence
Shirou might be able to erect it would fail. "The Thousand Blades of War shall
now claim thy life."
At first it was only a single sword, it was fired at him with all the speed of a
bullet, but it was alone. Without even thinking the eighth Campione Traced a
sword in his right hand, reinforced it with the divinity of steel that flowed through
him from Dragon Slaying Hero and swung it at the incoming sword. Both swords
shattered into a cloud of metal dust that shone briefly before vanishing into the
aether.
"So thou canst defend against a single sword," Mordred's mocking voice echoed
off the nearby trees, "But how willst thou fair against ten? Or a hundred? Or even
a thousand?"
As though to punctuate the words of their master all the swords that had been
floating in the air behind and above the black knight suddenly swung and
stopped with every single one of them now pointed at the red haired teen.
"On." He quietly finished.
He now had an idea of how strong the swords aimed at him were. Some were
stronger, some were weaker, but by and large their strength was within a similar
margin. Their danger, their threat, was in the fact that they possessed
overwhelming numbers and could come at a target from multiple directions at
once. He could understand why a powerful Campione would fall to such an
attack, if one didn't have an Authority of invulnerability or an omni-directional
defence then surviving it would be extremely difficult.
Were Shirou a normal Campione, if such a creature could be said to exist, then
he'd have trouble defeating this Authority with the ones he had. However the

young Emiya wasn't merely limited to the powers he'd usurped from the deities
he'd slain, he had the magic he'd inherited from his other selves.
He brought his head up and glared at the Heretic God ahead of him with his
mask of a King firmly in place. Into that glare he focussed all the arrogance and
contempt that he could muster and fake. He tried to stare upon the Knight of
Treachery as though both he and his swords were beneath contempt.
"A thousand swords? Is that all?"
As he spoke he took a slow and deliberate stride towards his enemy, utterly
unmindful of the mass of blades pointed at him. As he did so he began to Trace.
They began to appear behind and above him, hovering in the air but moving
along with him as he advanced. Swords, first ten, then a hundred, then many
hundreds. Before him the black knight actually took a step back in shock as more
than three thousand swords appeared in flashes of golden light behind the
advancing God Slayer.
Shirou didn't give his enemy the chance to attack; instead he seized the
offensive initiative and broke into a run.
"Trace Bullet, fire!"
As he spoke the murmured incantation the vast curtain of floating swords behind
him began to fire. At first it was only one or two, but over the space of a couple
of seconds the rate of fire increased until an avalanche of steel descended upon
the Thousand Swords of War.

-()-

From her hiding place a goodly distance from the battle Guinevere watched the
battle unfold with awe.
In all honesty she hadn't expected the young Campione to last so long, let alone
be the one to be pressing their advantage. Though he might be a God Slayer she
knew that he was the newest of his kind to be born and so was the least
experienced. She also was well aware of just how powerful Mordred was, even if
her memories were hazy and filled with holes, even if she couldn't discover his
true identity, the memory of his strength carried down the centuries in her mind.
He was a Heretic God able to decimate the armies that Campione had raised to
use against Artus, a monster able to gravely wound even the Strongest Steel.
Before such an overwhelming foe she had expected the young man to fall. The
only reason she was observing the battle was so that she could gain further
knowledge of her enemy's capacities. Her plan had been to watch the new King
die and then pass the knowledge she'd gained to one of the older Campione,
thus letting them vanquish Mordred or at least supply her with more information
should they fail.
However the one that she'd dismissed as a sheep going to the slaughter was
proving to be surprisingly powerful. And he had so many Authorities, as far as

she could determine he'd already demonstrated as many as ten or maybe even
more. How could he possibly have so many? It made no sense.
Whatever the case may be though he was fighting with commendable strength
and tenacity, while she still felt he'd fall before Mordred's true power she was
hopeful that he might provide the opening she needed to deal her own fatal
attack.
She'd already made the preparations, a spell designed to unleash a piercing
lance of light able to damage even a Heretic God. By using the Holy Grail to
'supercharge' the spell she'd be able to actually kill her foe if she could strike
correctly. All she needed was for him to be open to her, not guarded enough to
notice the build up of power until it was too late for him to dodge or defend.
All she had to do was wait and watch.

-()-

Shirou charged forward as the world around him exploded into a crazed chaos of
sparks, shattering metal and exploding ground.
All around him the two rains of swords contested with his flesh as the prize. The
crimson swords that served Mordred shot towards him intent on running him
through, only to be intercepted in turn by one of his own Traced creations. Both
swords would explode in midair in a powerful explosion. Other times the blades
wouldn't clash completely, but instead glance off each other in a shower of
sparks and a loud metallic ring.
But despite all the Swords of War that threw themselves at him not one came
near. Either they were intercepted in a booming explosion or they were deflected
to land away from him. His own swords protected his dash as he closed in upon
Mordred himself.
Shirou's right arm extended to the side as he sent more Prana to his hand. Right
now the Knight of Treachery was off balance, stunned by the sudden upset of his
supposedly secured win and by the sudden bedlam unleashed around him. Not
even a God could remain unfazed by the abrupt eruption of explosions, sparks
and noise about him, especially given that his Authority of swords was being
effectively smashed apart around him. This was probably the most vulnerable
he'd been since the battle had begun.
"Trace, on."
For a moment he considered Tracing Caliburn or Excalibur, either was powerful
enough a blade that they would almost guarantee the defeat of his foe. However
something still held him back, some internal voice telling him that it wasn't yet
right to use the Noble Phantasms of his former Servant against this world's
counterpart of her 'son'.
Instead he drew another of the swords that waited in his Reality Marble, a sword
that was ideally suited to the current situation.

"Angurvadel!"
The sword that materialized in his hand was of Old Norse forging and meant to
be wielded with one hand. This was the sword of a Viking hero that had driven all
his foes before him, claimed the woman he loved and became a great king
despite all the efforts of his foes. As it completed its manifestation the blade
began to glow a burning scarlet and was wrapped in a shimmering haze of
colours that resembled the famed Aurora Borealis of the Northern Lights.
"What-?"
Mordred barely had time to utter the surprised questioning word before the
eighth Campione was there in front of him swinging his newly Traced sword.
Angurvadel was not the highest ranking Noble Phantasm under normal
circumstances. However its lack of rank was offset by its useful power. When
drawn in the presence of conflict its power rose in proportion to the amount of
battle in the immediate area. It was drawing upon such power that allowed the
humble C rank to potentially ascend to power levels equal to the fabled Sword in
the Stone.
And right now at least two thousand swords were clashing and destroying each
other in the air around them.
That was a lot of conflict.
"HAAAAAAHHH!"
With a wordless cry of effort Shirou swung the glowing blade right at this
enemy's chest plate with all the speed and strength he could muster. Mordred,
still caught off guard by the sudden change of what should have been a suicidal
charge into a direct attack, reacted just a hair too slowly. His right hand had only
managed to half draw his sword before the eighth Campione's blow caught him
on the left side of his upper breast plate and drew a glowing slash across and
down towards the right side of his waist.
For a moment the two froze in place, neither moving as the slash glowed and
shimmered.
Then the Heretic God exploded.

-()-

Mordred seethed as he felt his armour disintegrate and his flesh tore from the
power of the brat's blow.
How could this be? How could such a thing happen? In the past he'd faced the
bastard children of Pandora before, first in the service of his then king and then
later alone, he'd faced those who had been God Slayers for decades and they
had not dealt him such wounds. The only one to ever harm him more grievously
had been Artus himself during their final duel

This . . . this was beyond infuriating. His armour failed, his servants fell, his
weapons broke, again and again he was being humiliated by this . . . this child,
this insignificant speck not even two decades old. What matter was it that he'd
defeated lesser gods? What matter was it that this Shirou was called King? Was
he, Mordred, not one of the oldest gods of war? Had he not resolved to supplant
the King Who Appears at the End of the Era as the Strongest Steel? Why then
was he being pressed like this?
He refused to allow this; he refused to let defeat touch him in this manner. No, he
refused to allow defeat to touch him at all.
As he felt himself tumble through the air, thrown by the force of the brat's last
attack, the Knight of Treachery reached deep into himself. He could feel it there,
his oldest Authority, the one that he'd not used for more than two millennia.
Even when faced with the overwhelming power of Artus he'd refused to use it,
because its transformation was not yet complete.
Now though, now he would use it. He'd use it to heal himself and to overwhelm
and crush this arrogant insect that chose to defy him. He'd tear the limbs from
his body and cauterize the wounds with fire before he dragged him back to that
foolish fallen goddess that thought she controlled him. He'd laugh as they used
their ritual to drain the power they needed from him, and he'd then take great
pleasure in mounting the still living remains on a lance and leaving them for the
crows to feast on.

-()-

The first hint Shirou got that things might be heading down hill was when an ear
splitting roar tore across the field of battle.
The explosion caused by the release of Angurvadel's power had sent him hurtling
backwards even as it threw up a huge cloud of dust. The Traced sword in his
hand had broken under the strain of the powerful blow it had delivered. In all
honesty the young Emiya had been surprised by the sheer force of the attack;
the power released into his slash had to have been A rank at the very least.
Whatever the case might be that drifting debris was currently blocking his view
of his enemy. Not wanting to be in close range to a surprise attack Shirou backed
off in a rapid short series of backwards jumps. As he did so he Traced another
copy of Kanshou and Bakuya. Tensing his muscles he crouched slightly, ready to
take any action necessary as soon as he could see Mordred clearly once more.
No matter what Authority he might choose to use the eighth Campione intended
to be prepared for it.
Then a gust of wind blew the obscuring dust away revealing the black knight's
form.
There was no way Shirou could possibly have been prepared for what he saw.
The most suitable word that sprang to mind to describe what he saw was
'abomination'. It was a harsh description, but in all honesty he couldn't think of
another term to label the horror that the Knight of Treachery had become.

Originally it had been in a crouch, but as the wind blew the dust away Mordred's
new body had stood and risen to its full height of ten metres. Huge leathery
wings had unfolded and stretched while a long serpentine tail lashed behind it.
At first glance the eighth Campione thought he was dealing with some sort of
dragon, one that stood on its hind legs and had wings instead of forelimbs. The
scales that covered it were the colour of dried blood and were more like
overlapping plates of armour rather than the skin of a reptile. It was an
impressive sight, but not a disturbing one.
It wasn't until the dust fully cleared that Shirou was able to see the full horror of
what was before him.
It looked as though some mad deity had tried to weld a partially armoured giant
knight into the dragon's torso. The chest, head and arms of a huge man jutted
out from the chest of the creature like some kind of insane cancerous growth.
Both the giant's hands held huge swords easily five metres in length that scraped
along the ground. It was protected by plates of primitive armour that seemed to
have been melded to the giant's skin over parts of his chest, forearms, upper
arms and shoulders. The red haired teen could see where the metal was literally
melted into the flesh of the giant rather than being attached by straps or the like.
On the head of the giant was a helmet of a style similar to that worn by the
famed warriors of Sparta, the face beneath the helm cast into obscuring shadows
save for the glowing red eyes. What was truly horrifying was the way in which
the flesh of the dragon's head was joined to the metal of the helm and the
shoulders of the giant.
The head of the dragon had no eyes, no nostrils, no ears; it was as though all
features had been stripped from the monster's head save for those huge fang
filled jaws that were topped by a huge blank mass of scales and flesh. The lower
jawbone seemed to have fused to the head and shoulders of the giant in some
sort of unholy union, fangs protruding from his shoulders and head like jagged
bones sticking out of the flesh. The crest of the helm seemed to have warped
into a single line of huge and wickedly curved teeth that reached upward to meet
with the warped dragons head. The teeth in the giant's flesh, the helm and in the
upper jaw were all stained and discoloured, as though they had been used to
tear apart a living meal only a short time ago.
There were other touches too, the way the skin of the giant was too pallid and
pasty, the way in which the belly of the dragon seemed to cave inwards as
though the monster's innards had been scooped out. The more Shirou looked the
more tiny hints he noticed, such as the way the scales were flecked with
discolorations or the odd raggedness of the edges of the wings.
The monstrosity that faced him looked . . . diseased, rotting even. This thing was
wrong, wrong on a completely fundamental level. It-it was as though"URRRUUGGGHH!"
Any further contemplation was cut off though as the enormous horror stalked
forwards and swung one of those huge swords at him. Its loud bellow was not
that of some dragon or animal, it was the kind of noise one would expect a

corpse to make as it clawed its way out of the earth in search of the flesh of the
living to feast upon.
The sword stroke contained none of the finesse or skill that Mordred's previous
form had used, all that had apparently been traded for sheer raw power. Shirou
didn't even try to block, instead he threw himself back as far as he could in a
desperate attempt to dodge the huge blade. As he flew backwards he hurled
both of his swords at the glowing eyes of the helmeted head. Kanshou and
Bakuya might not be able to stand up to that magnitude of raw force, but
perhaps they could at least serve as a distraction.
In that they were a success at least, the sword swing was diverted to the side as
one of the leathery dragon's wings folded over to block the pair of spinning
blades. The pair of Noble Phantasms embedded themselves into the thick leather
like membrane of the wing, but stuck there not having had enough strength to
punch through.
Still, that brief moment of respite granted Shirou the opening he needed to Trace
a new weapon. He was moving purely on instinct at this point, the
overwhelming pressure of the monster's presence made it hard to do otherwise.
All his will and discipline was devoted to keeping the fear and revulsion that
writhed within him under control, so he didn't have much to spare. He simply
reached into his inner world and pulled at the sword that felt right.
The huge sword came swinging at him once more, less a sword and more of a
huge slab of slightly sharpened metal. The force behind it was enough to smash
trees to splinters, to crack boulders into gravel.
SHIIING!
With a burst of golden light and a peeling metallic ring the enormous blade was
blocked and sent back with such force that the mockery of a dragon was sent
stumbling back a few steps. The red haired King could only blink in
astonishment, then glance down at the sword he held in both hands.
Caliburn, the Sword in the Stone, the Chooser of the King. In another world this
would have been the first true Tracing he ever accomplished, in yet another it
was the sword he wielded against the King of Heroes in his Reality Marble.
Though it had always had a certain link to his other selves, Shirou had never yet
wielded it himself, there had always been a certain nagging worry making him
wonder if he was truly worthy to hold such a blade.
Now he had no such worry though, the sword felt right in his hands, not out of
place or in an unworthy grasp. More than that though, the Tracing felt . . .
complete, perfect. There wasn't even a hint of the degradation that marred his
other creations; this was an exact recreation of the blade, right down to its full
power.
How? How could this be? On pure reflex he used Structural Grasping on the
Noble Phantasm, yes there was something there, something he'd never seen
before. It felt something like the power that he channelled when using Dragon
Slaying Hero, the sense of Steel was there, but at the same time it felt slightly
different. Whatever this strange power was it was serving to effectively reinforce
his Tracing and bring it up to the level of the original.

Further analysis was made impossible because the twisted dragon warrior had
regained its balance and charged at him once more swinging those huge swords.
SHRRING!
SHINNG!
CHIINNNN!
Once, twice, thrice did the beautiful sword of gold, blue and silver meet the
blows of those gargantuan weapons and turn them aside. It was lunacy, it was
idiotic, but somehow it was true. The eighth Campione could feel the power
behind those swings, knew that at this point the strength of the twisted thing
that Mordred had become surpassed even that of Berserker himself at his best.
Even if he was wielding a powerful A+ ranked Noble Phantasm he shouldn't have
been able to do this.
It was only as he deflected another blow that he once more saw that flash of light
again that it all clicked in his head. Somehow he was accessing the skills of Saber
through the swords, enough so that he was instinctively throwing together some
crude version of her Prana Burst skill using the power of Caliburn. Every time his
sword met his enemy's weapons he was reflexively loosing a burst of the golden
power of the Noble Phantasm in order to make up the difference in strength.
And so far it was working. Saber had been able to use this skill so marvellously
that even in her diminished state she'd been able to hold her own against
Berserker for a short time despite the difference in their power at the time. His
own version was cruder and less efficient, but for the time being it was up to the
task of keeping him alive.
But it still wasn't enough. Both sword and skill were keeping him from being
overwhelmed, but little by little he was being pressed back. His enemy was just
too strong, too fast and too relentless. He needed something more, something to
let him slay this twisted effigy of a dragon.
Slay this twisted effigy of a dragon . . .
Slay this dragon . . .
He didn't quite know how he did it; it was as though he'd opened up a new
section of his mind and simply walked into it. As he did so words began to spill
from his lips, he didn't know where the words came from, only that they felt right
and they felt true.
"Everything about you points towards you being a God of Steel, your armour,
your swords, your Authorities, everything. But that's not true is it?"
He didn't expect a reply, nor did he receive one, instead he simply kept speaking
as he parried and dodged.
"But you're not a god of Steel, that's only been added to you over the ages.
Originally you were a god of violence, a god of blood and earth. But as time past
metal became the best material to use as weapons and armour. As the centuries
passed and you changed, you became sheathed in that metal and a god of earth
took on the aspect of a god of Steel."

The twisted abomination roared its strangely human bellow and swung at him
once more. This time though when Shirou met the sword with his own fresh
strength and power shot through him. With a heave he pushed the huge sword
back and forced his foe off balance once more. This time he didn't retreat,
instead he charged, seizing the initiative and going on the attack for the first
time since Mordred had transformed.
"But even though you took on the aspect of Steel it isn't your true nature. No
matter how much you might try to become of Steel your basic core can't change.
That's why you're in this state, the power you've tried to take on is incompatible
with your true origin and they're at war within you."
He slashed at the dragon thing with his sword, but it gave a great flap of its
wings and opened up space between them.
"You're a god of blood and earth, so it's only natural that you took on the form of
one of the earth's greater beasts. And that's it isn't it? That's why you've been
reduced to this twisted rabid state? You're not Steel, at your foundation you're a
dragon!
"And I can slay dragons."
Even more power surged through the young Emiya as he relentlessly pursued his
foe. Never had he felt so strong, so light. Right now he had made some sort of
connection inside him and Dragon Slaying Hero was roaring through his veins like
some surging river barely contained by its banks. He felt like he could take on
anyone, Hades, Berserker, Perseus, Saber Alter, it didn't matter who, bring them
all on, he'd crush them all barehanded if he had to.
Still even in his slightly power drunk state Shirou saw that he wasn't
overwhelming his enemy. Sure he'd initially been pressing him back with his
sudden increase in power, but now the huge dragon warrior was holding its
ground.
Ten blows were exchanged.
Then fifty.
Then a hundred.
Then two hundred.
Despite their number the entire series of exchanges took less than a minute, the
staccato noise of clashing steel and the bright flashes of sparks gave the clearing
a sense of unreality as the two awesome forces clashed.

-()-

Guinevere watched the battle unfolding before her and realized that for the last
little while she'd forgotten to breathe.
It was her head and vision swimming that finally made her notice her error. She'd
been so focused on the fight that she'd subconsciously stopped doing anything

that might have distracted her, moving, blinking and, in the end, breathing.
Granted she was an immortal of divine origins, but even so she wasn't divine
enough to ignore her need to take in fresh air.
It was just that she couldn't help herself. Despite her appearance it had been
decades since this incarnation of her had been born, and in that time she'd seen
many battles. Gods against gods, gods against Campione, Campione against
Campione, Campione against mortals. So many battles, but none had ever been
like this one.
It wasn't the scale or the skill, in the past she'd seen entire islands razed to
nothing and skills far greater, there was something else, an intensity to it. There
was the revelation of Mordred's true nature; there was the increasing power and
skill of the young Campione.
And there was that sword.
The instant that she'd seen it two conflicting impulses had started screaming at
her. On the one hand she was absolutely sure that she knew that sword, she
knew it with the same total surety that she knew the colour of her own blood. On
the other hand she knew with equal certainty that this was the first time that
she'd ever laid eyes upon the weapon.
But even as the two conflicting certainties conspired to give her a headache
she'd kept watching, fascinated.
Not even when he'd fought her beloved King of the End had Mordred gone all out
like this. It was as though he had abandoned all rationality in exchange for more
power. And yet he was being matched, as absurd as it seemed he was being
matched.

-()-

Shirou needed more.

Despite the increase in power that he'd received by fully unlocking his
enhancement Authority it still wasn't enough. The blows continued to come at
him relentlessly, hell they seemed to have actually grown stronger since this
earnest fighting had begun.
The problem was that his foe wasn't a 'normal' god, if any such thing existed.
This was a deity so old that his original form predated formalized language. This
was a god that had changed and altered over the millennia, becoming more than
just a single deity. It was more as though he were a collection of gods that had
been amalgamated.
Yes, that was it; if he focussed enough he could practically read it in those crude
blades that the abomination swung.
Laran, Ares, Mars, Mordred, he wasn't one being, he was many. When last he had
descended to this realm humanity hadn't been as aware of his legends and so
they had fused into each other almost seamlessly, but in modern times that was

no longer the case. Mass media and greater knowledge had led to greater
awareness. Now rather than being the same god Ares, Mars and Mordred should
all be separate entities. If this Heretic God he was fighting right now were to
return to his legend then he'd immediately fragment into those parts.
That explained it, right now his existence was not . . . natural? Balanced?
Complete?
There were too many conflicting parts of him, too many contradictions. This
might lend him great strength, but with him trying to tap into the root of his self
the result was a sort of rabid berserker.
And that was why he was starting to lose.
The simple fact was that he was getting tired. Hardly a surprise, he'd been using
his Authorities pretty much non-stop since this battle had begun, not to mention
that he'd Traced literally thousands of Noble Phantasms. His reserves might be
many times what they'd once been and his Circuits might be of much greater
quality now, but that didn't mean his stamina was unlimited.
His muscles were burning, his body slick with sweat beneath his clothes. His
magic circuits felt uncomfortably warm, just short of painful, and blood was
seeping from a number of shallow scrapes and cuts on him. Little by little he was
slowing down, his arms becoming more and more sluggish by tiny increments.
How long would it be before he was just that little bit too weak or too slow in
dealing with one of his foe's sword strokes. Reinforced physical structure or not if
one of those huge swords hit him full swing he'd be lucky if what was left of him
afterwards could be recognized as having originally been human.
So he needed more.
Fortunately he still had one more card to play.
"Trace, on"
His left hand left Caliburn and thrust out to the side. Immediately his right arm
screamed in protest as it was forced to bear the full brunt of Mordred's
onslaught, but Shirou gritted his teeth and endured.
Into his hand he Traced the weapon he wanted, one gained by his counterpart
having observed it when Gilgamesh drew it forth from his treasury. It was an old
sword, the prototype for Caliburn itself, and despite its fine appearance it was a
blade of demonic glory.
Merodach, the Original Sin.
In appearance it was like a simpler version of Caliburn, less ornate, less
decorated. However even as he grasped it the eighth Campione could feel the
darkness within it, the link to its demonic origin.
And that was just what he wanted.
"A mother who sees her child die, a soldier who gazes on his killer, the beggar in
the gutter who stares at the palace. From them I take their bile, their hate, their
curses."

Inside him he could feel the battered little puppy wake up and wag its tail as it
felt its master call upon it again. The next instant the adoring pet had turned into
a blood thirsty rabid wolf as it turned its attention onto the target of its master's
ire. A grimace formed on Shirou's face as he mentally reached into the seething
pit of filth and poison that was the wellspring of his Authorities power and drew
upon it.
The sweet rotting filth flowed through him and seemed to be eagerly drunk up by
the Noble Phantasm in his left hand. That was what he'd expected, well more like
hoped for anyway. The Authority that he'd usurped from Angra Mainyu was not
compatible with the majority of the higher ranked Noble Phantasms he could
Trace, normally it was best to 'load' the curses into an 'empty' sword allowing it
to be twisted and altered by the malevolent power of Curses without End.
However this sword was one of demonic origin, one that had know curses and
evil during its existence, this was a sword that could take in, even welcome, the
power of his malevolent Authority.
Weakness.
The curse went into Merodach as easily as a fish dropping into water. On the next
clash with Mordred's swords the curse was released into the enemy's weapon.
Nothing.
Ruin.
Anther curse was sent into the demon blade, this time a stronger one. Once
again it passed into the huge sword, and again there was no obvious reaction.
Fragility.
Age.
This time it was two curses, each one made strong by the sheer effort behind
them, and this time he felt something. It was faint and subtle, easily missed by
one not as attuned to swords as he was, but it was definitely there. A slight shift
in the 'note' of the swords' clash.
Destruction.
Failure.
Two more curses, each with as much effort as he'd put into Tracing Caliburn.
Sweat trickled down the side of his face and tickled at the corner of his eye. This
time his foe's blade chipped, a piece of metal the size of a finger nail coming
loose as the huge blade collided with the sword known as the Original Sin.
Annihilation.
This time he put all the strength he could muster into the curse and drove it deep
into the huge weapon of the twisted dragon warrior as their swords met.
With a sound like metal screaming one of the mammoth blades shattered into a
hail of flying shrapnel. Excellent, now he only had one sword left to deal wiAny further thoughts were cut off as something impacted on his side sending him
tumbling. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the tail of the abomination flick

back from its blow, then he lost sight of it as he flew through the air. Stars filled
his vision as his head impacted on a log of wood on the ground as he came to a
halt. Grimly holding to the power of his Authorities Shirou shook his head in an
attempt to clear it.
The strength of Dragon Slaying Hero still flowed through him and he was able to
quickly shake off the ringing in his head as his sight came back into focus.
Just in time to see his enemy's remaining sword coming down on him in a brutal
arc that would leave him in two pieces.
There wasn't time to dodge or evade. He was stuck lying on his back with his
head resting on the log it had hit as though it were a pillow. He had only one
choice, in the split second before the sword struck he brought up the two swords
he'd managed to hold onto and crossed them in front of himself to block the
blade. As he did so he forced as much of his prana as he could to reinforce both
the swords and his body.
The impact was tremendous, so much so that he could feel his body being driven
into the ground. The log against which his head had been resting broke apart as
the sudden impact running through his form smashed it in two. His arms
screamed in protest and his bones groaned in pain.
But he held, the sword bore down upon his guard like the weight of the world was
behind it, but his swords and his strength held.
The only problem was that now he was trapped. With that force pushing down
upon him like some vengeful mountain determined to bury him, all he could do
was hold. He couldn't move, he couldn't counter, all he could do was hold until
one of them ran out of strength.
And the eighth Campione had a worrying certainty that it wouldn't be the dragon
thing that grew tired first.

-()-

Snow soared on the wind and looked down on where Master fought.
Snow had taken to wing and followed the dark one as soon as the dark one had
carried Master off. Since then Snow had been wheeling in the sky above them
unnoticed as Snow watched Master fight.
Snow didn't like that, Snow wanted to be there with Master, to lend Snow's aid in
the fight against the dark one, but Snow knew that Snow wouldn't be able to help
enough.
Snow's strength was to be found in the sky where Snow's wings and speed could
be lent to Master. On the ground Snow wasn't able to move enough to be able to
aid Master, so even though Snow didn't like it Snow wheeled in the sky and
waited for when Snow could help Master.

Snow loved Master, Snow knew that. Snow also knew that Snow was born of
Master's power and so would always answer and obey when Master called just as
Snow always had . . . before, in the time before Master.
However Snow knew that the time with Master was different from the time . . .
before. Master treated Snow kindly, rode Snow well and even sometimes gave
Snow nice crunchy things to eat. More than that Master had named Snow Snow,
for the first time in . . . ever Snow had a name. And with that name Snow had
come to realize that Snow was Snow.
And it was for that that Snow loved Master, that was why Snow had followed
after the dark one carried off Master rather than simply letting Snow fade back
into nothing sleep. Snow hadn't wanted to enter the nothing sleep while Master
was fighting, so that was why Snow had followed.
Now Snow saw that Master was in trouble. The dark one had changed, becoming
a . . . twisted one, a not right one. The not right one had Master trapped under
his big shiny hurting stick, Master was holding it off, but Master's strength
couldn't last forever against that of the not right one.
Snow had to help Master, but how could Snow do that? If the not right one was
still the same size as he had been when he was a dark one then Snow could have
attacked him with Snow's hooves. Snow knew that Snow wasn't strong enough to
hurt the dark one who was hiding inside his hard other skin, but Snow would
have been able to at least push him off Master. But now that the not right one
was so big that wasn't something that Snow could do.
What could Snow do? Snow couldn't make Snow bigger unless others rode Snow,
so that meant Snow couldn't knock the not right one of Master. What could Snow
do? What could Snow do?
No, there was one thing Snow could do. Snow didn't like having to do it since it
hurt and it meant that Snow would have to go into the nothing sleep for a very
long time and not be able to wake up even if Master called him. But it was better
that than Master never calling on Snow again.
Snapping Snow's wings close to his body Snow aims at the back of the not right
one and begins to release the power that Snow always knew was waiting inside
Snow.

-()-

The first hint that Shirou had that something was going on was when he looked
up at his twisted enemy and saw that the warped dragon's head had apparently
developed a halo. For an instant he'd thought that he was growing so exhausted
that his mind was playing tricks on him, then the abomination had leaned
forwards to bring more weight upon its sword and he'd seen the source of the
light.
Snow, glowing with a pure white light, had come crashing down on the draconic
deity's back with a thundering impact that would have made Rider's mount

proud. The twisted thing that had been Mordred had just enough time to make a
confused barking noise before the Pegasus exploded.
Intellectually the young Emiya had been aware that his mount possessed this
capability, careful meditation upon his Authority had revealed it to him, but to
actually see it was something else. The winged horse erupted into an expanding
globe of white energy so huge that you could have fitted an entire castle into it;
it seemed to hold the form of a huge globe which pressed down upon its target
as though it possessed huge weight. Shirou could feel the power emanating from
the force his steed had unleashed; he knew that its power was comparable to,
though definitely not equal to, Excalibur's full power blast.
Ironically Mordred's own huge form served to shield the God Slayer from the
blast his Divine Beast had released, so as the twisted dragon warrior slumped
forwards in pain as its back and wings were blasted by the sacrifice of Snow
Shirou was free to act.
With a heave he pushed the sword to the side and let it stab into the ground as
the Heretic God stumbled forwards. With the god's full attention on him before
he hadn't have been able to do that earlier, but with Mordred distracted and
confused by the pain of the surprise blow it was doable.
This was it, the best chance he could hope for. The former Black Knight had now
slumped to his knees under the weight of the blast, putting his giant form within
leaping distance. One of his swords was broken and the other immobilized.
No better chance was coming.
Using the strength granted to him by Dragon Slaying Hero the eighth Campione
leapt at his foe. As he did so he drove one last curse into Merodach even as he
surged his Prana into Caliburn and activated its power.
Death.
Death, Death.
Deathdeathdeathdeathdeathdea thdeathdeathdeathdeathdeathd eath.
"Caliburn!"
The Sword in the Stone could in some ways be regarded as the prototype for
Excalibur in that it was able to release a similar destructive force. Certainly the
Sword that Chooses the King couldn't unleash a blast of the same scale or
magnitude, but despite that its power was not to be dismissed. In another world
and in the hands of another Shirou the sword had been able to slay Berserker
seven times over with a single thrust.
Likewise the curse that he was unleashing from his other Noble Phantasm was on
a whole other level compared to the ones he had used before. Previously he'd
been trying to save his stamina and so had measured the amount of force he put
into the maledictions, but now he was effectively forcing the majority of his
remaining reserves into a single curse as he stabbed with the demonic blade.
Both swords jammed into the chest plate of the giant's armour with a sound like
a bunker penetrater hitting a tank. For a moment Shirou froze there, his hands
gripping the hilts and his feet braced against the metal of Mordred's armour, as

he felt both the golden power of the Kings sword and the black bile of Curses
without End tear into his enormous enemy. Then he let go of the swords and
kicked off in the longest jump he could manage.
And not a moment too soon as it turned out. Caught between the globe of
destruction born of Snow's sacrifice and the dual forces released from Shirou's
swords the twisted dragon warrior seemed to fold up in on himself.
Then he exploded.
The force of the blast caught the eighth Campione while he was still in mid air
and struck him like the hand of an invisible titan. This time Shirou wasn't sent
tumbling, that was too gentle a term, this time he careened. He smashed into a
tree with such force that the trunk exploded into splinters as he tore through it
and impacted on another tree. That one managed to arrest his flight quite
painfully before gravity regained its hold on the teen and he dropped to the
ground.
As he laid there, pain radiating from various parts of his body and staring back at
the blast crater that was still billowing smoke, Shirou's slightly concussed mind
noted that this was the third time that Mordred had exploded over the course of
their battle. Wasn't that a bit strange? He was a god of bloodshed and war, not
explosions. Ah well, whatever worked.
That was the last thought he had before a sword came flying out of the smoke,
stabbed him through the shoulder and effectively nailed him to the tree.
The shock of both the injury and the pain was too swift, too sudden and too
much. Even as he opened his mouth to scream in pain he felt his tentative grip
on his Authorities slip.
Losing Dragon Slaying Hero wasn't too disastrous since he could reactivate it
with a minimum of effort. The graver issue was Curses without End, as soon as
he lost his grip on the malevolent power it began to exact the price for its use.
Shirou couldn't scream, even though he wanted to, he wanted to scream out in
agony until his blood came spraying from his shredded throat. But he couldn't,
he couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldn't move, and he couldn't fall
unconscious. Pain beyond anything he'd ever experienced ran through his veins
and yet the same force that inflicted it upon him denied him the escape of
unconsciousness even as it left him helpless.
Still despite the pain that seemed to consume his world some small part of the
God Slayer's mind remained rational enough to note what was happening around
him. That sword, the one that now had him pinned to the tree; it wasn't made of
metal but instead was carved from stone. In a way it was a smaller version of
Berserker's own weapon, but this one was clearly meant for mortals to wield.
Movement in the fog of smoke caught his eye and he blinked, just about the only
thing he could do at this point, to clear his vision. Coming out of the smoke was a
figure, a big one.
Each step brought the large man into better view, for a man the figure was. He
was a big man, just over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and thickly muscled
limbs. His facial features were brutish and partly obscured by his wild mop of

long matted black hair. He was clad in what looked like primitive leather skins
that served as the simplest kind of armour. In one hand he had a simple wooden
club and in the other a crudely chiselled stone sword. Blood dripped from him as
he stalked forwards, running from ugly wounds on his back and chest, yet he still
strode on ignoring the pain they must have caused him.
This was the most basic form of the god that had become Sir Mordred, the
injured Campione realized. The earliest form of violence and war clad in simple
protection and wielding the most elementary of weapons from the time before
metal had been discovered. The primitive god that had known no name only
wordless worship and fear.
Oh come on, some small part of Shirou's mind complained deliriously. Was this
guy a boss in a video game? Was he one of those characters that had stages that
you had to defeat? Why hadn't anyone shown him the instruction manual? This
just wasn't fair, it was a cop out.
Of course the much larger part of him was currently screaming in pain while the
small part that was still rational was screaming in frustration at his helplessness.
"Thou . . ." in contrast to his appearance his voice remained the same smooth
and charming tone that it had always been. "Thou hast done this to me. Thou
ruined mine weapons, shattered mine armour, bested mine warriors, broken
mine swords and slew mine dragon. Thou hast wounded me more gravely that
any other hast ever managed. Even Artus himself was unable to wound me so
ruinously, even when he slew me.
"But I do not care. This pain is but a measure of the weakness I must exorcise
from mine self. In time that which thou hast rent will repair, mine Authorities will
return and mine full strength with them. But thou, thou shalt perish here. I care
neither for the plans of mine allies nor for mine promises to them. For what thou
hast inflicted upon me thou shalt die now."
Raising the wooden club above his head the wounded Heretic God stalked
forward murder in his glowing eyes.
No, no it couldn't end like this. Through his pain Shirou struggled to stand, to sit
up, to raise an arm. Not like this, not like some stunned animal unable to even
fight back. If he was going to die at least let it be with a sword in his hand.
Desperately he tried to push Prana though his limbs to Trace a weapon, a Noble
Phantasm, a Mystic Code, a mundane knife, anything.
Nothing came out, even though he could feel the swords waiting for him in his
inner world he couldn't reach them. He was just tapped out, nothing was left, he
barely had enough strength to support his own life force.
"I shalt enjoy this brat," the war god's voice remained the same, yet something
about it twisted, grew uglier, hungrier, "I shall not make it easy for thee, thou
shalt know pain before thou knowest deaths release thou shalt-"
Suddenly Mordred's eyes opened wide and he threw himself backward so hard he
lost his footing. The eighth Campione had only an instant to wonder what he was
doing before a bar of white light as thick as a telephone pole burnt its way across
his vision. Even though there was good bit of distance between him and the
attack Shirou could still feel the force of its passage and the intensity of its heat.

The attack only lasted for a second, but by the time it subsided Mordred was
back on his feet again and glaring into the forest at the edge of the plain.
"YOUUU . . . !"
As though words failed him after getting that one out the former Black Knight let
out an inarticulate bellow of rage and gestured with one hand. In the distance
the red haired teen heard a feminine cry of alarm which was then suddenly cut
off.

-()-

The instant that she saw her spell had missed Guinevere's heart had leapt into
her throat.
That spell had taken much of her strength despite her use of the Holy Grail to
further empower it. Frantically she tried to weave her power around herself to
shield her from detection.
"YOUUU . . . !"
The bellow of rage told her that she hadn't been quite fast enough. Abandoning
her attempts at stealth the Witch Queen tried instead to cast a spell of travelling,
something to get her away from here, out of Mordred's reach.
Her attempts were interrupted as invisible hands closed upon her limbs. She
cried out in fear, but another unseen hand closed over her mouth and throat
cutting her off. Before she could even think of resisting she was being dragged
along the ground towards her enemy. The grass stained her dress, the twigs and
branches ripped at it and cut her skin, her hair was pulled from its curled locks.
Inwardly she fumed in both fear and outrage. Not only was she being pulled to
her death, she was being humiliated as she did so.
Desperately she tried to pull just one arm free, to gasp out a few words. That was
all she needed, a few syllables, a few gestures, either would be enough to let her
summon Sir Knight to her aid. Certainly her champion would be able to at least
defend her if not slay the wretched traitor. All she needed was one little opening.
"Guinevere thou art foolish, very very foolish. I wouldst have been content to
leave thee in peace, to let thou continue thy quest to revive thy Lord. But such
an attempt on mine life cannot be ignored."
Slowly, oh so slowly, he lifted his crude stone sword until the point was aimed
directly at her heart.
"Die now Guinevere, it shall be troublesome but I shalt raise up Artus in thy
place. And when he is returned shall I slay him and claim the throne of the
Strongest of Steel."
No, no it couldn't come to this. She couldn't be murdered like this and leave the
fate of her beloved King in this monster's hands. Abandoning all decorum and
dignity the blonde immortal squirmed on the ground like an unearthed worm as
she frantically tried to escape the invisible grasp that held her.

"Oh? Hast thou some final words? Very well I shall hear them, but be warned if
thou triest to summon thine protector I shall have thine head off before thou
canst finish thy first word."
Oh how cruel he was, to provide her with the opening she sought and yet deny
her its use. Well if she was to die at least she could spit her bile at him before
she fell.
"You'll never supplant Artus, you are nothing before him." the Divine Ancestor
spat as she glared her hatred at the primitive warrior looming over her. "You are
nothing more than a snake wishing it was a bird. You aren't even true Steel,
merely a fake, a counterfeit."
"All things change with time little witch, and with enough time even earth can be
refined into Steel. Tis true I seek to emulate Artus, to imitate him. But nowhere is
it cast in stone that the imitation may never defeat the original.
"Go back to thy wait in the underworld knowing that; knowing that when thou
dost reincarnate that if thou still intend to be handmaiden to the strongest Steel
then thou shalt serve ME!"
With a look of cruel yet exultant glee upon his brutish face the Heretic God drew
back his stone sword to stab her.
No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. Please, please, please, not this, anything
but this. Help, please help.
There was no time to cast the spell needed to summon her protector, not even
enough time to make the gestures. All she could do was scream in fear.
"HELP SIR KNIGGGGGHT!"

-()-

Shirou could feel his consciousness begin to fade. He was just so tired, his blood
was seeping from his wound, his body was a battered mass of bruises and his
Prana was so spent he could barely even feel it anymore. Even the pain that still
wracked him wasn't waking him; rather it seemed to be burying him in the
darkness of exhaustion. He was spent, that was all there was to it. He'd put up a
good fight, a damned good one, but in the end Mordred had been able to outlast
him.
"Guinevere thou art foolish . . ."
What was that? Guinevere? Even as his hazy mind tried to focus onto what he
was hearing he felt something . . . shift inside Unlimited Blade Works.
"Die now Guinevere . . ."
Die? Guinevere?
On hearing those words the strange sensation coming from within his inner world
changed again. No longer was it a shift, now it was a push, strong and insistent.
Something wasn't waiting for him to Trace it, something was trying to force its

way out of his Reality Marble on its own. It was trying, but its efforts weren't
quite enough, for all that it strained it was still merely a part of Shirou's inner
world, unable to make the transition to material existence on its own.
Not really knowing what he was doing, merely operating on instinct rather than
thought, Shirou reached for the sword that was calling to him so insistently.
It practically leapt into his hand, no Prana cost, no Tracing effort. It was like
nothing he'd ever experienced before, this wasn't him making a copy, this was
him helping an existence come into being.
Arondight, the Unfading Light of the Lake, the sister sword to Excalibur and the
weapon of Sir Lancelot. Even as his fingers convulsively closed around it he could
feel its strength flow into him. And with that strength came knowledge, came
reason.
Never would Lancelot let Guinevere come to harm. He had betrayed his King, his
comrades, his oaths and even himself, but he had done it all to protect the
woman he loved. He'd regretted much in his life, regretted it so much that he
had abandoned his reason and sought relief from his guilt in the oblivion of
madness. He'd regretted slaying his friends, he'd regretted breaking his oaths,
he'd regretted never being punished by his King.
But loving Guinevere, saving her, that he'd never regretted.
That was a love, a desire, so strong that it had been imprinted onto his sword.
Just as it was stained by his madness and resentment his love and will to protect
his love had also sunk into its very metal.
Now that resolve, that strength flowed into the wounded God Slayer. Arondight
was a very powerful Noble Phantasm, wielding it increased all his parameters
considerably.
Including his Prana.
The darkness that had been threatening to engulf him was driven back. The pain
of the price of Curses without End was likewise forced down. Strength flowed
through his limbs and the haze cleared from his mind. Even as he held onto the
bark broadsword in his right hand his left came up and seized the stone weapon
that impaled his shoulder. Gritting his teeth and bracing himself the young Emiya
tore it out.
Pain flared up once more, but it quickly subsided, his endurance had been
enhanced to superhuman levels by becoming a Campione, and with Arondight in
his hand that endurance was enhanced further.
Now, Guinevere, he had to protect Guinevere.
"HELP SIR KNIGGGGGHT!"
The cry of panic ran through him like an electric shock. Any hint of drowsiness or
lethargy vanished in an instant as adrenaline and Prana surged through his
system.
There she was, just a few yards away. A young blonde girl struggling on the
ground while Mordred drew back his crude stone sword to stab her. She wasn't

Lancelot's Guinevere, not the one he had loved, the one he had sacrificed all for,
but at the same time she WAS Guinevere, he simply knew it all the way down to
the metal hearts of the swords that made up his inner being.
She was Guinevere but not Guinevere.
She was Guinevere.
And Lancelot would always save Guinevere. Shirou held the sword of that knight,
used its power and employed the skills of its last wielder.
So in this he would play the part of Lancelot.
How fitting for a faker like him.
He didn't even notice himself crossing the distance that had separated them.
One instant he was watching them, the next he was standing before the helpless
girl and swinging the sword in his hands with all his might.
With a sound like thunder and a shower of sparks the stone sword was forced
back with such force that the war god was sent stumbling back.
"Wha-"
"Sir Knight?"
Both the god and the girl spoke at the same time, both expressing confusion.
"I . . . I guess I can play the part of Lancelot in this." Shirou gasped as he tried to
catch his breath. He could feel a slightly crazed smile tug at his lips, and suited
his mood perfectly. Right now the only thing keeping him up was the fact that he
was essentially faking the role of his swords true wielder, well that was okay, that
he could work with.
"THOU?" the roar of anger and frustration drew his attention back to his foe.
"How?! How dost thou continue to get up? What must I do to break thee?!"
Without waiting for a reply the Heretic God came at him swinging both sword and
club. The eighth Campione didn't move from his spot, instead he held firm and
swung his own sword in the defence of the girl behind him.
Mordred's blows were strong and savage, but they lacked the overwhelming
strength they'd possessed as the twisted dragon abomination as well as the skill
he'd had while armoured. The Unfading Light of the Lake met his attacks and
turned them aside. Once, twice, thrice the Traced weapon defied the primitive
arms.
Then there was an instant, an instant where the momentum of the parries had
left Mordred with his arms spread and unable to defend. Shirou's own sword was
above his head, a prisoner of its momentum, and couldn't come down n time to
take advantage of the opening. Instead the red haired teen lifted one foot, placed
it against the primitive gods abdomen and pushed with all the strength he had.
Mordred was sent tumbling back in a graceless roll, but he was back on his feet
and glaring at his enemy in less time than it took to tell. Shirou met his glare
with a cool look of his own, never moving from his spot protecting this world's
Guinevere.

"Thou, what is that sword, why do I feel I shouldst know it?"

"Arondight, the Unfading Light of the Lake, the sword wielded by the Heroic Spirit
Lancelot." Honestly Shirou wasn't too sure if he should be answering so truthfully.
The existence of Noble Phantasms and their origins was arguably the single
greatest advantage he had in this world, next to his ability to Trace them of
course.
"Sir . . . Knight?" the confused question came from behind him, but he didn't turn
away. This was the last stretch of this battle, neither he nor his opponent had
much left to them, therefore the victor would be decided within the next two or
three exchanges.
"Thou, just who art thou really?"
The question that came from the one time Black Knight of Treachery was utterly
calm, no hint of the rage or frustration that had stained his voice before, now
there was only genuine curiosity. Shirou's mind still felt . . . off. Not hazy or tired,
simply slanted, altered. His exhaustion as well as tapping Arondight so much
more deeply than he'd ever done to any other Noble Phantasm had led to this
strange altered state of mind. Not a bad thing, more like a meditative state than
anything else.
"You can't tell? Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi saw it mere minutes after meeting
me."
"Thou . . ." the words trailed off as the god of war and violence glared at him
once more, no, not at him, into him.
Suddenly he recoiled as though he had just seen a viper ready to strike.
"What-What art Thou? How can thou have such Steel in thee?"
"Steel is my body and fire is my blood."
A line from the aria that both Emiya Shirou and the Servant Archer used to
manifest their Reality Marbles. This Emiya Shirou didn't know if it would be part
of his own aria once he became able to use his own inner world in such a way,
but for now it described him well enough to suit the situation.
"How? How canst a human be of Steel? Thou art not a god; Thou art but a thief
wielding usurped powers given to thee by that wretched witch's curse. How canst
thou be Steel?"
Mordred's voice was taking on a note of hysteria now, the kind of panic that
could well result in mad fury rather than fear though.
"I'm not Steel," Shirou answered. Truly he didn't know where these words were
coming from; all he knew was that they somehow felt completely right. "I am
Sword, I'm the Steel that has been refined and forged, hammered and tempered.
Given form, given purpose. I'm the Strongest Steel."
The colour seemed to drain from Mordred's face and from behind himself the
young Emiya heard a hushed gasp.
"No, no no no No No NONONONOONONOOOOOOOO!"

The Heretic God attacked, rage and denial burnt on his face and both his
weapons moved even faster than before.
Shirou didn't move, he knew now, knew with perfect crystal clarity what would
happen.
Both the club and the sword came at him together. Both were blunt, but they
were swung with enough strength that if they touched him his flesh would
become bloody vapour. Therefore . . .
SHTHUNK!
SHINK!
Arondight swung in a single perfect arc. Both the skills of Emiya Shirou and
Lancelot of the Lake combined into the one movement. The sword that had been
cursed by the deeds of its master sheered through the club as though it were
cheap plywood and smashed into the side of the stone sword with enough force
to tear it from the deity's hands.
Then Shirou let go.
The blade of the Lake vanished as it left his hands, but some of its strength
stayed with him, enough for what was to come.
Mordred came on. His weapons might be lost or broken but he still had his own
strength and he saw that his foe was unarmed. If he could close and grapple
then the victory would be his.
Shirou reached into his inner world.
One last sword, that was all that was needed, the sword that had been waiting
for the right time, for the right reason.
"RRRAAAGGH!"
Mordred's bellow of defiance echoed across the plain as he bore down on his
smaller foe.
"Trace, on"
His hands closed around a hilt that was not yet there. His muscles tensed to
swing the sword that didn't exist yet.
It all happened in an instant. The brutish god descended upon his foe with arms
spread to envelope him. There was a flash of golden light and a soft thud.
Mordred's eyes dropped to the sword that was protruding from the centre of his
chest. The Campione's hands gripped the hilt and his whole body was pushing
the thrust. Sword and wielder, one and the same. His eyes widened in amazed
recognition. That was a sword he knew, and yet did not know at the same time.
"Exca-"
"Excalibur."
One softly spoken word, all that was needed to release the power of the Sword of
Promised Victory. He might not have the Prana to unleash its full power, but right
here, right now he had strength enough to release what power was needed.

Golden light consumed the Heretic God.

For a moment Shirou simply stood there, the sword of Saber held in his hands. Of
Mordred there was nothing left, the vast majority of his body had been blasted
into oblivion and the little that remained had crumbled to sand and then
disappeared.
His legs gave out under him, he'd won, he'd WON, but now there was absolutely
nothing left.
As the blackness rose to claim him once more he felt that strange sensation that
he'd experienced three times before in the past. A sensation of something he
couldn't see insistently pressing into his chest.
That meant something; he was sure, something important.
The only problem was that right now he was too tired to think about it.
Shirou sank into the deep comfortable darkness.

-()-

Guinevere lay on the ground utterly stunned.

She'd been staring her own death in the face, then the next instant the young
Campione that she'd dismissed as defeated was standing before her and
defending her from Mordred's attack.
And he'd been holding that sword. The blonde Divine Ancestor had never laid
eyes upon that weapon before, but something about it, something in its very
presence thundered of Lancelot du Lac, her beloved protector. More than that
he'd felt like her champion.
She'd honestly not had any idea of what to think, she'd been so shocked that she
hadn't even thought to call Sir Knight or of use a spell to escape. All that she
could do was sit up on the grass and watch as the young Campione had stood
before her, as immovable as a mountain, and defended her from the Traitor
Knight's attacks.
Then the Witch Queen had heard his declaration, his claim to be of Steel despite
his being a human. It was, absurd, impossible, and yet . . . he spoke with such
surety, an absolute conviction that what he said was true.
Guinevere possessed many skills, and among them was a form of Spirit Vision
that allowed her to divine the nature of others and their powers. It was this that
she had used upon the God Slayer protecting her. She knew it was foolish, she
should have been using her power to escape, but for some reason she felt that
this was something that she needed to do.
Swords.
So many swords that they filled her entire vision. Swords so far beyond counting
that they might as well be infinite.

With a conscious effort of will she'd cut off the vision and simply stared at his
back. With half an ear she'd heard Mordred's protestation, denials that mirrored
her own. Yet it was his reply that drew a hushed gasp from her before freezing
the breath in her lungs.
He was laying claim to the title of Strongest Steel? What kind of absurdity was
this? It was madness; it was an utter defiance of all that she knew. No human
could ever be of Steel, let alone claim the title of Strongest, it made no sense, it
madeShe stared open mouthed at the sword that Emiya Shirou had just driven into the
chest of his foe.
More dazzling than gold, more pristine than silver, the steel that tears apart
heaven and earth, causing the very stars to crash down, the Divine Sword of
Salvation wielded by the King of the End.
Excalibur.
No, no it could not be the sword of her beloved Lord. Surely had that Divine
weapon somehow been reborn into the world she would have felt it. And yet . . .
everything within her, down to the blood in her veins and the marrow in her
bones, screamed at her that this was the sacred sword of her King.
Power unlike any she had ever felt erupted from the blade, more than enough
power to slay the god impaled upon the weapon. For an instant the eighth
Campione stood, the sword held in his hands and his every muscle locked, then
like a puppet bereft of its puppeteer he collapsed to the ground.
For a few moments she didn't move, she simply continued to lie where she was
and gaze at him, her mind a tangled mass of conflicting thoughts. Then, ever so
slowly, she stood and made her way over to him.
The young red head had fallen on his side so his face was visible to her as she
stood over him. Guinevere could see the slow and weak rise and fall of his chest
as he breathed, could see the pallor of his skin. His battle had drained him of all
his strength; here he lay, helpless as a newborn babe.
She could kill now, if she so chose. Drained as he was there was no way he could
resist her. A single spell conjured knife could take his life. She wouldn't even
need that, with naught but her bare hands she could pinch his mouth and nose
closed and he'd not have the strength to save himself from suffocation. She
might not even have to do anything at all, if she just left him he might well expire
on his own given how drastically low his life-force had fallen.
He was a Campione, a God Slayer. He was the natural enemy to all deities and to
former deities like herself. She should just leave him here to die. It would be one
less threat or challenge to her beloved King once she brought him back into the
world.
And yet . . .
He'd saved her. When she'd thought him beaten he'd risen up in her defence and
protected her when she thought her death a certainty.

More than that though, this young man was no ordinary Devil King, as ludicrous
as the thought that any Campione being called 'normal' was. He was of Steel,
and there was some sort of connection there. Some sort of link that let him wield
the powers of both her King and her protector.
And he had saved her, he'd fought for her.
Guinevere knew herself to be a schemer and a trickster, often in the past she
had manipulated others to her own ends without thought or care of what woes
her actions might inflict upon them. However for all her ruthlessness there was
also a certain core of honour to her, depths to which she refused to sink lest it
taint and stain both her own honour and that of her King.
She would not take this boy's life, she decided. She would save his and even out
the debt between them both.
Her decision made the blonde Divine Ancestor knelt down beside the Campione's
prone form and pushed at him until he rolled onto his back.
"Be suitably honoured," she told the unconscious form, a blush forming on her
face, "This is Guinevere's first kiss that she gives you."
With a deep breath she leaned forwards and sealed her lips over his.
The first thing she noticed was that at first his lips felt cold against her own.
However as she poured healing magics into him they warmed until they felt hot
against her own flesh. More and more of her power flowed into him, more than
she'd initially been planning to give him, as she found herself oddly reluctant to
break the kiss.
The second thing she noticed was that even though he was still out cold he was
apparently kissing her back ever so slightly.
With a startled squeak of embarrassment the Queen of Witches jumped away
from him. That . . . that hadn't quite been what she'd planned. One hand
unconsciously rose to touch her lips as she gazed down at the young man before
her. Now that she took the time to look at him properly she supposed that he
could be called handsome by some. He had fine features and a strong build; she
supposed that if she had to give up her first kiss then at least he wasn't a bad
choice for it.
With a sharp shake of her head Guinevere tried her best to dismiss the thoughts
from her head even as she felt the blush creeping over her face. Those were not
appropriate thoughts to be having at this point, she had to be rational, she had
to be cunning, sheA groan from the side indicated that the cause of her emotional turmoil was
returning to the world of the waking. For an instant the Divine Ancestor stood
there frozen once more, her eyes locked on the young King's face as his eyes
fluttered open.
Naked panic gripped her heart and the urge to simply flee rose up inside her. Still
she didn't feel it right to leave without at least some brief parting words.
"My thanks for your protection Sir Shirou, Guinevere hopes we can meet again
soon."

Arrgh, she hadn't meant to say that last bit. What was wrong with her? It was as
though she couldn't think straight while around this enigma.
Giving in to her urge to flee she wove a spell and disappeared from the battle
site.

-()-

Shirou got to his feet as he stared at the spot where the blonde girl had been
standing just a moment before. The way she'd disappeared like that, that and the
panicked look in her eyes. Was she in some sort of trouble?
As he straightened the eighth Campione couldn't help but blink in surprise.
He . . . didn't hurt?
Surprised he flexed his limbs and took a few experimental steps. The wounds
and bruises that had littered his flesh before were gone, even the wound in his
shoulder had sealed up and healed without a scar. Sure he still ached slightly,
but it was the kind of dull burn that one might expect after a good work out
rather than a drawn out fight to the death. He also didn't feel so tired anymore,
his Prana reserves were still low, but nowhere near the level at which it would be
a danger to him.
With a glance over in the direction of the other Campione he saw that their own
battles seemed to have also ended. He could feel no hint of the presence of the
three Heretic Gods that they had been engaging in combat. Best to get over
there, he thought, after all there was no way of knowing what had happened
over there. For a moment he opened his mouth to form the spell words that
would call Snow to his side, then he closed his mouth again as he remembered
his mount's sacrifice.
Honestly he hadn't even known that the Pegasus could use that power on its
own, he'd thought that it was something he'd have to order consciously. When he
could summon the winged horse again the Divine Beast was going to find him
waiting to greet it with an entire bucket full of apples and carrots. It was the least
his mount deserved for the loyalty it had shown him.
Oh well, with no other options available Shirou reinforced his limbs and took off
running. His circuits protested slightly, but it was nothing to be too concerned
about, he'd pushed them harder during some of his experiments so he'd be fine.
In the end it took him just under five minutes to make it back to where the others
were. Not a world record, but for a man as tired as he was it was a considerable
achievement considering how minor his reinforcement was.

-()-

Brynhildr glared at the view as though she could alter it by sheer force of will.

How? How could this possibly be?

Her champion was slain and there was now no chance of her and her partner
being able to capture the Campione on their own. Not with his strength having
been restored as it was.
Curse it all to the darkest regions of Niflheim, had it not been for that blasted
Guinevere's interference all would have been well. But not only had her presence
distracted her knight at a crucial juncture but she had also protected the boy
while he was helpless and then gone on to restore his strength before she left.
The Witch Queen was regarded as the Queen of the Divine Ancestors for a
reason. Even among the fallen Goddesses her power was exceptional and this
was compounded by her possession of the Holy Grail, an artefact containing
more power than any one goddess could ever hope to hold. As much as it galled
her to admit it the blonde Divine Ancestor knew that even together she and her
partner could not have faced the Witch of Brittany and hoped to prevail.
Had Athena been with them there may have been a chance, even if Guinevere
had summoned her famed protector, however their ally had been away on her
own business and they had no way to call her.
Curse it all.
"Does this satisfy you then?"
The voice was cold as an arctic tundra and laced through with venom enough to
give the World Serpent pause. Startled at the sheer rancour in the voice
Brynhildr turned to face her ally.
"What-"
"You have lost your champion, strengthened our target and let him know that he
is being hunted. Can you think of any way in which this affair has not been a
total failure?!"
Her partner didn't wait for a reply; instead she turned and stalked to the exit of
the room pausing briefly at the door to speak some parting words.
"I'm leaving now before I say or do something I shall regret. However I ask you to
think on one thing; this would not have happened if you had listened to me."
For a moment the blonde former goddess stood there staring at the closed door,
then with a scream of rage she kicked over the pedestal upon which the scroll
the spell of scrying had been cast on had been resting. As the valuable scroll feel
and tore as the stand landed upon it she simply glared at it as though to give
vent to her fury.
How dare she?! How dare she?! How dare she stand there and smugly say that
she'd been right? How dare she belittle her partner's efforts to advance their
goals? That red and blue haired fool had been content to let the opportunity slip
them by, all she'd done was try to take advantage of it.
Deep within her heart, unnoticed even by her divine mystic senses, a tiny black
seed of malignance and discord split open and put forth a shoot.

Brynhildr had allied herself to the Knight of Treachery, and though she did not
yet know it there would be a price to pay for that in the future.

-()-

He arrived in time to see Kusanagi Godou tucking his cell phone away with a look
of pained aggrievement on his face.
"It looks like losses were unexpectedly small. Ah, and you have returned to join
us King Emiya, splendid. And you have been victorious in your own battle, truly
wonderful.
"For us three it has been particularly delightful to finally close the case on the
Great Sage Equalling Heaven. Godou and Smith, I, Luo Hao, must surely reward
the both of you well for your contributions in our cooperative battle."
The eighth of the Devil Kings turned to look at his fellow God Slayers. So it
seemed that they'd united against their foes, how unusual. Still it seemed to
have worked for them.
"Then I shall take my leave. Until next time."
The words of the masked king caught Shirou by surprise. He was leaving? Just
like that?
"You're going already? Isn't there still a lot of cleanup to handle? You're not
staying to help?"
Godou's own words were surprised and . . . disappointed? Huh, it seemed that his
fellow Japanese King and the hero of Los Angeles got on surprisingly well.
"Truly regrettable, but it won't fit John Pluto Smith's style otherwise. When the
curtain falls upon the stage, the actor must exit. When the battle concludes, the
hero and devil king must also vanish."
The American Campione answered with an obviously posed tone of voice.
"Actually John Pluto Smith, do you mind holding on from saying your goodbyes
for a moment." Shirou spoke without thinking, merely slipping back into his role
as a King once more. An idea was growing from that seed at the back of his
mind. It hadn't yet fully formed but he felt it might be important.
"Oh? Do you have something that you wish to say to me Emiya Shirou?"
"Not quite, but I ask you to indulge me in this for the moment. It could be that
the curtain has not yet fallen."
"In that case I shall obediently wait," there was a mocking edge to the voice, but
it was the jest of good humour rather than challenge or anger.
With a nod of thanks the red haired Campione turned to face Luo Hao.
"So sempai, can you tell me who the victor in our wager was? I confess that after
my own battle ended I wasn't in a fit state to check on your own progress."

"It would seem that you have once more managed to achieve a draw with me
King Emiya," the Ruler of the Martial World declared grandly, "Truly consider
yourself fortunate, in the entire world none other can make a similar claim."
"I shall feel suitably honoured sempai; however I'm curious as to whe-"
The rest of his words were cut off as a white and purple missile crashed into him
with enough force to make him stumble. Looking down he saw Illya with her arms
wrapped around his waist and holding him so tightly he was pretty sure an
anaconda would have approved.
"Shirou! You're alright, I was so scared when I couldn't sense you anymore, then
you came back and I felt you fighting again and then you went away again and I
thought you'd died and then you came back and I was so scared that you'd go
away again and and . . ."
The rest of her words were muffled beyond understanding as his adopted sister
buried her face in his torn and bloodied shirt and started to cry. Looking up he
saw that Kaida and Manaka were also present, but keeping a respectful distance.
"King Emiya, who is this disrespectful young girl that dares to interrupt a
discussion between Kings?"
Okay, not good. Luo Cuilian did not sound happy that someone had dared to
intrude on their conversation. In fact she sounded as though she were getting
ready to pronounce sentence upon the object of her ire, and given her views on
her rights as a King that might not be too far fetched a notion.
Best head this off before she could develop a full head of steam.
"Sempai, allow me to introduce my beloved adopted sister Illyasviel Von
Einzbern. Please forgive her lapse of manners; normally she's much more polite."
Gently disengaging her arms from about his waist Shirou patted her on the back
of her head and gestured towards the Chinese Campione. "Illya please introduce
yourself to my honourable sempai on the path of being a King."
The white haired girl rubbed the tears from her eyes and looked up at her
adopted onii-chan. Seeing him nod encouragingly to her she nodded back before
turning and curtseying low to the elder King.
"My sincerest apologies for my most rude behaviour your Eminence. I am
Illyasviel Von Einzbern and I offer my deepest thanks for the opportunity to meet
your august self."
The eighth Campione blinked in surprise at that. Given how childish her
behaviour often was it was all too easy to forget that the white haired girl had
been brought up knowing almost as much about formal conduct as she was
mage craft.
"Very well, as a favour to my fellow king I shall refrain from chastising you for
your impropriety in disturbing us. Thank me well for my generosity."
"My sincerest gratitude for your gracious forgiveness." Said Illya as she combined
her curtsy with a bow. Luo Hao nodded in approval and then turned back to
Shirou.

As she did so he noticed that the rest of Godou's harem as well as the girl that
Sun Wukong had been possessing had arrived. Off to the other side were the
young Chinese boy that he'd caught a glimpse of just before he'd been sealed
into the cave by the Monkey King and that Committee agent he'd met on the
night Godou had confronted Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi. Right now he didn't
look so good considering he was fairly flushed and wearing a medical mask. By
the looks of it they'd seen how the Ruler of the Martial Realm had reacted to
being interrupted and were wisely keeping quiet.
"Though it pains me to leave my 'little brother' behind as well as not being able
to resolve our own competition I fear I must say goodbye. There are the sayings;
friendship between gentlemen is as insipid as water, while all banquets naturally
come to an end. I feel they ring true in this case. Godou, your elder sister needs
now return to Mount Lu."
"Is there any urgent need? Could you perhaps not delay a day or two?" Again the
words were out of his mouth before he really took the time to consider them. Still
he could feel things moving towards a . . . conclusion, no, that wasn't right. To a
turning point, that was it.
Luo Cuilian blinked at the question before nodding slowly.
"There is no great urgency; this Luo Hao was merely observing the courtesies. It
is regarded as poor manners or a challenge to remain in the lands of another
King uninvited."
"Then . . . Then I invite you all." The idea blossomed in his mind, and he could
see it for all its beauty and danger. What he was about to propose was playing
with fire, but at the same time he felt that it was not an opportunity that should
be allowed to pass him by.
From behind him he heard a sort of strangled croak, as though someone were
trying to say something but couldn't get the words out due to shock.
"We have a full half of the Kings in this world gathered here. And we have just
fought a battle the likes of which, to the best of my knowledge, has not been
seen before in the course of recorded history. Four gods have been vanquished
by four Campione in the same place at the same time; doesn't it seem a waste
that we should all just go our separate ways? What we have here is an
opportunity, so let me put forth my proposal."
Shirou glanced up at the sky where the light of the sun shone from where it had
risen less than an hour ago.
"I invite all three of my fellow Kings to my manor tomorrow evening. I shall see to
providing food and drink worthy of such august guests, of that you need not fear.
Feel free to bring whomever you wish with you, bring servants, disciples, lovers
or friends, it is purely up to you. There shall be only one rule; all who attend must
come under an oath of peace.
"What I propose is a competition of our Kingships using words rather than fists or
weapons. I know of one other such meeting that took place, and if it was good
enough for the likes of Gilgamesh then I'd like to give it a try myself."
He turned to face all three of the other Campione.

"Too often when we God Slayers meet it leads only to conflict and confrontation,
this once let us take the chance to try for something . . . more, something
interesting. What say you; will you answer my challenge in this?"
"A banquet of Kings and a contest of Kingship? King Emiya you certainly know
how to intrigue this Luo Cuilian. Very well, I and my young hawk will attend your
feast, be sure not to disappoint me."
The beautiful musical voice of the Ruler of the Martial Realm carried hints of
humour and imperiousness, but more than anything else she sounded . . .
interested. This was something new for her, something she hadn't seen coming.
With a nod of her head she was surrounded by a swirling haze of flower petals
and disappeared. Off to the side her disciple was speaking to Godou and his
harem, but Shirou was paying more attention to the Masked King than them.
"Well King Emiya, when you said that the curtain had yet to fall on this drama I
wasn't expecting this. Very well, I, John Pluto Smith, will gladly attend this
Banquet of Kings that you are preparing. I shall make arrangements so I may be
contacted with the details, until then I shall take my leave."
With a dramatic flourish of his cape the flamboyant King transformed into a
demon bird once more and took wing into the sky where it swiftly disappeared
into the clouds.
That left only the two Campione native to Japan standing in the middle of the
blasted wasteland that had once been the plains of Senjougahara.
"Will you be attending my feast Kusanagi Godou? It would be a shame if you
could not."
The black haired teen opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off as Erica
spoke up.
"Of course he will. It would be a sad day when the first King of this land failed to
attend such an auspicious event."
Godou's eyes widened in sudden alarm and he opened his mouth to speak again
only to be cut off once more, this time by Liliana.
"Indeed, as a knight to my lord I must see to both his person and to his
reputation. To be absent from such a grand event upon his homeland, such a
thing is unthinkable. Do not worry Godou, I will ensure that nothing keeps you
from attending this Banquet of Kings."
By now the seventh Campione had a decidedly hunted look in his eyes. None the
less he tried to speak once more, but was again cut off before he could even
begin, this time by Ena.
"This would be an excellent time for Ena to be officially announced as one of his
Majesties' women. I could be officially recognized so I'd no longer have to be his
underground lover."
"E-Ena-san you shouldn't say such things in public." Yuri spoke up.
"Oh don't worry Yuri, you can be announced as the official wife, Ena is content to
be the mistress."

"ENA, don't say things like that."

"Can I come as well Onee-chan? I know I'm the youngest member and not yet
officially recognised but-"
"I have won the wager, and it didn't even take a fortnight to-"
"H-Hikari! What on earth-"
As the general conversation descended into an incoherent babble Godou's
shoulders seemed to slump in defeat.
"I'm please to see that you'll be attending," commented Shirou as he fished out
his cell phone. Remarkably despite everything he'd been through it was not only
still functional but only a little on the scuffed side. "And with such . . . lively
company too."
As he turned away and started to dial his manor the eighth Campione was very
careful not to let his true feelings show on his face. The truth was that despite
the calm front he was putting up inside he was running around in panicked
circles and tearing his hair out.
What had he done?! It had been a complete whim, an act of pure impulse, and
yet somehow he'd ended up setting up a new Feast of Kings with him as the
host. Sure when he'd first experienced the third hand memory he'd thought it
had been a magnificent spectacle to see the three Kings of the Fourth Holy Grail
War engaging in their discussion, but he'd never thought of setting something
like that up himself.
Yet when the opportunity had presented itself he'd seized upon it and done his
best to convince the others to go along with it as well.
Okay, calm down, take deep breaths, find your centre.
Events were in motion now, there was no changing that. He'd gotten this cart up
to the top of the hill, now it was his job to make sure it got down the other side
without turning into one huge accident.
He could do this, he could do this.
After all how hard could it be?
...
Had he really just thought that?
Maybe it didn't count if he didn't say it out loud.
...
Gods damn it.

Chapter Thirteen: Road to the Feast

"He did what?"
The question was delivered in an utterly dead tone devoid of all emotion or
inflection. Quite simply it was the voice of someone that had just received a
shock so profound that their mental and emotional faculties had essentially shut
down leaving a body running on automatic.
The poor individual who was currently only a few steps away from a nervous
breakdown was the current head of the Seishuuin family. She considered herself
a worldly individual having spent years as one of the guiding powers behind the
History Compilation Committee. In that time she'd dealt with runaway spirits,
unscrupulous magic users and even Heretic Gods. She'd even lived to witness
Japan gaining not one Campione but two, two Supreme Kings that miraculously
weren't trying to kill each other despite having been in close proximity for weeks.
Quite frankly she hadn't thought there was anything in life that could shock her
more than learning that her granddaughter possessed the power to channel the
Divine Might of the Old One, Susanoo himself, and that she was calling him
Grampsy.
Then she'd received this telephone call.
Naturally she'd been aware of the crisis that had arisen. The arrival of Luo Hao,
the release of the Monkey King, the imprisonment of Emiya-sama, all of it. It had
been on her instructions that her granddaughter had been dispatched to serve
as backup for the only remaining free King.
Events had progressed at an increasingly rapid rate after that, she'd barely been
informed that John Pluto Smith had entered the fray before she received a phone
call from Sayanomiya Kaoru telling her that not only had the Chinese Campione
and Emiya-sama freed themselves, but they had allied with Kusanagi-sama and
the King of Los Angeles to face off against an equal number of gods.
She'd spent the next half hour pacing in her room, worrying about the potential
catastrophe while glaring at her telephone as though she could get it to ring and
signal an update on the situation through sheer willpower. Normally she was
more self-possessed, she was the matriarch of a powerful and old clan after all,
but given that what was likely the single largest battle between Heretic Gods and
their mortal enemies in the last millennia was taking place in her country she felt
her behaviour was understandable.
In the end the phone had rung and the current head of the Seishuuin had
practically snatched it out of its cradle.
She'd listened intently to the report and heaved a sigh of relief when she heard
of how the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and his brothers had been subdued by
an alliance between three of the Campione while Emiya-sama had dealt with the
fourth that had unexpectedly shown up.

Then she'd heard of what happened afterwards.

The other Campione had been ready to leave, to go back to their home
territories, and then the eighth Campione had asked them to stay.
Four of the Devil Kings were scheduled to meet for a 'Contest of Kingship'.
FOUR! Four of the most powerful people in the world and they were planning to
have a party together?
Up until this point the elderly matriarch had been privately impressed with how
the youngest of the Rakshasa Rajas had handled himself. He'd managed to build
up the foundations of a strong personal power base without causing any major
disruptions to the land he lived in. What problems he'd had to deal with had been
handled with a minimum of fuss or bother. Quite frankly apart from his sister's
somewhat messy disposal of the leader of her kidnappers he'd been far easier to
accommodate than Kusanagi-sama, who tended to leave wreckage and ruin
everywhere he went. Though to be fair most of it normally wasn't his fault.
But now the eighth Campione had gone and done this, THIS!
In some calm corner of her mind she wondered if there was enough time before
this party to construct and outfit a nuclear bomb shelter.
With a shake of her head the elderly matriarch dispelled her shock and took a
hold of herself.
This banquet was going to take place; there was nothing that could be done
about it at this point. So then what did that mean for the rest of Japan?
Worst case scenario was that a four way battle would erupt between the Kings
and the entirety of Tokyo would be reduced to desolated ruins. Fortunately that
was unlikely to come to pass; Kusanagi-sama was thankfully a young man of
considerable personal integrity and followed a strong moral code. Added to that
was the fact that Mariya Yuri was someone he would listen to, so the head of the
Seishuuin family was sure that the young Hime-Miko would hopefully head off
any courses of action that would prove too disastrous.
John Pluto Smith might be regarded as oddly eccentric, even among the normally
unusual Campione, but his sense of justice was widely known as was the
dedication with which he fought the various evil societies that cropped up in
America. He might exact a price for his protection in the forms of various
sacrifices, but on the whole he was held to be one of the most benevolent Kings
in recent history.
Those two, at least she didn't have to worry about devastating the city. If they
were to be drawn into a battle they'd at least make sure that it took place
somewhere where no innocents would be caught up. It was the other two that
were the problem.
Luo Hao was a less known factor than the American God Slayer, given that she
only infrequently left her home on Mount Lu where she lorded over the Holy Cult
of the Five Mountains. However the information network of the Committee was
quite extensive and was able to gather numerous nuggets of information.

Among those was a description of the normal attitudes and behaviours displayed
by the female Campione.
Monumental pride for example, also a huge sense of entitlement and a total lack
of any sort of concern for modern codes of conduct. All in all a troublesome
individual, just the sort that would pick a fight with another Campione in the
middle of the city without any sort of concern for any of the consequences.
And last, but by no means least, was Emiya Shirou, the eighth and youngest
Campione. The proverbial wild card that nobody could predict. Renjou Kaida had
been diligent in sending her reports back to the Committee, but so far she hadn't
developed the same level of closeness to her new lord that Yuri had for her own.
Consequently a great deal about Emiya-sama was still unknown.
With a sigh the matriarch sat down seiza style before her table and reached out
to pick up her mug of tea. Despite having sat there for so long it was still
somewhat warm, and the familiar flavour soothed her edgy nerves.
The simple fact of the matter was that there wasn't anything she could do about
it; this was the business of Campione. All she could do was hope for the best and
prepare as well as she could for the worst. She'd give it a few more minutes then
get in touch with her granddaughter to see if she could add any more details to
the rather grim picture that was forming.

-()-

Yamada Yusuke was having somewhat mixed feelings at the moment.

His King had contacted him earlier this morning and informed him as to his plans
for a Feast for all four of the Kings that were currently in Japan. He'd asked the
resurrected soul to inform Suzuki Asuka of the proposed plan and to be in charge
of procuring drink for the party.
That was the cause of his conflicted sentiments. On the one hand he'd been
given a more or less limitless budget and told to get hold of all the wines that
were quite literally fit for a king. To him this was akin to letting a child loose in
the worlds biggest toy shop and telling them to grab what they wanted. As an
avid wine collector Yusuke was well aware of how to acquire some of the rarer
vintages, but had lacked the funds with which to do it before. Now that was no
longer an obstacle.
However it also led to his mixed feelings, because on the other hand even
though he was finally able to purchase the exclusive wines that he'd always
wanted it wasn't so that they could go into his collection; it was so that
someone else could drink them.
Well . . . maybe there'd still be some left over after the feast was through? Yes,
that was a thought to sooth his disappointment. Surely if there were a few
bottles left over then Emiya-sama wouldn't object to him adding them to his
collection, would he?

With a final nod to himself the undead accountant clicked the mouse on his
computer one more time and confirmed his last purchase. Red wine, white wine,
spirits from various parts of the world and a number of ingredients for some of
the more exotic fruit juices that could be mixed up. Yusuke had even made sure
to acquire several high class non-alcoholic drinks for those who wanted them.
He'd been careful and made preparations to allow for virtually every taste and
preference. As far as the drinks went at least he was sure that there would be
something to satisfy everyone there.
That was of course assuming that they all arrived on time. Almost as expensive
as some of his purchases had been the cost of having them transported to Japan
at top speed and priority. In a couple of cases he'd even paid for the hiring of a
private plane simply to ensure that the wine would be delivered in time for the
Feast tomorrow evening.
"Ah, there you are Yusuke-san." the voice brought him out of his thoughts and he
turned in his swivel chair to face the one addressing him.
The young lady in question was a former member of the Circle that had
kidnapped Illya-chan. After being sworn into her service this one had ended up
acting as an assistant to Suzuki-san, and had proven to be surprisingly adept in
her new role.
"Yes? How can I help you Hamasaki-san?"
"Suzuki-san says that we're going to need more outdoor furniture for the set up
to be complete. She told me to ask you to acquire at least two more sets
identical to the ones we already have."
Yusuke sighed and nodded without saying anything. Sometimes being the guy
that held the purse strings was more trouble than it was worth. Still, it was the
job that he'd volunteered for

-()-

Shirou was overlooking the garden where the Feast was to be held.
It had only been eight hours since he'd made his offer to his fellow Kings, but he
already felt as though it had been days ago. Bereft of his flying mount he'd been
forced to ride back in a minibus provided by the Committee. He'd spent the two
and a half hours that it had taken him to get back home using his cell phone to
get in touch with the staff back at his mansion and letting them know what he'd
set up. He'd also been in touch with a number of contacts that Yusuke had
passed on to him making sure that they knew that the orders they'd soon be
receiving were legitimate.
Since getting back to his manor things had grown even more frantic. Instructions
had to be given on how guests would be treated and how they should be
announced. This hadn't been helped by the fact that a number of Illya's minions
had actually fainted on the spot when they'd heard that they'd be working as the
staff to a meeting of half the Campione in the world. And on top of all that had
been the simple task of determining just what kind of affair this feast would be.

After some consideration he'd decided that since the weather for the night was
good then an outside banquet would have a better 'feel' than one inside. To that
end he'd set up an improvised patio in the middle of his lawn. The food would be
served buffet style with many table arranged for multiple people to sit at.
However the main focus of the arrangement would be the four person ring table
in the middle of the veranda. That was where the eighth Campione envisioned
holding the 'contest of Kingship'; the only problem was that he had no idea of
how it would be held.
In the Fourth Holy Grail War Iskander, the Rider of that war, had gathered
together all the Kings that had been summoned for that war and asked each of
them to state their reasons for seeking the Grail. The answers each had given
had been revealing of the kind of Kings they had been and the kind of Heroes
that they were. Each of the Kings had explained their path of rulership and
measured it against one another.
In a way it was a hard memory for Shirou as within it he had seen Saber more
uncertain and shaken than he had in any of his other lives. He could understand
it to a degree, after all back then she'd been holding on to her wish to save her
country rather than having accepted her life as she had in his other lives. To her
Rider and his Noble Phantasm Ionian Hetairoi had been a direct blow to
everything that she'd always been certain of.
Well, regardless of that the problem here was that he didn't have a near
omnipotent wish granting artefact to use as a conversation piece. Simply put at
the moment he didn't have a 'goal' for the contest of Kingship that he'd
proposed.
Okay, he had to approach this calmly; there wasn't any need to panic just yet. He
had to think about this calmly and rationally.
During the Holy Grail War the point to the contest had been to determine who
had the greatest claim on the Grail. But there had not been a victor to the
contest, nor had anyone expected there to be. Given the guests it was
unthinkable that any of them would be dissuaded by mere verbal sparing,
therefore . . .
Therefore the point hadn't been to try to convince the others, but rather it had
been about . . . a clash of desires perhaps? Iskander simply wanting to see how
the wishes of the other Kings had matched up against his own? There was no
real way to tell, but that seemed like a reasonable possibility to the young
Campione.
If that was the case then the answer to his problem was simple, as simple as one
of the oldest questions in the world.
'What do you want?'
No, in this case the question should be: 'What do you want to do with your power
as a Campione?'
Yes, a simple enough question, and one that might be able to spark the sort
of . . . debate or discussion that he was hoping to achieve between the Devil
Kings he was inviting. The answering of that question would be enough to let

each of them bring up their various 'Kingships' and compare them against each
others paths of Rule.

-()-

Kenji ran down the alley and didn't look back. If he did then he might see the rest
of his gang.
Or at least what was left of them anyway.
It had been just the same old thing, wait in the side streets until some know
nothing tourist wandered off the main track, then they'd simply herd them into a
nice quiet spot, relieve them of anything of value they might have. It wasn't
anything special, him and his friends had been doing it for more than a year now,
today should have been just another run for them.
He should have noticed something was off when the skinny guy that they'd been
following started to talk to himself. Kenji hadn't been able to make out what he
was saying, but the way that he'd kept up a constant running dialogue with
himself had been pretty unnerving. Still even though the guy looked like he
hadn't washed in over a week his clothes had been of good make and the watch
he'd been wearing was clearly of silver, and that had been enough of a lure for
the young mugger and his friends.
Things hadn't gone anywhere near the usual way though. For one thing rather
than being needed to be herded the weird foreigner had actively sought out the
side alleys without any prompting. Then when they'd moved in to surround him
he'd not even paid them any attention. That had been a new experience;
normally people in his situation would have been looking for a way out if not
outright pleading. All this guy had done was stare down at the ground and
mutter to himself.
Touji had been the first to move, reaching for the guy's shoulder in order to push
him up against the wall. That was always the first step, cut off any chance of
escape and there were normally only two reactions violence or surrender. In the
latter case it simply meant that things went down smoother. They'd normally
leave the victim with most of his clothes and maybe his shoes and then take
everything else. If they resisted, like lashing out or pulling a stun gun, well there
were five of them and they normally only went after those alone or couples. Kenji
had gotten tazered once but that was it, with the strength of numbers resistance
was normally easily crushed.
That hadn't happened this time though. The weird guy had suddenly looked up
and then . . . well he must have thrown that black goop at Touji, he must have.
Liquids don't just jump on their own after all.
His pal had gone down screaming smoke rising from his face where the black
stuff was clinging to him like tar. Eita and Hiroshi had made a move on the
foreigner, murder in their eyes, but they'd gone down screaming as well when
more of the black stuff was splashed on them. Kenji had torn his eyes away from
them to look at Touji, and what he'd seen had almost made him throw up.

It was like the whole left side of his friend's head and face had been melted off.
He could actually see the skin and muscle sliding off the bone as though they
were the meat on a perfectly cooked chicken. And what's more he swore that he
could see the black liquid moving, not just simply running off him or flowing
along the path of least resistance, that coal coloured sludge was moving against
gravity.
By this time the other two had stopped screaming and a single glance had
confirmed that whatever acid this guy had used had killed them. Eita was
sporting a hole most of the way through his chest and Hiroshi was lying still while
clutching at the ruin that had once been his throat.
The young mugger couldn't understand it; just a minute ago it had been the five
of them, now it was just him and Shinichi. It was unreal, like something that you
saw in a movie. This kind of thing didn't happen in real life, it just didn'tHis thoughts were cut off as Shinichi suddenly let out a shriek of pure terror.
Under any other circumstances Kenji would probably have ribbed him about
'screaming like a girl' for weeks, but when he saw the cause of the cry his own
voice had sounded out.
Shinichi had screamed because Touji had grabbed his ankle.
Touji who was unquestionably dead.
The corpse of his friend was definitely moving though. Before the criminal's
horrified eyes the animated corpse had reached up hand over hand to drag
himself up Shinichi's body. The young mugger had been unable to move, rooted
to the spot with terror as the seeming zombie used him as a crutch to climb to its
feet. At first its movements had been slow and jerky, just like the undead in a
film, but by the time it was back on its feet it was moving smoother, less stiffly
and more like a normal person.
"T-Touji?"
Shinichi had just enough time to ask the tremulous question, then he was
screaming, or at least trying to. Touji must have spat the corrosive tar onto him,
or some how splashed it. It can't have just moved on its own, that was
impossible, liquids didn't move on their own after all. Whatever the case, a glob
of the stuff had splashed over his friend's mouth and throat. Shinichi had tried to
scream as his skin began to smoke and dissolve, but all that had come out was a
sort of gurgling croak.
That had been when the guy they had been planning to rob turned round for the
first time. He'd stopped talking to himself and just calmly watched as the corpses
of Eita and Hiroshi pulled themselves jerkily to their feet even as Shinichi fell to
the ground as his thrashings grew weaker and then stopped all together. The
foreigner had looked at the standing bodies of his friends and then glanced at
Touji and then down at Shinichi. He'd simply nodded to himself and muttered
something that the sole remaining thief hadn't been able to hear.
Then he'd looked up at Kenji.
In the past the mugger had thought that he'd met with dangerous people while
dealing in the criminal underworld. Dealers in stolen goods that might end up

killing you rather than paying you for your loot. Druggies on withdrawal that
were desperate for the money to buy another hit of their poison, and were more
than willing to do whatever they needed to get it. Even the psychos that would
kill for the sheer rush it gave them rather than for any sort of tangible gain.
There wasn't any shortage of dangerous types among the crowd he normally
hung out with, but he thought that he had at least seen the worst that was out
there.
Now though, now he knew differently.
When that skinny, dirty and unwashed foreigner had looked at him it had been
the most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced. It was the way that he'd looked
at him. Not as a person looking at another person, but more like a carpenter
evaluating a piece of wood to see if would be good enough to work with. That
gaze absolutely denied the humanity of all that it was turned upon. To the owner
of those eyes he wasn't looking upon living beings, he was observing available
resources.
That was when Kenji had turn and run. That cool blank stare had been more
terrifying than even the sight of watching his friends being killed.
But even as he took his first stumbling steps away he heard the horrifying
foreigner speak.
"Take him as well. Take take take, take him all, all of him, don't leave any left."
And he'd heard the steps, the steps that could only be coming from those things
that had once been his friends.
So he ran. He could get away, he was sure of it. Nobody knew these back streets
like him and his group; nobody knew the little tricks they did. Like here, this alley
looked like a dead end with a wire fence, but that bottom corner wasn't attached
right so if you ducked down then it could be pushed open enough to get through.
Or here, where the passage between two buildings had been boarded shut, the
second plank from the left was only nailed in at the top, so you could swing it to
leave a hole big enough to get through sideways.
Here, here he should be safe. Kenji leaned against a wall and gasped as he tried
to catch is breath. He'd left the sounds of his former friends behind some time
ago, but he hadn't slowed down for even an instant. Instead he'd poured on all
the speed and run to his private hideout as fast as he could manage.
No-one knew of this place, not even the rest of his gang. He'd set it up in case he
ever needed a safe place where nobody could find him, kind of like now. He had
some money stashed here, food and drink as well in case he had to wait out a
search. That's what he'd do, he'd wait here for a day or two, long enough for that
foreigner to move on, then he'd get his stash and get the hell out of the city.
Maybe he'd head up to one of the more rural towns; Hiroshi had mentioned that
in some of those places a guy with some ambition and smarts could set himself
up quite nicely. That bore thinking about, maybeAbove a shadow moved.
Then it began to drip.

Kenji had chosen the site of his hiding place well. It was an out of the way spot
that few people ever came near. As a result there was no-one nearby to hear his
final screams.

-()-

The magus stood outside in the alleyway as he waited for his creations to return.
It seemed like his lovely creation had worked well. It had consumed them, taken
everything about them that was of any use and incorporated it into itself.
Not that there was too much to be gained by consuming these alley rats.
Inwardly he shuddered at the thought of them being used as the fodder for his
beautiful creation's growth, still doing so cleaned up the streets a bit and that
was something theshe would have approved of. She'd always said that it was a
shame that so many promising young men ended up turning to crime, that it was
a waste of their potential. Well his creation would put them to use, they'd be of
great service to the world even if it did mean their deaths.
He was brought out of his thoughts as five figures seemed to melt out of the
shadows and appear kneeling before him.
Good good, it seemed that the obedience patterning that he'd burned into his
lovely creation was functioning perfectly. That had been his chief worry, that as
his beauty grew and spread it would go out of his control. That was why he'd
hammered the need to obey him into its every thought and action. In all truth he
wasn't planning to live much longer and if he had been consumed by his creation
he wouldn't have minded too much. But the thought of dying before he took
revenge upon the Kings that had taken her, that hadn't been something he was
willing to allow.
Approaching the kneeling figures he leaned down to examine them. Yes, all
seemed to be as he had intended. The proto-flesh that he'd created had
consumed all the soft muscles and tissues of the ones it had come into contact
with and replaced it with its own homonculid flesh. The skeleton had been left
alone, but had been reinforced in order to handle the increased stress that the
meat would place on the bones.
All of them now looked the same except for the tattered clothes hanging from
their bodies. Their faces were gone leaving only exposed skull beneath. The
white bone face was as clean as though it had been polished in a forensics lab.
The mouth and nose were empty at first glance, but within them were tiny black
tendrils that now served as the new sensory nodes housed there.
The eye sockets on the other hand were quite visibly inhabited by something
that wasn't human. A veritable nest of tendrils writhed around a single orb of
glowing yellow in each socket. That glowing orb had no visible pupil or iris, but it
somehow radiated the impression that it was watching all.
Save for the skull face the rest of the formed muggers bodies were pure black,
not the kind of black that could be achieved by normal flesh, this was a black
that drank in the light and let none escape. Beneath that new skin they were

pure lean muscle, not an ounce of unnecessary fat, no sensitive spots to strike
at. These weren't beings meant to live and reproduce, they were entities that
existed simply to carry out the orders given to them to the best of their
capacities, capacities that had been altered to be maximized to the highest
extent possible.
"Yes, yes yes yes. This is just right for what I need, but we'll need more, more
more more if I want to send you against the Kings my lovely little thief. We'll
need more thieves, many many many more. Go hunting. No, wait, it's not
hunting, it's pest control. Kill all the pests and use them for something
worthwhile. Oh, oh oh oh, that's not pest control, it's recycling.
"Yes that's it. We're taking trash and turning it into something useful. She'd
approve of that, yes, yes she would. All of you go; use the memories of the trash
to find other trash. Keep it hidden, don't let anyone notice. We can't have the
surprise spoilt now can we? We have to surprise the party, be the surprise,
surprise surprise surprise. A surprise attack, a surprise theft.
"They'll never see it coming."

-()-

Alexander Gascoigne, otherwise known as the Black Prince Alec, was beginning
to think he might have made a slight mistake.
He'd originally come to this country because his sources had indicated that
Guinevere had shown an interest in it, and anything that was of interest to the
Black Prince's nemesis was worth investigating. And what a show his
investigation had yielded, four gods, the traitor knight that was the Witch
Queen's enemy, an alliance of Kings unheard of in recorded history.
The British Campione had deemed it unnecessary for him to interfere in the
battle, with half the world's God Slayers already enmeshed he'd felt his own
presence was unneeded and had instead set about tracking the Divine Ancestor
he hunted.
He'd found her in time to see the newest of the Campione, the one called Emila
Shino or something like that, apparently pass out after slaying a god in order to
defend Guinevere. That had been a surprise to say the least, but not as much of
surprise as seeing her heal the wounded Campione up.
Actually now that he thought about it perhaps it wasn't such a surprise. In the
past the queen of the Divine Ancestors had tried to bribe him into acting as her
underling by offering him the Holy Grail. He'd turned her down of course, what
reason had he to serve in order to get it after he'd learnt who had it? All that was
needed was for him to take it from its current owner in order to make it his own.
That had been the root of the enmity between them for the last eight years.
It could be that this was her attempt to somehow ensnare the newest Devil King
into her service. That had made sense, certainly more so than any other
explanation that came to mind. If she could gain the service of a Campione then
she'd be able to move far more boldly than she had in the past. If that was the

case then it'd be best for him to begin to make preparations in case he had to
face the new Japanese King at a later point. So, once Guinevere had left, he
departed the scene and headed back to his base of operations in Japan to do a
little research on the latest object of his enemy's interest.
As it turned out doing so had caused him to miss the calling of what was quickly
coming to be called the Feast of Kings.
Four of the Devil Kings of the world were going to meet under oaths of nonviolence to discuss and contest their paths of rule. In all honest Alexander was
irritated that he wouldn't be able to attend, it would have been interesting to talk
with some of his fellow Supreme Rulers without having to worry about a fight
breaking out. As a stubborn and opinionated person there'd have been a certain
appeal to defending his Kingship to the others. It would also have been
interesting to talk with that freakishly strong girl without having to worry about
her attacking him.
But the fact was that his decision to keep to the shadows on this occasion had
resulted in him not being invited to the apparent event of the century. For a
moment he'd considered turning up uninvited, after all he was a Campione and
this was a banquet for Kings, but in the end he decided against it. The move
struck him as being . . . needy, unworthy, the act of one who'd found out about
something cool going on and desperately wanted to be part of it. He might not
be as obsessed with his role as a King as were Luo Hao or Sasha Dejanstahl
Voban, but he did have an image that was useful and that he didn't wish to
tarnish.
With a sigh he acknowledged to himself that this was one event that probably
would be passing him by. Still, now that he thought about it, four Campione in
one spot, that was just asking for trouble. Almost certainly they'd be able to deal
with whatever turned up, but it would still be an irritation that he'd avoid.
He admitted that it was a slightly petty thought, but he could live with that.

-()-

Manaka sat on her bed in the room that she shared with Kaida-sama and tried to
get her thoughts into some semblance of order
So much had happened so fast that she felt as though she'd been caught in the
flow of a flash flood and been dragged along while only barely managing to keep
her head above water. In the wake of the huge battle that had taken place
Emiya-sama had proposed his mad idea to the other Campione and, to her
horror, they had all agreed to it.
Well perhaps she was being a bit uncharitable to her sworn lord in calling his idea
mad, but given that she had a rather unique perspective upon the four
individuals that were the focus of this feast. She'd seen the aura signs that had
hung above the Devil Kings; she'd felt the power and majesty that they radiated
and she had felt terrified.

Being around Emiya Shirou wasn't all that difficult; his aura sign's strangely
inscrutable nature was more irritating than intimidating. Certainly she
remembered those seemingly endless swords that had filled her vision the first
time that they'd met, but aside from that slightly disquieting memory being
around him wasn't all that difficult. Half the time it was easy to forget what he
was and just think of him as the lord into whose service she and her friend were
sworn.
Kusanagi Godou was a different kettle of fish all together. His aura sign what she
assumed to be the symbol of the Authorities that he'd gained from the Heretic
God Verethragna, a circular crest with ten smaller crests arranged around it. It
was wrought of burnished steel and seemed to radiate a quiet but inexorable
strength. Beyond that it hinted to her of stubbornness, of resolve and, oddly
enough, of a certain humbleness that the warrior witch wouldn't have thought of
being associated with a Campione.
Being around him was surprisingly easy due to the passive nature of his
overwhelming presence. In a way it was like relaxing underneath an overhanging
cliff. Even though one knew that there was a mass there that could come
crashing down and crush you like a bug as long as you could trust it not to then it
became a sheltering shade, a protection from rain, a refuge from the driving
wind.
The other two Kings were different though, both their aura signs thundered their
power and dominance so loudly that it was truly a wonder to her that others
couldn't see them.
The sign belonging to the Chinese Campione was . . . unique to say the least.
Rather than being some abstract symbol or sign it was a statue of herself cast in
a shining golden metal that for some reason conveyed the impression that it was
stronger than any mortal metal could ever be. The statue depicted her poised in
a ready martial stance while clad in splendid robes that highlighted her beauty.
The sign veritably shone with her confidence, pride and discipline. It also gave off
a confusing mix of strong moral compunctions, callous disregard and neutral
indifference.
However over all that the sign shouted at her of pure unadulterated power.
Unlike the two Kings of Japan Luo Hao exerted no effort in hiding her majesty,
indeed she radiated it for all in her presence to feel. To one like Manaka the
sensation of that aura of power pressing on her was just a step or two short of
being crushing.
John Pluto Smith on the other hand was altogether different. His aura sign was a
throne, one worked with skeletons upon it. However despite the somewhat
gruesome appearance of the seat of majesty it somehow wasn't repellent. The
grinning skulls that adorned the throne seemed not to be leering or grimacing,
rather there was something about them that seemed . . . mischievous, good
natured, as though they knew a joke that nobody else did and were having a
good time laughing about it in their own minds. As with the Ruler of the Martial
Realm the Masked King's sign thundered to her extra senses. It roared of
challenge, of theatricality, of heroism.
It also possessed an almost suffocating aura of power, but one that was different
to that held by Luo Hao. Where hers was like a weight, a pressure, bearing down

upon Manaka John Smith's was like an atmosphere that closed in around her. It
could still be breathed in, but there was the uneasy sensation that at any point
that airy power could close in on her and choke her alive.
The thought of all those auras being together in a single spot was . . .
intimidating, that was the closest word she could think of. It was like being a
child in the presence of giants, that feeling of being so vastly outmatched.
And she admitted to herself, if no-one else, that she hated that feeling. She was
someone that took great pride in her skills, due to the isolation that her powers
had brought upon her she had spent almost all her free time training in combat
and magic. The results had made her one of the best agents that the Committee
had available, and that had always helped her to ignore any pangs of loneliness
she might suffer.
And to see all that she'd achieved through hours of dedicated work so massively
surpassed . . . well, it left her with a slightly bitter taste in her mouth as well as
slightly unsteady knees.
With a sigh the warrior witch let herself fall back onto her bed and stared up at
the ceiling.
She really shouldn't be thinking like this. Comparing the powers of a Campione to
those of a normal human was like a pebble trying to compare itself to the sky.
She might as well be yelling at the sun not to rise in the east.
It was just . . . she was frustrated. It seemed as though lately she hadn't really
had any sort of control over her life, like she was just being swept along like a
leaf in a gust of wind. More than that it didn't feel as though she was really being
able to accomplish anything since all this had begun. She'd abandoned her pride
to follow Kaida-sama and work as a mere maid, she'd followed Shirou-sama and
found herself in the centre of a whirlwind of chaos beyond anything she'd ever
imagined. She'd battled Divine Beasts and been privileged enough to witness the
defeat of a god.
And yet for all that she didn't feel . . . satisfied.
Looking to the bed that took up the other side of the room she took in Kaidasama's sleeping form. Since returning to the mansion the Hime-Miko had spent
almost all of her time asleep. It wasn't really too much of a surprise, despite her
gift and her talent the fact was that Kaida-sama's reserves of strength were only
slightly above average. Though she'd been able to join in the final events after a
bit of rest, as soon as the pressure had been removed the black haired shrine
maiden had spent the entire trip back and most of the time since asleep.
A knock on the door to their room brought Manaka out of her thoughts.
"Oooh? Could you see who that is Mana-chan?"
Her friend's sleepy request brought a small smile to the brown haired witch's lips.
Most of the time Kaida-sama could be so painfully formal, it was only at times
like this, when she was more asleep than awake, that she used the nickname
that she'd apparently assigned Manaka in her head.
Getting up she walked over to the door, idly wondering who it might be as she
did so.

"Yes? Who is- Emiya-sama!"

Behind her there was a noise rather like 'grlak' as Kaida-sama suddenly jerked
herself to full wakefulness and tried to straighten her clothes, sit up and get off
her bed, all at the same time.
"Would it be okay to speak to you and Kaida-san for a moment Manaka-san?"
"Of Of course Emiya-sama, you know we're ready to serve any time you
choose." Even as she said the words the warrior witch flinched inside at the large
number of ways her wording could be interpreted.
"Ah, Emiya-sama, what was it you wished to speak of?" Kaida-sama had
apparently managed to sort herself out and was now standing behind her and
was doing her best to smooth down her sleep rumpled clothes.
"May I come in?"
Manaka knew it was just a formality, a nod to good manners, but she still found it
somewhat admirable. This was his home and they were his servants. In addition
he was a Campione, if he wanted to walk into the prime minister's office and
paint it pink there wasn't any who could stop him save for another King or a god.
And yet despite that he still asked for permission before entering.
Wordlessly she stepped aside and granted him a clear path. With a nod of
acknowledgement he stepped past her and entered the room. As the former
bodyguard closed the door the eighth Campione walked over to the rooms
window then turned his back to it as he leaned against the window sill and faced
them. Behind him the long shadows of early evening stretched across the part of
the garden that their room overlooked.
"I came here to do two things," Emiya-sama announced, "The first was to thank
you and the second was to apologize."
That caused Manaka to blink in surprise, that she hadn't been expecting. A dozen
different thoughts ran through her mind as she tried to think of what might have
prompted the King to feel he had to act in this way.
"Firstly please accept my thanks for how you aided and supported my sister
while I was trapped. I asked her how things went and she had nothing but good
things to say about you both. She told me of how you, Manaka-san, helped
defend against Divine Beasts and of how you, Kaida-san, placed yourself at great
risk in order to delay Sun Wukong while they escaped. Both of you went above
and beyond what was expected of you and I am truly grateful for it."
Manaka felt a slight frown trying to form but kept her features as they were. Did
he really expect them to abandon their oaths as soon as things got tough? In all
truth the insinuation was somewhat insulting.
"I'll be quite honest; when you first volunteered to take the position of maids
here I thought that it was just so that you could be in a better position to report
back to the Committee."
"You . . . thought we were spies?" Kaida-sama's voice wasn't so much insulted as
she was perplexed.

"I couldn't think of any other reason for you to be so determined to enter my
service. I thought that you might be meant to somehow influence me, try to get
me to act in a way that would benefit your organization. Then as you spent more
time here you didn't do . . . well, anything that I had expected. You didn't try to
ingratiate yourselves to my sister, you didn't try to become part of the
organization Yusuke was setting up for me and you didn't make any . . . offers to
me."
Manaka felt her face flush with both anger and embarrassment. Intellectually she
knew that to someone expecting attempts at manipulation from two attractive
young women a sexual proposition was an expected tactic, but still . . . Neither
her or Kaida-sama would ever have even considered doing such a thing, and if
anyone had ordered them to do so . . . well, it was a toss up between what would
hit them first, a Dragon's Roar or some of the warrior witch's nastier and more
painful spells.
"But neither of you have done anything of the sort, so that leads to the apology
that I owe you."
Both the maids openly gaped in surprise as the eighth Campione, one of the
most powerful people on the planet, bowed deeply to them.
"E-Emiya-sama?"
Kaida-sama was the one to speak the halting but questioning word, Manaka's
mouth was suddenly too dry to form words.
"I . . . owe you. Both of you stuck with Illya when it looked like you were on the
losing side, when Godou-san was injured and Luo Hao and I were trapped. You
could have taken the safe route, but you chose to stick with her instead, to stick
with the promises you made to me."
Emiya-sama straightened up and looked both of them in the eyes. His face was a
picture of sincerity, honest sincerity, not the fake look she was accustomed to
seeing on the faces of those that had tried to flatter and manipulate her.
"For the past few weeks I've kept you at arms length due to my concerns, now
that you've allayed them I think we can say that'll be over with. Both my sister
and I have finished setting up our workshops and have more or less completed
that projects we were working on.
"Both of us are interested in learning more about the magic that is commonly
used rather than the 'pure' type that the Einzbern taught us, it was my hope that
you'd both consent to be our tutors."
There was a moment of silence as the two young women processed what had
been asked of them.
"I . . . You honour us with your request Emiya-sama," began the black haired
Hime-Miko, "But please understand that neither of us are Masters of our styles.
With your influence it would be easy for you to acquire more experienced mages
who'd be much better than us at being teachers."
"True, but I doubt that I or Illya could grow comfortable with them any time soon.
I don't know about your style of magic, but the thaumaturgy that the Einzbern
taught us was . . . dangerous. One had to trust one's instructor or the results

could be lethal. Illya will be the one to do most of the learning since I freely admit
that she's much more talented than me, and she's already told me that she'd be
happier learning from someone that she can put some trust in rather than a
stranger.
"I don't think you'll find teaching us to be all that difficult. All we need is a good
grounding in the basics and some directions in which way to go next. Once we've
got to that point then we'll see what we can do next."
Manaka nodded slowly as she absorbed what she'd heard. If it was just a basic
introduction to the arts of witchcraft then she wouldn't have too much trouble.
She might not have that much experience teaching, but she'd been the student
plenty of times and if she had to show someone else how to do the basics then
she had a good idea of how to go about it.
"I . . . I think I could manage that Emiya-sama." Kaida-sama said as she glanced
over to her bodyguard and saw her nod in agreement.
"Excellent," the eighth Campione grinned, "I guess that means you won't be
maids any longer. Guess I'll have to find someone else to take up that role."
YES, the thought ran through the warrior witch's mind in a jubilant cheer even as
she struggled to keep he face calm. No more sweeping, no more dusting, no
more polishing, no more"Actually Emiya-sama, I'd like to keep my role as a maid," Kaida-sama's happy
tone broke into her thoughts and brought them to a screeching halt. "I find doing
the housework to be surprisingly relaxing, although a reduction in the schedule
so that I'd have some more spare time for teaching and research would be
appreciated."
No, no no no. Manaka couldn't believe this. Finally a chance to get out from
under the tyrannical thumb of Suzuki-san and it was being lost. Alright, she could
understand why the former shrine maiden would like to keep her position; she
was damned good at being a maid. Hell, she took it almost to the point where it
was a sort of Zen state. But as for the former Committee agent, well she'd be
happy if she never had to pick up another dusting cloth as long as she lived.
But . . . oh, blast her conscience; she couldn't leave her friend alone even if she
was perfectly happy where she was.
"Well, I'm sure we can get things arranged so . . ." she stopped paying too much
attention as the God Slayer began to hash out the details with Kaida-sama.
Maybe later she could have a word with Emiya-sama in private. For now she'd
just let things get sorted out on their own.

-()-

Shirou lay in his pyjamas under his bed sheets and contemplated the darkness
behind his closed eyelids.

Today had been quite busy. Just this morning he'd slain a god, then he'd arranged
for what could be the most catastrophic event in recent recorded history, then
he'd spent most of the day getting it organized.
Yes, a very busy day.
His body ached from the stresses he'd placed on it, battle, Tracing, paying the
price for his Authorities and then not stopping to rest. Save for a few brief stops
this was the first time that he'd really let himself unwind since this morning.
Quite frankly he was amazed that even with his enhanced endurance he'd been
able to last this long.
He felt the first hints of sleep as his mind began to wander.
He missed Sakura. He missed her in his bed.
That thought was enough to bring him back to full wakefulness.
He felt . . . a bit guilty at that thought. It hadn't been a thought of how he missed
her smile or how he missed her company. It had been the simple primitive
thought of a man missing his woman, missing the warmth of her body next to
his, missing the softness of her skin, the heat of her kiss, theHe could feel his face flushing as he broke off that line of thought as well. It
felt . . . wrong to be thinking of her in such a lustful way. Alright, granted that he
had justifiable reason to know of her in such a way given that they had been
lovers, but having learnt of the hell she'd endured at the hands of the Matou
family it somehow felt wrong. It was as though thinking of her in that fashion
made him that much more similar to Shinji.
Bastard.
Still, truth be told, he hadn't given his girlfriend as much thought as he should
have lately, and in all truth that worried him. he'd thrown away his childhood
dreams, his promise to his father, his most fundamental ideal for her, given that
she should be on his mind at almost every turn. If he was fighting then he should
have at least thought of her, even if only to remember what he was fighting for.
But for some reason he found he'd been thinking of her less and less as the days
went by. It wasn't that his emotions for her had dimmed, the mere thought of her
filled him with both love and desire, it was just . . .
He felt his brow crease into a frown as he tried to analyse his feelings. His
emotions towards her remained strong as ever, so why was it that she seemed to
be slipping from his thoughts? Was it something subconscious? A desire to avoid
the pain that thinking of how they were separated brought him?
Aaaah! This was frustrating, he'd never been in love before and he had no idea
of how to be a good boyfriend to Sakura when the distance of dimensional
barriers separated them. But he'd have to do . . . do something. His lover
deserved something better than being shoved to the back of his mind simply
because thinking about her hurt and frustrated him due to their being apart.
Tomorrow, he decided, tomorrow he'd work out something to remind himself of
her. Paint a picture, write a letter, set up a shrine to her, just . . . something.

Maybe when this banquet he'd set up was done with he'd see about getting
some books with advice on long distance relationships.
That was his last thought before the heavy blanket of sleep fell over him.

-()-

While the more mortal residents of the manor slept the resurrected souls were
still hard at work.
"Ah, Yusuke-san can you please keep an eye on this while I chop the potatoes?"
Suzuki Asuka was in her element and having a very good time of it. Granted all
her assistants had had to go to bed as the need for sleep caught up to them, but
that was fine with her, she could handle this part alone.
Tomorrow was going to be a banquet fit for the wildest dreams of an emperor, of
that she was absolutely determined. Shirou-sama had told her that they would
probably only be expecting somewhere between eight or fifteen guests, but that
he wanted to feed them all buffet style. Well that was fine with her; if she was
meant to feed Kings like him then she would have dreaded having to come up
with a suitable menu. Far better to provide them all with a wide selection to
choose from, that way they could simply take what they liked.
And this would be a feast fit for a gathering of emperors; she was going to see
to that personally.
As a result she'd spent most of the day cooking or partially cooking enough food
to serve more than a hundred people. Foods from half a dozen different cultures
and in as many different styles. European roasts, Chinese stir fries, Indian bakes,
Italian pastas, every recipe that she was confident of and that she'd acquired
during her life.
Of course there was no way that it could all be eaten, even if every guest gorged
themselves they wouldn't be able to finish a third of it all. However that
extravagance, that show of choice and opulence, was part of the show that was
as much a part of the feast as the food itself.
Of course the excess food wouldn't go to waste. Some of it would be frozen for
later, but most of it would go to ensuring that she wouldn't have to cook another
meal to feed the manor's staff for the next couple of days at least. That suited
her fine, it would be like a mini holiday, all she'd have to worry about would be
making sure the cleaning got done. She could take the rest of the time pretty
much off.
"Do you think these vegetables are done?"
The resurrected accountant's words brought her out of her thoughts and back to
the situation at hand. Laying down her knife the house keeper moved over and
poked the cooking roots.
"Just right, they're a bit underdone. If I leave them like this I can heat them up
tomorrow just before we serve them and they'll be cooked to perfection."

With a pleased nod she drained the boiling water and laid the mostly cooked
food to the side to cool. As she did so Yusuke seated himself down on one of the
kitchens stool chairs and helped himself to a sandwich he'd made earlier.
"So what's your take on this banquet that Shirou-sama is throwing together? I
know you're having a ball getting the food ready, but what do you think apart
from that?"
Asuka looked up in surprise at the question. Her fellow resurrected soul was
munching on a mouthful of bread, cheese, cucumber and tomato and seemed to
be totally at ease. Oh well, he had asked and she saw no harm in answering.
"I think it's a good idea." she declared as she returned to chopping her potatoes
into long thin chips. Home made French fries, a simple but tasty dish, especially
if you knew the right oil to use and the right temperature to use it at.
"Oh?"
The older man's questioning comment was muffled slightly by the partially
chewed food in his mouth.
"Yes, I've been having a word with some of my new staff, asking them about the
gods and mages and what have you. They told me a bit about the situation
Shirou-sama's in as a new Campione. Since he's the newest one to join and since
Japan hasn't had one before both him and Kusanagi-sama aren't held in quite the
same international regard that the other Kings are. This'll probably change over
time as they prove themselves, but for now the Kings of Japan are regarded as
junior Campione rather than full fledged ones.
"Setting up this feast is a good move on Shirou-sama's part. It will help him to
cultivate his image as well as bring him to everyone's attention. After all, how
can they possibly miss this? By calling together the biggest gathering of Kings in
recorded history our King had ensured that in less than a week ever single
organization in the world will be frantically going over everything they know
about him and trying to work out what he'll do next.
"Just let them try to regard him as junior to other Campione then."
Yusuke-san chuckled at that, but beneath it there was a definite hint of iron.
Asuka understood it without him having to say a word. Shirou-sama was a good
young man, one who didn't abuse his powers and treated his servants kindly. She
shuddered at the thought of what an unscrupulous individual could do with his
powers. Even with just his Rule of the Underworld the possibilities were terrifying
and revolting. Blackmail, slavery, murder, prostitution, the options that such an
ability opened were almost infinite.
She could only thank the same gods that were her King's foes that he was such a
man.
Still for all his kindness, all his insistence to those he called to his service that he
wasn't a King, every soul that entered his service knew the truth.
Shirou was a King, it was written into his power in words that thundered to those
that could perceive it. Though they all called him Shirou-sama to his face, as he
requested, in their hearts he was his majesty King Emiya Shirou. And they all

took a certain pride in it. The undead house keeper had encountered the other
King of Japan, Kusanagi Godou-sama, and while he struck her as a pleasant
fellow and even though she could sense the power buried in him she didn't think
he was Shirou-sama's equal.
On the other hand she imagined that those girls that followed the seventh
Campione about probably said the same thing about the eighth King.
Well, regardless of that this feast would be Shirou-sama's chance to show off, to
impress the other Campione. And if it would support her King Asuka was more
than happy to pour all her effort into making sure that the food served up would
be good enough to make an emperor weep with joy.
"Right then," she muttered aloud as she began rooting about in one of the
cupboards, "Where did I put that pasta cutter, can't use pre-made after all, got to
make my own."

-()-

Godou sat in one of the armchairs in his home's lounge and stared at the
invitation he held in his hands.
Right now it was half past nine in the morning and the invitation had been
delivered by a courier company's messenger about half an hour ago. Since then
he'd spent the last thirty minutes staring at it and wondering, as he often did of
late, what he'd done to deserve such complications in his life.
Oh, right. He'd killed a god.
Shaking his head to try to dismiss his circling thoughts he instead read the short
invitation once more.
To his majesty King Kusanagi Godou,
You are cordially invited to the Feast of Kings that his Majesty King Emiya Shirou
shall be holding at his manor tonight at 7:00pm.
Please feel free to bring as many guests with you as you see fit, but please
understand that those that accompany you shall be under your responsibility.
Formal clothing is not required, feel free to come in whatever apparel you deem
appropriate.
King Emiya Shirou hopes that the evening will prove entertaining and that the
contest of Kingship will meet your satisfaction.
Yamada Yusuke,
Humble servant to the eighth Campione.
It was really going to happen. When he'd woken up this morning he'd almost
been able to convince himself that the events of the previous few days had been
nothing more than a troubling dream. But then this had arrived and dispelled his
comfortable delusion.

It wasn't that he disliked the other Campione, quite the opposite in the case of
the three he would be meeting. In all truth he felt a surprising camaraderie with
the black caped King and even if Luo Hao was not an easy person to cope with
he found he didn't dislike her company. As for Shirou-san, well . . . his fellow
Japanese King was easily the most reasonable of all the Campione he'd met, not
that that was saying much.
It was that despite all that he'd been through, all that he'd done, he still
considered himself to be a normal person.
He was well aware that the belief was absurd to the point of being comical.
Normal people couldn't call down the power of the sun, control lightning bolts or
demolish castles single handed, but these were all things that he'd
accomplished. Yet despite all that he still couldn't bring himself to mentally
categorize himself with people like Luo Hao or Salvatore Doni.
It was as he'd said to the Ruler of the Martial Realm while they were being sealed
away by the Monkey King, other than the ability to fight gods he regarded
himself as just an ordinary person. That was honestly how he saw himself.
Somehow he felt that if he attended this event then he might not be able to tell
that to himself ever again, not if he was being honest.
"So Godou, what are you going to wear?"
The black haired teen actually jumped in surprise as the unexpected voice broke
into his thoughts. He looked up to see that Erica was standing behind him and
reading the invitation over his shoulder.
When had she arrived? He hadn't heard the door open so how had she gotten in?
Oh, wait, never mind. In the past she'd not only entered his home without any
trouble she'd also snuck into his room and slipped into bed with him without him
waking up, even though he could be a light sleeper. Why on earth was he
surprised by her getting in without him noticing given how lost in his thoughts
he'd been?
"I have just the right dress to wear; it's rather similar to the one that I was
wearing when we first met. Ahh, the memories it will bring back."
"Ah, Erica, I'm still not sure if-"
"So what do you think Yuri will wear? I'll be sure to contact Lily and let her know
about the invitation and that she can dress as she sees fit. Hmmm, do you think
that Ena-san has anything special to wear if she so chooses?"
"Now Erica, I already said that I wasn't sure if I was going."
The smile that she directed at him was both caring and pitying, rather like a
parent looking at a child that doesn't want to take a bath.
"Godou, I know that you're sometimes reluctant to play your part as one of the
Kings of Japan but in this case if you don't it will only lead to more trouble down
the line."
The young Kusanagi knew that he shouldn't engage her in debate if he wanted to
stay true to his course. He was well aware that the blonde knight was more than

capable of talking just about anyone round to her point of view just so long as
they were at least partly reasonable. He knew this, and yet he still asked the
question.
"Why so?"
"This is to be the premier event of the year, possibly even the decade, and it's
being held here in your lands. Can you imagine what would happen if you, one of
the two kings of Nippon, did not attend?" As she spoke Erica started to pace the
room while gesticulating widely. "Others shall begin to wonder why you failed to
attend; were you afraid? Does this mean that you are subordinate to Emiya-san?
Could it be that you are a weak King? To these others it will hint at weakness, like
blood in the water for sharks, and like sharks they'll come.
"Before you know it there will be egotistical mages and upstart challengers
breathing down your neck at all hours of the day seeking to establish their
reputations by bringing down the weakest Campione."
She turned to face Godou and adopted a pose of remorseful suffering, one arm
brought up to press the back of her hand to her forehead in exaggerated sorrow.
"And of course Lily and me will be called back to face our orders as to why we're
wasting our time serving this failure of a King. Yuri-chan will also be embarrassed
in the eyes of the Committee and . . ."
The Great Knight of the Copper-Black Cross continued to vocalize, but Godou
stopped listening for the most part. He was well aware that she was hamming it
up for all she was worth, but at the heart of it was a core of truth. He was well
aware that much of the power of a Campione was based on their reputation. Was
there a chance that not going to this feast would damage his?
Ahhh, this was so troublesome. Why couldn't his life simply be easier?
"-odou? Godou are you listening to me?"
The words of his 'first wife', as she like to call herself, brought him back from his
thoughts. Erica was standing in front of him and leaning down to stare at him in
the face. He couldn't help but notice the rather nice effect her position had of
prominently displaying her female assets to him. It was probably intentional too,
given how unashamed the Italian girl was of showing off her body to the object of
her affection.
"Godou?!"
"I'm going!"
The words sort of slipped out on their own, but as soon as he said them he knew
that he was more or less resigned to go.
"Marvellous, I knew that you'd see reason. Now in regards to what you should
wear, I was thinking . . ."
As Erica continued to speak Godou wondered why he even bothered trying to
disagree with her. The blonde girl had enough drive in her to lift a shuttle into
space. The conclusion was pretty much forgone.

-()-

Shirou was sitting in his study and going over the journal that he'd just begun
when the alarm that signified his outermost Bounded Field had been penetrated
went off.
The journal was his answer to his feelings about Sakura. He had resolved that
every day he would write her a letter in this book telling her about what had
happened and how he felt. Maybe once he finally figured out a way home he'd
show it to her and they could discuss the various entries.
He'd just been thinking that when the alarm had sounded in his head.
It wasn't the one that indicated an all-out assault by enemy forces, had it been
that one then the alarm would have rung out throughout the entire manor rather
than just the inside of his skull. This particular alarm was meant to signal that
someone had crossed the field surrounding the mansion grounds, but had done
so in a stealthy and quiet way rather than simply charging in.
Did this mean that there was an assassin trying to infiltrate his home? Given
what was going down tonight he imagined that there would soon be a wealth of
targets that would each carry extremely high prices on their heads. However for
some reason he didn't think that was the case. Illya had been very careful when
she set up the fields around the manor, and while doing so she'd commented
that she was going to use a couple of the tricks that their father had used on his
home.
Essentially there were multiple fields around the house, each geared to detect a
different type of intruder. The field that had just been broken was geared to
detect magical attempts to enter the manor. Not to stop them or to interfere with
them, simply to detect. Since its effect was so passive it was consequently hard
to detect, and it was also acutely sensitive. His adopted sister had boasted that
nothing short of someone possessing the Presence Concealment qualities of the
Assassin class could get through it without tripping the field.
However it was the second field that was the real prize as far as Shirou was
concerned. That one was more or less a copy of the field around his home, the
one that his adopted father had set up. It was simple but highly effective, rather
than detecting magical power or hidden intruders it was geared solely to sensing
hostile intent.
What was interesting in this case was that the first field had been tripped while
the second one had not. Whomever it was that had broken in it seemed that they
didn't have any hostile or malicious intent. That wasn't guaranteed of course,
one of the first rule of Bounded Fields that Illya had imparted upon him was
never to think they could be infallible. There was always a way through, always a
way to trick them.
He frowned slightly as he felt further fields being . . . not so much tripped as
brushed. Whomever it was that was sneaking into his manor was good, very
good. To the best of his knowledge the magecraft of Bounded Fields was almost
totally alien to the mages of this world. They used some spells that produced
similar effects, but the methods behind them were almost totally different. Even

gods seemed to have some trouble dealing with them, as evidenced by the fact
that it had taken Perseus more than a whole day to find him when he was hidden
by Illya's concealment fields.
For a moment he considered going to confront this intruder, then he noticed
something else and leaned back into his chair.
It seemed that this mystery trespasser was heading towards him. He could feel
them brushing through the numerous internal fields that his adopted sister had
set up in her spare time. Most of them were simply for alarm or detection, but if
they were armed then a fair number of them would have some nasty but nonlethal effects.
Well, they didn't seem to be doing any damage or threatening his staff. If that
was the case then he didn't see any problem with waiting for them here. Illya
was still in bed and asleep, given that none of the major alarms had been set off
yet, so with any luck he'd be able to get this dealt with before she woke up.
His decision made he closed the leather bound book that was serving as his
journal and adjusted his posture so that he appeared to be relaxed, but was in
fact ready to take any one of a number of actions available to him. Now, if he
wanted to get the best effects out of this he'd have to time it just right. The
intruder seemed to be able to use some magic to pass through walls, so in that
case they should be entering his study right about . . . now.
"While I appreciate you taking the effort to see me I would have appreciated it if
you had rung the bell before entering you know."
Hearing a startled squeak behind him Shirou rotated his swivel chair to face the
trespasser in his home. As he did so he couldn't help but give himself a pat on
the back, that had been just like that villain in that gaijin movie that he'd seen
the other day. He'd have to see if he could work out a way to do it again, it would
certainlyAll thoughts of how he could use the trick to mess with his staff were cut off as
he saw just who it was that had entered his study.
"Ah . . . Guinevere offers her greetings to you sir Emiya."
It was his first time getting a good look at the girl that he'd fought so hard to
defend. Back when he'd first drawn Arondight he'd been completely focused
upon fighting Mordred in order to protect. She'd been behind him, and though
he'd heard her voice he'd not had the chance to actually look at her. Afterwards,
when he'd regained consciousness, he'd still only been half awake before she
disappeared. He'd noticed some details, such as her being blonde and quite
young, but he'd not really had a chance to get a good look at her.
She was an unquestionably beautiful young girl of about twelve or thirteen years
old if he was any judge. Her golden blonde hair was arranged into long curling
'drill' locks similar to some of the heroines in Illya's anime. She was dressed in a
pure white dress of European style with lace at her throat and wrists. On her
forehead was a small locket like piece of jewellery that managed to lend her the
air of a young princess.

Actually . . . she reminded him slightly of Illya for some reason. They were both
of a roughly similar age, and both of them possessed a beauty that most girls
their apparent age wouldn't normally be capable of.
And they both managed to radiate an aura that subtly hinted at danger and
power. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but that was definitely the feeling he
was getting from the girl before him, that she had power and that she was
dangerous.
So why was her face so flushed?

-()-

This was not going at all how Guinevere had planned this, not at all.
The Divine Ancestor stared at a spot on the floor as she performed a polite, but
not subservient, curtsy to the owner of the mansion she'd just entered.
She'd originally decided against leaving Japan in order to spend some time
studying this strange Campione that had inexplicably saved her. After all she
certainly had motivation; he could somehow wield not only the power of her
beloved protector, but also the sword of her dear King. That wasn't something
that she could just ignore.
The fact that he had used Excalibur had gnawed at her ever since she'd fled from
his presence. How had he come to possess it? As far as she knew only she knew
how to resurrect the divine sword from its slumber. Since none others could that
should mean that the only times the sword of Salvation should appear would be
when her King was resurrected or she had herself brought it about.
So then how could it be that this Emiya Shirou could wield the sacred blade of
the King of the End?
There was always the unthinkable option that her Lord had been defeated by this
Campione and his sword claimed as an Authority by his vanquisher, but she was
certain that such an option was impossible. Not only was her beloved Artus too
strong to be defeated by such a young God Slayer, regardless of how talented he
seemed to be, but if he had revived then she was sure that she would have
sensed it even if she'd been on the other side of the world at the time.
There were simply too many questions and not enough answers. Still, maybe if
she could engage him in conversation then she'd be able to coax some
information out of him.
Her mind made up the former goddess opened her mouth to speak, brought her
eyes up to meet the young man's . . . and found any words she might be about
to say were stuck in her throat as it suddenly went dry.
Curse it, why did the young King have to be so attractive? And why did he have
to look at her with those eyes that actually held a touch of concern? Didn't he
know that as a Divine Ancestor she was practically his enemy by default?

Giving herself a small shake Guinevere forcefully took hold of herself. This was
absurd, she was the Witch Queen and more than forty years old despite her
appearance. She had come here in the hopes of learning more about this
puzzling King and she wasn't going to leave empty handed.
"You do my home honour by coming here Lady Guinevere, though there was no
need to enter like a thief. Had you simply announced yourself at the entrance my
staff would have been able to provide you with a more . . . courteous reception
than this."
That was . . . surprising, rather than being angry at her intrusion he seemed
more irritated that he'd not been able to greet her as an honoured guest. She
steadfastly ignored the small part of her that was giggling happily at the thought
that he wasn't angry with her.
"Guinevere is happy that I have not raised your ire Emiya-sama. Though
Guinevere is surprised that you're so welcoming, are not we daughters of the
earth not the enemies of you God Slayers?"
"If I regarded you as my enemy do you think I would have moved to save you?"
The eighth Campione's posture was no longer as relaxed as it had been before,
now he was sitting up in his chair and facing his guest. Due to the difference in
their heights that still left him slightly taller than Guinevere, but at least he
wasn't towering over her as much as he would have had he been standing up.
His words did give her an opening though, a chance to ask one of the questions
that had been gnawing at her since he'd stood between her and the foul traitor
knight.
"Why did you save Guinevere? That sword that you held felt like sir Knight and
you said that you would play sir Knight's part, but I don't see how that could
have been."
She also remembered him speaking of 'the Heroic Spirit Lancelot', she had no
idea of what he was referring to, but whatever that sword had been it had been
powerful. She wasn't expecting him to reveal all to her immediately, but she
hoped that she would learn something.
"Why would I need a reason to save someone right there in front of me?"
The question was delivered with total sincerity and an absolute lack of any sort
of deception as far as the owner of the Holy Grail could tell.
"Guinevere is a Divine Ancestor, should that not make us enemies?"
Even as she said the words the blonde witch was wondering what on earth she
was doing. Was she trying to make this Campione her enemy? He was still
relatively new to his position, so he may not yet be aware of the 'natural
enemies' that God Slayers like him developed. She should be using that to her
advantage not . . . not pushing him, not trying to see how he'd react to learning
what their traditional roles should be in respect to one another.
"You've done nothing to me and mine that would make you my enemy, so I don't
see you as one. Divine Ancestors may clash with Campione, but I've had no
trouble with any so far so I bear no animosity to any of you."

For an instant Guinevere contemplated telling him that it had been largely her
plan that had allowed the Monkey King to be freed.
"Guinevere, the queen of Camelot and the beloved of Sir Lancelot. That is how
the majority of the world knows you. I know that there's more to it, that the truth
behind the myth is different, but I have yet to learn it. Still regardless of that I
consider myself to be an . . . admirer of King Arthur, his legend helped keep me
going during some . . . bad times."
The red haired young man rose from his chair but didn't step towards her. He was
tall; the queen of the witches couldn't help but notice. She hadn't seen it before,
given that the only time she'd been close to him while he was standing was
when she'd been lying on the ground, but for his age he was definitely tall.
For a moment she had to suppress the urge to give herself a slap. Why was she
paying so much attention to such inconsequential things as how tall he was, how
oddly compelling his brown/golden eyes were, how surprisingly broad for his age
his shoulders were, orIt was only through a monumental act of will that Guinevere managed to keep
her face from flushing red once more. She had to be more rational, she had to be
scheming, she had to stop acting like a . . . a lovesick schoolgirl.
Lovesick?
Was that it? Was she in love? Had this . . . this child somehow succeeded in
capturing her heart? No! No, that couldn't be, that was absurd. Her heart and
soul were sworn to her beloved lord, to the King Who Appears at the End of Eras,
to Artus who possessed power beyond compare and wielded the sword of divine
salvation. The thought, the mere possibility that she might stray was . . . beyond
consideration.
"When I found myself as a Campione, A king, I tried to use King Arthur as a sort
of role model for how I should act. As you might have guessed there are . . .
other connections, but those are my secrets to keep for now."
Come on, she had to get control of herself, not allow these inconsequential
thoughts to distract her so. She had to get back on track . . .
Wait, why had she come here again?
It took all the control she could muster not to scream in frustration. This was
beginning to border upon the absurd. Were her wits so scattered that she
couldn't even keep her thoughts straight?
Clearly she had to fall back and regain her composure before she faced this God
Slayer once more. She needed answers, but for the moment it didn't appear that
she'd be getting them, not with her mind as tangled as it was right now.
Once more she opened her mouth to speak, to explain that she would now be
leaving, but found herself cut off as the young man before her spoke once more.
"Lady Guinevere, as you might be aware tonight I shall be holding a gathering of
my fellow Campione for friendly contest of Kingship. Allow me to extend an
invitation to attend to yourself."

The former White Goddess was struck completely dumb. What was this? Had she
really heard what she thought she'd heard? This was the greatest gathering of
God Slayers for the past twelve hundred centuries and he was inviting her to
attend? That-That made no sense, what was he thinking? What was going
through his head?
"M-Me? B-But sir Emiya, Guinevere is a Divine Ancestor and the maidservant of a
god. Surely my presence would not be welcome at such a gathering as the one
that you shall soon hold."
Even as she spoke the words she felt like wincing. What was wrong with her
today? Her words were stuttered and panicked; it was as though all her normal
poise and control were deserting her.
"I once heard of a great King who said: 'the king's words should be heard by
everyone, so if someone showed up to hear, it doesn't matter if they're friend or
foe'. I have decided to take that to heart, and I see a fine addition to my banquet
before me."
For a moment Guinevere's heart froze in her chest. A fine addition to his
banquet? Was he threatening her? Was he saying he intended to capture her and
keep her as some sort of entertainment to be served up to his guests? And why
in the name of all the gods did that thought make her feel both warm and cold?
"Tonight is a Feast of Kings; I think it would not be out of place for a servant to
one of the most famed kings of all time to attend. We Campione will be each
defending our own path, I offer you the chance to present and defend the path of
your honoured king."
Ah, so that's what he meant. The golden haired Witch Queen felt a turbulent mix
of relief, shame and . . . disappointment well up within her. She steadfastly
ignored the last emotion as she really really didn't want to deal with that now.
"Of course you'll be obliged to attend under the same rules that my fellow Kings
have agreed to, there shall be no violence, no scheming, no manipulations of any
kind. So long as you agree to that I will assure you my protection. None shall
raise hand against you without having to confront me."
"Guinevere would be happy to attend."
The words slipped out all on their own before she could even think of formulating
a reply.
Oh.
Oh dear.
Had she just done that? Had she just agreed to attend a gathering of half the
world's Devil Kings?
What was she thinking?!
This was the equivalent of a cat voluntarily strolling into the hunting dogs'
pound. No, wait, that didn't properly cover it. This was a kitten with delicious raw
steaks strapped to its back wandering into an enclosure holding freshly caught
wild Siberian timber wolves.

This was madness, this was . . .

He was looking at her, looking at her and smiling.
At the sight of that smile, pleased and grateful, it was as though something in
her head had melted into a pile of warm and happy butter. For a moment she
could honestly no longer remember why it was such a bad idea to attend this
young King's feast.
"My thanks lady Guinevere, I intend to begin the Feast at Seven o'clock, I trust
that there won't be any problems attending?"
Doing her best to pull her brain back into some sort of coherent operation the
Divine Ancestor could only silently shake her head.
"Excellent," sir Emiya turned back to his desk, "I believe I have an invitation here
somewhere, just hold on a moment and I'll . . ."
As soon as his back was turned Guinevere fled.
She was well aware that it was hardly the most elegant or graceful way of
dealing with her issues, but at that point she could honestly say that she didn't
care. All she wanted was to get out of there before those lovely brown/gold eyes
melted her brain enough for her to agree to another lunatic request.
As she turned into a gust of wind and flew out of the manor she stubbornly
ignored the fact that she was already resolved to honour her agreement to
attend tonight's Feast.
Arrrgggh, what had she done?

-()-

What had he done?

Shirou waited at his desk as soon as he had felt the Divine Ancestor leave the
room.
He waited for a minute.
Then he waited for another minute.
Then, just to be careful, he waited for three more minutes.
After that, secure in the knowledge that Guinevere was not going to return, he
began beating his head on the surface of his desk.
THUNK, THUNK, THUNK.
The sound of his forehead bouncing off the mahogany wood of his work top was
oddly pleasing, but it did little to calm his nerves.
What had he done? What had he done?!
It had been as though he had slipped so far into his role as the 'faker king' that
he'd made the offer before thinking it through all the way. It had simply seemed

like a good idea at the time so he'd said it. Maybe he'd been channelling Iskander
a bit too much, this seemed like the kind of magnificently hair-brained thing he'd
do if given the opportunity. After all she was Guinevere, granted he didn't know
what kind of person she'd been in this world, she might have been loyal to
Arthur, betrayed him with Lancelot, he just didn't know. What he did know was
that she was connected to this world's version of Saber and he wanted to know
more about that particular subject.
Still, this . . . this was potentially disastrous. Bringing a Divine Ancestor to a
meeting of Campione . . . it was like bringing a nice fatted piglet to a 'who can
raise the most ferocious wolf' competition.
No, wait, that wasn't quite accurate. Taking a deep breath Shirou steadied his
nerves.
Yes Divine Ancestors were the traditional enemies of Campione. Yes John Pluto
Smith had spent the last two years fighting the schemes of one in Los Angeles.
And yes Luo Hao had blithely sacrificed one in order to facilitate the revival of the
Monkey King. Still that didn't mean that they would all attack her the minute he
introduced her this evening. All he had to do was get the timing and the wording
right and with any luck this wouldn't all blow up in his face.
As he turned back to finish writing his letter to Sakura in his Journal he idly he
wished that Rin was here. There was a girl that didn't have any trouble twisting
any situation around her little finger.
On the other hand if the Tohsaka heir had been here she'd probably already have
become the most powerful Campione in the world and been a good way down
the road towards world conquest. He honestly wouldn't put it past her.
With a smile on his lips he resolved to finish this letter and then start working on
the gifts he had planned.

-()-

The god arrived on the shores of the chain of islands in the Far East. Japan, that
was what this land was called these days.
It had been a long time since he'd been here, since he'd enjoyed the pleasures
this culture had to offer. On the other hand when last he'd come to this land the
forbearers of samurai had still been engaging in their early wars, chaos and
anarchy had ruled more thoroughly than even any lord or emperor.
Still that wasn't why he was here. It was not pleasure or battle he sought.
It was freedom.
The power within him, that wonderful but incomplete power, had led him here. It
had been a slow process, painstakingly following the tiny indications that his new
ability had shown. However little by little his search had narrowed. Slowly but
surely he had closed in upon his prey.

It was here, somewhere in this land. The rest of the power he sought, the missing
pieces that would make it complete.
It was still a far off goal, but he had patience. He would track down his quarry, he
would complete the power that was door, key, lock and hinge all in one. He
would make it his own, and then . . .
Freedom.
Glorious freedom without limits, without ends. A fresh horizon every day, one he
had no idea of what it hid. New discoveries, new enemies, new allies, new
adventures.
An escape from this . . . this small, tiny, confining world.
An immortality was a long time to live, long enough to see everything, long
enough to do everything, long enough to exhaust the possibilities of an entire
world.
But with this power he'd be free of that, there would be new worlds, new
experiences.
All he had to do was find them.
Stepping forwards he continued the hunt.

Chapter Fourteen: The Feast of the Kings Part One

Shirou tugged at the collar of his shirt and wondered what it was about stressful
situations that made clothes seem to shrink on him. When he'd first tried this
shirt on it had fitted like a glove, no pinching, no problems. Now though, it was
as though this wretched collar was trying to ever so gently strangle him when he
wasn't paying enough attention.

In the end Shirou had decided to forgo dressing up in any particularly formal
clothes, instead simply putting on some smart casual garb that had been
recently purchased. The shirt was white and only buttoned down to the base of
his throat, it was made of decent material but nothing so extravagant as silk.
Aside from that he wore some dark blue trousers that were likewise smart but
casual along with comfortable but well-made shoes.
Truth be told he'd rather be wearing his trusty blue and white sweat shirt. Not
the original one of course, that had been a complete write off after his fight with
Hades, but since returning to Japan the eighth Campione had managed to get
hold of some new ones that were so similar that it would have taken a forensic
specialist, or a fashionista, to tell the difference.
"Shirou, stop fidgeting."
Ah, and there was the reason why he wasn't clad in his favoured style.
His dear adopted sister was currently dressed in an exquisitely cut ball gown
coloured in various shades of lavender, purple and white. Despite her young age
Illya was showing every bit of the poise and elegance that had been hammered
into her by her upbringing as the heir to the Einzbern family. The snow haired girl
wore the dress like a queen, quite frankly Shirou felt slightly inadequate when
compared to her, as though she were the host here rather than him.
He'd originally planned to dress in the same style that he always did, his line of
reasoning being that if it was good enough to meet hostile deities then it was
good enough to meet his fellow Kings. However as soon as he'd revealed this
decision to Illya she'd immediately dismissed it and had practically dragged to
his room in order to make sure he had 'suitable' clothes. What he was wearing
right now was actually a compromise since he'd flat out refused to meet his
guests in the satin dinner jacket that his adopted sister had bought him as
something of a gag gift.
Still she seemed to have made it her personal mission to ensure that he was as
impeccably prepared as she could make him, and that include her admonishing
him on his stance, posture and anything else she could think of. If it weren't for
the fact that her attempts to look stern and demanding only resulted in her
appearing painfully cute then it might have been irritating, as it was it was
actually mildly endearing.
Still right now he really wanted to head her off from another lecture on decorum,
so he tried to change the subject.
"That's a really lovely dress Illya-chan, when did you get it?"
Given that every time the young Einzbern bought a new piece of clothing she
insisted that he give her his opinion on it it really was quite unusual to see such a
spectacular dress without having seen it before.
"I submitted a design request to Matsuoka's Dressmakers last week; I had Jemma
send them a message saying I'd pay triple if they could get it ready by tonight. It
just arrived half an hour ago."
Her face suddenly turned shy.
"Does it really look good on me?"

With a broad smile on his face the eighth Campione lent forwards in a comically
exaggerated bow.
"My dear Illya," he said, his voice as outrageously flowery and overdramatic as
possible, "you look positively radiant, a veritable young princess that graces my
humble home."
Illya blushed, but also looked very pleased at the compliments being paid to her.
"Still, I'm surprised that you were able to get the dress in time," Shirou
commented as he stood up straight again. "I thought that there was always a
long wait for clothes from Matsuoka's. That's what you said a couple of week
ago, right?"
"Jemma went over there in person and was able to 'convince' them to have it
ready on time. She's really been useful since she stopped being scared of me."
The young Emiya nodded at that as his mind recalled the young woman in
question. Jemma Pesaro had been one of the former members of the Circle of the
Chosen that had elected to remain in Japan rather than return to Italy. She had
been among the first to overcome their fear of both Illya and himself and had
quickly worked hard to make herself as useful as possible. Her efforts had led to
her becoming his adopted sister's unofficial aid and general gofer. Perhaps not
the most glamorous of lives, but he had to acknowledge both her competence
and efficiency.
"You know I'm thinking about giving her a promotion from being a mere minion."
"Oh? What's the next rank up then?"
"That would be lackey." The Snow haired girl answered with a straight face,
though he could see the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.
"A major step up," agreed Shirou as he did his best to keep his own face serious
despite his urge to grin, "And what would be the next step up after that?"
"Flunky of course," she replied, "I have it all worked out, the ranks are minion,
lackey, flunky, crony, pawn and lastly servant. Once they've reached the rank of
servant then we can give them official badges."
The adopted siblings looked at each other in silence for a brief moment, their
faces showing the strain as they tried to maintain their serious expressions. Then
they both couldn't take it any more and collapsed into barely controlled laughter.
It felt good to let go of some tension. Right now it was 6:45pm, only fifteen
minutes until the official beginning of his Feast.
Everything was ready, food, drinks, decorations, seating, everything. He'd spent
more than half an hour in the afternoon making sure that the lighting alone
would meet his expectations. He'd prepared gifts for all potential visitors and was
confident that he'd thought of almost all possibilities.
But that didn't change the fact that he felt like he had a flock of Mothra sized
butterflies fluttering about inside his stomach.
Right now he and Illya were waiting in the main hall of the manor. Despite its
Eastern set up the mansion had some touches of western influence, and one of

them was the large entrance hall. Another of the former Circle members was
waiting at the open gates to greet any arrivals and to show them into the
mansion where the host of the event was ready to greet them with his adopted
sister.
Further thoughts were cut off as an alarm went off in both their heads while in
the hall before them a small cyclone of flower petals suddenly appeared. The
bright plants whipped around obscuring the view behind them and then faded
away to reveal two figures that had not been there a moment before.
One of them was a woman clad in beautiful Chinese finery from the era of the
Han Dynasty. However even the masterful work and colouring of her garb was
eclipsed by her natural loveliness. Her silky black hair was done in much the
same style as the last time Shirou had seen it, though the flower like ornaments
that she sported were clearly more intricate and artistic than the ones she had
worn earlier when heading into battle. She was also carrying a folded fan in her
left hand, though the way she held it reminded him of someone holding a short
sword.
At her side was a young man dressed in less extravagant but none the less
elegant clothing of a similar style to the woman he accompanied. His hair was
black with deep purple highlights and his bared arms showed the toning and
definition of a trained martial artist.
The eighth Campione had no trouble at all in recognizing the woman who had
managed to manifest before him in so grand a fashion.
"Ah, sempai. I'm happy to see you again, but aren't you a bit early?" Shirou
spoke as he stepped forwards to greet his fellow King. As he did so he mentally
shifted into the character of the Fake King, although now that he thought about it
perhaps after tonight that persona would no longer be a fake.
"As the most senior of the Kings meeting for this feast it was only proper this Luo
Cuilian to be the first to arrive at your home King Emiya."
He couldn't help but smile in the face of her utterly innocent egotism; honestly
he should have expected her to do something like this. Still better to get a
conversation going rather than letting the Ruler of the Martial World grow bored,
who knew what might happen then.
"I've seen your companion before but I don't believe we've been introduced.
Would you do me the honour?"
"Indeed, indeed. Come forward my young eagle; introduce yourself to your
master's fellow Ruler, the admirable young King that has brought your master to
a draw in contests twice."
The young man stepped forwards and held his left fist in his right hand; he
bowed his head and saluted to the host of the gathering using the traditional
martial arts way.
"This modest trainee gratefully thanks his majesty, King Emiya Shirou-sama, for
his gracious generosity in allowing this humble student of her Eminence to
attend this auspicious meeting of the Kings of the world. May your prosperity

outlast the sun and may your wisdom and might bring opulence and success to
all beneath your rule.
"I am Lu Yinghua, the most fortunate trainee that my great master chose to
educate in the martial arts. I have been granted the privilege of fighting beside
your formidable sister and shall speak with great regard when asked of how the
sibling of the eighth King comported herself in the face of our foes. Truly yours is
a family blessed with much might."
For a moment Shirou was taken aback by the flowery speech and the eloquent
praise, then his memory kicked in and he smiled.
"Ah, yes, I believe that my sister mentioned you when telling me of what had
happened while sempai and I were trapped within the Monkey King's cave. You
are the young man who led off one of Sun Wukong's Divine Beasts so that Illya
could face the other without distractions. Later you provided valuable
information and stayed at the site of your master imprisonment in order to aid in
the rescue attempts. Truly you have a fine and admirable young student
sempai."
Actually from what he'd been able to gather the young martial artist had stayed
at Toushouguu and occasionally made loud lamentations about the predicament
his master was in while taking it easy and playing computer games with
Sayanomiya Kaoru and Amakasu Touma. Still he'd reframe from mentioning that,
that would be just fishing for trouble.
"Indeed," agreed Luo Hao as she patted her student's head in a manner rather
reminiscant of that used to show affection to some pet, "My young eagle
comported himself most satisfactorily in my absence. Further proof that he has
been diligent in his studies and has well learnt the lessons that this Luo Cuilian
has taught him."
"Well then sempai, will you wait here with me as we await the arrival of our other
guests, or would you prefer that I escort you to a waiting room and you can join
us when the other guests have arrived?"
"I shall naturally remain here to greet our fellow Kings upon their arrival King
Emiya. It would not do for Luo Hao to wait in the wings after all."
With an acknowledging nod of his head Shirou gestured acceptingly to a spot
next to him, an invitation for his guest to stand with him rather than away. In
reply the Chinese Campione offered her own nod of acceptance and with a
regality that would have made any empress proud calmly walked forwards until
she and her disciple were standing next to the red haired teen and his adopted
sister.
There was a moment of slightly awkward silence as the two 'camps' observed
each other with a sort of non-hostile trepidation. In the end Shirou chose to break
this unease by bringing up a subject near and dear to his heart.
Cooking and food.
"So tell me sempai, do you have a particular preference as far as eating goes?
My staff have been putting great effort into getting the food ready for tonight,
and I'm sure that there'll be something to fit anyone's taste."

The Ruler of the Martial Realm seemed somewhat taken aback by the
unexpected topic of conversation, but quickly rallied and took on a thoughtful
look.
"While I confess to being most comfortable with traditional Chinese cuisine I do
confess to having a fondness for some Italian dishes. Though their preparation
and constitution does lack somewhat in sophistication they do have a most
satisfying taste and texture."
"Really?" Shirou asked genuinely interested, "so which dishes were they that
caught your fancy. I've always liked spaghetti myself. It's sort of like noodles, but
different enough that . . ."
The next few minutes passed quickly as the pair of God Slayers fell into an oddly
ordinary conversation upon the merits, or lack thereof, of various foreign dishes.
They were both so engrossed that when a knock came at the door they were
honestly somewhat surprised at how quickly the time had passed.
"Enter." Shirou called as he turned to face the door. At his command Kaida
stepped in and bowed to the two Campione.
"Shirou-sama, Kusanagi Godou-sama and his companions have arrived; Macarisan is showing them in now. Shall I have them brought directly here, or shall I
direct them to one of the lounges where you and Luo Hao-sama can join them
later?"
"There's no need to delay our meeting, please bring them directly here while
extending all possible courtesy."
"Understood Shirou-sama, by your leave . . ." with an elegant bow the Hime-Miko
in her maid's uniform bowed and closed the door.
"Excellent, so King Kusanagi has arrived and it would seem that he's brought
those girls that were with him. I recall that two of them are Great Knights from
the country of Italy and the others are miko from the local magical society. I
wonder if they will prove to be suitable companions for my little brother."
The musings of the Chinese Campione drew Shirou's attention back to her once
more; however it was Illya that addressed her first.
"In regards to that there is no need for concern your eminence," she said,
"During my time with them I received plenty of chances to observe how
competent and dedicated Godou's harem was to him, and I can tell you with total
honesty that those girls would die for him if they had to."
There was a slight pause as Luo Hao stared at the snowy haired girl in a rather
disconcerting manner. As though she were looking at some pet in a shop window
and wondering as to whether or not its pelt would make for good clothing. It only
lasted for a moment though, then her expression softened.
"If the beloved sibling of my fellow King will speak so highly of these girls then I
shall pay heed to what I am told." A frown crossed her face, "though I would hear
more of why you call these girls my sworn brother's 'harem'."
"Oh, that's because-"

Whatever else Illya was going to say was cut off as Kaida and Manaka suddenly
slid the large sliding door to the entrance hall open and announced the arrival of
the new guests.
"Presenting his majesty Kusanagi Godou-sama along with his companions for the
evening; Erica Blandelli, Diavolo Rosso of the Copper-Black Cross. Liliana
Kranjcar, Great Knight of the Bronze-Black Cross. Mariya Yuri and her younger
sister Mariya Hikari, both Hime-Miko of the History Compilation Committee and
sworn to the service of Godou-sama. Lastly Seishuuin Ena, Hime-Miko of the
Sword and . . ."
There was a sudden pause as the red eyed Hime-Miko stepped up close to the
Dragon's Roar wielder and started to whisper something to her. Shirou noted with
interest that Kaida blushed bright red at whatever it was that Ena was saying to
her and shook her head furiously. Ena, however, didn't appear to be deterred by
her apparent refusal and simply whispered to her again. This went on for a
couple more exchanges and the eighth Campione was beginning to consider
whether or not to use reinforced hearing to find out what they were discussing
when Kaida finally nodded in acquiescence.
". . . And . . ." there was another pause while the Hime-Miko turned maid directed
an imploring look at Ena, only to have it rebuffed by an encouraging nod of the
head from the warrior Miko, " . . . and formally acknowledged concubine, and
hence no longer his underground woman."
On hearing those words the Seishuuin heir strode into the hall while looking very
pleased with herself.
As this happened Shirou took the opportunity to take a good look at his newly
arrived guests. To his admitted surprise Godou didn't look unhappy or resigned
as the eighth Campione had half expected, rather he looked . . . resolved. Not
intimidated or nervous, his expression was largely neutral, but in a strangely
pleasant way. Of course that was only until Kaida finished her introduction for
Ena, then his face became a picture of pained woe.
"Welcome to my home," Shirou declared as he stepped forwards, "I'm pleased
that you've decided to attend Kusanagi-san, I feared you might choose not to
come. You and your companions are all most welcome."
"I'm pleased to see that you've decided to attend our ally's most excellent event
my sworn little brother," announced Luo Hao as she also stepped forwards. "Had
you forsaken this magnificent opportunity you would have brought considerable
shame to both your own name and the name of your sworn elder sister."
"Err, thank you Emiya-san, I'm glad not to disappoint you Nee-san." Godou's left
hand came up to rub the back of his head in an expression of slight awkwardness
that the young head of the Emiya clan was familiar with. "I thought it would be
kind of rude to turn down the invitation, but I'm not really too sure what to
expect."
"I'm sure that this evening will not prove to be a bore Kusanagi-san," Shirou
hastily assured his guest, then he noticed that the female Campione's features
were marred by a slight frown. "Is something the matter sempai?"

"I do not like this," she declared, her hand tapping her fan into her empty palm,
"Both you and my sworn brother address me in the correct form, but you do not
address one another correctly, and, now that I think about it, do I address you as
I should."
"Sempai?" there was honest confusion in the young man's voice.
"Precisely, that is a correct form of address, one both respectful and familiar. A
suitable term of address between those who have been allies as we all have.
However you are both still calling each other by your family names, and this is
not suitable. We are Kings, we should be known by our own names rather than
those of our families, after all have any in our family's histories ever achieved
such heights as becoming Rakshasa Raja? Should our own given names not have
more weight to them?"
For a moment a number of responses went through Shirou's mind. The fact that
he was adopted. The fact that his adopted father had been an assassin so
successful that he'd basically made a new official title through his achievements.
Then he dismissed the thought, he still had secrets he wished to keep, so
bringing those topics up wasn't something he should be doing.
Still, he could see the older Campione's point. They had all fought together; it
seemed somewhat absurd to continue using the formal and impersonal address
after that.
"That's fine with me," commented Godou, "How about you . . . Shirou?"
Before the eighth Campione could give his reply the sound of applause came
from the other side of the room. All present looked up to see the costumed form
of John Pluto Smith leaning casually against the door frame whilst clapping his
hands enthusiastically.
"Magnificently done your Eminence. Truly a heart warming display of two young
men casting aside their former awkwardness in order to become true friends.
This John Pluto Smith offers his heartiest approval and admiration for your good
work here."
Shirou paused for a moment and wondered just what it said about his life that he
was not that surprised that this had happened. The American Campione had
somehow managed to enter his mansion and arrive in this very room without
tripping a single one of the multitude of security measures he and Illya had
managed to set up and it didn't surprise him in the least.
Idly he wondered if he was becoming jaded.
The caped hero of Los Angeles stepped forward, his steel tipped boots clicking on
the wooded floor and his cape fluttering like that of some cinema vampire.
"My greeting to you all, my fellow Kings; please allow me to be a part of this
heart-warming agreement of friendship, address me as you would prefer. On this
night I feel there is little need to stand upon ceremony."
"I bid you welcome to my home John Pluto Smith," the host of the Feast replied
as he extended his hand in greeting to the latest arrival, "I see that you've
elected to come alone, is your collaborator still injured? My sister spoke highly of
her and I was looking forward to making her acquaintance."

"Annie is as well as can be expected," the masked Campione replied as he shook

the offered hand, "the healing took a bit out of her, but she should be ready to
leave the country tomorrow morning without any problems. That aside did I not
just say that it was acceptable to be less formal, have my words been cast aside
so soon?"
Shirou smiled and took a step back while spreading his arms wide.
"Allow me my formality in the act of at least greeting my dear guest by his full
name. As of now I agree that proceedings should be less formal and so I shall
address you as Smith."
It was of course impossible to tell what expression was upon the man's face
behind his mask, but for some reason the eighth Campione was sure that his
guest was smiling broadly.
"It is a pleasure to see you both once more," Illya spoke up as she curtsied to
both the newly arrived Campione. "I fear that I was unable to bid you both a
suitable farewell after your victory over the Monkey King and his siblings, but at
least now I may give you both a proper welcome to my home."
The American King simply inclined his head in acknowledgement, but Godou was
more expressive, directing a warm smile to the snow haired girl along with a
grateful look.
"Very well King Shirou," Luo Hao spoke up as she moved forwards to the centre
of the hall where all the other Campione had gathered, "Now that we are all here
shall we move to the festivities that you say you have planned. This Luo Cuilian
is curious to see if this cook of whom you speak so highly can compare to the
work of my own servants."
"Actually, we're still missing one more guest."
The Ruler of the Martial Realm paused in mid turn before turning back to frown at
Shirou.
"This is a gathering of Kings King Shirou, whom could you have invited to this
auspicious celebration that would be fit to join our august company?"
As though in reply to the question Shirou felt the small alarm go off in his head
just as it had earlier that morning. At his side he felt Illya stiffen as she too
sensed one of the security fields being tripped, but when her adopted brother
laid a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed she relaxed.
"I do believe that our final guest should be arriving in just a few moments,"
answered the red haired young man as he gestured towards the door.
It really was remarkable just how well he was being able to time these things
lately. As though the entire thing had been scripted and practiced Guinevere
faded into view even as he waved his arm in her direction. As before she was
clad in a white dress of vaguely Victorian cut, though this time the dress she
wore was far more ornate, more of a gown than a dress. She also had a slightly
nervous expression upon her face, but it was only a slight thing that was clearly
held in check by her bravery.

"Lady Guinevere will be attending our Feast to represent the sovereignty of her
King. I thought that having a representative for one of the most famed kings in
history might do well to enrichen our discussions tonight." As he spoke Shirou
turned back to the Witch Queen. "Lady Guinevere, I am thankful that you have
elected to accept my invitation to my Feast, please consider yourself welcome in
my house."
In response the golden haired Divine Ancestor curtsied in a courtly manner.
"Guinevere is privileged to be allowed to attend this auspicious gathering of
Kings. I shall endeavour to comport myself in a manner so as not to bring shame
to either my gracious host or my noble fellow guests."
"To invite a Divine Ancestor to a gathering of Kings . . ." John Pluto Smith
commented as he tilted his masked head, "A most unusual decision to make King
Shirou. Traditionally the former goddesses are the enemies of us God Slayers. I
myself have spent many months dealing with the machinations of another in my
homeland. As the leader of the Sorcerous group King of Flies she was quite
formidable."
"Guinevere has done nothing to make herself my enemy," Shirou replied, "And to
the best of my knowledge she has no feud with any of the Kings here tonight.
That aside, I owe her a debt for her aiding me after my battle with Mordred. I
believe in repaying my debts, and extending this invitation seemed an
appropriate courtesy to extend."
He'd worked out that the Divine Ancestor must have been the one to apply some
healing magic to him after his battle with the old god. There was no other
explanation as to why he'd felt so surprisingly energetic when he'd awoken,
given how drained he'd felt when he passed out. He wasn't entirely sure why
she'd done it; but given that he'd just fought a pitched battle with one that she
had good reason to hate and that he'd saved her life he supposed there was
ample reason for her gratitude.
"It is true that I, Lou Hao, have no enmity with this Divine Ancestor," agreed the
Ruler of the Martial Realm as she stepped forwards, "Indeed we have recently
been allies in an endeavour that has yielded surprisingly fine results. Still, I do
not believe she should be a part of a gathering of Kings. We are the Supreme
Rulers that stride the path of total domination. She is a fallen goddess that is
now but the maidservant of another deity."

-()-

Guinevere stood before the assembled Campione and did her best not to fidget,
blush or show any hint of the nervousness that was bubbling within her.
She'd thought about not coming, about going back on her decision to attend this
insane Feast. She considered simply getting out of the country entirely until she
was ready to return. After all even though the appearance of Mordred had indeed
taken up the majority of her attention she had been able to lay spells to monitor
the actions of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. When she'd gone over what

those spells had found she had been elated. She still needed to compare the
knowledge she'd gained with some other information she had stored in her
stronghold, but she was becoming convinced that this chain of islands in the Far
East was the final resting place of her beloved King of the End.
However she had decided against it. There was still the matter of the young
Campione that could somehow wield the power of both her King and her
protector despite not having claimed an Authority from either of them through
the curse of Pandora. That was simply too intriguing a puzzle for her to leave
unsolved.
In truth she was beginning to put a theory together. She admitted that for the
moment it was somewhat shaky and possessed a large number of holes, but she
was sure that it was at least close to the truth.
Her thought was that sir Shirou must in some way not have been a pure blooded
human before he became a Campione. The notion was strange, given that only
human mortals could be subject to the curse that granted the Devil Kings the
powers of gods, but she thought that it might have some grounds. She'd never
heard of a human possessing an essence of Steel, such was only the providence
of the gods of Steel. If one accepted this fact then it meant that sir Shirou must
be an existence that was tainted or influenced by a powerful external force.
Perhaps it was in his bloodline, or perhaps he was some sort of secret project of a
bored deity, one seeking to create an impossibility.
However her personal theory was that sir Shirou had somehow come into contact
with her King while he slept in the earth.
Artus was beyond doubt the most powerful god she'd ever witnessed, where
other gods more often than not fell to Campione her King of the End had battled
God Slayer after God Slayer and always emerged victorious regardless of the
odds he faced. Given that then what effect might it have upon a child or young
man that might have stumbled across him. Would that contact, that exposure to
the power of the Strongest Steel in its purest form, be enough to impart the
essence of Steel upon a mortal?
If so then that would mean that her suspicions that Artus rested in Japan were
correct, it would also mean that sir Shirou might know where he was. Perhaps
that knowledge was not possessed upon a conscious level, but if her theory was
correct then there was a good chance that her saviour was the best clue she
could hope for in her quest to be once more reunited with her beloved master.
It was for this that she had decided to attend this Feast of Kings that the red
haired Campione had invited her to. In defiance of both logic and common sense
she had willingly entered the den of the lions that were her natural enemies.
And now that she was here one of those very lions was questioning her
worthiness to be here.
"Your Eminence, Guinevere does not in any way think herself the peer of the
Kings of this world. However sir Shirou has called this gathering as a contest of
Kingship and he has generously allowed me to attend as the representative of
my esteemed Master. I know that Guinevere's memories of my King are
fragmented, but I feel that I remember enough to be able to do justice to his

Kingship if called to defend it. I ask you to allow my attendance not as your equal
but as the mouthpiece of the one who is."
The Witch Queen might be a bit intimidated by the number of Campione arrayed
before her, but she had died twice in the service of her lord and had endured
through the millennia for his sake. She would not allow a chance to defend his
rule to be brushed aside so casually as this.
"I have no issues with the queen of Camelot attending our contest," declared Jon
Pluto Smith with a smile almost audible on his voice, "It shall add some lustre to
the evening, and I confess to being somewhat curious as to what kind of king she
served in ages past."
Luo Cuilian frowned slightly and turned to Godou.
"And what is your view little brother?"
"I don't see her presence as a problem, isn't a contest often more fun if there is
lots of competition available?"
The Chinese Campione seemed to pause in thought for a moment before giving
an acknowledging nod.
"Very well, this Luo Hao shall accede to the wishes of her host and her fellow
guests. My newly sworn little brother is correct, a contest is the most
entertaining when there is a surfeit of opponents against whom to match one's
self."
"Very well then," declared sir Shirou as he strode over to a door and stepped
through it while indicating that his guests should follow him, "Since the weather
is fine and the night promises to be beautiful I have decided to have the feast
served outside. If you will all accompany me I'm sure that the food shall not be
found wanting."
He paused for a second as he stared at the American King.
"My apologies Smith, would you like me to prepare somewhere that you can eat
in private?"
"Have no fear;" declared the masked Campione as he stepped forwards and
caused his cape to billow, "The King of the Underworld has a number of tricks
available to him. Rest assured that I shall have no problem in sampling whatever
fare you have been able to prepare for us."
Guinevere made to follow after them, content to take the last place given that
she didn't want to take the chance of causing any offence to the Kings by either
presuming to be their equal or by placing herself ahead of their companions.
However, to her surprise, she found that she had company. The white haired girl
that had been standing next to sir Shirou had fallen into step beside her.
The Witch Queen allowed herself to frown internally as she turned her attention
to the girl. This must of course be the eighth King's adopted sister. Guinevere
had learnt of her when she'd sought further knowledge on the young man that
had saved her life. Granted even with her magic and the resources available to
her she'd only had a single day in which to learn more of him, but some things

had stood out to her when she'd perused what information she'd been able to
assemble.
Among those facts had been several mentions of the sheer level of power
possessed by the girl called Illyasviel Von Einzbern. They wrote of how she held
more power than any mortal had ever been recorded to possess, save of course
for Campione, so much so that she was initially thought to be either a Divine
Ancestor or a Divine Descendant only three or four generation removed from the
divine source. Now that she was standing next to her Guinevere could feel the
amount of mana she had within her and had to say she was honestly impressed.
Not even her former ally, the most powerful witch on earth Lucretia Zola, had
possessed such large reserves of power despite all her skill.
The Witch Queen was confident that her own reserves were the superior of the
two, however on this occasion they were not so by the clear margin that she had
become used to enjoying. Even among Divine Ancestors Guinevere was
considered to be one of the most powerful, an advantage compounded by her
possession of the Holy Grail and the protection of Lancelot. Consequently she
was pretty much royalty within the ranks of the former goddesses, one of the few
of her kind to be treated with almost as much of a hands off policy as a
Campione by the various magic societies around the world.
So why was it that this girl barely into her teens made her nervous?
It wasn't simply her power or the depths of her reserves that unsettled her, of
that she was certain. Potent though they were they were still only on par with
some of the weaker Divine Ancestors, enough to be respectable, but hardly
enough to worry her. It was something else, something that she couldn't quite
lay her finger on.
There was an aura about the girl, an invisible feeling that the Witch Queen
couldn't quite pin down. It was in some ways close to divinity, but the feel, the
'flavour' of the power, was distinctly different. Also there was the disquieting
sensation that it wasn't so much emanating from the young girl as it was
accompanying her. It was a phenomenon that Guinevere had never encountered
before, but the feeling of barely restrained tension within that power was enough
to put her nerves on edge.
"You helped onii-chan after his battle?"
The question broke the golden haired Divine Ancestor out of her thoughts and
brought her back to the present. Casting aside her ruminations she instead
focused upon answering the question.
"Yes, sir Shirou saved Guinevere when sir Mordred tried to kill me. Since sir
Shirou had exhausted himself slaying the Traitor Knight I felt it was only my duty
to aid him in his recovery afterwards."
There was a moment of silence as the eighth Campione's sister seemed to study
her.
"Well . . . my thanks for helping Shirou. I felt how low his life force had fallen after
the battle, for a time I was scared it would fade away entirely. Your aid to him
might well have saved his life, though I'm not sure he realizes it himself."

Those odd red eyes turned to her again, and for a moment the Witch Queen felt
oddly pressured by the stare.
"But . . . don't think that that means that you kiss Shirou whenever you want. I
won't approve of strange people kissing onii-chan. Even if he did choose the
Matou girl . . ."
Guinevere wasn't too sure what that last sentence referred to, but as things
stood she honestly didn't care. That comment had struck a bit too close to home
given some of the guilty daydreams she'd found herself having of late. More and
more she found her mind had kept on wandering back to the moment on the
blasted and slashed battlefield. To the moment when she'd pressed her lips to
the fallen King's mouth in order to heal him.
She'd tried to reassure herself with the thought that if her theory that sir Shirou's
nature had been changed by contact with Artus was correct then it would explain
her attraction to him. It would mean that he could be regarded as the shadow of
her beloved King of the End.
At least that was what she told herself.
"I-I assure you that Guinevere has no such intentions," she tried to assure the red
eyed girl even as she felt her cheeks starting to flame, "I am here in order to
defend the Kingship of my master before the Kings that have gathered here,
nothing else."
"Good," replied Illyasviel as she nodded her head, "Because I'm Shirou's ally no
matter what and as long as you're not his enemy I won't have to kill you."
That was enough to draw a surprised look from the former goddess. Unlike
Heretic Gods Divine Ancestors were not so far beyond the capacities of mortals
that none would dare to oppose them. However that didn't change the fact that
even the weakest of all the fallen goddesses possessed powers the likes of which
even the most gifted of mages could not equal. Certainly a group of talented and
well organized magic users could conceivably bring down a Divine Ancestor in
much the same way a pack of wolves could pull down a bear. But for a single girl
to make that threat, well, it should have been ludicrous.
But it wasn't. The white haired girl had spoken the words not as a threat or a
warning, but as an absolute statement of fact. If Guinevere were to become the
enemy of sir Shirou then his sister would kill her. To her own immense surprise
the Witch Queen found herself believing her too. She might wield an artefact of
unfathomable power and be protected by one of the oldest and strongest deities
of Steel, but despite that she couldn't help but feel that this tiny mortal would
succeed in ending her life.
Further analysis of this strange feeling was cut off as the group of guests finished
walking through the corridors of the eighth Campione's mansion and stepped out
into his garden and the fresh air of early evening. Above them the sky was taking
on the first minor tinges of sunset red and the first stars were starting to show
themselves. The various artfully arranged plants of the garden were in the full
and vibrant life of summer and lent themselves to an excellent background.
Ahead of them was a large patio set up in the middle of the lawn with a small
pavilion style tent of Japanese cut erected next to it. A number of long wooden

poles had been driven into the ground about the patio and several chairs and
tables had been arranged upon it. Three women in maid uniforms stood by the
side of the pavilion with looks of professional attentiveness on their faces.
But the main thing that caught her attention was the smell that was wafting out
of the pavilion.
Guinevere was a Divine Ancestor, and as such was not as susceptible to the
needs of the body as a mortal girl her age. If she so chose then she could easily
go for weeks or even months without food or water. It might be a tad
uncomfortable, but it was nothing that she couldn't deal with. Still despite that
she often saw no problem in indulging herself and enjoying her food, indeed
she'd developed something of a sweet tooth that she quietly indulged on
occasion. In her life she had been privileged to dine in settings fit for royalty, had
eaten delicacies normally reserved for great rulers.
In short she had experienced some of the best cooking that the world had to
offer.
And yet the smells that drifted tantalizingly from the silken tent before her
caused her mouth to moisten involuntarily.
"First allow me to present my feast to you all," declared sir Shirou as he gestured
towards the pavilion, "I have prepared plenty of food and drink for all to eat more
than their fill, and I assure you that all of it is truly fit for a King. Let us take our
fill of the food and drink and indulge in some light conversation before we settle
down to our contest."
Guinevere nodded her head in silent agreement. Yes, that sounded like a good
idea, after all it let her get at that delicious smelling food that much sooner.

-()-

"Are all the preparations complete? We cannot afford to allow any errors to
occur."
At the sound of her ally's voice Brynhildr had to restrain the urge to seize one of
her more pointed instruments and stab it into the blue and red haired Divine
Ancestor's neck.
That had been happening a lot lately, for some reason all the slightly irritating
personality quirks that she'd been able to patiently deal with for the past few
centuries were now driving her to levels of murderous irritation. She really
couldn't explain it; it wasn't as though the elder fallen goddess had changed her
habits or anything of the like. It was simply that what Brynhildr had once been
able to ignore or endure now grated on her nerves like claws on a blackboard.
Still, she would not allow that to break her. Too much was riding on the actions of
tonight to let her unsettled nerves throw her off. With careful precision she made
the last mark on the object upon her work top and then leaned back to observe
the fruit of her labours.

"Ah, you've completed it, my apologies for interrupting you then. It would seem
that my worries were unfounded."
The golden haired Divine Ancestor closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax
back into her chair as she listened to her companion's words. It was gratifying to
hear her admit that her concerns had been without merit; it soothed her nerves
and eased the sting of her champion's loss. That pain still lingered despite the
day and a night that had passed.
"The cradle is finished."
The quiet almost monotone voice jerked Brynhildr out of the pleasantly relaxed
state she'd fallen into in a rather jarring manner. It still irritated her just how well
Athena was able to conceal her divine aura. The blonde fallen goddess might
have centuries' worth of experience in hiding and detecting potential threats, but
the goddess of darkness and wisdom could still approach her without being
detected in any way. Intellectually she knew that as a true divinity Athena's
abilities were beyond her own, but that still didn't stop her feelings of
inadequacy and anger.
With a small shake to herself she dismissed the thought and brought herself back
to the matter at hand.
"Indeed honoured Athena," she said as she inclined her head in respect to the
deity in the form of a child. "It is fortunate that you are here, that means that we
no longer need contact you. Would you be so kind as to invest the cradle with a
portion of your power as we spoke of earlier."
The old goddess of earth and darkness said nothing, but instead reached out
wordlessly to the object that Brynhildr had spent the last eight hours diligently
working upon.
In appearance it vaguely resembled a bird's nest that had been made out of
sticks carved from polished obsidian. The carved 'sticks' that made up its form
were thin as straw stems but were marked along their length with dozens upon
dozens of tiny carved runes. This was an artefact that would have made any
mage that saw it gape in awe had they seen it, so intricate and complex was it.
Now Athena fed a steady flow of her power into the artefact, power that was
greedily absorbed by the convoluted series of interlocking spell wards that
Brynhildr had carved into it. Before long the black natural glass of the talisman
seemed to radiate a deeper darkness as the goddesses power was fully
internalized.
"It is done; I leave the rest to you."
Without further discussion or preamble the deity in the form of a child turned and
strode out of the room. For a moment the blonde Divine Ancestor felt irritation
and anger tug at her heart. Who was she to dismiss her and her work so easily?
Did she forget that though she might not be reduced to a Divine Ancestor she
was still a broken goddess rather than a complete deity? She was nothing, she
was worthless, she wasWith a shake of her head Brynhildr cut off those lines of thought. Even in her
reduced state Athena was still a being of great power, and as such not someone

to tread carelessly around, certainly not someone against whom she could afford
to carelessly leak malicious intent. If the goddess were to sense it then it would
be perfectly within both her rights and character to kill the blonde Divine
Ancestor in retaliation.
Instead she turned her attention back to the cradle that her fellow fallen goddess
was carefully examining.
"Your work here has been superb," she complimented as she leaned back, "The
spell array is holding honoured Athena's power perfectly without any flux or
deviation from the desired flow. It's absolutely perfect."
Brynhildr's earlier irritation faded as her ally's praise soothed her earlier
grievances. She wasn't sure why she was so much touchier of late, but for the
moment at least she was back to her usual self. Well, never mind that, now she
had to put the last touches to her work.
"There is still the last test, seeing whether or not it can actually perform the task
for which it is designed."
As she spoke Brynhildr reached into a chest on her work top and pulled out the
same gently glowing sphere that she had shown to her allies so many weeks ago
in Naples. Since then the globe that had been the size of a marble had grown
until it was now the size of an apple. The light it gave off had also changed, no
longer was it colourless as it had been before. Now it was a rich and vibrant gold
that tinted her skin as she picked it up.
With careful precision the blonde Divine Ancestor placed the orb into the exact
centre of the cradle.
The effects were almost immediately visible; the subtle darkness that hovered
about the artefact was slowly drawn towards the orb. However rather than
smothering the light that darkness acted as fuel to its fire, feeding the golden
light and making it brighter.
"It seems to be performing flawlessly," The artefact's creator commented in a
low voice, "In a few more days it shall be ready, and then we shall be able to add
another god to our allies."
There was an opening there, a moment that almost begged to be filled with a
comment about how Brynhildr had wasted the last deity she'd managed to
recruit to their cause. It was an opening to return her to her pervious ill humour
and dark thoughts.
However the elder Divine Ancestor didn't say anything, instead she simply
nodded her head, turned and walked out of the room.
Brynhildr let out a sigh of relief and turned back to watching the orb consume
the dark power that Athena had invested into the cradle. There would be no
more conflict today, and for that she was grateful. She really had no idea why
she was so moody lately, but with any luck fortune would continue to favour their
efforts and the irritation would not return again.
And, even as she stared at the golden orb or crystal and light, deep within her
heart the seed of treachery that Mordred had planted within her continued its
slow and unnoticed but inexorable growth.

-()-

Shirou had to admit that Asuka-san had outdone herself with this feast. He knew
that she'd been putting lots of effort into getting all of the food ready just in time
for it to be served to his guests as fresh and flavourful as possible, but he hadn't
been expecting something quite as spectacular as this.
So much food, all of it steaming hot or freshly chilled as needed, on plates, in
bowls, on platters or in fancy glass cups. Sweet, savoury, salty, spicy, cooked,
fresh, hot and cold. So many options ready and waiting, and every single one of
them utterly delicious.
Right now the eighth Campione was helping himself to a plate of perfectly
cooked chicken fried rice along with thin strips of marinated sizzling beef. By his
side Illya had elected to go for more western food and was chowing down on
roasted potatoes and meat from a turkey crown that had been roasted in a
variety of herbs and seasonings, all with lashings of rich dark gravy that had
been served on a dish to the side. Sitting across the table from him was
Guinevere who had apparently forgone the 'main course' and skipped straight to
the dessert. Her plate had slices from all three of the cakes that Asuka had
prepared, chocolate, strawberry and lemon respectively, as well as a large scoop
of vanilla ice-cream.
The other Campiones had settled down to their own meals. Luo Hao had claimed
a table and had told Godou to join her. The two of them were now speaking
quietly while the young Kusanagi's harem and the Chinese King's student had set
themselves up on the table next to the pair of God Slayers so they could listen in.
John Pluto Smith was still by the table selecting his food, apparently taking
pleasure in taking his time at the task.
Turning his attention back to the two seemingly young girls at his table Shirou
had to repress a chuckle of amusement. Both of them were now sporting
'moustaches' on their faces due to their eager eating. Illya's was a rich brown
where her taking large bites out of her turkey cuts had caused her to stain her
upper lip with thick gravy. Guinevere was in much the same state, save that her
own was composed of the thick white creamy frosting of the strawberry cake
she'd been enthusiastically biting into.
The result was that far from looking like the Witch Queen and the formidable
former Master of the Holy Grail War the pair looked like a pair of adorably cute
kittens that had managed to get at the milk.
Shirou was about to say something when the American Campione sat himself
down in the seat next to him and set down a plate of Indian rice and Chungudi
Jhola prawns.
"Since her Eminence seems to be monopolising Godou's attention and would not
welcome an interruption I thought I'd join you Emiya Shirou. I trust my presence
isn't unwelcome?"

"Far from it, I fear my current companions have fallen to the power of Asukasan's cooking for the time being."
"Ah, your cook?"
"My housekeeper actually. After I recruited her she also took over the kitchen and
I haven't been able to use it since."
A note of the young Emiya's sorrow crept into his voice as he described his
predicament.
"Oh? You enjoy cooking then?"
"It's soothing; also I really want to learn how to cook food this good."
To illustrate his point Shirou used his chopsticks to snag some meat and rice and
bring them to his mouth. As he did so he noted the foods that were on the other
Campione's plate, a number of small savoury pastries and several tiny
sandwiches. He also had a glass of red wine in his other hand.
"Really? Please allow me to sample this food of which you speak so highly."
The eighth Campione watched with fascination as Smith picked up one of the
pastries and brought it up to his mask. As the food bit reached the helmet the
substance that made the mask up took on a sort of liquid quality. As he watched
the pastry passed trough it as easily as a stone being lowered into water.
There was a brief pause as the American King presumably chewed the food bit,
then his head slowly leaned to the side in a manner rather like a bird cocking its
head.
"Delicious, truly splendid."
In short order the rest of the pastries and all of the little sandwiches disappeared
into the helmet.
"King Shirou, truly you are blessed to possess a servant with such wonderful
skills in cooking. I fear that if I found myself with such a subordinate I'd soon find
myself falling prey to the desire to overeat."
"No you wouldn't, Asuka-san refuses to make more food than is healthy and
always rotates her plans so that those she serves have a healthy and balanced
diet."
There was a brief pause once more.
"Surely you're jesting."
"Oh no, I'm being completely serious. I may be a Supreme King that has claimed
the power of gods, and I may be the man that holds her soul in my very hands,
but as far as she's concerned the kitchen is her domain and if God himself
stepped in there with her she'd expect him to follow her directions."
"A . . . formidable woman by the sounds of it." Smith agreed as he turned his
head slightly in order to look at the housekeeper and the maids that were still
standing dutifully by the pavilion. "And you were hoping to learn how to cook
from her?"

For a moment Shirou was angry at himself for letting that bit of information slip
out. It was out of character with the persona he'd presented before. Still, now it
was out in the open so there wasn't much to be done about it except roll with it.
"Even Kings need hobbies, and it was cooking or bloody conquest. I decided to
go with the less troublesome option. Or at least I thought I did; now I'm not so
sure."
Smith nodded his head in agreement, then he leaned in close to the younger
Campione and spoke in a hushed voice.
"While I applaud your impressive disregard of convention in inviting Lady
Guinevere I fear that you may be underestimating how much of a threat she
might potentially pose."
Shirou took a moment to compose his answer in his head. What Smith said was
true, he knew a little of Divine Ancestors, but only what he'd been able to learn
from his cursory research. That in itself wasn't very much, he knew that as a
Campione his power was far greater than theirs, but he also knew that despite
their weaker states Divine Ancestors were well known for being the enemies of
God Slayers regardless.
"I shall endeavour not to underestimate her," he replied, his voice just as low,
"However we've both aided each other and I believe that to be a basis for at
least regard if not trust."
Smith leaned back and seemed to scrutinize the red haired teen with those
insect like lenses on his mask. Then an audible chuckle could be heard coming
from behind the helm.
"Very well, it is after all the privilege of a King to walk whichever path he
chooses, even if that path might be called foolish or fraught by others."
The eighth Campione said nothing, merely inclined his head in acknowledgement
of his fellow King's words.
"Perhaps it would be true that Guinevere would be dangerous to sir Shirou in
other times, but for now I remain heavily in his majesty's debt, so he need worry
about nothing from me."
The Witch Queen's voice sounded from across the table and caused both the
Devil Kings to turn to face her. Guinevere had laid down her plate and was now
sitting in her chair as though it were a throne in a castle. Her posture spoke of
dignity and resolve as well as of sincerity and earnestness. Her face betrayed a
hint of shyness at suddenly being the centre of attention, but it was clear she
was overcoming her nervousness with commendable bravery. All in all she gave
the impression of a foreign queen attending the banquet of a monarch of whose
intentions she was unsure, but one such queen with steel in her spine.
The image was rather ruined though by the fact that she still hadn't realized that
she still had a cream frosting moustache on her upper lip. With that she looked
less like a queen and more like an adorable child princess trying hard to imitate
her mother.
Totally oblivious to how the image that she was trying to project was being sadly
warped the former goddess continued her explanation.

"Sir Shirou not only saved my life from the traitor knight Mordred, he also
defeated one of the greatest enemies of me and my master. For tonight I am his
guest and will not behave in any way that would shame him for the hospitality
that he has extended to me. Though we may find ourselves at odds in the future
I would never dishonour the debt between us by using underhanded methods
against him. This is the very least that Guinevere can do."
So saying the beloved child of sir Lancelot sat back in her chair with all the
solemnity she possessed.
In the meantime Shirou was doing his absolute best not to let his amusement
show on his face. He appreciated what the Witch Queen was saying and he was
genuinely grateful, it was just that it was nearly impossible to take her seriously
when she had that coating of frosting on her upper lip.
Drawing on all the self control he could muster he nodded his head to her in
acknowledgement.
"My thanks Lady Guinevere, it is gratifying that for tonight at least I need not
consider you a foe, I merely hope that that will remain the case. Errr . . .
incidentally I fear you have something . . ." he brushed his finger over his upper
lip, indicating where the frosting was clinging to her.
Guinevere touched her lip in puzzlement, then snatched up a napkin off the table
and frantically cleaned her face as she realized what had been there the entire
time she'd delivered her assurances. By her side Illya giggled in amusement,
only to break off into innocent silence as soon as the Witch Queen glared over at
her.
"Illya . . . you too you know."
His adopted sister's face suddenly lost the look of smug enjoyment as she
reached up to touch her own face. When her fingers came away stained gravy
brown she grabbed her own napkin and set about cleaning her own face. A
tinkling giggle came from her blonde neighbour, but when the snow haired girl
glanced sharply at her Guinevere was innocently eating the last slice of cake on
her plate with innocent grace.
"Truly you can arrange a splendid Feast King Shirou," Smith commented as he
downed another gulp of his red wine. "Food that could make an emperor salivate;
wine to make an angel weep and entertainment that I never in my most fevered
dreams thought to see. A fine evening indeed, and it's only just begun."
Shirou directed a smile at the older Campione, but found that it was slightly
forced.
"I just hope things continue to go as well as they have so far."

-()-

"Little Brother, while I appreciate that you have fine taste in choosing your
subordinates do you not believe that it was somewhat immodest to bring them
all to this Feast?"
Kusanagi Godou hadn't really known what to expect when the Ruler of the Martial
Realm had directed him to sit on the chair across the table from her and then to
scare off all his companions with a sharp look before they could join him. He
supposed he should have been prepared, his newly adopted sibling was nothing
if not predictable in some ways at least. Her care for her ego and image was as
reliable as the rise and fall of the sun it would seem, and she was carrying that
over to her sworn brother it would seem.
"Immodest?"
"Indeed. In the past your subjects have been able to impress me with their
abilities and talent. You have two Great Knights in your service, each of whom is
of comparable skill to my young eagle, as well as three of the Miko that hold the
title of 'Hime' in this land, all of whom possess talents that I deem noteworthy.
You should be proud to be able to gather such exceptional followers to your
banner so soon after becoming a King.
"I also acknowledge that it is natural for a young man to exercise his new powers
to . . . indulge himself with those subjects that are . . . smitten with their new
King. Such is behaviour that might be expected of a young tyrant and is a
privilege that we Supreme Ruler are entitled to."
At this point Godou felt rather like weeping. He knew that he was developing a
reputation as a King that drowned himself in hedonistic debauchery, but having
his newly sworn older sister saying that such behaviour was
completely expected of him . . . Well, that was a bit too much. There were
honestly days when he wondered just why he bothered to get out of bed in the
morning.
"However to bring your lovers to a meeting of your fellow Kings in such a
careless manner is shameful conduct for a sworn brother of this Luo Cuilian.
Tonight is a contest of our paths of Rulership, to so flagrantly bring all of your
servants with you is a rather careless and immodest demonstration of the
followers you've gathered."
Godou blinked at that. She wasn't annoyed that he'd brought the girls because
she disapproved of them, rather she was annoyed that he'd brought them all
with him while she'd only brought her student and Smith had come alone?
Well . . . perhaps he could see the logic, strange though it may be, in that. Of
course that meant if he didn't do something to convince her otherwise the
Chinese Campione might well take it upon herself to dismiss his friends from the
feast. And he knew that most if not all of them really wanted to be here, so . . .
"But Nee-san . . . they're here as . . . part of my Rulership."
Time to talk fast again. Still, it looked like he'd managed to hit at least near the
target because rather than immediately dismissing him. Now all he had to do
was follow through . . .
Now how could he do that?

"Oh, what do you mean by that my little brother?"

"I-I mean . . . that . . . that it's like . . ." he cast about frantically for inspiration,
then his eyes saw the blonde girl that had been introduced as Guinevere.
Guinevere who was the wife of King Arthur. King Arthur who was famous for the
Knight of the Round Table. That was it!
"Like King Arthur."
"How?"
"I . . . I'm one of the most inexperienced of the Kings. I mean I had no idea of
what was going on in the world before I first ran into Erica and saw my first god. I
was just an average student on holiday. I mean you were a great martial artist
before you became a Campione, Salvatore was absurdly gifted with a sword and
Shirou already knew magic. Even after I gained my Authorities there was still
much I didn't know and areas in which I lacked.
"That's why I'm fortunate to have gathered such companions; they make up for
what I lack. After all if the King lacks in a certain area then isn't it the wisest
course for him to gain allies that make up for that lack? Arthur surrounded
himself with knights of wisdom and strength, so I've done the same."
Well that wasn't quite true, but it certainly was close enough to the truth as to
make very little difference. His friends did make up for his weaknesses, that was
certainly true. It was also true that it had been more blind luck than anything
else that had allowed him to gain their friendship and aid. It certainly hadn't
been any master plan of his or any desire to become a King.
Still, Luo Hao didn't have to know that.
"Ah, so that is why you brought them. They are your strength until you learn to
cover the weaknesses that you have. Well if that is the case then as accessories
to your own Rule they are entitled to accompany you to this most grand night.
Once again you surprise me with the clarity of your vision little brother, your
older sister approves of your forethought."
With a nod of approval the Ruler of the Martial Realm stood up and picked up her
now empty plate. The seventh Campione blinked at that, when she'd sat down
her plate had been holding an array of foods from spring rolls of both Chinese
and European recipe as well as a small pile of spaghetti with a delicate sprinkling
of cheese. Now it was all gone and her plate only had a few small smudges on it
to show that it had ever even held any food.
When had she eaten all that? She'd been speaking to him most of the time so
when . . . Truly the skills of his sworn sister were formidable indeed.
"You should enjoy the cuisine that our host has so hospitably prepared for us;
truly I had not expected him to have access to so talented a cook. I must
remember to ask if I may send some of my servants to train under his own."
Godou glanced down at his own plate and realized that despite having sat down
a bit ago he had yet to try any of the various foods he'd picked up. There was an
eclectic combination of cuts of roast beef, pizza slices, sushi rolls, Indian rice and
a small heap of what he'd been assured was caviar. Now that he looked at it he
wasn't really sure why he'd taken those in particular, he'd been dazzled by the

sight and smell of so much delicious seeming food and had simply grabbed what
had caught his attention. Oh well, might as well give it a taste.
That was how the seventh Campione was introduced to the wonders of Suzuki
Asuka's cooking.
It became a sort of moral dilemma for him after a bit, should he leave the forkful
of delectable food in his mouth for longer in order to savour it more or should he
swallow it quickly so as to be able to get to the next mouthful that much sooner.
He was still working on trying to resolve this perplexing conundrum when Erica
sat down next to him.
"I'll say this for Shirou-sama; he certainly knows how to prepare a Feast worthy of
his guests."
As she spoke she was dabbing at her mouth with a napkin to clear away any
smudges of food that might have been left there. Looking over her shoulder
Godou saw that the rest of the girls that had come with him were apparently
paralysed by the deliciousness of the food they had served themselves. Liliana
seemed to be in a semi dazed state as she almost mechanically ate some sort of
fish dish that he didn't recognize. Yuri and Hikari had oddly matching expressions
of dreamy bliss on their faces as they slowly consumed the cake they had served
themselves. Ena on the other hand seemed to have a plate heaped high with an
almost worrying amount of various meat dishes that she seemed quite intent on
working her way through.
"Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves." He observed after reluctantly but
happily swallowing his mouthful.
"True, but you mustn't let yourself grow complacent Godou," Erica's lips curled in
that smile of hers, the one that was both radiant and slightly intimidating at the
same time. It was a smile that said that she knew something that others didn't,
and she was going to use that knowledge to the goal that she chose. "This is
merely the prologue; the real meat of this story will come once you and the other
Kings enter into your competition."
Her chosen Lord looked at her with a slightly bemused expression on his face.
"Erica, you do realize that I have NO idea of just how I'm going to defend my
Kingship against them? I don't even havea Kingship to defend; I'm not really a
King."
"Nonsense," The Diavollo Rosso of the Copper-Black Cross replied immediately,
"Godou you are a King, even if you haven't carved out a kingdom or imposed
your rule upon others you are a King. Didn't you use your Authority as a Supreme
Ruler when you told Sayanomiya Kaoru that you would vanquish the Monkey King
only after you saved Hikari? Have you not accepted the allegiance of all of us
that follow you?
"Your Rule might be small, but I can tell you Godou that it is not weak. You've
faced three other Campione in battle and you've never lost once. You've faced
gods that are regarded as strong even by their fellows and in the end it has been
you that walked away victorious. You are a King, and you're the King that I
honestly believe will one day rule over all, even your fellow Kings."

It was a strange feeling to know that there was someone that had such an
absolute level of belief in him. It was simultaneously heartening and terrifying,
both a crushing weight and a precious gift. It was at times like this that he
honestly wondered what he could have done to have earned the affection of a
girl as strong, talented and beautiful as the blonde beside him.
"Don't worry too much about it Godou. Think of it not as defending your Rule, but
more as you defending your way of life. Just tell them why you live the way you
do and why you act the way you do. That should be enough I think."
Okay, that didn't sound so bad, that he could do. The black haired teen felt some
of his tension drain out of him as the first of the girls to come to his side
managed to address one of his chief worries. If that was all that was needed to
take part in this Contest of Kings then he should be able to manage it.
"Now, let's see about getting some more food, there are still quite a few dishes I
haven't tried."
As Erica got up Godou noticed that somehow he'd managed to clean off all the
food on his plate without even noticing it. For a moment he found himself feeling
oddly cheated. Then he remembered that as Erica said there was still lots of food
left to try.
Also he found himself beginning to feel a bit on the thirsty side.

-()-

Yusuke watched as the various guests served themselves from the huge buffet
that Asuka had prepared. He watched as their faces glazed over in rapturous joy
as the flavour of her works hit them. And he watched as they got thirsty.
There was a distinct kind of anguish to watching someone else open one of the
bottles of wine that he'd so painstakingly chosen and purchased. To watch them
pour out the sweet drink and then gulp it back. He remembered reading once
about a poet that managed to severely offend a King, as punishment the poet
was chained to a wall and forced to watch as page by page all his works, the
works of years that had no copies, were torn from his tomes and cast into a fire.
The resurrected accountant wondered if that was a similar sensation to that
which he was experiencing.
"You there!" the sudden address brought Yusuke out of his brooding and back to
the present. He looked up and found himself being addressed by the female
Campione that had followed Shirou-sama. Now that he was closer to her he was
struck by just how beautiful she was, so much so that even though he considered
himself past being moved by a pretty face he couldn't help but stand a little
straighter.
"Servant of King Shirou, inform me as to the best drink you have available." Then
she glanced at him, and the look she directed his way reminded him very
pointedly that this wasn't just some pretty young thing, this was one of the peers
of the King that had called his soul back from the afterlife. "Under normal
circumstances I would see you severely punished for daring to lay eyes upon my

appearance. However on this occasion I shall show leniency since you are the
vassal of my fellow King and the host of this Feast. Now attend me, which of
these bottles holds the finest wine. Is it this one?"
Reaching out she grabbed one bottle out of the chilling bucket in which it rested
and waved it at him in a manner that had Yusuke restraining himself from
snatching it from her hand.
"Ah, that is a bottle of 1912 Larmes de rcolte Abondante, an extremely fine
vintage by some of France's most talented wine makers. To my Knowledge only
fifteen bottles were ever made."
The Chinese Devil King glanced at the bottle for a second before replacing it and
grabbing another one at random.
"And this one?"
Yusuke had to bite back a slightly strangled scream as he saw her casually
waving an old green glass bottle with a faded label.
"Th-That's a bottle of Shipwrecked 1907 Heidsieck Champagne, arguably the
single most costly example of that beverage in the world. Those bottles were lost
in a shipwreck at the start of the twentieth century and remained at the bottom
of the sea for nine decades until they were discovered. The long time beneath
the waves has lent them a mystique that makes them very sought after."
She considered it for a moment, then dumped it back into the ice bin with a
dismissive attitude that made the resurrected soul's knees shake slightly.
She moved to pick out another bottle, this one smaller than the others and with
blue glass.
"That would be Fuego Azul Tequila, possibly one of the most potent drinks
produced on the American continents. I would not recommend that for casual
drinking your Highness, I don't know how the constitution of a King can handle
strong drink but the bottle you are holding is said to be quite sufficient to leave
an elephant unconscious. It is a spirit best taken in moderation."
"Then tell me, which of these bottles would you say would be the wine best
suited for a King."
For a moment Yusuke considered lying. The answer to that question immediately
leapt to his mind, but that was the one bottle that he most wanted for his
collection, the one he'd prayed none would touch. If his beloved compilation of
wines could gain that . . . oh it would be the crowning jewel to his trove of drinks.
However it was only a momentary temptation, and one that was immediately
shaken off. He was a loyal servant to his King, and his liege had ordered him to
serve his guest as would Shirou-sama himself. And the thought of deceiving or
cheating the man that had returned him to the mortal world never even crossed
his mind.
Reaching into the array of cooling buckets he selected one long but slim bottle
and held it before him as though presenting a sword.

"This one your highness, if there is anything here that is suitable for a King then
it is this, the 1944 Got de la libert."
"Oh, a bold claim to make. What is it that makes this wine such a prize in your
eyes that you would proclaim it suitable for one of the Supreme Rulers?"
The Campione's voice now sounded more amused than anything else, mildly
interested in the antics of some beetle that had scurried across her path. Well if
she wanted to know.
"During the Second World War seven owners of respected vineyards were
involved in supporting the French resistance to the Nazi invasion. By the time the
invaders were finally driven out only four of the original seven remained. To
celebrate the reclamation of their country and to honour the memories of their
fallen friends they worked together using all their family secrets to produce a
batch of twenty four wine bottles that have been regarded as being without
equal. Since the day they were sealed only eight of those bottles have been
opened and only at the most prestigious events hosted by emperors and kings. If
you are looking to try what could be the best wine in the world then you need
look no further than this."
The beautiful woman gazed at the bottle for a moment, then picked up a crystal
wine glass in one hand and took the bottle from his grasp with the other. With
one perfect fingernail she flicked the cork out of the neck and poured the ruby
red wine into the glass.
Yusuke had to bite back a moan of despair as he saw what could have been the
crowning jewel of his collection spill forth. Oh well, no point in moaning about it
now, he could only hope that this God Slayer agreed that this drink's flavour was
the equal of its reputation. With almost baited breath he watched as she raised
the wine to her lips and took a sip.
Her head cocked to the side as she swirled the wine around in her mouth
savouring the flavour, then she swallowed. The Chinese King stood there for a
moment, her gaze turned inwards as she pondered something, then she drank
the rest of the glass's contents in a single long draught. The resurrected
accountant was barely able to keep a whimper of anguish in as he saw her gulp
the drink down.
"Servant, see to it that the rest of this bottle is served to myself and my fellow
Kings when we begin our contest. Such a fine vintage is truly a fitting drink to be
had by us. I commend your skills in selected such a fine wine upon which we
could sup; truly the Kings of Wakoku both have fine eyes for finding talented
followers. Now thank me well for my praise."
Yusuke blinked, then blinked again. She was actually ordering him to thank her
for her praise? It would have been laughable except for two things, her
completely serious voice and her equally serious face; this was a woman that
genuinely meant what she said.
"My sincerest thanks for the kind praise that you have deigned to grant my most
humble self." He declared as he bowed deeply to her. To others such words might
have seemed over elaborate to the point of being mocking or foolish, but to this

King she simply nodded in satisfaction, as though he had performed completely

expected courtesies, and turned away.
As she stode off and was met by the young man who had accompanied her
earlier Yusuke found himself thinking that he truly had been fortunate to be a
Japanese citizen. After all by the looks of things it seemed that his was the only
nation to produce semi-sane Kings. Well, that was the impression he was getting
from seeing the guest Campione anyway. After all one of them appeared to be a
woman with an ego that could only be described as titanic and the other was a
man who dressed up as a superhero in order to battle gods and evil
organizations.
Yep, it definitely looked like Japan was monopolizing the sane God Slayers.

-()-

Illyasviel Von Einzbern considered herself to be a rational and intelligent young

lady. Consequently she was rather ashamed of her loss of control when faced
with the huge buffet of Asuka-san's cooking.
Her original plan had been to learn a bit more about this Guinevere girl that was
obviously interested in her beloved onii-chan. Oh she might try to hide it, but
thanks to her recent education in the subtle arts of romance (courtesy of hours
spent watching anime, romantic dramas and a few soap operas) the snow haired
girl was able to notice the signs. The way she kept glancing at Shirou out of the
corner of her eye, the way she mildly blushed whenever he smiled at her, the
way she fidgeted slightly whenever they were talking, unconsciously smoothing
her dress or absently playing with her hair.
Illya was on to her; clearly she was interested in Shirou and had come to this
Feast in order to get closer to him. Well it was her duty as her onii-chan's closest
ally to protect him from the devious intentions of this obviously sneaky girl. After
all Shirou couldn't afford any romantic entanglements since Sakura was waiting
for him back in their home reality. Sure the snow haired girl might not be entirely
approving of the last Matou, but she had acknowledged her as her adopted
brother's lover.
The thought that this also meant that there wouldn't be any females closer to
him in this reality than his adopted sister was a notion that Illya's subconscious
was ruthlessly suppressing.
Well regardless of that all her good and noble plans had lasted right up until
she'd caught sight of the Feast; at that point her stomach had succeeded in
wresting temporary control of the body away from both her head and her heart.
It hadn't been until a little bit ago that Illya had come back to herself to find her
belly pleasantly full and her mind equally filled with memories of delicious food.
It was enough to make her want to bang her head on the table. Why did Asuka's
food have to be so GOOD? Alright, granted that she didn't really want it to be
bad, not when she could enjoy such culinary brilliance on a regular basis. But still
. . . couldn't she show at least a little self control?

Her only consolation was that it appeared that the target of her animosity hadn't
fared any better than she had in the face of the cooking of the Emiya manor's
housekeeper, not if the pile of plates in front of her and the frosting on her face
was anything to go by.
Illya took advantage of the moment of relative calm following both her and
Guinevere's cleaning of their faces to take stock of what her senses were telling
her about the golden haired girl sitting only a few feet away from her.
One thing she knew immediately was that she was strong, perhaps not on the
same level as the Campione that had gathered here, but none the less the
impression that the young Einzbern was getting was that this Guinevere would
not have been out of place as a Caster in the Holy Grail War. Quite simply her
power felt beyond anything that could be regarded as human.
And it wasn't just the vague impression of her enormous reserves that made Illya
tense ever so slightly, there was more. About her there was an aura that spoke
not merely of power, but of association with power. The eighth Campione's
adopted sister would have been willing to bet her eye-teeth that this Guinevere
not only had powerful allies but also spent a considerable amount of time in the
presence of an object of enormous power.
She'd seen similar effects in the past back in her home reality. Mages that spent
a lot of time carrying around a powerful Mystic Code tended to have a 'tell' in
their auras that she could pick up on. The talent was of no real use since none of
the Masters that she'd faced other than Rin had used any sort of Codes, and
even then she hadn't been able to tell what kind of Code it was or even if she
had it on her, only that she'd had it on her for a long time in the past.
Right now though it did confirm that this Divine Ancestor was in regular contact
with an artefact of power, and that was something important to know.
Another look at the seeming girl beside her caused Illya to frown ever so slightly.
All her power aside there was the fact that Guinevere was unquestionably
beautiful despite her apparent young age, so much so that the young Einzbern
felt a little envious. She knew that she was pretty for her age, and she was sure
that she'd grow into a beautiful woman like her dear Mama, but even so . . .
No, she mustn't let jealousy creep into her heart, sure she was beautiful, but she
wasn't flawless. Just look at her forehead, it was so big. That might be a bit of a
petty thought but it did make her feel a bit better. Besides, she thought absently,
Shirou likes girls with big boobs, not lolis.
There was a brief pause as the daughter of the Magus Killer reviewed her last
thought.
Why had she thought that? Alright granted that Sakura was the most gifted girl
in that area that she knew of . . . well, except for Rider of course. But given that
the Servant of the Charger was an example of unearthly beauty perhaps that
comparison wasn't quite fair. Illya frowned as a thought struck her, had onii-chan
been spending a surprising amount of time with Sakura's Servant in the days
leading up to the whole mess with Angra Mainyu? Could it be that he really did
find busty girls to be the most attractive?

She shook her head as she tried to dismiss the thought. This was absurd; she
should be trying to focus on learning more about this potential danger, not
considering how attracted to busty girls her adopted brother was.
Looking up she noted that her brother had finished his plate and had returned to
the buffet for another helping. John Pluto Smith was beside him and the two were
talking as they walked. They made for a rather unusual looking pair, but given
the nature of this small festivity that was pretty much par of the course.
"You are fortunate to have so valiant a young man for a sibling, why then do you
not share the same name?"
Guinevere's voice broke into her thoughts and brought Illya's attention back to
the Divine Ancestor. For a moment she considered how to answer, then decided
to go with the same story that she and Shirou had been using about the school,
the one that was pretty close to the truth.
"Onii-chan is adopted, my father became his guardian after circumstances and
family politics ended up separating us."
"Your father had a fine eye for talent or considerable good fortune to have
become the new father to sir Shirou. I trust he is suitably proud of his son's
achievements. Very few can claim parentage to a King."
For a moment the former vessel for the Grail wondered just how her father would
have taken Shirou gaining such power and influence as he now possessed. Would
he have been proud? Would he have been afraid? Would he have looked upon all
that power and thought that it would inevitably lead to Shirou's corruption and
transformation into a tyrant? Would he have killed him in order to nip such
potential at the bud?
In the years after he had supposedly abandoned her the Einzbern family had
forced her to study her father's history so as to destroy the image she had had of
her kind and gentle papa and sever the ties between them. Illya was well aware
of the kind of monster her father had been, of the lengths to which he had gone
in order to save lives. She knew that and couldn't help but wonder what he would
have done.
"Our father died years ago, he never lived to see Shirou learn his strengths, let
alone see him become a Campione."
Guinevere simply frowned slightly and nodded.
Looking at the shadows cast over the Divine Ancestor's face Illya realized just
how dark it had become. The sun had finished setting some time ago and the
site of the Feast was being illuminated by a large number of electric lights that
ensured that it remained as bright as day. Despite the late summer heat a
Bounded Field that she'd set up earlier in the morning ensured that no flies,
mosquitoes or other such pests were being drawn by the light, food or body heat
of the participants. Above she could see the stars multiplying in the night sky as
they emerged from the day's sky. It looked like it would be a beautiful night.
"Well now," Shirou's voice sounded out loudly enough for all to hear, "I think that
we have all eaten our fill for the time being. I think that it is now time to move on

to the main event of the evening, but first . . . let's have a slight change in the
ambiance. Kaida, Manaka, if you would be so kind . . ."
At his words the two maids nodded, drew out a pair of long wooden torches and
lit the heads on fire. They moved around the outside of the patio, stopping at
each of the wooden poles that lined it to light the large torches at the heads of
the poles. Those heads were made of tightly packed bundles of chemically
treated wood and fuel; they would burn long and brightly, and would provide the
appropriate atmosphere.
As the torches were lit the electrical lights were turned off until only a fifth of the
original remained on. The patio remained brightly lit, but now the light and the
shadows danced and flickered in eerie accompaniment to the movements of the
flames.
The mood among the guests had also changed as the lighting had been altered.
Before there had been a friendly cheerfulness, a certain energy and light
heartedness as though this was a party that they were all attending. Now there
was a certain tension to the atmosphere, nothing hostile or malicious, nothing
unpleasant. It was as though the festiveness had left and now there was a
certain unresolved competitiveness beginning to raise its head. Between this
new air and the use of fire to illuminate the Feast things seemed to be a bit more
. . . primal. No, maybe a better word would be primitive?
Illya wasn't too sure; all she knew was that this didn't feel like it was taking place
in the middle of modern day Tokyo. This felt like Kings meeting one night in the
middle of a potential battle field, their armies waiting, one at each point of the
compass, for the signal to be given, for war to be called. There was no hostility,
but there was the overwhelming sensation of the huge power that the four Kings
present possessed.
"A fine setting indeed for this," commented Smith as he seemed to emerge from
the shadows to her adopted brother's right. In the dancing torchlight his cape
seemed to possess a life of its own, moving and fluttering with the flames in a
breeze only it could feel. "So it is now time for the Contest of Kingships that you
proposed?"
The other two Campione also drew closer, perhaps unconsciously standing
shoulder by shoulder in a line that faced the ring table that Shirou had prepared
for the contest.
"So then, the true core of our meeting shall begin now." commented Luo Hao as
she idly tapped her fan against her elbow.
At Illya's side Guinevere stood up, brushed her face with her napkin and walked
over to stand to the side and a little behind the God Slayers. Her actions were
clear and easy to interpret; she was making sure that she was a part of the
gathered competitors, but at the same time making it clear that she wasn't
implying she was their equal.
The Kings moved forwards to take their seats.

-()-

Urban legends all have a root, a point of beginning that could be found if one
knew where to look and was resourceful enough. Tales of supposedly titanic
bloodbaths could be traced back to having begun as simply as single
murder/suicide. Mad scientists were really only unlicensed doctors operating
illegally. From humble seeds flowered the terrifying and the spectacular, a tale
that grew in horror and splendour with each retelling.
However sometimes, very rarely, the seed that began it all wasn't of humble
origins but instead beggared the story that would in time follow. Such legends
could be traced back to the rare times that a mage stepped too far out of line.
However now there was a new legend being born, one already whispered of in
the criminal underworld as thieves and lowlifes passed it on again and again by
word of mouth. Some told it in order to pass the fear onto others and so alleviate
some of their own, others passed it on with a derisive note in their tone since
they did not themselves believe it and others spoke of it with desperation and
horror as they tried to warn those to whom the spoke. All of them had a name for
the tale they told though, one that some unknown soul had thought up and that
had stuck.
The Night of the Hungry Shadows.
It had only been the day before, but already it had passed into a sort of modern
myth. Throughout Tokyo it was as though some unknown force had decided that
they would go hunting among the criminal refuse that infested the city. There
had been no one area or ward where it had happened, nobody had really seen or
heard anything conclusive; there had been no large movements of people or
dramatic explosions. It had all been so quiet.
And that was part of what had made it so terrifying.
Nobody had known when it had started, when the first victim had been taken,
but by the end of the night everyone knew that something was happening. The
numbers that had disappeared weren't huge, barely over a hundred, but it
was who had been taken that was strangest. The most notorious thief, the most
connected fences, those people that everyone knew but didn't like. Those who
weren't outstanding in any way and yet still seemed to be everywhere and know
everyone.
What made it the most horrible was that nobody seemed to know what had
happened to them, they had just disappeared, one minute they been in a
crowded room with someone looking at them, then the watcher would look away
and when they looked back there'd be no-one there. Some people said that
they'd seen shadows that moved on their own, others had claimed to have heard
shrieks of fear that were suddenly cut off.
In the end there would be an investigation by the authorities after it was
confirmed that a large number of less than honest citizens had suddenly
disappeared all on the same night, but the investigation would yield no results.
There would be theories about vigilante groups and criminal organizations, but in
the end these were just random speculations from which nothing came.

The truth was far stranger than any of those who tried to puzzle it out could ever
have imagined, that it wasn't the work of any organization of criminal or
vigilantes, that it was all due to the creation of a single mad mage and the
monstrosity that he had created.

-()-

The mage stood in the park and watched as the shadows moved around him.
He knew they were there, all about him even though he could not see them with
his mundane senses. He could feel them in his mind, through the link that he'd
made between him and his creation; he could feel the smooth coldness of their
thoughts.
Oh that was a pleasure, to feel the movements of their mind against his. It was
so much better than the earlier experiments that he'd conducted with his first
tentative steps into the world of life creation. Those thoughts had been hot,
clinging and rough. He'd hated them, hated the way they'd stuck to his own mind
and not let go, not until he'd disposed of the physical host form at least.
But this time it was perfect. It was as though the mind of his dear thief was
constructed entirely of glass, glass as hard as diamond, as dry as a desert and as
cold as a glacier. Everything slid and turned and locked with beautiful mechanical
precision and timing. And it didn't press in on his own thought either, rather it
stayed beside his own mind, a constant presence but not a pressure.
Marvellous.
There were so many of his lovely thieves now, more than a hundred, and yet
there was no sign of weakness or instability in the glass mind that he could see.
Each time another piece of trash was recycled and used it was as though a new
part of the massive glass engine was seamlessly slotted into place alongside the
rest. Theoretically if that remained the case then it meant that his thieves could
continue to multiply indefinitely. The more there were then the larger the glass
mind would become, and the larger the glass mind became then the more there
were that could be added to it. A self perpetuating cycle.
"Good, good my little thieves. There're so many of you now, so many many
many. Many is better than few, few is too few, few isn't enough. We need many,
but not too many. Too many means that we can't fade, can't dodge, can't hide.
You have to hide when you need to, if you don't then they come for you, come
with their wolves and their lightning and their thunder. Their loud loud thunder.
Thunder that's too loud, so loud it drowns out the screams, drowns out the last
words, drowns it all. All all all, all things that you want and want to keep safe, all
taken, all burnt, all gone.
"Have to be smart if we don't want to be burnt. Have to be unexpected. A
surprise is a surprise is a surprise when they don't see it coming. Have to be a
surprise guest."
As he rambled he turned to face the direction in which he knew the manor of the
eighth Campione was. In the shadows moved dozens of forms, every one of them

similar in appearance, but varying in height, weight and build. The black
substance that the insane mage had created had consumed those it fell upon
and reworked them into the pattern that it knew taking their memories and
talents into itself and using their bodies as fuel and material for the
transformation.
"They think they have no equal, that they can just thunder about as they wish,"
the madman continued to mutter to himself as his eyes remained fixed on the
direction of the Devil King's home, "That they can take what they want, take your
findings, take your wife, take your hope, take your life, take take take take,
always take. Well, let's take from them, take what they won't notice, take it and
hide it and use it. Wait in the dark, wait in the shadows, grow big and strong
while they're not looking, not preparing.
"Then make them see, show them, hurt them, hurt hurt hurt hurt, all the pain, all
the sorrow, all for them."
His words devolved into an incoherent rambling that mutated into kind of
giggling laughter.
In the shadows his creations did not react nor did they care, they simply waited
for orders and listened to the sound of a genius's madness.

-()-

As the sun set and the dark of night fell across Tokyo the Contest of Kingship
began and the shadows converged upon the site of the Feast.

Chapter Fifteen: The Feast of the Kings Part Two

The four Campione sat about the table. Sitting between Shirou and John Pluto
Smith was Guinevere bringing the total of those there to five.
Five beings of immense power each of whom had come here tonight knowing
that this contest would be forever recorded as one of the defining moments in
the magical communities histories.
"In all truth I was a bit unsure of how to conduct this contest," The voice of the
eighth Campione broke the silence as he addressed all at the table with him. "I
am modelling this Feast of ours after another one that I heard of, however at that
gathering of Kings they had a wish granting device to serve as both prize and
conversation piece. Each of them spoke of their wish and so of their Kingship. Of
course we do not have such an artefact to discuss, so instead I suggest the
question; 'What do you wish for with your power'? I think that should get us
started on the right path. From there we can see what shall develop."
As Shirou spoke Kaida came to the table bearing a tray with five wine filled
crystal glasses upon it. Without a word she placed one before each occupant of
the gathering and then just as quietly retreated. When the host had finished
speaking and glanced down at the glass before him Luo Hao spoke.
"While sampling the fine drinks that your servant had provided for this Feast King
Shirou I stumbled across this most delectable wine. Rather than consume it all
myself I thought that such a superb vintage would serve as an excellent
accompaniment to our contest." With one hand she picked up the glass and took
a delicate sip, around the table the others did likewise. Shirou knew that he was
no great authority upon the virtues of a wine's attributes, but even an amateur
like him could tell that this was a superior vintage. Sweet yet slightly smoky, with
a pleasant aftertaste and a mature smoothness to it. Mentally he made a note to
ask Yusuke about it later and see if he could get some more.
"This notion of yours has merit, as the most senior on the path of the God Slayer
here I shall go first. Do any object?"

A quick glance around the table showed that Shirou and Smith seemed to have
no problems with letting another go first while Godou seemed relieved that
someone was going to set an example rather than him having to be put on the
spot.
"Very well then Sempai, what is it that you wish for with your power?"
The Ruler of the Martial Realm didn't hesitate for even a moment; clearly she had
long known the answer to the eighth Campione's question.
"I seek defeat."
There was a pause as all around the table stared at the Chinese beauty in
confusion. This unbelievably skilled and egotistical woman sought failure? That
seemed to make no sense at all.
"I fear that you will need to explain your answer to us further your Eminence."
Commented Smith as he leaned back in his chair.
"I have been a Supreme Ruler for centuries now. In that time I have mastered my
Authorities and then gone on to use my extended life to master all martial arts
that I deemed worthy as well as the Daoist Arts. As my skills grew I found it
harder and harder to find martial arts masters that could provide me with
instruction, then I could find none that could provide me with an enjoyable
battle, let alone defeat. I soon found that my skills and strength had grown to the
point where even if I handicapped myself I could not find those who could match
me.
"I found myself wondering; what the point was to having attained supremacy?
For normal masters it was so that they could spend their youths improving their
skills and then spend their later years passing that knowledge onto their
students so that the next generation could further improve them. For me though
there was no end to my youth, no waning to my vigour. My skills improved
constantly and age did not touch me. I gained the power of gods and integrated
it into my style. It became so that even if I chose not to use the Authorities that I
had gained not even the finest prodigy of martial or magical arts could stand
against me.
"So I sought out the only foes that were now worthy of me, my fellow Kings and
the Heretic Gods. I sought those that could defeat me so that I might once more
taste my weakness, so that I could find it, learn it and then crush it to emerge
once more stronger than I had been before. However in time even the other
Kings of this world failed to engage my interest. Even my battles with that sword
wielding knight from Italy and that stubborn British fellow failed to truly interest
me.
"It is why I have been so pleasantly surprised by the young Kings of this land.
One faced this Luo Cuilian in open combat that was most invigorating and drew a
most admirable draw from our battle. The other has twice challenged me in
competition and both times has achieved a draw with me as well."
In all honesty Shirou wasn't too sure of how he should take such an answer.
Maybe it was because he had faced so many whose powers surpassed him by
far, but he could not conceive of ever becoming so powerful that he would
actively seek defeat. To his knowledge not even Gilgamesh had achieved such

absolution in his own power. On the other hand he acknowledged that he was
young, even with all the additional memories of his other selves, perhaps in a
couple of centuries he'd end up feeling the same.
"An interesting desire sempai," he commented, "Is that why you have come to
base your Kingship upon your martial power? Because it is what you have spent
so much time upon?"
"Exactly King Shirou," Declared Luo Cuilian as she pointed her folded fan at him.
"It is as I said to both you and King Godou; Luo Cuilian can slaughter thousands
of soldiers with a simple punch or kick, and slay tens of thousands with just a
wave of a blade or a spear. Were I to display the true essence of my martial arts,
mighty armies of millions would be turned into mountains of corpses and rivers
of blood. All lands would be wiped out, leaving nothing but mountains and rivers.
Having attained such a level of strength that it is surpasses any empire in the
world's history is it not natural that such force would be a suitable right to rule?"
"And what of the Holy Cult of the Five Mountains?" enquired Smith from where he
was sitting, "I'm curious as to how that came about."
"Ah, that was the work of my first student. Using the skills I had taught him he
rose to the top of the martial world and became the summit that all admired.
After he had organized the various factions that swore loyalty to him into a single
group he found me once more and pledged the entire organization to me in
gratitude for the instruction I had given him. Since his passing I have remained
the cult's unquestioned leader and have taken it upon myself to personally train
each generation of the leadership beneath me. As it so happens my young eagle
is the great-great grandson of the student who founded the Five Mountains."
Shirou blinked once as he cocked his head slightly. What the beautiful martial
artist had revealed more or less confirmed his suspicions of her. In a way it was
something of a relief to know that she truly wasn't as blindly arrogant as he had
feared she might be. Her ego may be titanic, but it was so because of her
achievement s, not because she believed everyone else to be worthless.
"So then what do you intend to do after this Feast sempai? Have you any new
plans to put into effect after what has happened to you here in Japan?"
"Naturally I intend to address the flaws that my little brother has shown me exist
in my style. It will be the first real retraining I've had to do in nearly four
decades." Her face broke into an elegant but pleased smile, "I must say that this
Luo Hao is actually looking forwards to it. It shall be most satisfying to need to
develop a new training regime and new exercises once more. Apart from that I
shall devote some time to thinking of how I may best begin to educate my new
sworn brother on the correct ways of conduct and courtesy. If I am to raise him
into a hero worthy of our relationship then I must be assiduous in my efforts."
Off to the side Godou was beginning to look a bit on the hunted side. Then his
face calmed and he addressed the Ruler of the Martial Realm.
"Ah, but Nee-san, might that end up reducing our standing in the eyes of
others?"
Luo Hao frowned slightly as she turned to face the seventh Campione.

"What do you mean little brother?"

"If . . . if others see you spending too much time on my education then it might
incite rumours that you do not feel I am strong enough to stand alone. That in
turn may lead to slanderous rumours about your own skill as people will wonder
how someone as weak as they would suspect me of being could manage to
battle you to a draw."
Shirou had to admit that the black haired teen had a gift for picking the right
words for the right time. He could practically see the wheels turning in the elder
Campione's head as her thought process led her to the conclusion that Godou
sought to guide her to.
"Well reasoned out Godou," Luo Cuilian agreed with a nod, "Though it pains me
to have to be remiss in your training I can see where my attention might well
lead the ignorant and the foolish to misinterpret the attention that I would place
into your education. Instead I shall place my faith in your talent and trust that
with only occasional advice and instruction you shall be able to raise yourself
into a young hero worthy of adoption into the Luo family name."
"I-I think I'll be able to manage." The seventh Campione agreed as he sat back in
his chair and let out a carefully concealed sigh of relief.
After taking another sip from the wine glass in his hand Shirou once more
addressed the eldest of the Campione present once more.
"So then sempai, your desire is challenge and your rule is Martial Supremacy? I
thank you for your explanation."
As his sempai gave him a nod of acknowledgement John Pluto Smith leaned
forwards.
"Since her Eminence is now finished allow me to be next, do any object?"
Since none contested the American King's desire to be the next Shirou turned to
him.
"Very well then Smith, what is it that you wish for with your power?"
"I seek to drive all evil from the shores of my land for all eternity and ensure the
peaceful and untroubled lives of all my subjects."
There was a moment of silence as all those present stared at the costumed
Campione. Shirou could understand their bemusement, such a goal sounded
so . . . childlike. It was the wish of a character in a children's cartoon, not the
ambition of the King of the magical societies in America.
And what's more it sounded entirely too much like the childish dream that he'd
inherited from his adoptive father and had pursued for so long, the wish to save
everyone. He might have cast that goal aside, but it still held a powerful hold on
him, after all it wasn't a bad ideal even with all its flaws and foolishness.
"I can see on all your faces what you are thinking," commented Smith as he
rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his gloved fingers, "That this is the
wish of a child, that it is an impossible dream that can never be realized. These
are truths that I'm fully aware of."

As he spoke the King of the Underworld gestured in the direction of the rest of
Tokyo.
"Humans are interesting in our diversity, but that very strength is also our
greatest weakness. For every person that is willing to work with another in order
to accomplish something there will be another that will refuse. It is the curse of
our race that our ability to co-operate to achieve is matched only by our ability to
come into conflict over disagreement.
"I'm well aware that as long as there is free will then there will be those that
exercise that will by striking out at their fellows. As long as there is power to be
had there will be those that are willing to throw away all human decency in order
to grab some for themselves. When they seek to use magic to profit from the
losses of the innocent masses or from those weaker than themselves then it is
the obligation of those with power and authority to bring the hammer of justice
down upon these miscreants."
The eighth Campione found himself feeling oddly compelled by the words of the
American King. By the sounds of it he was well aware of the futility of his goal,
how it was impossible to save everyone, and yet despite that he seemed to be at
peace with that. His theatrical manner and over the top behaviour didn't seem to
be designed to conceal any despair or hopelessness. This was . . . intriguing.
"I am a firm believer in 'Noblesse oblige'; if I am the King then it is my duty to
enforce justice. I may force some hardship upon those that I protect by needing
to tax them for my protection, and I may lord my status as King over all in my
domain, but in the end all know that I shall battle injustice and evil wherever I
find it"
The caped God Slayer gestured extravagantly.
"And as a King is it not most appropriate for me to set myself the most
interesting of goals? Well I have chosen a goal that not even the maddest and
most powerful god will ever be able to succeed in. I have guaranteed my own
failure."
John Pluto Smith leaned back in his chair and somehow managed to convey the
notion that he had an incredibly smug grin on under his mask.
"And in so doing I shall fail magnificently, indeed my failure shall tower colossus
like over the paltry successes of others. After all why waste time aiming for that
which can easily be achieved, I'd much rather aim for the Sun and if in failing I
should achieve the moon . . . well, at least I shall then know my measure."
"An interesting approach King Smith," commented Luo Hao as she tapped her fan
against her cheek. "A magnificent foolishness indeed. One certainly worthy of a
King."
"Hey Smith, do you mind if I ask a question?"
In comparison to the theatricality of the costumed King or the imperiousness of
the Ruler of the Martial Realm Godou's polite but ordinary tone should have
seemed . . . weak, tepid, by comparison. At least it should have done. In defiance
of rationality and expectation his voice none the less managed to carry as much
weight as the others.

It was enough to make Shirou allow himself a small grin. The seventh Campione
might be somewhat uncomfortable with his role, but that didn't change the fact
that he was a King whether he liked it or not.
"But of course Godou-kun, that is the purpose of this contest, feel free to
question me as you wish."
"I kind of wondered, why you chose to dress up like that? I mean, why the mask
and outfit?"
There was a brief pause as everyone stopped to process the question. Shirou
realized that he'd honestly not really thought to consider that himself. He'd been
more focused on Smith's style and ideals, but now that he thought about it he
had to admit he was curious as to why the Campione of Los Angeles had donned
a costume in the first place.
"Ah, the answer to that is fairly simple," Smith commented as he rested an elbow
on the arm of his chair and leant his chin on it. "I chose to disguise myself so that
I didn't need to be a King at all times, on occasion it is pleasant to not have
people treating you as their ruler. After the first few times that I had to appear I
decided that if I was going to be disguised then I might as well have fun while
doing so. The final result was my most beloved attire that has become the garb
for which I am so well known."
To highlight his words the King seized one of the edges of his cape and gave it a
small flourish.
"My thanks for sating our curiosity Smith;" Shirou declared as he nodded in the
caped King's direction, "It is interesting that you would choose to create another
identity to serve as the face of the King. I can see the advantages to such an
approach. Still what are your plans for after this Feast, when you return to your
homeland?"
"I believe I shall continue as before. My time in Japan ha been a fine adventure
and I have had the privilege of making some most excellent allies, but unlike her
Eminence there shall be little to impact upon my activities once I return."
"So then, would I be right in saying that your desire is the impossible justice and
your kingship would be that of the Hero King?"
"An intriguing and flattering choice of words Shirou, but accurate I would say."
As John Pluto Smith nodded his agreement he raised the glass of wine that had
sat before him and took a sip through his mask.
"I-I think I'll go next."
Godou's declaration began with a slight hitch, but his voice quickly firmed and
grew strong.
"Very well then Godou," the eighth Campione agreed, "Then please tell us, what
is it that you wish to do with your power?"
There was a pause as the black haired young man seemed to take a moment to
organize his thoughts.

"What I want . . . is to live a normal life, graduate school and get a job that I can
excel at using my own talents and hard work."
There are moments in life where you just know that if they were part of some
sort of television program that there would HAVE to be appropriate sound effects.
In response to Godou's declaration the silence around the table was so complete
that Shirou thought it was the perfect time to hear a cricket chirping in the
background.
"Err, Godou, you do know-" The host of the Feast began, then cut off as the
seventh Campione held up a hand to forestall further words.
"Yes, I know that that's completely ridiculous, but you did ask what I wanted, not
what I expected." As he spoke Godou ran a hand through his hair and sighed in
frustration. "Don't get me wrong, I don't hate being a King or anything like that. I
don't hate having the power to fight or the responsibilities or anything like that
y'know? I mean since becoming a Campione I've made good friends and seen
awesome things, so I don't regret becoming one or anything. The thing is I don't
like picking fights or ordering people around, I'm pretty happy with my life the
way it is without all that.
"I'll fight if I need to, don't think I won't. I've got these powers, even if they do
tend to be more trouble than they're worth, and I'll keep to the duties that come
with them. It's just that if I could have a nice normal life with all the friends and
comrades I've gained since becoming a King then I wouldn't mind it at all. It's like
I said to Nee-san, apart from my ability to fight gods I consider myself an
ordinary person."
There was another silence around the table as the other Kings digested this
confession.
"I hear your words my little brother and I can understand them to a degree. I can
see where one of commendable humbleness might prefer to remain in more
modest circumstances despite being a King, but despite your words I do not
believe you to be such a one, King Godou."
The words of the Chinese Campione broke into that silence. Her tone was neither
aggressive nor disappointed as Shirou would have expected her to be after
learning that her newly adopted sibling had such mundane wishes. Instead she
sounded . . . earnest.
"When we crossed blows in battle it was the most magnificent fight that I have
enjoyed in more than a century, even my battle with the Divine Marshall Zhu
Ganglie did not compare. During our match you displayed determination and
tenacity enough to make the finest master of wushu proud. However underneath
there was more than that.
"My dear brother I do not believe that you knew it and I know that you did not
show it, but beneath the effort and inspiration that you showed in our battle
there was genuine exhilaration. Just as with the times that you battled with the
Great Sage, did you not feel the blood sing in your veins? Did you not take joy in
your victories over your foe?"
"Well . . . yeah, I guess you're right there." Godou agreed as he smiled in a
slightly weary way, "It's kind of weird. Having to deal with Heretic Gods and

supernatural stuff is really troublesome, enough so that if I didn't have to do so

again I'd be pretty happy. Still once things come to a head and we've got to fight
I always find it really exciting. Heh, guess that makes me something of a
hypocrite huh?"
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Shirou commented, "I can see the appeal of a life
without the complications of the supernatural. Still, can you honestly say that
you would be satisfied with such a life after having been the hero that has saved
so many from the whims of a careless deity?
"I've heard it said that the vast majority of the mundane people go through their
lives without doing anything more significant than disturbing the earth that
needs to be moved in order to bury them. Personally I don't agree with that, but
it's true that there aren't that many that truly leave an impression upon the
world. Tell me do you really think it is so troublesome a fate to be one of those
that can make a true and lasting impact upon this life?"
"Well, I never claimed to have it all figured out," Godou said as he folded his
arms on the table before him, "I'm still working things out in my head, and I still
haven't got things straight yet. But you did ask me what I wanted with my
Authorities, and that's what I want; a pleasant life."
"And that is a fine wish to have," Declared John Pluto Smith as he leaned
forwards in his chair, "I've heard of Kings in the past that have taken their power
and drowned themselves in greed and gluttony with the authority they have
gained. If your own wishes are more modest then there is no shame in them! Far
from it you should take pride in the fact that your dreams are those of a humble
man untainted by the mania I so often see in those that have attained some
sliver of power."
"And what of your Kingship then Godou? How will you deal with that?"
The eighth Campione's question gave his fellow Japanese King a brief pause, but
the answer came fairly quickly.
"I'm not the kind of guy that's interested in being a King and reigning over a
kingdom. If there's danger then I'll fight it, and if I see something that needs
doing or changing then I'll use my authority to get people to do something about
it if I think I should. But I don't want to spend my days telling people what to do
or anything like that."
"So rather than ruling your subjects you're content instead to let them handle
themselves just so long as they do listen to you when you have something to
say?"
At Godou's answering nod Shirou tilted his head slightly.
"An interesting approach, to retain your power and duties, but not to exercise
that same power without cause and leaving your subjects to rule themselves
instead. Sort of the opposite of a tyranny when you think about it."
He gave his head a shake as though to clear it.
"Ah well, I can think of a number of worse ways for a King to rule. So what are
your plans for after this Feast? Has there been any change to your plans for the
future due to your experiences here?"

"Well I've certainly got more to think about now, but I don't really have any
plans. Once I've had some time to think it over I'll probably talk it over with my . .
. friends."
"Ah, so you're the kind of fellow that will recognize his weaknesses and won't
hesitate to seek the council of those you trust who can cover that weakness?"
Smith's observation caught Shirou slightly by surprise. That did kind of describe
the way Godou had managed to surround himself with girls of remarkable talent
and ability. Certainly he knew that the seventh Campione wasn't the kind of man
to do such deliberately, but it seemed that his luck had managed it for him. Still,
intentional or not Godou could hold claim to the position of the King with the
most formidable support base. To the red haired teen's knowledge none of the
others had so many high level allies, not even himself. In a way those same allies
could be regarded as Godou's principle strength after his Authorities.
"Then I suppose we could say that what you seek is peace and that your Kingship
could be described as that of the Commoner King?"
"The Commoner King?" enquired Luo Hao.
"A King that does not rule from a throne over the masses, but instead lives
among them and only takes his throne in times of great need." Shirou explained
recalling some of the types of mythological Kings that he'd read about in both
mythology and modern entertainment. Such stories had taken on a new
significance to him since the Holy Grail War and had become something of a
minor hobby in his spare time.
"Ah, a suitable description for my sworn brother."
"So then what of you King Shirou?" asked Smith as he sat up a bit straighter in
his chair, "It is now our turn to ask you; what is it that you wish to attain with the
power of a Campione?"
The eighth Devil King paused for a moment as he tried to order his thoughts. The
simplest answer to that was that he wanted to return to Sakura. He wanted to go
back to his home dimension and make sure that Rin, Rider, Taiga and her were
all alright.
After that . . . he honestly didn't know. He supposed it would depend on how he
managed to get there. If it was just a one way trip then he'd just have to deal
with it. However if the method he used would allow him to return . . . well, that
gave rise to all sorts of possibilities.
Still, those were thoughts for another day, thoughts he could hardly speak of
here. Granted he was no longer afraid that if he revealed the true origins of
himself and Illya that the various magic agencies would be eager to dissect them
for the knowledge that their bodies might yield. As a Campione he could ensure
that any who tried something like that would regret it for the brief amount of
time that would comprise the rest of their lives.
Even so that was information he didn't want to yield any time soon. However
these Kings had come to attend his Feast and they had answered his questions
honestly and fully as far as he could tell. He owed them something genuine in
reply.

"I want to protect those that I care for."

The others seated at the table looked at him with mild surprise on their faces.
Idly he wondered what they'd been expecting him to say, something grander?
Something more ambitious?
"I know it sounds simple, but like most things that are simple it's really pretty
complicated when you look at it a bit more thoroughly," he elaborated, "I . . . I
failed someone I cared a while ago. She was one of my best friends for years,
someone I saw practically every day, someone I talked to, someone spent time
with. And in all that time I never really knew, never guessed, that she was being .
. . abused by her family.
"This was before I became a Campione, before I got a proper handle on my
magic or was reunited with my adopted sister. Back then I wanted to be a hero,
an ally of justice that saved everyone. I know it was a rather juvenile dream,
there was nothing wrong with it though and I . . . I believed in it. I wanted to save
someone, anyone really, because I thought it was the right thing to do."
Shirou glanced down at his hands and saw that they were clenched into fists so
tight that the knuckles were turning white.
"I carelessly went through my life preparing to save whomever I could. I even
told my friends about it, told her of my dream, all that time I helped anyone who
asked and I couldn't notice her right by my side and being . . . violated every day.
Looking back on it it's like a sick joke."
Silence reigned as they all waited for him to continue.
"Things got . . . messy around the time I first met Illya. Lots of peoples agendas
all came to a head at once and my friend ended up getting caught up in it in the
worst way possible. In the end I was faced with the choice of saving her and
risking the lives of untold many or killing her and guaranteeing the safety of the
unknown masses."
He looked up at them and he knew there was not a drop of shame or doubt on
his face.
"I chose to protect those I cared for; to throw away the ideal that I'd lived by for
as long as I could remember.
"Since then I've lived by that promise, that I won't let those I want to protect get
hurt. When gods tried to threaten them I killed them and became a King. And
since becoming a Campione I've tried to gather the means by which to better
achieve that protection."
He gave a slight smile to the rest of those seated at the table.
"Of course that doesn't mean that I would shirk the chance to save another, I still
believe that there's nothing wrong with the desire to save another, I simply have
something of a prioritization these days. As I said to sempai when we were
imprisoned, I believe in doing right by those that I have power over. It's a duty,
an obligation, which I take seriously."
"A commendable attitude to maintain King Shirou," commented Smith, "And
indeed there is nothing wrong with wanting to protect those that one has ties to.

Of course it is never wrong to wish to save other lives, the ability to reach out a
hand to aid those we do not know is one of the cornerstones upon which
civilization is built. However to place the countless unknown above those whom
you know, whom you speak to, whom you have ties with . . . well, that is the
province of saints or monsters."
The words were meant as support, but instead they struck at the eighth
Campione's core. He knew that he had come dangerously close to having
followed the same road as Kiritsugu, to weigh all lives upon a scale and take
whatever action was needed in order to save the most possible. That was the
path that his father had taken, and it had been a path that had very nearly
broken him. Archer was an Emiya Shirou that had thrown himself into saving all
that he could, one who had sacrificedeverything in the pursuit of that goal,
friends, lovers, comrades, even his very self, in the end all had been cast aside.
At the end of that path there had only been a sort of damnation waiting for him.
He knew damned well how close he had come to crossing that line, to becoming
something that would have made Kiritsugu and Archer seem pale by comparison.
He knew how close he'd come to trading his heart for a mind of Steel. All it would
have taken would have been one decision made differently; one life found
wanting when measured against those of others.
The thought that he might have himself have been the one to kill Sakura if he'd
made another choice . . . it made him shudder.
Still he couldn't let that show on his face here. Now wasn't the time to succumb
to introspection.
"My thanks for your words." He said as he nodded to the masked King.
"So then King Shirou, would I be correct in saying that you'd describe your rule
as being one of Protection? You will protect those that you care for, but will also
act as guardian to those that need you even when you know them not?"
The question came from Luo Hao as she directed a gaze both curious and regal
at the young man with whom she had spent more than a day in captivity with.
In response Shirou nodded. He supposed that was a fairly good way of describing
his methods. He built up his power base slowly and carefully, but it was all for
the purpose of protecting Illya foremost and those in his service afterwards. He
supposed he ranked his own life in there somewhere, but he still had a bit of
trouble valuing it against others.
"So then we can say that your desire is the safety of your loved ones and that
your kingship is that of the Protector. Most intriguing."
The comment of John Pluto Smith was spoken in good humour, but carried a
weight to it none the less. That assessment, that judgement, would be the way in
which Shirou knew that he'd be defined from now on in the eyes of his fellow
Kings.
"And so this brings us to our final member fellow guest," the American Campione
continued as he turned his head to look at Guinevere, "You have been silent up
until now, could you tell us why?"

-()-

Guinevere's heart was pounding in her chest as the moment that she'd been
both dreading and eagerly anticipating had arrived. She had remained silent as
the others at the table had questioned one another, even though she had been
paying close attention to what each and every one of them had said she had
done nothing to draw attention to herself.
Instead she had waited, waited until their attention would fall on her and it would
be time to defend her beloved king's rule.
And now . . . now was that moment.
"Though Guinevere is most privileged to be at this table with you all I know that
this is a discussion for Kings. As such it isn't the place for a mere handmaiden to
raise her voice in question to you all. I am here to represent and defend the
kingship of Artus in my lord's absence, that is all."
It was true. Though she might not obey their demands, indeed even though a
Campione could be considered her mortal enemy, the Witch Queen did
acknowledge that the Devil Kings were beings of higher rank than a fallen
goddess like herself. When she'd said that she didn't consider it her place to
speak up at this meeting of God Slayers she'd been speaking honestly.
Of course that didn't change the fact that if any of those at this table became
obstacles in her path to revive Artus then she'd not hesitate in becoming their
enemy.
"Very well then Lady Guinevere, please answer us in your king's place, what was
it that he wished for with his power?"
Well maybe she wouldn't be too eager to become sir Shirou's enemy, especially
when he looked at her with those deep golden eyes that were so warm andAaaargh, she was doing it again. She thought she'd managed to get her blasted
feelings under control, why was she sent into such confusion just by him looking
at her? No, she had to take hold of herself. She was here to represent her King;
she must not bring dishonour upon his name.
"Artus is the King of the End, the King that appears when the world is ending.
What my most beloved lord desires is the peace of that end."
There was another moment of quiet as the assembled Campione looked at her,
then King Kusanagi Godou, somewhat surprisingly, spoke first.
"When you say that he's the King of the End do you mean that he appears when
the world is ending or that his appearing causes the world to end?"
"Either, neither, both, who can say?" Guinevere kept her answer deliberately
vague. She was aware that in order to defend the Kingship of Artus she would
need to reveal some things about him and his past. However despite that she
was also determined to keep as many secrets of his as she could. It was a fine
line to walk, but she was determined to do it.
"What did you mean by the peace of the end?"

This time the question came from sir Shirou. Clamping down on the urge to melt
at his smooth voice she instead answered his question.
"My lord King always appears in the times when chaos and strife are at their
peak. When he appeared he would bring about peace by subduing or
exterminating all troublemakers before him."
"And Artus is Arthur Pendragon, the once and future King of Britain?"
There was something in the red haired Campione's tone as he asked that which
caught at the Witch Queen's notice. To him the answer was of importance on a
personal level, not merely some idle curiosity. There was definitely some sort of
connection here; she just had to work out what it was.
"Artus did appear in Briton more than fourteen centuries ago," she said as she
settled herself a bit more comfortably into her seat, "He quelled the turmoil of
that time and brought about peace to the land consequently the people of that
era came to worship him and many gods and goddesses came to serve under his
banner.
"Years later my King was gravely wounded after fighting the traitor knight
Mordred and descended back into the earth in order to regain his strength.
Guinevere's previous self, her mother, sacrificed her divinity in order to create
the Holy Grail and reincarnated as a Divine Ancestor.
"That Guinevere then popularized the legend of King Arthur and his knights as
part of a plan to re-energize and revive my King. However I was murdered and
sent into the cycle of reincarnation. By the time Guinevere reincarnated once
more those legends had spawned their own new god, a young deity of war and
justice named Arthur Pendragon."
"Ah, so then your own lord could be regarded as the prototype, the origin, of the
now famous Arthurian mythology?"
John Pluto Smith's question was one that she'd been expecting.
"Indeed, Guinevere is responsible for the more modern tales, but Artus is the
origin of Arthur."
"So you have spent the last millennia and a half attempting to revive your
master? Such dedication is both shocking and commendable." Luo Hao
commented as she once more tapped her fan against her chin, "Though that you
have needed to try for so long does not speak well of your king."
That made the Queen of the Divine Ancestors fairly bristle in anger. How dare
she? How dare this woman speak so of her beloved Artus?
"The King of the End has not been slumbering all this time; Guinevere has simply
been most unfortunate in that I was trapped in the cycle of reincarnation during
the times when he revived. His efforts have shaped the course of nations, indeed
this very land that we stand upon was saved by him."
"Huh? This King of the End saved Japan?"

The startled words of King Kusanagi brought a tiny smile to the blonde Divine
Ancestor's lips. It was somewhat satisfying to surprise someone with information
about their own home that they had never known.
"Yes, several centuries ago a number of strong Heretic Gods were running wild
upon this land in the far east. Your country had no God Slayer to protect it and
they left much wreckage and ruin in their wake, so much so that the Mages and
Shaman of this land couldn't hope to cope. Eventually some of the gods fell into
combat with each other and before long it seemed that the entire country would
fall.
"That was when Artus came to your land King Kusanagi, drawn by the chaos and
confusion. He battled the gods, some he slew, others, those strong enough to
survive him; he drove into the astral realm instead. In the end he saved your
land but exhausted himself once more. That is part of what I am doing here, in
this country so far from my homeland, I am seeking the place where my beloved
Artus is resting."
"This King of yours sounds as though he would be a fine foe to battle," Lou
Cuilian commented as she leaned back into her chair, "Should you succeed in his
revival then let him know that this Luo Hao would be more than pleased to
challenge him to battle so that she might exterminate him."
The words were not delivered with aggression or hostility. They were the words of
one that was, as far as they were concerned, speaking of things as blatantly true
as the fact that the sky was blue or that water was wet. The Chinese Campione
simply felt that it was utterly natural for her to challenge a powerful new god
that had manifested himself.
However rather than leap to her Kings defence as the other Campione had
probably been expecting her to do Guinevere instead simply smiled knowingly.
"Are you certain of that your Eminence? Here in Japan the foes that my dear
master faced were other gods, but the enemies he exterminated in order to
establish his reign over Briton were different."
"What do you mean?" sir Shirou asked, his voice intrigued.
"All those centuries ago the threat that was bringing about the end of the world
wasn't a Heretic God; it was the large number of wild Devil Kings at the time."
She amused there for a moment, letting the shock of what she had just said pass
through them. What she was about to tell them wasn't a secret, others such as
her former associate Lucretia Zola were aware of this. It wasn't something that
she needed to keep secret unless she wanted to, and at this moment she wanted
to impress these four before her with the strength of her King.
"You should not be so eager to rush to your doom your Eminence," she cautioned
the Ruler of the Martial Realm, "Artus was given a title than none may usurp or
equal because there were none in the world, god or Campione, who could match
him. He is the Strongest Steel."
"Artus has fought Campione before?" Godou asked in curiosity.
Guinevere looked at him and was reminded of how young he really was, that he'd
not yet been a King for even half a year. She could tell that he was surprisingly

mature for such a young man in this age where a long childhood was a luxury
open to many, but it seemed that though he was aware of realities in his head
his heart had still yet to accept them. The thought that there was a god that had
defeated Campione had surprised him, this showed he still possessed the naive
view that Campione, and so himself by extension, would always triumph over
gods. The thought that inevitably the Kings of the world died at the hands of
either gods or their fellow Kings was something he probably knew intellectually,
but had not yet fully grasped.
Interestingly sir Shirou had shown no such surprise, but that was not unexpected.
King Kusanagi was a warrior who had grown up in a place of peace, never having
cause to awaken his combative and aggressive hidden nature. Sir Shirou was a
different kind of animal altogether, he had been well aware of battle and death
before he became a Campione, of that the Witch Queen was absolutely sure. His
ability to maintain his focus and composure in the face of Mordred's
overwhelming power had spoken of a past stained with blood and a familiarity
with facing foes stronger than himself.
Shelving such thoughts for later consideration Guinevere nodded towards the
seventh King.
"Indeed, the crisis that drew him to this land was the rampage of Heretic Gods,
but in ancient Briton the holocaust that brought about the end of the world was
not the work of deities, but of God Slayers."
She paused for an instant to see how her announcement had caught her
listeners. Luo Hao was displaying her usual calm regality, but there was a
definite hint of excitement in her eyes at the knowledge that such a strong foe
existed. John Pluto Smith remained largely inscrutable behind his mask, though
the way in which he was cocking his head slightly hinted at some curiosity.
Kusanagi Godou was frowning slightly, apparently somewhat displeased by the
thought of Kings like himself being the source of such ruin. Sir Shirou was . . .
calm, his face betraying none of his thoughts as he watched her and waited for
the Witch of Camelot to continue her explanation.
"In that time an unusual number of reckless God Slayers had manifested in
Europe and were causing great unrest. One of them claimed Briton as his own
and turned it into a hopeless place of strife and terror. It was this ending of an
era that drew my King and led him to battle and exterminate the mad child of
Pandora that had caused such suffering. For this deed the people of Briton came
to worship him as both King and God, and many deities were drawn to him by his
divine presence, by the aura of power and majesty he possessed.
"However his victory also drew the attention of the other Kings that ran wild in
the neighbouring lands at the time. Both fearing and coveting his power they all
made their way to his new kingdom one by one and challenged him."
Again she paused, allowing the tension to build.
"By the time the battles were over Artus had slain five Kings, more than any
other deity of Steel in history. That is why the title of Strongest Steel is his."
As she said this Guinevere paid close but subtle attention to how sir Shirou
reacted to her declaration. After all he had laid claim to the title of the Strongest

Steel during his battle with Mordred. Had he simply been ignorant of the title's
true significance and been using it to try to provoke the traitor knight? Or had he
been aware of the true owner to whom it had belonged and made the claim as a
challenge to him? One of the main reasons she'd taken the risk of coming to this
Feast had been to try to learn more about him, and whatever his reaction might
be it may answer at least some of her questions.
Nothing.
His expression didn't alter, his body didn't move, his presence didn't even twitch.
For all the reaction he exhibited he might as well have been a statue.
"So then, it would be accurate to say that your King's desire was for peace and
that his Kingship was Strength?"
Sir Shirou's question broke into her thoughts and brought her once more back to
the present.
"Ah, yes. Yes, that would be accurate."
"Then we have reached the end of our contest," the host of the Feast declared.
"So then the desires that we have are challenge, impossible justice, the safety of
loved ones and the desire for peace shared by both a god and a Campione. The
kingships that we have declared are Martial supremacy, the hero king, the
commoner king, the rule of protection and the rule of strength."
He paused for a moment as he drained the last of his wine from the glass before
him.
"I do not know about any of you but I'm declaring this contest a victory for all. I
have not heard of a single desire I find unworthy nor of a kingship to which I
object. I have explained and defended my own rule to you all, and none have
spoken out against it, nor have any of you spoken out against each other.
Therefore I declare this contest a draw through mutual victory . . . is there any
here who would challenge my pronouncement as the host of this Feast?"
"Splendidly said King Shirou," declared Luo Hao as she snapped her fan open and
then closed once more. "A fine judgement upon the outcome of our contest, this
Luo Cuilian will abide by your verdict and carry my victory with pride."
"Agreed," Smith spoke up while nodding in an exaggerated manner, "I confess
that when you told me that the curtain may not yet have fallen upon our
adventure in this country I was somewhat sceptical, but you have happily proven
me wrong. I shall take my victory here and wear it as a badge of honour."
"Yeah, tonight has been . . . interesting." Kusanagi Godou agreed, "Definitely
interesting. I've go no problems with taking my own victory from here the same
as everyone else."
With a pleased smile on his face the red haired God Slayer turned to face
Guinevere.
"I believe that congratulations are due to you as well my lady. Alone and before
an unprecedented assembly of those who should be your traditional enemy you
have successfully defended the rule of your King and added another victory to

his name. This Artus is privileged to possess so loyal and fine a vassal as
yourself."
The Witch Queen could literally feel her face start to redden as his compliment
made its way through her thoughts. He thought she was loyal and fine vassal,
deep inside her there was a part of her that was squealing in both
embarrassment and delight.
As Guinevere did her best to once more regain her composure sir Shirou stood
up.
"In that case there is simply one more part of the contest left, then we move to
our final enjoyment of the food before I see to my duties as a host and call this
night to an end." A sudden smile crossed his features as he chuckled slightly,
"I'm honestly surprised things have gone so smoothly, I'd have thought a
meeting such as this would be a magnet for trouble."
"Oh? What do you mean by that Shirou?" Smith enquired as he stood up as well.
"Well the gathering I based our Feast upon was attacked by assassins, so I was
expecting something like that to-"
His words were suddenly cut off as his eyes went wide. Guinevere didn't have to
even wonder what it was that had caused this, she could feel it too. It was as
though the air had suddenly grown colder, heavier, the very light of the torches
that burned about them seemed to become muted and wan. In a single instant
she was out of her chair and spinning around to try to find the source of the
malignant aura that had settled over the area.
About her, at the edge at the light, the shadows moved independently of the
flickering flames.

-()-

Okay, he knew that he was a Slayer of Gods and as such probably not in the
good books of those forces that ran the universe, but wasn't this just a bit too
much?
Shirou's hand grasped the hilt of Ai Qubla as it materialized. All about him the
shadows seemed to be disgorging black figures with skulls for faces, in a way it
was an eerie repeat of Assassin attacking the assembled Servants at Rider's
Feast of Kings.
However for all the similarity there were differences. Assassin had been a
human, granted he was a human that had fractured his mind in order to gain
skills that no normal human could possess, but even as a Servant he/she/it had
retained the basic qualities of a human. These . . . things that now surrounded
him and his guests were not human, of that he was absolutely sure. The
memories he'd gained from Archer had given him numerous examples of beings
that might have human form, but no human essence, and these creatures would
have fitted in with them quite snugly.

They didn't move as humans would for example. No crowd of men, not matter
how well trained, could possibly have acted in such absolute harmony. The way
they reacted to one another's shifts and movements was . . . uncanny. It was
more like watching a school of fish than a group of humans, but no fish had ever
managed such perfect coordination between those in the school.
Also there were the weapons that they held, or at least seemed to. The black
blades were immediately 'read' by Unlimited Blade Works, but rather than being
stored in his Reality Marble the long daggers were instead rejected. However
even though they weren't recorded they had been analyzed, enough that he
knew why his inner world hadn't duplicated them. Rather than being weapons
they were instead a part of those that held them, a portion of their flesh that had
hardened and taken on the form and function of a blade.
What was even more telling was that they had somehow managed to completely
slip through all the wards and Bounded Fields that he and Illya had been able to
set up around the manor. Even now when they had willingly revealed themselves
they had only tripped the defences enough to be registered, not to activate any
of the defences.
"Illya?"
He asked her name as a question; wanting her opinion on what it was he and the
other Campione had to deal with. His adopted sister had been with the others
who had accompanied the Kings and had been seated a respectful distance away
during the competition, but she had gotten up to join him when the contest was
declared ended.
"They've got some ability like Presence Concealment," she called to him, "It's not
on a level with a Servant, but it's enough that the majority of the Bounded Fields
can't catch on to them. It's like their bodies are drinking in the ambient mana to
keep the fields from noticing them while at the same time not tripping the fields
that should detect that drain."
Assassins then? Well that was just wonderful, fate apparently really was doing its
best to make his life difficult. Still these creatures didn't feel like gods or Divine
Beasts, their pressure of presence was pervasive but not strong.
"Interesting, while I must commend these fellows on their skill in approaching so
close to me undetected I cannot forgive them for so shamelessly interrupting a
meeting between Kings."
Luo Hao was on her feet and stood facing the assembled mass of shadowy
figures without a trace of fear or apprehension in her bearing. Her fan was now
tucked into her belt and her arms hung by her sides in a posture that appeared
casual but which could easily slip into a martial arts stance.
"Indeed," agreed Smith as he casually leaned on the chair he'd been sitting on a
moment before. "Perhaps they heard of the same feast as you did King Shirou
and thought that the night wouldn't be complete without an attack by a hoard of
assassins."
"Er, does anyone know who these guys are?"

In contrast to the almost relaxed manner of the other two Kings Godou was
visibly nervous. Not afraid or fearful, just cautious really, a sensible enough
response.
"Well, they've shown up to my Feast so I think it only appropriate to welcome
them." Shirou declared before stepping past his guests and addressing the mass
of skull faced shadows before him. A crazy but amusing thought had just
occurred to him. If fate was so determined to apparently force a recreation of the
meeting of Kings that the Rider of the fourth war for the Holy Grail had called
then who was he to stand in its way. Besides it would be interesting.
"New guests? King Shirou, do you actually intend to invite these loutish
interlopers to share your hospitality?"
Luo Hao sounded . . . perturbed by the idea to say the least. He imagined that
her own approach to such gatecrashers at an event where she was the host
would have been to summarily annihilate them all with all due haste. He also
noticed that she was also sending glances back to the pavilion where the
remaining food was still waiting. Could it be that she also didn't relish the idea of
sharing it with any more than strictly necessary?
"Of course, the king's words should be heard by everyone, so if someone shows
up to hear, it doesn't matter if they're friend or foe."
It was odd just how easily the words of that Servant he had never seen but none
the less admired were spoken by his own lips. While Saber would forever remain
as his true Servant he occasionally couldn't help but wonder how he might have
fared had the King of Conquerors been his partner.
Turning round he picked up the mostly empty bottle of delicious wine that had
been served to them all and waved it towards the mass of shadowy figures.
"Here, don't be shy if you want to drink with me there are cups over there. This
wine is as your blood."
He idly wondered just how long he could follow the 'script' as it were. One thing
he was absolutely certain of was that if one of them sent a dagger at this bottle
then he'd be damned if he let them spill the last of it all over the floor, this was
damned good wine after all. Come to think of it, maybe he had drunk a tad too
much if he was following through with this absurd idea.
The answer that he received didn't come in a verbal form, but instead in about
ten of the shadows suddenly rushing forwards.
They were fast, he had to give them that, but when compared to the terrifying
speeds of Berserker, Rider or Mordred they weren't anything too impressive. He
calmly set the bottle back on the table then Ai Qubla flashed in his hand, the
whip-like blade lashing out at speeds far faster than the attackers could manage.
Poisoned metal bit into their black flesh, yet despite the Noble Phantasm's mystic
properties the venom had no effect.
With a growl of frustration Shirou dropped the weapon, releasing it back into
Prana motes as he did so and instead Traced Kanshou and Bakuya. As soon as
the black figures drew close enough he lashed out with both swords, each
directed at a different assailant. He normally wouldn't have used such lethal

blows so casually, but these creatures were unquestionably inhuman and both
his own experience and the memories of EMIYA assured him that one of the last
things he wanted to do was hold back against unidentified non-human hostiles.
The black and white blades cut into the flesh of the beings, but it felt wrong,
there was oddly little resistance, as though the flesh wasn't as solid as it should
have been, and yet that same semi-liquid flesh clung to his weapon like thick
honey bleeding force from their blows. Then, when the blade struck the bone, it
was as though his swords had run into steel bars, the Noble Phantasms bit into
the bone that resisted them but weren't able to sever it in a single blow. Still he
didn't let the surprise overcome him, since he couldn't easily cut through these
creature's skeletons with the blades he was using he instead pushed against it
and used his swords as levers to throw the two attackers away from him.
As the false assassins fell tumbling away from him the eighth Campione frowned
slightly. The twin Noble Phantasms that he had just Traced possessed a powerful
anti-monster. Even if these were degraded versions, since he wasn't using
Dragon Slaying Hero to reinforce and perfect them, they should have been
perfectly suited for foes that felt so inhuman. Yet for some reason that ability
didn't seem to be kicking in as it should. That would indicate that for all the
strangeness of them these attackers were more human than monster.
No more time for contemplation now though, there were two more of these false
assassins coming behind the ones that he'd just thrown back. However now time
he had a bit of a better idea of what he was dealing with and prepared himself
accordingly. Without uttering the spell words Dragon Slaying Hero awoke within
him and its power flowed though his veins. The two swords were dropped and a
new weapon selected and Traced.
SPLURNCCH!
As the huge stone axe-sword of Berserker crashed into them the two they made
a muffled wet breaking sound. Both of them fell to the patios tiles, their frames
bent in ways that were unnatural to their human shape.
He was distracted from those before him as those that had passed him were
suddenly sent hurtling back.
"A fine blow little brother, but next time you must take care to use less brute
force and more skill." The Ruler of the Martial Realm stepped forwards while idly
taking out a silken handkerchief and wiping at the index finger of her right hand,
"If skill is used then it is possible to defeat such scoundrels as these without the
exertion of undue force."
She paused in her advance and glanced back at the seventh Campione.
"Fools such as these that would dare attack Kings with their paltry strength are
undeserving of a fist; a fingertip is too generous for them."
In a move so smooth and precise that even a Servant would have been
impressed she raised one arm up and extended the digit that she'd just cleaned
to intercept another of these strange creatures that was attacking her by
throwing itself at her with its arms spread wide to grab and stab. There was a
single instant where the leaping assailant stopped in midair, frozen in place as

the finger touched its forehead. Then, as though fired from a cannon, the black
figure was sent flying back to the sound of bones breaking.
"Once you have attained the same lofty heights of skill as your honoured elder
sister then even absorbing the entirety of the motion within a foe and redirecting
it back into them will not be beyond you."
An explosion drew his attention away from the Chinese Campione and to the
other side of the table. There John Pluto Smith stood with one arm extended in
the direction of a further two assailants that had been blasted away even as their
flesh smoked from the heat of the attack.
"Granted mortal spells aren't much good against such foes as Heretic Gods or
Divine Beasts, but sometimes they come in useful to deal with the expendable
minions, especially when backed by the power of a Campione's reserves."
The situation was quite clear, for all their numbers, stealth and inhumanity these
strange invaders were utterly outmatched. Campione were Supreme Rulers
because their power loomed over all who were beneath gods, and these beings
were no deities.
So why were they attacking? Certainly they hadn't yet employed their full
numbers and they might have some hidden abilities, but despite that the simple
fact was that they faced utterly overwhelming odds. But if it was so obviously
apparent then why did they continue this futile action?
It was hard to tell exactly how many of these things there were, their constant
movement and their uniform appearance made it hard to keep enough of a track
to count them, but he was sure there were at least a hundred. So far only ten
had attacked, and of those ten only about half seemed to have been 'killed', the
other five were struggling to their feet and healing at a visible rate.
"It would seem that these fellows are less than inclined to accept my offer."
Shirou idly commented as the hoard of false assassins milled about in that oddly
liquid manner.
"You were expecting any other response?" Smith asked as he stepped forwards
to stand beside the feast's host.
"Not really, but if new people show up for my Feast then I should at least give
them the chance to join before declaring them intruders and wiping them out."
There was a brief moment of silence as the black figures suddenly ceased their
movements for an instant. All the white skull faces turned at once to regard the
gathered Campione, a movement eerie in the way it was performed by all the
attackers simultaneously. The next instant there was a rushing noise as more
than two hundred black daggers were hurled en masse at the God Slayers.
Shirou didn't even bother to Trace a Noble Phantasm, those daggers might be
accurate and fast, but they were still simply mortal weapons, easily dealt with.
Without even bothering to speak the words the eighth Campione used the power
of the Authority that he'd gained from Hades.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. A huge half dome of gold and silver
appeared before the Campione and intercepted the impact of every dagger. With

an almost negligent gesture he returned the precious metals back to their origin
and stared at the ranks of false assassins as the last of the daggers that had
previously been imbedded in the shield clattered to the ground.
"Hmph, such impudence is utterly unforgivable!" Luo Cuilian declared as she
stepped forwards, "Your generosity is wasted upon this rabble king Shirou. I had
originally thought this to be a bold but futile attempt by one of our enemies to
attack us; however these creatures are mere false beings. Our attacker sends
toys rather than men to fight us, an insult in and of itself. This Luo Hao shall
destroy them utterly as an example to those that would dare try this."
Shirou could practically feel the power beginning to build within the elder King,
and he suddenly had a vision of her releasing her full power to annihilate these
attackers and reducing his whole manor to a crater in the ground in the process,
then standing over the wreckage and declaring it a fitting monument to her
martial prowess.
With that thought in mind he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder.
For an instant he felt as though the cold hand of death were suddenly wrapped
around his heart. This was a level of dread comparable to what one might have
expected to experience if they had just slapped Illya in front of a fully aware and
fully powered Berserker.
"King Shirou," Luo Hao didn't turn to face him but even so he could tell that her
expression was stern and disapproving, he could hear it in her voice, "You are
most fortunate that I meditated to suppress my normal reflexes before attending
tonight. Normally I instinctively twist the necks of those who touch me by
surprise without my consent. Consider yourself fortunate and be sure to thank
me correctly for my forbearance."
"Ah . . . my thanks sempai," it took a moment for Shirou to get his throat working
again. Okay that might not have been quite as terrifying as facing a corrupted
Saber or an enraged Gilgamesh, but damn it was close. "I was just going to say
could you please leave the extermination of these constructs to me. As the host
of this Feast and the owner of this home it is my privilege and duty to deal with
these intruders."
For a moment she didn't respond and the eighth Campione became a bit
concerned that she would be unwilling to bend on the issue. Quite honestly he
wasn't sure what he'd do if that happened, given that if he tried to stop her by
force it would only lead to a worse situation; probably try to use a Traced Noble
Phantasm to limit the damage that would result.
His eyes were drawn to the attackers as he noticed something odd about their
behaviour. Before they had been spread out in a curving crescent formation that
had been centred on the gathering of Campione. Now, against common sense
and good tactics, they were drawing together into a denser formation. That
didn't make sense; it offered no benefits to them and simply made it easier for a
single strike to hit more of them.
"Very well King Shirou, your claim upon this right and duty is both valid and just, I
shall refrain from unleashing my martial splendour upon these luckless fools and
leave their fate in your hands."

Phew, okay that was one less thing to worry about. Now he just had to deal with
this multitude of fake assassins. The young Emiya guessed that his best option
was to simply cut them down with a Traced rain of swords, granted he'd have to
use a fair number of them to overcome these creatures' strange physiology and
healing ability, but it was well within his limits. Alternatively he could call up one
of the monsters he had sealed up in his manor and turn that loose on them. It
would have the twin benefits of both feeding one of his creations so it would be
stronger the next time he summoned it and being spectacular enough to no
doubt leave an impression upon his fellow Kings.
He'd have to be careful whatever he did though, with them all pressed close
together like that he could take them all with one attack if he was swift and
careful. But if they scattered then it . . . would . . . be . . .
Oh boy.
Shirou gaped in a kind of fascinated horror as he realized what the small hoard of
black figures were doing. The mass of skull faced attackers weren't in a group so
they could press together, they were pressing into each other. Their black flesh
was melting like wax and flowing into a single mass of black meat with starkly
contrasting white bones on its surface before they were pulled back into it.
The flesh flowed, altered, and twisted, the formerly shapeless mass taking on
structure and definition. And yet for all the order that its form gained the
resulting creature was totally beyond anything that Shirou had seen in his life.
The basic structure was vaguely that of a snake; however its black length was
lined on each side with a row of black human arms extending from it like some
sort of nightmare centipede. The thing had two 'arms' that were essentially huge
blades in a structure similar to the claws of a mantis, the blades of those claws
serrated like a huge saw. The head, which came at the end of a long sinuous
neck, was a bizarre amalgamation of cobra and insect features. However the
most disturbing thing was that the mandibles that lined its mouth were human
arms ending in fully functional hands.
Quite simply the monstrosity that the false assassins had become was a monster
not out of place in the nightmares of a madman.
"It would seem that our mysterious foe has some sense of the dramatic."
Commented John Pluto Smith as he casually leaned back against the table.
"Perhaps, but whomever the fellow was that prepared this spectacle his artistic
abilities are sadly most lacking." Luo Hao commented as she absently fanned
herself.
Godou was simply alternating between staring at the monstrosity and staring at
the two more experienced Campione. Shirou could sympathize to a degree, he
might himself be familiar with the more fantastical aspects of the world but even
so he was more than a bit awed by the sheer nonchalance with which the senior
Kings were dealing with the appearance of such an unnatural creature.
With a shake of his head he dismissed the thought and turned back to face the
black horror. For an instant he considered using Nine Lives Blade Works on, after
all he had the appropriate weapon in his hand right now, but then he cast the
idea aside. That was more suited to dealing with a human shaped target. He

supposed that he could adapt it to be closer to the original Shooting Hundred

Heads, but even that might not be appropriate to this foe.
From what he could tell this things flesh was fluid, malleable to a high degree. He
wasn't entirely sure what effect that would have on a physical attack, but he
didn't want to test it out. What he needed was a single large scale attack with
which to annihilate it all in one go, not chance for it to survive.
Unfortunately his home was right behind the wretched thing, a fact that was
serving to limit his options.
The axe-sword fell from his hands and dissolved back into its component Prana
as Shirou instead formed another weapon in his hand. It wasn't anything of
monumental power, merely another of the many nameless blades in his Reality
Marble. It was a longsword that had been wielded in battle by some hero whose
name had been lost, and though nameless it might be it was still an arm of
power beyond the ken of most mortal men.
A physical attack was the best option since it would have a limited area of effect;
however it would need to be a massive attack to bring this monster down quickly.
For a brief instant he considered the physically largest sword in his Reality
Marble, one that was only there because EMIYA had seen it during his encounters
with Gilgamesh during his youth. Shirou was actually quite glad that he hadn't
had to face the weapon himself, though not as terrifying as the incomprehensible
Ea the enormous Mountain Felling Sword had a terror all of its own, hardly
surprising considering it was a broadsword more than fifty metres in length.
The problem with using it was that while it could deliver a devastating blow
unless he Traced more than one then a single one was all it would deliver since
even with his Authorities the titanic sword was impossible to wield. The reason
that made it impractical was that in terms of sheer Prana cost the Mountain
Felling Sword was probably his second most expensive Noble Phantasm due to
the sheer amount of material needed to form it and the strength of its power. As
Archer EMIYA had never possessed large enough reserves of power to form it
even though it was in his Unlimited Blade Works. Even with the reserves of a
Campione Shirou didn't think he could Trace more than four copies without
exhausting himself, the cost was that absurd.
No, what he needed was a large number of potent physical attacks in rapid
succession. What he needed was . . .
"I am Steel, Steel that endures, Steel that triumphs, Steel that is invincible. My
might is beyond any, my courage unshakeable, my mettle unequalled. I am the
earth that has been refined into its ultimate form, I am Steel."
The words came to him without any thought or effort, just as they had the first
time he'd ever used one of his Authorities. He was vaguely aware of the sword in
his hand disappearing even though he hadn't dismissed t, but that was a distant
and unimportant thought. Right now his senses were being consumed by two
forces.
Fire and Steel.

-()-

Illya hadn't been the first to move forwards, and that was to her irritation.
The first to move forwards had been Erica, even as all the others, including Illya,
had been frozen in place by the sheer sensation of wrongness that the black
figures had radiated she had advanced.
That had irritated the young Einzbern more than she had expected. She was a
veteran of the Holy Grail War, she had been the master of the single most
terrifying Servant of the war, she had stood in the presence of the embodiment
of all the evils of mankind, she'd run into that cave after Shirou even though at
the time she'd been sure she was running to her death. Certainly these black
creatures were discordant to her mystical senses, but that shouldn't have frozen
her as it had. Why then was it that the blonde mage knight had been able to
shake off her shock first? Was it because her feelings were stronger? Was it
because she had more combat experience? Or could it be that Illya had allowed
herself to become soft in these last few months?
Illya wasn't angry with Godou's 'first wife', rather she was irritated with herself.
Still, she took some pride in the fact that she had only been a second or two
behind Erica, and a split second ahead of Liliana, the rest of Godou's harem and
Lu Yinghua. Still all of them had come to a halt as soon as they had seen the
Campione deal with the attacks upon them. It was a brief exchange, but one that
demonstrated that for all the strangeness of their attackers the assembled Kings
were in no danger. Even Kusanagi Godou, the least combat experienced of them,
was able to send the one that attacked him flying with a superhuman punch.
Quite simply all of the companions of the Kings were in no way needed for this
battle, the Campione had already won.
As she drew nearer she took the time to reach out with her magic and see what
she could determine of these black invaders. What she felt from them was . . .
strange. Whether by design or chance their abilities were just the right mix of
qualities to allow them to slip through her security Bounded Fields without being
noticed. Had they released hostile intent earlier than they had then they would
have been detected. Had they come in slightly greater numbers then they would
have been detected. Had they moved slightly faster in their infiltration then they
would have been detected.
Whoever had prepared them for this assault must have studied her defences
extensively to have equipped them so perfectly to succeed.
"Ah, so sir Shirou will take charge of disposing of these rude fellows that have
accosted his guests."
Surprised the snowy haired girl glanced to the side to see that Guinevere was
standing beside her.
"When did you . . . ?"
Illya cut herself off as she realized that in her startlement she was behaving most
improperly for one of the hosts of this Feast. Sure Shirou might be the main host,

but as the more trained and cultured of the two the Einzbern heir considered
herself to be a co-host to the event. To allow herself to jump and so thoughtlessly
blurt out a question, well, her old teachers in etiquette back in the Einzbern
castle would have subjected her to both punishment and lectures for such a
display.
It also didn't help that she'd done it in front of the Witch of Briton. Earlier their
conversation had been cut short by her adopted brother calling the beginning of
the Contest of Kingship, but even that short interaction had left her feeling a
slight sense of competitiveness with this . . . this annoying person. Enough so
that she didn't want to let her see any signs of weakness.
"It would have been most impolite of Guinevere to join the Kings in their
repulsion of these attackers. Instead I have respectfully retreated to wait along
with their followers until these fellows have been dealt with."
How on earth did the blonde Divine Ancestor manage to appear so calm and
beautiful as she said that? It was as though her every perfect movement and
gesture rubbed Illya up the wrong way, even though she couldn't have said for
the life in her why that was.
A sudden surge of power that radiated from the Campione tore her attention
away from the other young girl and back to the 'battle'.
There Shirou was standing while facing the huge monster that the small army of
false assassins had merged into. Around him there was an aura of visible power,
one that flickered like flames, but was strangely colourless.
"I am Steel, Steel that endures, Steel that triumphs, Steel that is invincible. My
might is beyond any, my courage unshakeable, my mettle unequalled. I am the
earth that has been refined into its ultimate form, I am Steel."
Beside her Illya heard a short gasp come from the Witch Queen beside her, but
she paid it no attention.
Those were Sacred Spellwords, the keys to invoke the power of an Authority. But
these were new ones, Illya knew almost all the Spellwords that her onii-chan
used to activate his powers, but these were new. That meant . . . that they were
for whatever power he'd gained from the god that he'd slain the day before.
She watched in awe as the aura grew larger and larger until it reached more than
four times Shirou's height into the air. Then her eyes widened as the colourless
flickering began to take on a vaguely human shape. Then her eyes widened
further as she saw that her brother's own form was growing see through and
indistinct even as the figure formed from the aura solidified. She knew that this
was most likely an effect of the Authority, in her head she knew this, the problem
was that knowing that didn't make her heart stop pounding as Shirou's form
disappeared.
Then she took a good look at what had replaced him and a gasp of awe escaped
her lips.
It was tall, tall enough that it would have towered even over her Berserker.
Perhaps not as huge as the Divine apes that the Monkey King had sent after her

and her allies, but despite being smaller it had a solidness, a presence that the
divine animals had lacked. Though it was smaller it felt infinitely stronger.
Even though it was facing away from her the angle of its stance was such that
the young Einzbern could get a good look at it in the flickering like of the torches.
It was a huge armoured warrior of strong but slim build about eight metres tall.
Its entire form was covered in plated armour of an elegant and elaborate design.
A design that vaguely looked like . . .
As part of her research in preparation for the Heaven's Feel ritual she'd research
as much of the previously summoned Servants as she could, and among them
had been the unidentified Berserker from the War that her parents had fought in.
Even though the Black Knight's Noble Phantasm had prevented her from learning
his real name scrying and a talented artist had provided the Einzbern records
with several excellently drawn pictures as well as a description of its abilities.
Now, as Illya stared up at the armoured colossus that had taken the place of her
adopted brother, she could see some similarities between them. Certainly the
general design was less jagged and cruel looking, but in terms of where the
plates were and how they fitted together there were definite similarities. Of
course there were differences, this armour looked slightly heavier, the chest
plate was all of one piece and the pauldrons and gardbraces on the shoulders
were slightly heavier, all of a piece and more pronounced. The gauntlets and arm
armour were also thicker than the Berserker's had been, more suited to defend
against heavy blows.
Additionally there were other differences, the principle one being the chain mail
and plate arrangement that resembled the bottom part of Archer's armour
crossed with Saber's armoured skirt. It came from under the plates that defended
the hips and ran down to about the middle of the calves.
Of course the biggest difference was that instead of being blackened metal this
huge armoured form was a combination of pristine white and polished steel grey.
The majority of the plates were of a white similar to ivory, yet unquestionable
metallic though it was strangely lacking in reflective qualities despite its
smoothness. The chain mail, as well as the flexible metal material that made up
the joints of the armour, were all the shiny grey of polished steel
In its left hand the huge figure had strapped an enormous circular shield easily
large enough to defend its entire main torso. In its right hand it held a sword that
must have been at least five metres long from tip to pommel. Both the arms
must have weighed literal tonnes, but the steely titan held them as though that
burden were utterly negligible.
The gigantic figure turned its head to look in her direction and she got her first
good look at the helmet that it wore. The helm framed the face with protective
sides that covered the ears, cheeks and sides of the jaw. The top of the helmet
came down in a point like an eagle's beak to the bridge of the nose and ran back
to divide into three short backwards facing crests that stylised the helm. The
face under the helmet was covered by a featureless mask that covered the chin
and all other facial features save for a slit through which could be seen the eyes
of the giant.
Those eyes burned a bright molten gold.

"Illya . . ."
The voice was too deep, too reverberating and too metallic to be called human,
and yet in spite of that the snow haired girl had no trouble recognizing it.
"Shirou?"
Her own voice sounded so . . . tiny by comparison, so weak and insubstantial.
However even as she said the word she felt her heart begin to calm. She'd been
right; this was just a new Authority. Her dear adopted brother was safe and he
would return to her.
"A most impressive Authority," The comment from her other side almost caused
to jump in surprise, but she was able to quash the impulse in time. Standing
beside her was the masked form of John Pluto Smith, the fire light gleaming off
his helm and his cape flapping dramatically in the light wind. "Though not as
large as some of the beings I've seen deities turn into I can clearly sense the
strength of that one. It would seem that your brother was able to gain a powerful
Authority from his victory over Mordred Lady Einzbern."
Any further words were cut off by the sudden screech of metal on metal. Looking
back Illya saw that the monster the attackers had become had lashed out with
one of it's scythe-like claws at Shirou, however he'd been able to bring up his
shield to block the cut and had deflected it in a shower of sparks.
In silence the young heir to the Einzbern family watched as her transformed
brother swung his huge sword in retaliation.

-()-

Shirou knew that he had already won as soon as he blocked the monster's
serrated claw with his shield. Though the explosion of sparks that resulted was
impressive his own shield remained unscratched while the mantis-like claw blade
of the merged creature was now cracked and broken.
The simple fact was that this was now a battle between utterly unequal foes. For
all of its fearsome appearance the chimera creature before him simply lacked the
strength and durability to be a serious threat to him in this form. He probably
didn't even need to defend against it with his shield; his armour alone should be
enough to break its blades.
Shirou could feel the strength of his new form instinctively; feel the raw physical
power that he'd never experienced before.
He could also feel the lack of his magic. He couldn't push Prana through his limbs
because the Circuits that normally carried it weren't there. Instead there was
something else, a strange kind of flow that at once felt molten hot and
comfortingly cool. This force wouldn't obey his will to Trace or form magic, yet he
knew that it held great power in it.
Without further thought he swung his sword down at the black beast in a simple
overhead chop. With his magic unavailable to him he couldn't sympathize with

the weapon he held in order to gain any skills that might be written into it's past,
but that was alright. He'd spent hours in practice with various warriors learning
how to use weapons without borrowed knowledge, and among them had been
the longsword and the broadsword. He knew how to wield one even without his
magecraft to aid him.
The huge blade cut downwards and sheered through the claw-arm that was
raised in defence as though it were made from straw before hewing into the
creature's 'shoulder' and nearly splitting its torso in two.
Shirou drew the blade back and saw that the gaping wound was slowly sealing
itself even as the monstrosity tried to lash out once more with its good blade. He
easily brushed it aside with his blade and delivered another slash at the beast,
this time nearly taking its head off.
From there the 'fight', if such it could have ever been called, became a simple
slaughter. The black monster tried to fight back, but its attacks could not harm
the armoured giant. It tried to defend by hardening its skin into thick plates, but
they gave way beneath Shirou's blows like paper. It tried to retreat, to gain
ground with which to manoeuvre, but a single swing of the huge sword tore the
side of its tail so it could no longer move effectively. It tried to heal, but the blows
came down again and again, as fast and devastating as lightning strikes, too fast
to be repaired and too strong to endure.
For his part the eighth Campione had decided not to give the creature any
quarter, not after seeing the many human skeletons floating in its semi-liquid
flesh. Again and again his sword rose and fell hacking at the creature in a way
that was less combat and more like a woodsman cutting at bracken. The blows
slashed through the earth like the blows of a god and the air shrieked as the
blade cut through it faster than such a piece of metal should ever have moved.
Both heaven and earth felt the force of the giant's power and yet still it cut away
like a man at his job.
Despite the odd savagery of the conflict it was soon over. The monster may have
been fearsome, but the simple fact was that against a foe wielding the power of
a god it was too far outmatched. Before too long the wounds that had been
inflicted upon it grew too many, the flesh ceased trying to heal and instead
began to fall apart into a sort of liquid tar. Here and there were the white of
bones, but they disappeared as they seemed to dissolve into the black ooze
which in turn was shrinking and disappearing.
For a moment Shirou just stood there, his form towering over his guests and his
manor, the molten power of this Authority racing through his body. All Authorities
had a feel to them, a certain character, and it had become his habit to liken
these feelings to animals and impressions. Rule of the Underworld was a sleeping
dragon that might grumble slightly when disturbed but would obey his will. The
Hero's Bride by contrast was a male peacock that gladly displayed its brilliance
to all while radiating its power like a small sun.
If he'd had to put into words what this Authority, Titan Knight, felt like he would
describe it to be like riding a tame but eager metal bull filled with fire.
There was strength in this Authority, massive overwhelming strength the like of
which none of his others save perhaps Curses without End could hope to match.

The bull was brimming with strength, with an eagerness that was only barely
contained, as though at any moment it would charge something just to test its
own strength against that target. And there was more, more power that seethed
within the form of the bull, pressure that was just begging to be released so it
could run wild.
He could feel that pressure within him now, that desire to simply run wild with
this power, to do anything he wanted. With this force, this strength, he could do
anything, defeat anyone. Nobody could challenge him and nobody could stand
against him.
With an effort Shirou pushed such thoughts away. The power of this Authority
was . . . intoxicating. It would be so easy to let it carry him away into thoughts of
invincibility, but he had to remain in control. He had to remain focused on the
task at hand.
With a mental effort the young Emiya pushed the siren song of power to the back
of his mind and knelt down on one knee and stared closely at where the monster
had been. There the ground was torn up by his own blows as well as from the
thrashing of the creature before it had died. Amid the gashes and trenches there
wasn't a hint of the black substance that had made up the creatures body.
Reaching out he stirred the loose earth with the tip of his sword, but his
investigative probing yielded no hint of what had happened to the remains.
Damn it, he needed to get out of the armour. Its power might be so sweet but
while he was in it he couldn't focus on such small details. He needed to have his
magic back so he could use Structural Analysis on the whole area. He had to . . .
In response to his will the heat within him began to fade and he could feel the
armour that covered him grow misty and insubstantial. There was a slight
sensation of falling, then his shoe clad feet landed gently upon the ground as he
resumed his human form once more.
"Most impressive King Shirou," Lou Cuilian congratulated as she stepped
forwards to look upon the devastated area where that monster had once stood.
"Your attacks may have been somewhat ungraceful and rough, but even this Luo
Hao was impressed by the sheer strength that your Authority displayed. I do
hope that in the future we shall have the chance to battle."
"Sempai," Shirou replied as he glanced back at her, "I hope you don't take
offence, but I hope that that day is a long way off."
"Of course not," the Ruler of the Martial Realm said airily waving off any thought
that she might be insulted. "Such a comment merely proves that you have sense
and that I was wise in agreeing to accept you as an ally."
The red haired Campione nodded in understanding, then turned to look at his
adopted sister as she came to stand next to him.
"Can you sense anything?" he asked as his own use of structural Analysis on the
area revealed only broken stone, torn up soil and a few roots and worms.
"Nothing." Said Illya as she shook her head, "But I couldn't detect them earlier
until they revealed themselves so one or two of them might have managed to
get away, but the big one is definitely dead. After you dealt it enough damage it

was like the magic holding the artificial cells together simply ran out and it came
apart like a brick wall that had just lost all its mortar."
Shirou cast a glance back at the area where the hoard of black shadow creatures
had been. Now that he was back to human dimensions he could see just how big
the area was. Honestly it wouldn't have been that hard to build an entire house
on the area that he'd torn up, and that was a house with a garden included. Still
despite the size of the damage it was still fairly limited and hadn't come near to
his manor. Tomorrow he might have to look into getting hold of some landscapers
to return his lawn and garden to their former pristine state, but for now at least
the main problem seemed to have been dealt with.
"Well, that was an unexpected bit of entertainment." John Pluto Smith was the
first to comment as the host of the Feast turned back to his guests. "I wonder
what the point of such an attack was, even against a single Campione such
creatures would have been nothing but an inconvenience. To send them against
four and expect anything other than a crushing rout is sheer folly."
"Indeed," agreed the Chinese God Slayer with a nod of her head, "I can only think
that some presumptuous fool conducted this pointless attack in order to try to
elevate his or her status in the eyes of others by being able to claim to have
faced four Kings and having survived."
A look of disgusted disdain crossed her features.
"Such braggarts can rarely hold their tongues for long; they will begin to boast
freely and will soon be found by those who will tell me. Rest assured this insult
shall be addressed in the correct manner."
There was now a distinct edge to the beautiful martial artist's voice that told
Shirou very clearly that anyone who had been foolish enough to have anything to
do with this attack who then bragged about it would find their life become
extremely . . . interesting in short order.
"So . . . now what?"
Godou's question sounded slightly lost as he stared between the jarringly
clashing images of the neat pavilion filled with delicious food and drink and the
torn up garden where the black monster had just been slaughtered.
"Well," the eighth Campione said, "I can think of three things that I intend for us
to do before the evening is ended. The third is a surprise and the second is to
once more indulge ourselves in the feast that has been prepared. However let us
do the first thing now before we contestants of the competition of Kingship go
our separate ways."
Damn, he had to admit he was getting pretty good at this whole talking like a
King trick. Arturia, Gilgamesh, Iskander, thank you for your informal lessons in
Kingship, they have been gratefully received.
"Oh? And what would that be sir Shirou?" Asked Guinevere as she also stepped
forwards to step closer to the assembled Campione.
"A question that was once asked, a question that I would be eager to hear each
of your answers to."

"And what question might that be?" there was a definite hint of curiosity in the
voice of the American Campione as he leaned forwards slightly.
"Is the King lonesome?"
The four word sentence was spoken with a gravity, a solemnity, that was oddly
out of place in the almost humorous atmosphere that had sprung up in the wake
of the monster's death.
"Of course not," Luo Cuilian's answer came without hesitation or doubt. "A king
has servants to serve them, disciples to respect them, enemies to face them and
allies to aid them. The only King to be lonely is one who is so by design or is so
by incompetence."
"Yeah," Godou declared with a surprising amount of force in his tone. "The King
always has those that believe in the King, even when the King isn't too sure
himself, those that will give their loyalty and loan him their strength."
Only a blind man could have missed the way the black haired teenager's eye
flicked towards his female companions as he spoke his words.
"Quite correct," agreed Smith, "Even a King such as myself who keeps their
identity secret has those that I can trust and confide in."
Shirou let a pleased smile break across his face.
"Exactly right, splendid answers. After all what's the point of standing at the top
of the world if when you get there you just find yourself all alone?"
With a wave of his arm the young Emiya gestured towards the pavilion.
"We've competed, we've battled and we've answered; now let's eat, drink and be
merry."
Though the contest of Kingship and the attack of the false assassins had only
lasted a short time Shirou found that the activity had been enough to rekindle his
appetite. Well, that was fine with him, it meant that he'd have enough room to
try the spaghetti that sempai seemed to have enjoyed so much.

-()-

The mage sat on a bench in the garden and stared into the shadows.
"So many gone, gone gone gone, all gone. He cut them, cut them with his sword,
cut them down, cut them away. Now they're gone and I can't feel them any
more."
His mutterings fell into the uncaring night and above him the lamp that
illuminated the part of the park he sat in flickered.
"They slipped in oh so quietly. Oh my lovely little thieves, I didn't know that they
were just right to sneak up on the Kings palace. Didn't think they could get
through his traps so easily. Oh my thieves, you were even better than I expected
you to be. Can't to it again though, the chance is gone, lost, vanished. The King

will see the hole and close it up, fill it, bury it. Bury it deep down, covered in dirt,
crushed, sealed up. Can't use it again."
For a moment the dirty and line face behind the matted and greasy hair
contorted into a wild mix of emotions.
"My poor pretty thieves, you all went and tried to steal from the Kings, but don't
you know that the King cuts down all who try to take from him? Kings don't let
you take from them; they're the ones that take. Take and take and take and take.
Take until there's nothing left, until you're hollow and empty and there's no way
to make it right."
To his right the shadows rippled and two black figures emerged, figures with
while skulls for faces. There were no words spoken, they each held out their ands
and showed the orbs that were grafted to the palms of their hands. It was oddly
disturbing to look at, as though fireflies had landed on their palms and the skin
had grown over them yet somehow kept the insects alive and bright despite their
fleshy entombment.
"They cut you down, cut down so many of you. Cut and cut and cut and cut and
cut. But you cut too, just a tiny little cut when they killed you. A cut so small that
they'll never even notice it. But it was a cut and now we have a cut. Cut cut cut
cut cutting. A cutting a cutting a cutting from a plant. We'll nurture it, all of them,
let them grow big and strong.
"Oh, and we'll have to grow more of you. Oh look at you, so small now when
before you were so big, so many. Well don't you worry about it. We'll find you
some more trash to recycle and then we'll find a nice quiet place for those little
cuttings to grow."
The mad man suddenly stood up and began to capper to music only he could
hear. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, but they were wildly
energetic and the smile on his face held a certain hysterical glee.
"My pretty little thief has made his first theft. Oh, it's a small one but the Kings
don't even know it yet. We've taken a tiny tone from their thunder, their loud and
horrible thunder. It's only a note, only a shard, but we took it. Took took took took
took it. It's ours now and we'll make it bigger, make it louder, make it yours."
His eyes turned to focus upon the remaining survivors of the assault upon the
gathering of the Campione. His eyes held a mixture of love, greed, sorrow, joy
and rage that could in no way be described as sane. It was an incoherent mess of
emotions that chased each other within his heart with all the force of a trapped
typhoon.
"It will be yours, and with them you'll be able to take more. You won't need to
take in secret; you'll be able to take it from right in front of them. Take and take
and take and take take take until there's nothing let to them. Take until the King
has nothing. Until the King is a pauper, a joke, a hollow shell. Take and take and
take until they're finally quiet, until there's no more thunder.
"Then . . . then maybe I'll be able to hear her last words."

The final sentence was spoken in a shockingly calm and rational voice. A voice
low and quiet, a voice that held no manic energy or burning desire but simply
pure heartbroken sorrow.
Alone in the dark with only the monster he had made for company a genius that
was a madman found a brief moment of sanity in the simple act of weeping with
grief.

-()-

The feast had gone on for another hour as the hosts and their guests indulged in
all the wonderful food and drink that were available to them. Friendly
conversations were struck up, opinions were exchanged and stories of the past
retold. Nothing of any momentous importance, simple the pleasant chit chat that
could be found at any friendly party.
However time passed and as was the way of things the evening drew to a close.
Bellies were filled and thirsts were quenched, and even though there was still
plenty of food left the feast began to wind down.
Shirou had a quick word with Kaida and then returned to his guests.
"Well, it looks like the evening has finally reached its end. I trust that I have
served as a good host to you all?"
"King Shirou tonight has been a most pleasant and interesting evening indeed. I
hope that if you ever find yourself in my own homeland that I may have the
chance to share my own hospitality with you in gratitude." The Chinese
Campione snapped her fan open and then closed again to add emphasis to her
words.
"Indeed," agreed the masked King of Los Angeles as he raised a glass of
Champaign in salute to his host, "You have left me truly glad that I took your
advice about the curtain not having fallen King Shirou. Had I departed when I had
intended to I would have missed this magnificent event. You have my heartiest
thanks and my promise of my own hospitality, such as it is, should you ever find
yourself in my homeland."
Godou was a bit off to the side and standing with his companions, but as the two
elder Campione finished speaking he stepped forwards.
"I-I wasn't too sure about coming here tonight, but now I'm really glad I came. It's
been interesting in ways I wasn't expecting and I think I've learnt a few things I
wasn't too sure about both about myself and other Campione."
Shirou nodded in thanks to the words of his fellow Kings, then turned to the
blonde Divine Ancestor.
"And you Lady Guinevere? Has my Feast treated you well?"
The beautiful child-like Witch Queen blushed as the attention of all fell upon her,
but bore it with dignity and performed a curtsey to the assembled God Slayers.

"Guinevere would like to offer her thanks to the Kings that have graciously
allowed her to defend the rule of her King in their contest. I would also like to
thank sir Shirou for inviting me and being such a splendid host. In the future I
hope that I shall be able to offer equal h-hospitality in return."
For some reason the former goddess was blushing bright red as she spoke the
last sentence. Could it be that she was embarrassed by the thought of offering
him hospitality in the future? Maybe her base of operations was very humble or a
mess.
Oh well. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about that, instead it was time to
move onto the grand finale of the Feast of Kings.
"Very well, if you will all accompany me back to my manor I think that it's time
for my final surprise of the evening."
With an inviting gesture he invited his guests to follow him back into his home.
As they began to follow his lead he allowed himself a small smile. Aside from the
oddly ineffectual attack by those fake assassin creatures the evening had gone
well, if he could pull this last part off then his guests would leave with a definite
impression having been made on all of them.
Kaida and Manaka should have followed his instructions and brought the cart
he'd told them to get to the right room. Unless they ran into some problems,
then they might be a bit late, but that was hardly catastrophic.

-()-

Kaida pushed the trolley down the hall and was once more thankful that her
friend was here to help her. There might not be much on the cart's flat table-like
top, but the four long lengths wrapped in bolts of silk cloth were surprisingly
heavy, enough so to make pushing them along a difficult task for a former shrine
maiden who hadn't been too interested in physical activities.
Manaka on the other hand was not only an expert in combat magic, she was also
familiar with a number of martial arts that she used to supplement her magic.
She was a young lady in excellent shape and so was able to pick up the slack of
her less physically inclined friend. Between the two of them they were doing
fairly good time, the problem was that it was wretchedly difficult to steer the cart
due to the long nature of the burdens upon it.
Still, despite those difficulties they managed to get the trolley to the large room
that could serve as a banquet hall at a pinch. The pair of them had only just
pushed the cart up against one of the walls and turned to face the door while
standing beside it before it opened and Shirou entered with the rest of the
attendees from the Feast following behind him.
"Ah, thank you for having that ready." he said to them with a warm smile before
turning to address the guests who were now spreading out behind him.
"As the host of this Feast I decided that I would provide my guests with gifts to
my fellow Kings and to Lady Guinevere in order to commemorate this Feast and

our competition. And I take great pride is saying that these gifts are all truly one
of a kind; there aren't any like them anywhere else in the world."
Kaida could see the curiosity and interest on their faces and in their posture. His
claim was quite a bold one after all, all of them were experienced in the magical
world and had seen wonders and horrors that most could never even imagine. In
the face of that his claim must have seemed as challenging.
The possessor of the Dragon's Roar wondered what exactly he had chosen as
gifts that he was so sure would impress those that had faced and defeated gods.
Reaching out to the cart he picked up the first of the lengths upon it. The one he
chose was just less than two metres in length and wrapped in silk the same
shade of cyan that the Chinese Campione had worn when she arrived to battle
the Great Sage and his siblings.
"First for my honoured sempai," Shirou said as he passed the wrapped object to
her. "Please, open it here and tell me what you think."
There was a definite hint of excitement on the beautiful King's face as she used
her fingers to break the thin threads that bound the wrapping closed. As she did
so Kaida wondered just how long it had been since she'd had an experience like
this. As a Campione Luo Hao-sama would receive tribute and gifts from all the
magical clans and organizations in her lands, how long could one receive such
gifts before the experience grew stale? This must be something almost wholly
new to her, the receipt of a gift from an equal.
Her thoughts were cut off as the silk fell away to reveal what it had previously
hidden.
It was a Ji, a traditional Chinese style halberd, with a wicked spear head and a
crescent-moon blade on the side of the shaft just below it. A blood red tassel
decorated the haft under the blade and lent colour against the gleaming black of
the spear's length. Though the metal gleamed like polished silver and the black
wood shone with care there was something more to the weapon, something that
gave it a gravity that reminded her ever so slightly of being in the presence of a
god.
"To you sempai I give the weapon of the mighty L Bu Fngxin. Though its last
owner had a somewhat evil reputation none may deny his strength. It is my hope
that this spear will serve you as well as it did him, but through happier times."
The face that the Ruler of the Martial Realm now wore was a sight to behold. It
was the face of a warrior that had been handed the most perfect weapon they
had ever seen in their lives mixed with the expression of a child at Christmas
that has just opened a present to find the best toy imaginable within.
"King Shirou, you . . . you rob me of words." With a rapturous expression on her
face she swung the spear in her hands around, then down, up, back once more.
In a matter of moments the weapon was whistling through the air stabbing at
imaginary foes and blocking phantom attacks.
Kaida found herself entranced. The sheer . . . perfection of the moves, their
grace, their timing, it all spoke of skill that was beyond anything she had ever

seen in her life. Were the warrior before her an artist and her work a painting
then entire nations would go to war for possession of it.
The movements ended and the spear came to rest upon its pommel as Luo Haosama leaned it against her shoulder.
"Magnificent, its reach, its weight, its sharpness, all of them are perfect. I know
not where you managed to acquire such a treasure, but for the generosity you've
shown in bequeathing it to me you have placed me substantially in your debt my
ally."
"There's more to that weapon than merely its superb form, Houtengeki
possesses the power to grant its wielder additional strength in battle when its
versatility is properly employed. I have little doubt that you will be more than
able to bring out these additional powers given your magnificent skills. It also
has a final ability, but I shall explain that after I have given the others their own
gifts."
Apparently the Chinese King was stunned into silence by the magnificence of the
gift, because all she did was nod in agreement as her eyes remained fixed upon
the weapon she had been given.
Turning back to the cart the eighth Campione picked up another of the long
wrapped objects, this time one wrapped in purple silk.
"John Pluto Smith, I've been told that you possess an Authority that allows you to
command the faeries of the astral plane. With that in mind I felt that this might
be a most suitable gift for you."
Kaida watched as the American King wordlessly took the gift and broke the
threads holding it closed. The purple cloth fell away to reveal a long blood red
spear. The only thing about it that wasn't red was the silver pommel at the end of
the shaft. Aside from that nothing broke the scarlet of its length. On the flat of
the blade of the spearhead she could see runes carved in, also the length of the
shaft was a raised pattern of ridges that resembled roots or veins and gave the
weapon an oddly organic look. All in all the lance had an unearthly quality to it,
something quieter and subtler than the powerful presence of the last weapon,
something undeniable.
"Allow me to present to you Ge Dearg, the Crimson Rose of Exorcism and
weapon of the legendary Irish hero Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. As a faery made
weapon I thought it an appropriate gift for you to receive from me."
The masked King silently stared at the weapon he now held, testing its weight
and seeing how it fitted into his hands. Though the young Hime-Miko knew she
was no authority upon weapons she was certain that the spear that the King of
the Underworld now held was an outstanding such arm.
"It has the ability to sever the ties on any mortal magecraft it touches for as long
as it is in contact with it. I'm not sure how well it will perform against the
Authority of a Heretic God, but I wouldn't underestimate it. Since I've heard that
you often have to deal with numerous unscrupulous magic users I thought that
such a weapon might be of use to you."

There was a moment of silence, Kaida wasn't sure about the other but in that
moment her mind was busy trying to imagine all the uses of such an ability as
well as trying to calculate such a weapons value. And he was just giving it away
as a gift?
"This is truly a kingly gift Shirou." Smith said slowly as he tested the point with
his gloved fingertip. "Though I confess to having no skill with a spear I think it's
safe to say that in the future I shall be investing considerable time into learning
how to wield such a marvellous weapon properly."
He paused again and then turned to face his host directly.
"I cannot find the words to express my gratitude for this gift. This is a weapon
that entire organization would be willing to bankrupt themselves in order to gain
and you're simply giving it to me as a gift?"
There was another pause, then Kaida saw the American Campione's shoulders
beginning to shake. For a moment she thought that he was weeping, overcome
by the magnitude of the gift given to him.
Then the King of Los Angeles threw his head back and roared with laughter.
"Splendid, oh this is most splendidly done King Shirou. To simply see this I would
have travelled to this land, but to actually receive such a gift? Oh this is a
memory that I shall treasure to my dying day. A marvellous performance indeed,
truly the act of a King."
For a moment her King's face looked a bit lost, then a smile broke over his face
and he nodded towards the cape wearing God Slayer as his laughter died down
into quiet chuckling. Seeing that John Pluto Smith had calmed down Shirou
turned to the cart again, this time taking up the bundle wrapped in red.
"Kusanagi Godou, you proved to be something of a challenge to find an
appropriate gift, but I think this will suit you well."
With those words he handed the two metre long bundle to his fellow Japanese
King.
Kaida could see the uncertainty in the black haired young man's face as he took
the wrapped object. She could understand it, all the information she'd received
from the History Compilation Committee indicated that save for when he was in
pitched combat Godou-sama was generally a pacifist. Apparently he didn't even
carry around the Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi blade that he had gained because
he didn't want to violate the firearms and weapons regulations. Given that it was
easy to understand why he might be somewhat less enthusiastic that his fellow
Kings to receive a weapon.
However the spear that was revealed by the falling away of its silken wrapping
was very different to the weapons that had been given to the two older
Campione. It was a spear, at least in form it was, but she had serious doubts as
to whether or not it would be able to perform as one. Its entire length was gilded
with golden ornamentation and jewels while the spear head seemed to be solid
gold and was almost visibly blunt. With such a weapon he might be able to bruise
someone or poke an eye out if he was very skilled, but that was all.
Quite simply it was more of an ornamental weapon than a functional one.

The young Hime-Miko's eyes flicked to the other occupants of the room and could
see a certain level of discontent in their expression, especially the girls that had
accompanied Godou-sama. She could understand their feeling easily enough,
both Luo Hao-sama and John Pluto Smith-sama had been given weapons that
practically radiated a deadly keenness that identified them as masterwork
weapons. This . . . this was little more than a glorified butter knife, a beautiful
one to be sure, but nothing in comparison to the weapons the others had
received.
"You disappoint me King Shirou," the tone of the Chinese Campione's voice was
sorrowful and disillusioned, "I had not thought that you would insult my sworn
brother and your fellow King of Wakoku by presenting him with such a weak
gift?"
"Don't worry Nee-san, I'm sure-" Godou-sama began to say, only to be cut off by
his newly sworn sister.
"No! Both myself and King Smith have been given magnificent gifts, that yours is
so much less is an offence to you and to us."
Kaida was beginning to worry as a slightly unpleasant atmosphere began to fill
the room, but then she looked at Shirou-sama and saw that he was relaxed
despite the situation. Indeed he was actually smiling softly.
"Sempai, your willingness to defend your sworn brother does you credit, but do
you really think so poorly of me? And do you think that any gift of mine would be
of a nature so easily discerned?"
At the eighth Campione's question the older God Slayer's face suddenly froze
and then went blank.
"I had some trouble deciding what gift would be appropriate for my fellow
Japanese King," Shirou-sama explained as he gestured towards the golden lance.
"I had a number of options, but since I'd already given spears to you and to King
Smith I thought it appropriate to give Godou one as well. After a bit of reflection I
thought it unlikely that Godou here would appreciate being given such spears as
one that inflicts wounds that never heal or one that invariably seeks its target's
heart.
"That was when I thought of this lance. Trap of Argalia, the spear of Astolfo, the
Twelfth Paladin of Charlemagne. It isn't a weapon that is made to kill, rather it is
a tool used to deliver a curse."
He must have seen the look of worry that passed over his guest's face because
he held up a hand to forestall any questions as he smiled reassuringly.
"It is a harmless bewitchment I assure you. Simply put, when it strikes a foe
anywhere then it will place a curse upon them that will affect their lower body
and force them to kneel down and not get up. Their legs will stay that way until
you release them by touching them with the lance's pommel or until the power
of the curse exhausts itself."
Godou-sama's face lost its growing concern and instead began to look a bit
puzzled. Once again Shirou-sama spoke up first having anticipated his questions.

"I know that you're more than a bit reluctant to use your Authorities against
humans. In all honesty this restraint is to your credit, but I thought that you
might like to have an option for subduing your foes in a relatively harmless
manner. I don't think that the Trap of Argalia will be able to work on a Heretic
God or a Campione, but in subduing mages and other humans it should serve
you well."
The seventh Campione slowly nodded as he looked at the golden weapon with
new eyes. As for Luo Hao, she seemed to be undergoing some internal struggle.
"King Shirou . . ." the words came out of her as though they were being dragged,
"I have done you an injustice, please accept my . . . my apology for leaping to
such an unworthy conclusion about your gift to my brother."
The beautiful martial artist looked as though she was being torn between the
urge to flee in shame and simply annihilating everyone present to eliminate all
witnesses to her blunder.
"Sempai, you have very little to apologise for. You saw what you thought was an
insult to your newly sworn brother and leapt to his defence. Granted if you had
but waited a moment you would have seen it was unnecessary, but the act itself
was a worthy one."
The Hime-Miko turned maid quietly let out a sigh of relief as Luo Hao-sama's face
once more returned to its former calm state. It would seem that once more
Shirou-sama was able to choose the right words and delivered them with the
right level of regality to calm the situation; truly he was most skilled at
diplomacy. Idly she wondered what kind of training he had received in the past to
possess such presence and diplomacy.

-()-

Shirou turned back to the cart and allowed himself a small sigh of relief.
That had been nerve wracking. He'd known damned well that by proving Luo
Cuilian wrong in her accusations he'd be unintentionally striking her in her most
sensitive spot, her ego, but hadn't been able to see a way out of it. He'd hoped
that she would take him proving her wrong with good grace, but instead it
seemed that she was caught in a kind of mental loop driven by her own pride.
On the one hand she took great pride in her honour and righteousness; as such
she would not break her oath of non-violence. On the other hand her pride would
not allow her to admit to having been wrong in her accusations of others as
doing so would itself mark her honour and reputation, a thought that was enough
to lead her into trying to reassert her honour through violence. But she couldn't
because of her honour, but she had to because of her honour . . .
In an old American sci-fi show he recalled having once seen an android whose
electronic mind had been caught in a similar loop of logic have its head explode
as it couldn't cope with it. He wasn't entirely sure what the results would have
been for the god slaying martial artist, so he'd spoken the words that he had
hoped would salve her pride while not imperilling his own image as a king.

Honestly he hadn't been sure it would work since he'd been pretty much
babbling the words as they came to him, but to his surprise it seemed to have
actually succeeded.
"As with the other gifts that I have given the Trap of Argalia has an extra ability
that will prove to be quite useful to you, however I'll explain it after I've given my
final gift."
Deciding that dwelling on what had happened would serve no purpose Shirou
ploughed on with the distribution of his gifts. Only one more left now, that one
he'd prepared for the blonde Divine Ancestor that he'd impulsively invited to his
Feast.
This last spear was wrapped in golden yellow silk and had been the gift he had
been the least sure of giving.
He'd been pretty confident about passing Noble Phantasms to his fellow Kings.
Giving them such powerful weapons would only aid them in their duties of
eliminating troublesome gods and villains. Also, though he'd felt slightly guilty of
taking it into account, there was no chance of them being able to turn those
weapons against him. If they did then he could simply reduce them back to their
component Prana with a glance and an effort of will.
Still he'd originally been hesitant to give this particular Noble Phantasm to
Guinevere, as doing so could raise too many questions that he'd rather stayed
buried. Still in the end he'd decided to give it to her for a number of reasons.
He'd wanted to keep the pattern of all the gifts being spears or lances. He'd
wanted to ensure that the Divine Ancestor would leave with a friendly impression
of him rather than as a potential enemy. He'd wanted to see how she'd react to
receiving this weapon. But most of all he decided to give it to her because it had
somehow felt right to do so. The same instinct that had driven him to naming
himself the Strongest Steel and to not use Excalibur early on in his battle with
Mordred had urged it of him.
Shirou liked to think that since becoming a Campione he'd managed to temper
his tendencies to be impulsive and to act without forethought. However despite
this he still considered himself someone who listened to his instincts, especially
since they tended to steer him right most of the time.
With a certainty that he was doing the right thing he handed the wrapped
weapon over to the Witch Queen and stepped back.
The silk wrapped object was almost comically oversized in the childish Divine
Ancestor's hands, but she was strong for her size and had little trouble in keeping
it and herself balanced as she broke the bindings on it and pulled the silk off.
The spear was a dull dark red along its whole length. It lacked the vivid blood
colour of Gae Dearg, but in some indefinable way it seemed more real than the
faery wrought weapon. If Shirou had to put it into words the best way he could
think of was to say that Gae Dearg was a magnificent gift that had been given to
a great man so he could use it to fight. This spear, on the other hand, was plain
and unadorned. Its head was unusually large and flat, but other than that it was
devoid of ornamentation. This was a spear meant simply for battle, a lance not
meant to look good, only to kill.

That was all there was to it, no aura of greatness, no presence of mystery, just
the rock solid certainty that this was a weapon that was very very good at what
it was made to do.
"Allow me to present to you Rhongomyniad, the spear that strikes and slays.
Weapon of King Arthur and the lance he used to slay Mordred during the battle of
Camlann. It is a fine spear with the power to ignore such defensive measures as
enhanced healing or invulnerable skin. Before it all flesh becomes mortal unless
the power of the spear is overwhelmed by a greater power."
Guinevere wasn't reacting to his explanation of the weapon's abilities, in fact she
hadn't moved since she'd laid eyes upon the lance. In fact, now that he took a
closer look at her, he could see that her pupils seemed to have shrunk to pin
pricks even as she stared fixedly at the weapon.
"Lady Guinevere, are you alright?"
"That . . ." her voice was so quiet that it was barely above a whisper. "That . . .
isn't possible."
"What do you mean Lady Guinevere?" The question was from John Pluto Smith
who was now leaning on his crimson spear as though it were a walking staff. His
tone was curious and just a touch concerned.
"This spear cannot exist, not as a mortal weapon like this."
The Witch of Briton's voice was growing stronger now as she came out of her
stunned state.
"Rhongomyniad isn't real; it is a part of the mythology of King Arthur that was
made up by bards and poets in order to embellish the original tale."
"Oh? And how is it that you can say such with such conviction?"
The question of Luo Hao wasn't confrontational, nor did it imply that she didn't
believe the Divine Ancestor's claim. It was simply a question asked in curiosity.
"Because Guinevere was the one that originally suggested it to them!"
There was a slight note of desperation to her voice as she said that. Shirou could
sympathise with her, at least to a degree. Right now she was being confronted
with an impossibility, and it was causing some of the foundations of her life to
shake.
"This weapon cannot exist. Artus used Excalibur to strike down Mordred. It was
only when the tales of Arthur were being written that it was included. Even if it
became legendary enough to be a part of the new war god Arthur then this
weapon should be a solidified Authority. But this, this is a weapon of the mortal
world, a weapon of power and legend, but still of the mortal world."
"So . . . it's not the spear of King Arthur?"
Godou's voice was confused; clearly he wasn't quite getting what it was that was
distressing the Divine Ancestor so much.
"But it is," A look of . . . painfully lost longing swept across the child like face of
the fallen divinity. "Guinevere can feel it within the spear, the shadow of the

presence of both Arthur and Artus. I can feel the memory of their strength even
through it should be impossible."
Her eyes finally left the lance and turned towards the host of the feast.
"How? How can this be? This weapon is nothing but a story, a tale made for a
purpose that it failed. How can it be real?"
This was a question that he'd been expecting to receive from at least one of his
guests when he gave them their gifts. Since all of them had legends attached to
them it was inevitable that someone would ask how such armaments could have
been possible. He'd considered a number of replies and had taken into account a
number of factors.
Luo Hao was at least partly aware of his abilities with Tracing due to their time
together in the cave under the mountain. All the Campione had seen him pull out
weapons from nowhere to defend against Sun Wukong's attack and he was
pretty sure that Guinevere had been witness to his battle with Mordred. Given all
that it meant that any attempt to keep secret his ability to pull weapons out of
nowhere was pretty much laughable at this point.
However there was also the fact that nobody was privy to the exact details of
what he could do, so that meant Tracing was still a big advantage to hold so long
as he could preserve some of its mystery.
So he'd decided to fall back on a relatively simple course of action.
"My Lady Guinevere, all stories are real. It's just that they aren't all real in the
same story."
That was his solution. Basically he was going to say something suitably
mysterious and cryptic and hope that they bought it. Perhaps not the most
graceful option, but he didn't have much faith in his abilities to lie outright to
them. Apparently even with Archer's memories he had a very poor poker face.
Still the deliberately vague answer seemed to have satisfied the Divine Ancestor,
for now at least, because she slowly nodded her head before stepping back. Her
posture was slightly dazed, as though she still couldn't quite process what had
happened, and the way she was holding the spear . . . Well it was more as
though she were hugging the shaft to her as though frightened it would
disappear.
Right, now there was only one last part of his gift giving left to do and his own
part of the evening would be complete. Turning to Illya he gestured for her to
come over to him.
"All the weapons that I have given you tonight are called Noble Phantasms.
These breed of magical arms can range wildly in abilities and power, but they all
do share one useful feature. Illya, could you please manifest your lance?"
His silver haired adopted sister glanced at him and hesitated for just a moment.
He could understand that, it went against almost all her instincts as a Magus to
so freely demonstrate one of her trump cards. But in this company perhaps it
was better to advertise that she had her own weapon and was not reliant on her
puppet for protection. She must have reached the same conclusion because she
nodded to him and held out her hand.

There was a brief shimmer of golden light and then she was holding Beautiful
Head Taker.
"Noble Phantasms can enter an astralized state. In this way the can constantly
be with you without being seen or touched by any others. It's extremely
convenient as it allows you to take them with you anywhere and not have to
worry about losing them."
A mischievous thought passed through his mind and decided to indulge in a little
fun.
"And if you buy four or more today you'll receive a pair of swords in addition at
no extra cost."
Though that line brought puzzled looks to the faces of both Luo Hao and
Guinevere, but he noticed Godou smiling and Smith's shoulders shaking slightly
as he silently chuckled.
"Merely a joke, please just ignore it." The eighth Campione waved his hand
dismissively before turning back to Illya. "Anyway, all of your own spears can do
the same thing; all you need to do is know the trick of it. As Campione all of you
have the magic, and Lady Guinevere will have no trouble with it I'm sure. Now if
you'll just watch as Illya here show you how it's done you should be able to get it
yourselves fairly easily."

-()-

Guinevere leaned back against the wall and clutched the lance to her as she
watched the antics of her fellow guests.
She knew she was being a bit childish, treating the weapon as though it were a
stuffed toy, but the feel of the power within it, the almost forgotten magnificence
of Artus' presence; she had wanted to experience them for so long and now she
had this faint echo of them.
She knew that her memory had many holes in it, that over the cycles of
reincarnation that she'd been forced to undergo she had lost many of her
recollections of those long ago days when her past self had served at her King's
side. But for all that she could still remember his divine visage, the tenor of his
voice, so many small things that her past self had loved and worshipped in the
King of the End.
So after all this time with only memories to sustain her there was a comfort to
being able to hold this echo of his presence to her heart.
She was absolutely sure now that there had to be some sort of connection
between the red haired Campione and her beloved King. There was simply no
other way to explain the impossibility that was his gift to her. But how might that
affect her plans? She was sure that this eastern chain of islands was where he
rested, every piece of information that she'd been able to accumulate confirmed
it.

The problem was that she was a bit uncertain as to what her next move should
be. A single Campione, especially one as young and inexperienced as Kusanagi
Godou, she could have either avoided or manipulated. However two Kings so
close together made such a task far more difficult. And if both of them were to
become her enemy then her task of reviving her King would become nigh
impossible to accomplish.
Patience was her best course of action, she decided. She would move slowly and
carefully, making no aggressive moves or large actions. Due to her aiding sir
Shirou, as well as this Feast, she was on cordial, if not friendly, terms with the
God Slayers of this land meaning that so long as she didn't cause trouble then
she could probably move around quite freely in their lands.
Yes, when thought of in that light it made sense to take her time and pace herself
in her search. Why if she was fortunate then she'd form a closer relationship with
sir Shirou and end up spending much more time in his company.
...
To study him of course, to learn of whatever link he might have to her beloved
Lord.
As she felt her cheeks red once more the Witch Queen shook her head to dispel
the images her treacherous imagination was producing. Trying to distract herself
Guinevere glanced over to the side where the four Kings were clustered together
about sir Shirou's sister.
It had been no trouble at all for the blonde haired Divine Ancestor to master the
trick of rendering her new gift insubstantial at will; after all she was a witch
beyond mortal comparison. It had been the work of only a glance to realize how
it was done and to duplicate it.
Her Eminence had also been able to grasp the trick with great ease. Of course
that was hardly a surprise given her mastery of the Daoist arts. To someone who
had so mastered the eastern ways of magic that she could create talisman
beasts at a whim or alter her physical state grasping the means to astralize her
weapon was a minor feat.
John Pluto Smith had had a slightly more difficult time of it, but only in the sense
that it had taken him a full minute to grasp the method rather than
comprehending it at a glance. He'd had a number of false starts, but after seeing
Illyasviel Von Einzbern demonstrate it again a couple of times the caped King of
Los Angeles had been able to disappear and then summon the crimson lance
that he had been gifted.
That had just left King Kusanagi Godou still trying to grasp the trick.
Unfortunately it seemed that the seventh Campione had all the magical finesse
of a drunken baboon. His first attempt to channel magic into his gift had ended
up burning a small hole into the floor as his mana missed the lance entirely and
instead ignited the wooden floorboards. Four more marks had joined the first in
swift succession before the now embarrassed and slightly panicking young man
had managed to direct his energy into the golden spear he held.
That had been nearly a quarter of an hour ago. Bit by bit he was becoming able
to 'astralize' the magical weapon, but he still wasn't able to do it completely. That

had been rather amusing to watch; somehow Godou-sama had managed to

cause the middle third of the lance to fade causing it to drop from his hands even
as the two ends behaved as though there were still a connection between them.
Sir Shirou had been perplexed by the sight; he'd commented that to the best of
his knowledge it shouldn't have been possible to only partially shift a Noble
Phantasm to spiritual form. In Guinevere's opinion this showed that though the
seventh Campione was a formidable warrior his skills in magic were so lacking as
to be nonexistent.
"Got it!" the exclamation of triumph brought the blonde Divine Ancestor out of
her thoughts and back to the present. Glancing over she was just in time to see
Godou-sama hold out his hand and cause the Trap of Argalia to materialize in his
grasp.
"Well done Godou," Sir Shirou congratulated his fellow King, "It would seem that
you have the hang of it now."
With a smile on his face the slayer of Mordred stepped back and regarded his
assembled guests.
"With this last act I have ensured that my gifts will never be beyond your reach. I
now declare that my Feast has ended and that we can all now go our separate
ways."
"Actually there is a single event left to the night."
It was only when all eyes had turned upon her that Guinevere realized that it had
in fact been her that had just spoken. Ahhh, why had she said that? This was just
a small idea that had been germinating at the back of her mind, she wasn't
ready to say it in front of everyone, she wasn't ready to announce her idea right
here in front of a full half of the world's Campione.
No, calm down. She was Guinevere, keeper of the Holy Grail and beloved child of
the Knight of the Lake. Certainly she became nervous when made the centre of
attention, but she could endure this.
"King Shirou has given me this most splendid gift. It is only fitting that I at least
grant him something in return, I admit that it is a small thing, but it is something
that Guinevere alone among us may do. I may grant him his first title as a King."
She said her words with just a trace of defiance in her voice. She knew that this
was her right in a way. It was something of an unspoken law that for all their vast
power Campione were not allowed to grant themselves their first title. That was
one of the very few powers that the rest of the world had over them. Of course
any fool that granted a King an unflattering title would soon find themselves the
subject of their ire, so one had to be careful in the naming.
In recent years it had been the Witengamot's leader, the Princess Alice, that had
given the Black Prince Alec his name. Well if the so called princess of her
homeland could name that troublesome young man then Guinevere could
certainly name this young King that had slain one of her most bitter enemies and
saved her life. And she could do it before his peers and their companions.
The name had come to her while she had been trying to work out the connection
between her King and this young God Slayer. She had been remembering the

impossibility of the limitless steel that she had seen within him. Then there were
the swords that he'd been able to produce out of nowhere, swords that should
have been impossible for him to wield such as Excalibur and swords that
should be impossible such as the one he'd called Arondight. Then she had
remembered that enormous giant of metal that had radiated power on a scale
that to her knowledge only three gods had ever been able to match. That had
been what the Traitor Knight had wanted to become, but what he had
desperately sought Sir Shirou had attained.
In truth she would have liked to give him the title 'King of Swords', but she knew
that the Italian Campione had already laid claim to that name. However that was
acceptable because she had thought of another title, one suitable to a mortal as
impossible as this young God Slayer.
"Mordred sought to usurp the title of the Strongest Steel from my King," she
declared as she stepped forwards. "By having slain him you have ended his
threat and done the world a service in exterminating such a vile god. During that
battle you laid claim to the title of Strongest Steel yourself; therefore I name you
the King of Steel Sir Emiya Shirou. In time my Lord may revive and come to
challenge you for the name, but until then it is yours and I am sure that you shall
bear it with honour and pride."
"Oh? This is indeed a most suitable ending to the evening, congratulations upon
your new name King Shirou."
Luo Hao's musical voice was the first to speak up in response to the Divine
Ancestor's words.
"Uh, yeah. Congratulations I suppose." King Kusanagi sounded a bit unsure as to
exactly what he was congratulating his fellow King for, but trusted his sworn
sister that it was something worth congratulating.
"Indeed, a strong name to be known by King Shirou." Agreed John Pluto Smith as
he made his own opinion on the eighth Campione's new title known.
"The King of Steel?" By the sounds of it Sir Shirou was a bit uncertain of the
name.
"It suits you onii-chan," the adopted sister of the Feast's host spoke up for the
first time since they had all entered this room. "After all 'Steel is my body'
remember?"
Guinevere frowned ever so slightly at that. That had been what the newly named
King of Steel had said when Mordred had asked how he could have Steel within
him. 'Steel is my body and fire is my blood', that had been what he had said. Was
there perhaps some special significance to that? Another puzzle it would seem,
just one more to the web of such that seemed to spin themselves around her
host.
Meanwhile the object of her speculation had nodded to his sister and then turned
to once more address his guests.
"Does anyone else have any surprises that they want to bring out before the
evening is done?" When nobody spoke up the red haired young man nodded to
himself and spread his hands. "Then I shall declare my feast to be ended."

There was a pause then John Pluto Smith stepped forwards.

"In that case . . . King Shirou, I want to offer my deepest thanks for a most
magnificent night. I had not known what to expect when you suggested a
banquet and a contest of kingship, but now I tell you that you succeeded in
surpassing my every expectation."
The masked King of Los Angeles turned slightly so that he was now facing all his
fellow Kings.
"Tonight has been a most fine night and I am most pleased to have shared it with
you all. Should any of you find yourselves upon my lands do not hesitate to
contact me, I shall try to be as fine a host as the master of this feast has been."
With a flourish of his cape he sketched an over elaborate bow to all within the
room.
"Now that the feast has ended I think it is time for me to once more say my
goodbyes and leave the stage. Home and duty call and it does no good for the
King to be away from his kingdom for too long."
As he finished speaking the American Campione seemed to simply fade from
existence. No, that wasn't quite right. Guinevere could feel it with her mystic
senses; John Pluto Smith was using one of his Authorities to seamlessly slip from
this world to the netherworld. For most such a feat normally required an
elaborate and powerful ritual; however for the King of the Underworld it was as
easy as walking through an open door.
"I likewise think it is time for me and my young eagle to depart back to Mount Lu.
King Shirou, tonight has been the most splendid Banquet that this Luo Hao has
ever attended. For this experience I herby declare you to be my ally and friend
and shall reward you accordingly when I have found a suitable prize."
Reaching out the beautiful martial artist placed her right hand on the young
man's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie.
On seeing this Guinevere found, much to her own surprise, that she was mentally
evaluating methods by which to kill the Chinese Campione.
Reaching over with her left hand the Ruler of the Martial Realm grasped the
shoulder of Kusanagi Godou.
"I came to this land seeking to exterminate a god that I was unable to fight to my
satisfaction decade ago. Instead I have found a sworn brother and a most worthy
ally."
Letting go of the two young men she stepped back and glanced over at her
student, who was waiting respectfully next to the young women that had
accompanied King Godou.
"Let this lesson engrave itself upon your mind my student. Sometimes you may
fail in your objective, but if you look carefully enough then you may find
something in that failure of such value that it surpasses your original goal."
The young student of the Ruler of the Martial Realm clasped his hands in respect
before him and bowed to his teacher.

"I shall most assiduously commit this lesson to memory honoured teacher. My
deepest and most reverent thanks for imparting your wisdom upon this unworthy
pupil of yours."
"I then shall bid you both a good evening and wish you prosperity and success in
the future. If either of you find yourselves in the lands of China do not hesitate to
call upon me so that I might demonstrate the hospitality of the Luo family."
Stepping back to stand beside her student the female Campione nodded to the
two young men before a veritable blizzard of flower petals suddenly sprang up
around them both and hid them from view. When the petals settled and
disappeared there was no sign of the martial artists left.
"There is a lady that knows how to make an exit." Commented sir Shirou as he
turned to face King Godou and the young women that were accompanying him.
"Will you all be alright getting back to your homes? As I understand it you were
dropped off by a limo provided by the History Compilation Committee. Would you
like me to see about getting in touch with them?"
"No need to inconvenience yourself King Emiya." Answered the blonde haired
woman in the red dress as she stepped forwards to stand next to her King. "As
soon as Godou learnt how to astralize the gift you gave him I knew that the
evening would be ending and sent a text message to our contact at the
Committee. Her reply says that the limousine should be here to pick us in just a
few minutes, so there's no need to worry about us."
The eighth Campione blinked, then nodded in acknowledgement.
"I see, King Godou I have to say that your companions are very efficient."
"Don't I know it." perhaps the words were directed more to himself than anyone
else, but the ears of the Witch Queen were none the less sharp enough to pick up
the mumbled comment.
"I . . . I want to say thanks for tonight. I really didn't know what to expect when I
came here but it's been pretty awesome."
"Of course," Sir Shirou was now smiling good naturedly as he replied, "With such
illustrious guests could I really afford to achieve anything less than awesome?"
"No. No, I guess not."
After another grin to his fellow Japanese King the red haired teen turned to face
Guinevere.
"And what of yourself Lady Guinevere? Will you have no trouble making your way
back home?"
The blonde Divine Ancestor drew herself up even as she did her best to keep
from flushing.
"You need not concern yourself with Guinevere King of Steel; I am perfectly able
to make my way home from here."
In response to her attempt at haughtiness Sir Shirou simply smiled in a way that
sent her heart thumping.

"I apologies for being remiss in my thanks for my new title. Please allow me to
thank you for my new name; I imagine that it will make life somewhat more . . .
interesting."
Guinevere didn't trust herself to speak in reply, so she merely nodded her head.
This was absolutely ridiculous. Why was it that with a few simple sentences he
seemed able to tear her composure to shreds and leave her feeling as though
her face would soon burst into flames?
Taking hold of herself she decided it was high time for her to be on her way. Once
she was back at one of the hidden castles she'd prepared she would take the
time to sit down and properly analyse her feelings as well as try to unravel the
complicated knot of mysteries that seemed to surround the eighth King.
Even as she summoned up her magic she curtsied to Sir Shirou.
"Guinevere would like to thank you for a most excellent night King Shirou. I have
had the chance to defend my King, have received a marvellous gift and have
dined upon splendid food. Though I am not your peer I will also offer my own
hospitality if I ever have the chance."
As she finished speaking the Divine Ancestor's vision of the room was cut off as
the glamour effect of her spell engaged. From her side it appeared as though a
thick mist had swept across her vision, but from the outside it would appear as
though a small sand storm of golden dust had sprung up and wrapped around
her. As her spell completed and her translocation began the Witch Queen tried to
suppress the thought that the effect of the golden dust hadn't been necessary. It
had been a whim, that was all. Just a whim.
She certainly hadn't been trying to one up her Eminence Luo Hao by creating a
more spectacular departure effect than her.
And she certainly hadn't done it to impress Sir Shirou.
Really
...

-()-

Shirou sat down at his desk and let out a sigh of relief.
It had been just a few minutes since he had seen Godou and his companions off
to their limo and said goodbye, but it was only now that he was finally relaxing.
Illya had gone to her workshop, determined to close the small flaw that had
allowed the false assassins to slip past her fields. As for Shirou himself, he just
wanted to stop and rest for a little bit.
Even though the Feast had gone as well as could be hoped for it was still an
exhausting affair. So many things could have gone wrong and so many problems
could have grown from it, yet somehow it had all worked out and all his guests
had left happy with their evening's events.

So, now he was the King of Steel huh? Well the name suited him he supposed,
but that comment about Artus reclaiming the name from him sounded slightly
ominous.
Ahh, he couldn't be bothered to think about that for the moment. Right now he
was tired and needed to do something simple to unwind.
Glancing down at his desk he saw his new journal. Yes, that was something to do.
Writing a letter to Sakura to tell her about what had happened tonight would be
just the thing to let him loosen up a bit before going to bed.
As he reached for his pen a thought occurred to the eighth Campione. Tonight
was something of a turning point. It marked the end of his period of perpetration
and reclusiveness. As of now his power base was solidly established enough that
he was no longer content to simply stay in the background. He wanted to find a
way back to his home dimension; he wanted to see Sakura again.
As of now he was going to begin actively seeking ways to achieve that. He would
continue to build up his power on every level he could, but now that he felt he
had a secure foundation it was time to put that power to use.
With a nod to himself as he made the decision he put his pen to paper and began
to write.
Dear Sakura,
Things have been interesting today to say the least. The Feast I held began
at . . .
A small smile played over Shirou's lips as he began to write his description of the
day's events. One day . . . One day Sakura would read these letters. She'd learn
of all the things he'd done in the time they were separated and she'd laugh at his
mistakes, gasp at his adventures and probably scold him for the chances that he
had taken.
She would.
He swore it.