Chapter Text
It was a considerable walk from Emiya’s place to the forest. The moon above them hid behind a blanket of clouds. The sounds of insects intensified despite the cold night. They had to tread carefully; according to the map Illyasviel had given them, it would take another hour to reach Einzbern Castle.
But now that they had reached the outskirts of the forest, it was a good time to prepare.
A swarm of blue flames enveloped him, the familiar air of the Metaverse surrounding him as he manifested Hereward’s power: the black armour formed by Hereward’s resolve; the red Robin carried, carved onto his armoured chest symbolising his dreams; Loki’s armoured claw covering the entirety of his left arm as determination filled his body.
His black cape, half-tattered, was the last to form, and danced in the wind.
“I suddenly feel underdressed,” Emiya commented, looking down at his clothes. His simple jeans, a black and white jacket, and the final touch of his backpack, were essentially based entirely on functionality. “I wish my magecraft could give me new clothes. Like from that Feather show.”
“You mean Featherman.” Goro started moving; they could walk and talk at the same time.
Emiya followed suit. “Yeah, Taiga watches it a lot when she is lazing around instead of helping out with the chores.” Despite his words, there was no anger in his voice, just a sense of fondness as he talked about his guardian.
“Careful, Fujimura-san might play more pranks on you.” Goro gave a princely smile.
“What she doesn’t know won’t harm her.” Emiya dismissed his worries, casually waving them off.
Goro hadn’t noticed it before then, but he could see a wooden sword firmly clenched in Emiya’s hand. He must have taken it from the family dojo. Some forward thinking from the red-head, for once.
“If you were to get some new clothes like you’re some kind of magical girl or a Super Sentai, what would you like to have?” Normally, Goro didn’t engage in small talk with others, as he found it draining to hear other people’s superficial exchanges, especially in his line of work as the Detective Prince.
But Emiya was different, just like Akira. Never once was he insincere in his answers. Sure, he may be sounding forced half the time when it didn’t revolve around Akira, cooking, or his ideals of justice, but Goro put it down as the red-head’s lack of social grace and chose not to be annoyed by it.
Although he was an altruistic, suicidal bastard that Goro must babysit and keep on a short leash, he would still be his future brother-in-law, and he was a person dear to Akira, so Goro would suck it up.
Emiya hummed, his expression scrunching inwards, deep in thought. “I don’t even know where to start, I just want to look cool and heroic.” Morgana found that to be a fair answer.
Goro thought back to the Phantom Thieves' wear when they stepped into the Metaverse, the proof of their rebellion. He couldn’t discern whether or not they found their costumes to be the generic definition of cool; maybe they did, as they never complained or compared with one another. They always seemed to be comfortable, as if it were their second skin.
Goro could not imagine Joker’s clothes on the red-head. Even though the Phantom Thieves were born from Emiya’s idealistic goals of a hero of justice, Joker’s clothes were suited to Akira alone. Despite the borrowed ideals, it still showed Akira’s conviction to try to go against his family and it showed his journey navigating through Emiya’s justice.
“What about the red of Archer’s clothes?” he randomly asked. Goro only said this to gauge Emiya’s reaction, not because the red-head had grown on him. “I think his clothes would suit you well.” Tohsaka did have a better sense of fashion; it would make sense it would translate to her Servant as well.
Emiya physically shuddered as Goro would expect. “Come on, be serious here.” He shot a dirty look at the brunet.
“I know you’re joking and all, but I do think Archer’s clothes would suit him.” Morgana popped his head out of the bag, deciding to join in on the fun.
“Even your cat agrees with me,” Emiya exclaimed, unable to understand the furball.
As expected, Morgana immediately took offence. “Hey! I’m not a cat!” he screeched. Goro really didn’t understand the whole ‘Morgana’s actually a human’ business.
“Actually, it’s the other way around.” Still, Goro was having too much fun raining on Emiya’s parade. “He thinks it suits you.”
Of course, Emiya took it at face value as he heavily sighed. “Damn it, I don’t want to be associated with that man.”
“Do you hate Archer?” Although hate was a strong word, there were a few people Emiya truly despised.
“I don’t know, he hates me. I just want to punch him in the face and beat him.” Emiya struggled to articulate his thought process, his arms waving around as if that would help Goro’s understanding. “It’s hard to explain, but I know that I have to beat him.”
It was frightening how much Goro understood him. Emiya just wanted to beat Archer because of the man’s ideals that were clearly antithetical to his own, just like when Goro wanted to beat Joker when he first made his debut.
“By the way, Akechi, I have a big question I have been meaning to ask you for a while,” Emiya said with a nervous expression, looking between him and Morgana. “You can understand him? I see you talking to him like you could understand him, and him talking back.”
Blue eyes looked at the red-head with a mix of surprise and fear. Morgana really shouldn’t be scared, not of someone as honest to a fault as Shirou Emiya.
Goro raised a brow. “… Do you not have familiars as Mages?” Tohsaka did mention something in a similar vein back from their first night of the Holy Grail war.
“I never had one personally, the closest thing I had to a familiar…” Goro could see how amber eyes were washed with grief, “...was Saber.”
It was a poor choice of words.
The wound was still fresh on their minds; it had only been about two days since Emiya lost his right as a Master. Although Emiya must’ve been even more guilt-ridden over his friend’s death, powerless as he was to save her, because of how much he wanted to save everyone.
“… That got depressing quickly,” Morgana whispered. “Do you think it would help if I let him touch my toe beans? That always seems to make Akira feel better.”
Goro wasn’t sure if toe beans could soothe the pain of losing a friend to an eldritch being.
Emiya was quick to change the subject, looking back at the brunet with a wide smile, even though Goro could see the glimmer of sadness in his amber eyes. “I bet Akira will be jealous once he finds out you can talk to his cat.”
Goro could feel a dumb smile stretching on the feline’s face at their little inside joke.
“Remember when I told you the story of when Akira came to school covered in cats- Ahhhhh!” One second Emiya was standing in front of him, the next he was sliding down a hill.
“Emiya! Are you alright?” Goro yelled, double checking that Emiya hadn’t fallen on his face.
“Yeah! I’m all good,” Emiya yelled back. “Nothing is broken!”
“Brace yourself, furball.” That was Goro’s only warning.
“Hey, who’re you calling a furball- AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Morgana loudly screamed as he was taken for a ride when Goro slid down the hill with steady feet. It wasn’t that steep of a slope.
“I think I’m going to puke,” Morgana complained.
“Hey, don’t go puking in Akira’s bag.” Goro offered no sympathies as he continued to walk towards the red-head. “Just take deep breaths.”
“I will– urgh– get you for this.” Morgana retreated to the warm comforts of Akira’s bag.
“Anyway, I don’t have the videos,” Emiya continued back to the conversation as if nothing had happened. “But I can ask Issei to send them to you.”
The altruistic Emiya was always happy to help. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” He could feel his face grow hot. Was he that obvious?
“Don’t mention it. It is the duty of the older brother to embarrass their little siblings. Especially to one that will soon become my brother-in-law.” Emiya gave a toothy grin to the brunet. Goro could admit that Emiya had some charming moments at times.
“I already know that Akira is cute.” The raven’s whole existence was cute. Goro could write an entire thesis on how the raven was so aggressively cute. He just wanted to squish those cheeks.
Then Emiya started to wiggle his eyebrows, and annoyance began to simmer in the brunet. “But would you like more evidence?” He gave a knowing smile, and Goro internally groaned.
I would like more. Don’t ruin this for us, Robin Hood harshly whispered.
More, more, more! Hereward screamed.
Come on, Detective! I know you want them, Loki cackled, although he, too, wanted the goods.
As if he was going to refute the red-head bastard anyway. “… That I do.” Goro had lost the battle before it even started.
Despite Emiya’s little tumble, they were one step closer to the castle by Goro’s reckoning as he rechecked the map. That is, if Illyasviel hadn’t misled them.
To say the terrain was rough was putting it lightly. It had been years, if ever, since the last time the land had been managed. Morgana was lucky that he was being carried around like cargo luggage; having a cat’s body held some advantages.
“This is,” Emiya took a moment to breathe, bracing himself against the old tree, “tougher than I thought. How are you not out of breath?”
It was one area where Goro had bested the red-head, and he took a moment to relish in it. “I boulder and bike.” There was also the fact that he traversed through Mementos on foot without the aid of the Monabus.
“No kidding.” Emiya gave one last chuckle before continuing their journey through the forest.
They walked for another hour, allowing more time for Goro to delve into his thoughts. Since they had gained Illyasviel’s favour, they could secure an alliance with proper magical paperwork that would gain them access to the Holy Grail once they defeated Archer and Assassin.
Would they allow Rider to be sacrificed if it meant that Akira’s life could be saved? Goro knew his answer, as did Rider. Unfortunately, the problem rested with Emiya. Goro would have to deal with it when the time came; he could feel a headache beginning to form.
“Guys, above us!” Morgana yelled, his blue eyes that could easily pierce through the darkness shining in the night. Having been warned, and with Robin Hood’s abilities, Goro could see a silvery bird flying towards them.
“Emiya, look there,” Goro spoke up on Morgana’s behalf.
There shouldn’t be a reason why a bird was flying this late at night. Robin Hood’s heightened senses warned him to be cautious. There was an odd shine to the creature, almost metallic, and the moonlight highlighted how there were individual strands interwoven to form the sharp curves of its wings.
“It feels like Illyasviel’s mana,” Emiya mentioned, amber eyes set on the magical bird as it started to glow. The wings chimed each time they flapped, the sounds of bells gently ringing as if seeking to guide them.
Goro remembered this sort of magic, how strands of string had pulled together to close the metal gates of the church shut. Now they were interwoven to form a majestic creature. This was Illyasivel’s work. The bird continued to fly above their heads, circling around the group.
“Does it want us to follow it?” Emiya asked as he turned to the brunet.
Maybe it was Goro’s paranoia but it all seemed too easy. “Tread carefully,” the brunet said, and the other nodded.
They manoeuvred through the forest, jumping over fallen tree trunks and skirting around what overgrown undergrowth they could as they trailed behind the bird. They changed directions a few times, and Goro could only hope that they were not being led astray. So far, they hadn’t been attacked by Berserker. A small blessing.
Then the bird abruptly disappeared, and they could feel a loud thud as something crashed into the ground.
“Where did it go?” Emiya stopped to ask, his head quickly turning around.
“Akechi. It’s on the floor, up ahead to your right.” Morgana was quick to spot the downed creature as it lay twitching. Goro was grateful, albeit begrudgingly, as he followed the feline’s directions.
And it was just where Morgana guided. Its glow diminished, wings misshapen, and strands broken, the bird looked less like a creature and more like a discarded, half-finished art project.
“Why did it stop here?” Emiya asked, more to himself than the group, as he crouched down to take a look at the bird. His hand reached out for it.
The bird moved, or rather its insides did, and it burst open. Something leaped out for Emiya’s face, the red-head barely dodging it in time as he fell to the floor.
It didn’t take too long to see that it was a grotesque worm, mutated and warped in its appearance. Its body twisting unnaturally, it hissed at them before hastily scuttling away from the group, in the direction of where the castle should be.
An ominous chill ran down Goro’s spine as the insect loudly squealed and screeched while scurrying away; he knew this feeling and he knew what this was a sign of. Zouken was here.
They followed in the path of the worm until they reached a small clearing. Up ahead, Goro could see a large building structure in the distance. That must be the castle of the Einzbern Master, and they had just entered its grounds. Blue flames surged, and when they withdrew, his jagged sword was firmly gripped in his hand. He hid behind a section of the crumbling walls with Emiya, overlooking what was to come.
The little Master was with her monstrous Servant, who was still imposing as ever. It stood two metres tall, a colossal, statue-like man with long, unkempt black hair. Bulging muscles defined his form, his strength self-evident.
He greatly contrasted with Illyasviel as she sat daintily on his broad shoulders. Her feet were cupped by his huge hand like it was a little footrest, her silvery-white hair almost shining through the dark night as it gently swayed with the wind.
Red and amber eyes sharpened and Goro growled darkly when he spotted a familiar old man. Zouken Matou stood before the Einzbern Master with his Servant not too far behind. The man acted as if he had just casually come across the pair in his nightly stroll.
Wordlessly, Berserker knelt down, and Illyasivel hopped out of his hand. Zouken crudely smiled at the girl. There was no fear in her eyes.
“Zouken Matou. Someone who wasn’t chosen by the Holy Grail is acting like he’s a Master?”
“Oh? How dull. The Holy Grail does not choose the Master,” Zouken scoffed. “It is no more than an empty dish. How preposterous, for it to possess a consciousness. So even you have been poisoned by the Church’s influence.”
Goro was way out of his depth as he tried to follow along with their conversation, Emiya and Morgana even more so. And the brunet despised it; he needed to know everything. He needed to cover all the bases in order to strengthen his position in this war where he was in completely over his head.
The girl coldly glared at Zouken as he started to laugh. The two were talking about something beyond Goro’s, and his companions’, understanding.
“Aren’t you the one poisoned by your convictions?” Illyasviel remained curt. “It is true that the Grail becomes a vessel that has no consciousness. However, the Greater Grail selects the Master. You people tried to fill up the lesser Holy Grail by summoning Heroic Spirits because the prototype is here in this land.”
Goro paused to think. The lesser and the greater grail? This was the first time these terms had been mentioned since the war started. The Holy Grail was merely something to be filled, but for what purpose remained to be seen. Was it truly to fulfill the wish of the winner? How did it truly work? Did they lead everyone to believe in the guise of this as a grand battle royale when in reality, the Servants were used as nourishment for the Grail? A sacrifice for a wish was a common trope. Was it the case here?
It was made painfully clear how little Goro understood. It was frustrating when Akira’s life depended on him. He forced himself to calm the visceral anger as he continued to listen in on their conversation.
Red eyes sharpened. “The Makiri’s bloodline declined because you’ve forgotten about that.”
Zouken let out a shrill laugh. “There is no need for worry. The Makiri’s decline shall end here. Things are already in progress, you see.” His beady black eyes gleamed, and Morgana’s fur stood on end.
One tap, two came from his wooden cane. “Although I only intended to implement my plan in the next ritual, this time, I have been blessed with the right pieces. My long-awaited wish is now just one step away.” The old man was too happy for Goro’s tastes.
“I don’t like how there’s another vessel other than me,” Illya coldly said. “But you will fail anyway, so there’s no need for me to intervene. How about you go back to that pit of yours?”
Zouken continued to laugh, as if amused. “Yes, I could. But you see, when things go too smoothly, I find myself worrying more. So, in case something goes wrong, I have decided to take your body.”
Amber eyes widened, and Goro could see the red-head’s fiery protective streak awakening.
But why? What was Illyasviel’s importance? Something told him that Zouken didn’t intend to take Berserker for himself. Morgana was just as confused as the day he first learned of the Holy Grail War.
“If I can secure the Holy Grail here, my wish will be all but guaranteed.” That was an interesting choice of words and Goro frantically kept trying to connect the pieces.
Illyasviel’s red eyes shifted to the cloaked Servant of her opponent, gleaming victoriously, confident in the giant protecting her. The enemy Servant’s white skull mask contrasted with the dark cloak he wore, made to blend in with the darkness. He had no true chance of being able to defeat Berserker and was well aware of his limitations. He would be cut in half with a single blow if he dared to take a step forward to the girl.
“You’re as cowardly as your Master; that makes you two the perfect pair.” Unimpressed, she stared down at Assassin with a bored expression. “It feels as though you have no intention of fighting us. Do you really value your life that much?”
Assassin stood silent, but his Master laughed in his place as if waiting for that reaction.
“… This is a little girl, right?” Morgana was both surprised and impressed by her vocabulary. “How old is she again?”
They never did ask for her age, Goro just assumed she was like 12 or something and that she had an old soul. That tended to happen with people like Okumura’s daughter, those who grew up too fast and were forced by their family into a designated role.
“Yes, I thought that was obvious.” Zouken’s smile stretched impossibly further from ear to ear. “My only desire is immortality; just look at this body.” They watched as the man withered before their very eyes. His old body trembled as it hunched over his walking cane, insects struggling to hold his vessel together.
The dark mana, the smell of decomposing flesh that surrounded the man who was held together with insects– his acts went against the laws of nature, and the signs had always been there. Goro was sick to his stomach, his insides twisted into knots. Morgana looked like he wanted to puke again, and Goro realised that it was his first time witnessing Zouken’s abhorrent Magecraft. Emiya just watched with a grim expression.
The stench of death and decay permeated the cold air.
The man’s voice distorted. “I’m a walking corpse, rotting and stinking, my mind slowly deteriorating along with my body. You cannot begin to comprehend the indescribable pain of decomposing while you’re still breathing.” Goro wanted to vomit up whatever lunch he had eaten; as Robin Hood had stated before, this man before him was a dark omen.
A wooden cane rolled away. The man’s limbs dropped to the ground with a cold, heavy thud, his arms disintegrating into pools of crawling white maggots, swimming in a disgusting black goo of putrefied pus. Mutated worms poked through the crevices of his plain robes as his body grotesquely twisted and turned, quickly reaching an advanced stage of decay. The skin started to blacken, bits of it sloughing off as his body shrivelled up to the point of skeletonisation, the flesh that still remained on his hands unnaturally twitching. Weeks of decomposition happened in the span of seconds.
“There is no human in existence that doesn’t fear death.” The more Zouken droned, the more the intensity of Goro’s rage grew as it bubbled deep in his being. This was the reason behind Zouken’s actions?
“If it meant that I would be given eternal life without all this pain, I would gladly kill every single person on this planet one by one.” And the insects gathered once more at his feet to reform the elderly man. Flesh and skin, misshapen and warped, bulged and twisted its way up his skeletal body before finally giving way to a human face. He gave a wide, sneering smile, his black and beady eyes gleaming with cruel intent.
Goro’s hands tightened to a firm fist; if not for the gauntlets, he would have surely drawn blood. So Zouken only sought the Holy Grail because he was afraid of death, the most basic of human instincts. All of this pain inflicted upon Akira, and that was his excuse?
Anger roiled deep within his being. How pathetic.
It took everything in his power not to just run up to the old man and rip his head off. The angry child resurfaced, bringing with it the desire to push needles into every nerve of that wrinkled skin, to violently rip each limb off, to dump a vial of acid onto his body. Every painful method of torture he could imagine, he wanted to inflict.
“I’m disgusted by you.” Illyasviel didn’t try to hide the layer of disdain in her voice, her red eyes resembling cold steel as she looked down at the elderly man. A sentiment Goro shared. The cold wind harshly blew, her winter dress fluttering despite the stillness of the earth.
“Have you really lost yourself that much? Makiri?” Suddenly, the girl spoke in a voice that was not her own. “The human body cannot bear the weight of a hundred years, if you wish to overcome that, suitable compensation is required.”
It was a harsh change to her tone, losing its childlike wonderment and instead becoming a stern leader admonishing her disciple. It happened so abruptly that it caused whiplash. Goro turned to Emiya and saw how increasingly worried the boy had become.
“Don’t you remember what our greatest desire used to be? Don’t you remember the miracle we were fighting so hard to achieve? Remember what it is all for, why we strived to obtain these inhumane capabilities without giving up our human bodies?” This new voice talked as if she knew the man before. Before his abnormal obsession with obtaining immortality.
This wasn’t Illyasivel von Einzbern coldly staring at the elderly Master.
However, Zouken remained unimpressed by her words. “That is quite the speech coming from a mere puppet. They taught you how to imitate your ancestors very well. An imitation of Justeaze has already been instilled in you.”
Goro remembered the brief history lesson Akira had given under the loud, blaring pop music and bright, flashing colours of the arcade. Goro was reminded that they were barely adults in all this, kids at most, despite the severity of what they were facing. Tohsaka, Einzbern, and Akira were the children of war, victims of their forebears’ actions that were in turn consequences of their ancestors’ decisions, and nonetheless expected to continue in this deranged game.
Even at the cost of their own lives.
It was also true for Emiya, who inherited his father’s original wish, passed down like a curse the moment Kirisugu saved the little boy in the last Holy Grail War. Emiya followed those ideals to the point of self-martyrdom, continuing to throw his life away at every turn if it would help another.
And Goro was a victim as well, a pawn on Shido’s chessboard.
It was frustrating; their life was, should be, theirs alone. Goro felt his resolve grow stronger. He was determined to free himself from his father’s grip and to help Akira step outside of the cage. Determination alone wouldn’t solve their problems, but it was a start.
“However, I’m afraid playtime is over. I require your body, and there is no need for your heart.” Zouken laughed from the bottom of his rotten belly. “I, Zouken Matou, will take the Einzbern’s Holy Grail.”
Mutated wasps and demonic worms screeched ear-piercingly as they swarmed. The man laughed as he scattered into bugs, his cold cackles carrying in the air.
After everything, Zouken’s words painted a clear picture. There was only one logical conclusion Goro could decipher: the Master of Berserker herself was the Holy Grail’s vessel. That only brought forth more questions as to how and why.
But there was no time to dwell on that, not when the trees began to violently shake. An earthquake? Goro asked himself if this was Zouken’s doing. The ground rumbled with a deep roar.
Dark ribbons began to spring out as if blooming, twisting and twining and billowing out to reveal something. From a far distance, a dark knight came out of a blooming black lotus. They reminded Goro of someone he once knew.
Something was amiss when the giant entered into battle without his Master’s orders. “No wait! Berserker!” Illyasviel cried out, but her Servant had already leaped forward towards the danger, the direction in which the dark knight stood as they summoned their sword.
With a single slash, a massive wave of condensed magical energy was sent Berserker’s way. A single slash, and it effortlessly cut through whatever was in its way, be it wood of the forest or stone of the castle.
“Emiya! GET DOWN!” Goro immediately slammed the red-head flat on the ground, just narrowly avoiding the blast as it sliced through the air. Morgana could only scream as the wall that once acted as their cover was blown wide open in an instant. The blow was powerful enough to create a strong whirlwind in its wake.
But then a bright green light hovered above them and deflected away the remaining rubble. A girl with long, dark-brown hair and a signature red coat floated above them, her hand casting a spell, the green jewel acting as their shield. A girl who thought it was important to present strength on the outside, who viewed magic as a responsibility, as she threatened to take Akira’s life, was protecting them.
“Tohsaka– how did you–?” Emiya’s mouth was gaping wide open. Goro hadn’t realised that they’d been followed.
Turquoise eyes turned to the men. “Oh my, I never thought you would come up with the same idea as me,” Tohsaka playfully gasped despite the situation at hand. “Or was it Akechi-kun’s idea?”
“Hey, I came up with the idea,” Emiya grumbled, pushing the dirt away from his knees.
“We don’t have time for chit-chat!” Goro lashed out. The words ‘like children’ went unspoken as there were literal explosions in the background, all from that single slash.
A deafening crash shocked everyone back to reality. “Wait, that– that can’t be.” Tohsaka quickly gathered herself to her feet. As they looked out at what had once been a verdant forest, they saw only black flames left.
Now standing on an open plain, birthed from its cocoon, came the Black Knight. Wherever it walked, decay followed, as the flora withered and died as if the knight was draining its life force. Its armour was dark as the night, its underdress as black as the deepest void.
The air wrapped and screamed, and pale blonde hair shimmered in the eerie light. The sword it carried was jet black and etched with red symbols that sharply glowed. Wearing imposing regalia and rigid from its heavy armour, it looked almost noble, but its presence was suffocating.
Goro could feel a great dread inside of him, terror running rapidly through his body. Goro knew this sensation, he knew what was coming. The Shadow was here, its ribbons evidence of its identity, and the feeling it portrayed was one Goro was familiar with.
For an instant, he thought back to Akira’s smile. His hand firmly tightened into a fist, burning with resolve. He had to make sure he would survive this night.
“Tohsaka! Is it possible to summon an eighth servant?!” Goro yelled over, the sounds of explosions in the distance deafening the skies.
It was quite the coincidence that the Shadow appeared after Zouken’s decree. It seemed his shocked display from its first introduction was merely a ploy.
Tohsaka frantically shook her head. “No! It should be impossible!”
Berserker was able to keep his young Master from harm's way, landing atop of one of the ruined pieces of the castle walls. He set down Illyasviel before heading back into battle despite her protests. The giant launched quickly, almost rivalling Rider’s speed as he held his axe-sword.
But the Knight was able to block it. The loud clash of metal echoed to the air and they were able to push him back. It was unlike Berserker’s fight with Saber, where the King of Knights struggled and was forced into a defensive stance to fend off his attacks.
The black and red ribbons began to spring out from the waters to restrain his muscular limbs. Berserk was quickly caught off guard as more began to wrap around his body. The Shadow was here, and it was helping the Black Knight.
The ribbons started pulling, towards the direction of the Knight. Berserker struggled to break free in its game of tug of war.
“Berserker!” Illyasivels cried out in a desperate plea. “You have to get out of there! If that thing gets you, you will never come back!”
Her words were unable to provide aid as the ribbons successfully pulled the giant to the knight. Their sword was held high and ready to cut him down. The Black Knight, unlike Saber, didn’t fight with honour.
With one single swing, the mad giant fell. His huge body collapsed to the ground with a cold thud, his torso split wide open with blood spraying everywhere.
“I will leave the rest to you, Assassin,” Zouken whispered behind Assassin’s ear. “Take care of the Einzbern girl, make sure she doesn’t get swallowed up.” And Zouken’s presence disappeared.
Strangely, Berserker didn’t disappear, as his once dulled eyes were suddenly filled with life. With a dark growl, the mad Servant walked again for another fight, and the Black Knight readied their sword once more as dark magical energy coated its blade.
Another condensed magical wave attack flooded the battleground.
Hot-headed as Emiya was, he dashed forward towards Illyasviel. There was no time to reel him back in. The red-head intended to use his body to be a shield for the little girl. Goro took Tohsaka’s hand and ran away from the attack as best they could.
The night was burned by the black flames. Morgana sat helplessly in his bag, frightened by the true power that a Servant could wield. But he forced himself to watch; this was what he wished for.
Luckily for Emiya and Illyasviel, they were quickly saved by Tohsaka’s Servant.
Emiya was carelessly thrown onto the ground after being carried like a sack of potatoes. Archer carefully set Illyasviel down, with two secured arms under her arms as if she were a little doll.
“You’re a dick, you know that?” Emiya grumbled with a pointed glare as he pushed himself off the ground. It would have been amusing, if not for the death match occurring just a couple of metres away.
“At least you’re still alive, Mr Hero.” Morgana let out a tired sigh. Something told him and Goro that this was only the start of the night.
Archer remained silent as he ignored the red-head.
Still, Illyasviel worried for her Servant. Her head turned back to the battlefield. The once loud roars had slowly been silenced. Just as they were about to gain a strong ally, it was quickly ripped away from them. Every time the Shadow made its appearance it left ruin in its wake.
Where did Goro even begin to think to redraw their plans? His thoughts were frantic; with Berserker defeated they had to deal with Archer and Assassin by themselves. The brunet just wanted to scream, despite his outwardly calm, although angry, demeanour.
Before he could say another word, Archer charged forward towards Illya with both swords in hand. It happened so fast, a burst of wind rippled through the area.
A dark shade stood beside the girl as it emerged from the darkness, its arms about to wrap around her. Archer made it just in time to drive away the cloaked figure.
“Who was that!?” This was Morgana’s first time encountering Assassin. The cloaked Servant jumped all over the place as it rushed to dodge Archer’s twin blades. Tohsaka flinched when it ran beside her, and Emiya jumped when it landed in front of him.
“I’m your opponent, leave them out of it,” Archer stated, his blades aimed towards the cloaked Assassin.
It was enough for the meagre Assassin to retreat. And yet, however weak he was compared to the other Servants, he was still too strong for the likes of Goro and Emiya.
“Archer, I’m counting on you.” Tohsaka held high expectations of her red-clad Servant. Archer gave one last smirk to his haughty Master before taking off to chase after Assassin.
It was one less thing for Goro to worry about, especially since Illyasviel decided to run back to the battlefield.
They climbed over one of the castle ruins that wasn’t too badly damaged, overlooking what was left from their battle. Berserker was incapacitated, entangled by the black and red ribbons once more. Wherever it touched left a dark stain on his body, leaving him beholden to the Black Knight’s mercy.
Emiya had to stop the little girl from running towards her Servant. Their newly arrived presence caught the knight’s attention. The Black Knight turned and walked straight towards them almost arrogantly. They had no real means to fight against them.
If the knight could defeat Berserker, there was nothing they could do. Goro hated how powerless he was in this war.
“This– this isn’t good,” Morgana fearfully whispered. Red eyes looked over at the mages; Goro could get a head-start, although he was well aware that he would be quickly outrun by the knight.
Illyasviel refused to give up on her monstrous Servant, her lips quivered and hands tightened to a fist. “Berserker, no…” She broke free from Emiya’s hold and loudly screamed.
“BERSERKER!” Illyasviel called out her Servant one more time, demanding and pleading. Then came the deafening roars of Berserker, echoing through the forest in response.
With a newfound sense of strength and aware of the danger his little Master was in. Berserker was able to land a single kick to the Black Knight that sent them across the other side of the swamp, away from the group. The knight flinched as Berserker continued to roar like an animal.
He broke through the ribbons, thrashing and slashing his way out with his summoned axe-sword. Goro thought that he acted like a caged animal lashing against the world.
It happened so fast, one moment the two Servants were sliding through the waters and the next Berserker was in the air, roaring as he held the knight’s face in his hand and then threw his enemy down through a ruined tower. But even as the Black Knight survived the onslaught, for a moment it looked like they were going to back away from the mad giant.
Again, for someone of Berserker’s size, he was surprisingly quick, able to fight back in rapid succession.
But the knight quickly recovered their stance mid-air, a dark aura enveloping their sword, and it swung down. It drew a powerful wave of magic directly in Berserker’s path, cutting through his steely limbs cleanly.
Goro could hear Tohsaka whispering to herself in fear. “Mana Burst”, she called it.
Berserker fell once more, his body wrapped in an unnatural blanket of black flames, the chunk of metal he called a sword falling to lay beside him. But he refused to disappear, and life reappeared back in his eyes. With a loud, deafening battlecry, the flames diminished and in a flash his limbs regenerated to their original state.
It went against the laws of nature, yet Robin Hood couldn’t sense the same dread as one would with Zouken. This is where divinity comes into play, Loki reminded.
Two times Berserker fell, two times he returned from the dead. And he returned angrier each time.
Berserker advanced like a storm, his blade clashing against the Black Knight’s with lightning speed, every collision causing the earth to rumble. The metal loudly clanged as they came into contact, the knight attempting to end Berserker with another slash. The group could only stand by as they helplessly watched the fight unfold before them.
The Einzbern Castle had become their battlefield. What was once a proud monument because little more than ruins in mere moments. They could only stand back and watch as what was essentially two monsters fought with all of their capabilities. They moved too quickly for the human eye to follow. It was only because of his personas that Goro could just barely make out the Servants’ movements.
Berserk started to throw pillars towards the knight, carrying them like they were nothing. Goro thought of a hero recognised for his pure strength, the greatest of the Greek heroes: Heracles.
The falling rubble did not deter the Black Knight from its goals, effortlessly cutting through pillars upon pillars thrown in their way. Every strike of their sword was massive, slicing stone as if it were a slab of butter. The falling rubble could not cause it to falter.
So, Berserker decided to slice through a tower with his axe-sword, carrying half of the watchtower over his shoulder, still running frighteningly fast, before tossing it towards the Black Knight. The other just summoned another wave of dark energy, or as Tohsaka called it, a ‘mana burst’ to blast through it with a wave of their sword.
The force generated was enough to create a massive crater through another part of the castle. The knight remained unscathed, quickly blocking an attack from behind by the giant. It was quite the experience to see another fight between Servants, these supposedly heroic figures with inhumane powers.
Jaw-dropping, just to witness their raw strength.
And all they could do was silently watch.
No matter how many times Berserker traded blows, the Black Knight was able to counter back. Even as he pushed them back, running them through the walls of paved stone, they would not fall. With one more burst of strength as they dashed to the castle’s courtyard, his big hand reached out to grab the knight’s face. He frantically began to thrash them around like they were some sort of ragdoll.
With each throw and slam to the ground, another crater was created, one after another.
The Black Knight readied their sword, the metal singing as it was brought above their heads. Berserker took this moment to rush forward to smash his fist through its chest. It was so strong that it created a sonic wave that even Goro and others could feel as they watched. The ground under the mad Servant’s feet crumbled, creating a crater around them, but the knight continued to stand strong. Bits of rubble flew around them under the weight of his attack.
The Black Knight’s mask cracked.
It was an attack powerful enough to destroy a mountain, and the Black Knight had simply blocked it with their gauntlet. The black knight overpowered Berserk's fist and gave him a swift uppercut, and it was as simple as that.
In the giant’s moment of weakness, the knight readied their attack, drawing their black sword above their heads as it flared with dark, pulsing energy. Black waves of magical energy coated their blade as a whirlwind gathered around them.
The knight mouthed their words, unleashing their Noble Phantasm in its grand fiery display, “Excalibur Morgan,” and brought the black sword down, directly towards the mad giant.
Even from the distance where they stood, unable to do anything substantial, they could see the explosion clearly, how a great ball of black and red flames burned the nights in a spectacular display.
“YEAH! DEFINITELY JUST A GAS LEAK!” Morgana hysterically screamed from his bag. Unless the castle’s barrier hid the attack, it was on full display for the entire region. It would be very hard to dismiss with such a simple explanation.
The attack even reached the outskirts of the forest, slicing through with a dark wave of magic. It left a sea of black flames in its wake.
They were just barely avoiding the falling debris, trees crashing left and right and shattered glass flying everywhere. Shielding their eyes from the harsh winds, over where the swamp once was, Goro could see that Berserker had truly been defeated. His body dropped to the ground in front of them.
This time Berserker didn’t spring back up to life.
Illyasviel was close to tears, her voice shaking as she watched her once mighty Servant being reduced into chunks of flesh. “Berserker… no.” She continued to watch as Berserker melted away, pulled away into the void, and straight into the Shadow’s welcoming embrace.
The Black Knight had utterly and completely outmatched the mad Servant, killing him as if it was nothing. Berserker was defeated. They had lost what could have been a potential ally.
Before they had time to comprehend what had just happened, the dark knight landed right beside Emiya. There was no time to react when its heavy armour clanked, a black sword drawn to Emiya’s neck.
Its blade just grazed above his Adam’s apple.
Everyone froze, not daring to move an inch as if paralysed with fear. They could do nothing, unable to defend themselves after just witnessing the knight’s raw power. The Black Knight simply stared down at the red-head, silent and unyielding.
Goro couldn’t save him. A million thoughts raced through his mind, even as he knew he could not save anyone here. At best, Morgana could live should he play up his act as a cat.
More of its black visor crumbled, finally revealing its face. Eyes all around widened in disbelief. Gone was the regal form, the once vibrant blonde hair diminished close to grey, but her face remained the same. Goro’s fear quickly morphed to shock.
It was Saber.
Saber– no, this had to be a different person: her killing intent, her hostility, and her now cold unfeeling golden eyes. Why was she still in this world? Did she never die? But then, how did Emiya lose his right as a Master?
“Sa…-ber?” Emiya whispered, but there was no answer. Golden eyes simply looked down upon them. Did she sever the connection between Master and Servant? But Saber was a righteous person who was hard-pressed into breaking her promises and duty.
Why she turned against them was something he couldn’t possibly know. There were no words that Emiya could say to her. What could he say?
Emotionless towards the situation, apathetic to their turmoil, Saber sheathed her sword as she walked back into the arms of gentle ribbons. The black and red ribbons wrapped around her form as they drew her back into the darkness.
As if awakened from a long dream, all Emiya could do was call out for his former Servant. But Saber did not heed his words, not once looking back. She'd been corrupted by the Shadow and was now acting as their enemy.
The question of why was not important, not when they need to focus on staying alive. “We have to leave now,” Goro commanded the group.
There was no need for questions to be asked, no time to be wasted as they tried to escape. They ran through the forest with Emiya leading the way. In his hand was Illyasivel, who was trying her best to keep up with the red-head’s running speed.
“Akechi! Assassin is onto us!” Morgana could see the cloaked assassin pursuing after them. The Servant’s white mask peered through the darkness.
Shit! Shit! Shit! So Archer was unable to defeat him.
Goro quickly drew out Robin’s power, summoning the golden bow and aiming at the cloaked man. Tohsaka joined his attack, calling forth Gandr and concentrating magical energy at her forefinger, resulting in a black orb being fired like a bullet.
Through the holy arrows and magic bullets, Assassin danced and twirled without a single wound. Even with Robin Hood’s precise aim, in a dramatic display, Assassin jumped and rolled through the rain of arrows. Not one landed on the man.
To add salt to the wound, he performed a backflip into a hand-stand, as if playing with them.
Assassin paid no more attention to the pair as he ran past them, his real target running with a certain red-head.
“That’s far enough,” an ominous voice whispered in Emiya’s ear, a black dagger prepared to strike down the red-head. “You are unnecessary.”
Just as the knife was ready to slice through Emiya’s neck, Assassin was forced to back off when two arrows came his way. Before he had time to react, he was thrown off guard by a kick to the side. A flash of red appeared before Goro’s eyes. He never thought he would be thankful to see Archer.
“You can’t finish off this boy without an ambush,” Archer scoffed, his bow disappearing and replaced with his dual blades. “So pathetic.”
“Probably the wrong time to ask the question,” Morgana whispered, “but he’s an archer, so why does he have swords?”
You have to admit, it’s a good question, Loki acknowledged. Goro snarked back that maybe the class of a Servant wasn’t so strict.
“You again.” Assassin was visibly shocked to see the other Servant. “How are you still standing?”
“Who’s to say?” Archer looked unimpressed with the Servant, his tone of voice bored.
Tohsaka was relieved to see her Servant once more. “Archer!”
“Get moving, if that thing catches you it's over.”
“Moving from what–” Morgana quickly received his answer. Someone, or rather something, had followed after them.
An unsightly shadow hidden under a dark cloth with nothing underneath it, it gave the impression of a jellyfish on land. Multiple black and red ribbons gathered as they stained the ground black, and a viscous mud that drained whatever life was unfortunate to be consumed by following on its command: it was the Shadow.
“What the hell is that thing?!” It was also Morgana’s first time seeing the Shadow, an entity more powerful than the likes of the Reaper.
“We can talk later, now get out of here!” Archer commanded, his stance straight and strong. His steely eyes glanced back at the red-head. “You decided to take Illya’s hand, keep her safe until the end.”
Emiya nodded as his hand tightly squeezed around Illyasviel’s; it was one of the few things that they could agree upon. “Let’s go.”
They continued to make their escape the best they could, as the sounds of clashing blades echoed in the forest behind them. The brief glances when Goro looked back were enough to see how close Assassin was to falling under Archer’s strength and how quickly it became one-sided.
“How!? How can you still move?” Assassin talked as if the man was supposed to be dead. Archer answered back with a kicking manoeuvre, hooking his steel-toed boot around the other’s neck to bring him down. The cloaked Servant was sent crashing down, the force generated powerful enough to create a crater.
When Assassin hastily recovered from the attack, he made another attempt to escape from Archer and chase after them. But once more, Archer quickly followed with superhuman speed, his swords in hand.
All of Goro’s personas were cheering for the red Servant to rip through Assassin.
Assassin barely managed to block his oncoming swing with his dagger. “Isn’t that obvious? Archer taunted the man with a sneer. “The thing is, I’m not a legitimate Spirit like the rest.” Goro could see a dark stain clinging to Archer’s abdomen, a stain given by the Shadow’s touch.
Assassin had tried to take advantage of the Shadow to essentially eat Archer.
“And since I’m not pure like them, a little corruption doesn’t affect me as much. In other words, I’m a Heroic Spirit as twisted as that Shadow!” Archer yelled back, and he slashed through Assassin’s white skull mask.
Assassin let out a cry as he clutched to his broken mask, blood steadily pouring out before finally making his retreat. It was not a retreat to regroup, but rather to save his own life. Now they wouldn’t have to worry about being pursued anymore.
Although Assassin wasn’t killed, Goro would take this small victory. He had to admit he was satisfied hearing Assassin’s pained screams.
“That was fantastic, Archer!” Tohsaka was ecstatic. “You can return to your Spirit form. Now let’s hurry up and get going.”
Just as she approached her servant with a proud stride, the air started to shift. It began to glitch.
“Look out!” Goro suddenly screamed.
Though it wasn’t there a moment ago, the Shadow now stood beside Tohsaka. A being beyond comprehension, something that should be insubstantial, its presence demanded everyone’s attention. The abyss watched with unfeeling eyes, and turned to the girl.
Archer just barely made it in time to push her aside when it threw out its ribbons towards her. Tohsaka gasped, taken aback by what just happened. “Oh no–” In her place, he was skewered by the shadow ribbon tendrils. “Archer!”
The Shadow carelessly tossed him into the mud behind it as if he was nothing. The girl attempted to run back to her Servant. “Wait– you can’t!” Emiya, ironically, was the one who held Tohsaka back.
The Shadow turned to face the brunet, just silently staring while Goro froze with fear. “That thing… Is it?” Morgana struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. “Is it the thing that’s been eating the Servants?” He spoke as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.
Goro’s breath was ripped from his lungs. He blinked, and the Shadow disappeared.
“Hurry up and get out of here, morons....” Archer sounded drained, the mud sapping away at his strength. The Servant gasped when he looked up.
The Shadow now stood before the downed Servant, pausing as if to stare down at him despite being incapable of seeing. Then it started to swell and increase in volume. Once it started, it was rapidly expanding like a balloon.
“That is a terrible amount of energy! This is bad!” Illyasivel yelled as she pulled Emiya into running.
The forest will die. All of the surrounding magical energy will get sucked away, Robin hurriedly explained. Soon, it would create a great blast that would overtake them.
“I don’t like how this is turning out, Akechi!” Morgana screamed. Goro was unable to answer, focused as he was on saving his breath as he ran.
Archer feebly attempted to deflect more of the ribbons, unable to tear through them before another one stabbed through his abdomen. Just like Illyasviel before her, Tohsaka stopped in her path to look back at her Servant, trying to figure out how to save him.
“Tohsaka, run!” Emiya desperately yelled out.
But there was nowhere to run, there was no time left. There was no means of escape, either here or to the Metaverse. It was already past its event horizon, its ribbons branching out to blossom into a beautiful yet deranged flower.
Still, Archer had some fight left in him as he extended his hand out.
“I am the bone-… of my sword.
Steel is my body-… I have created over a thousand blades.”
Through Archer’s weak but steady voice, he called out his chant. A projection, a flower of light, was summoned before Archer’s hand. “Rho- Aias!” A Shield bloomed from empty space, taking the shape of a seven-petalled iridescent pink flower.
Aias, a shield said to have repelled the javelin of the great hero in the Trojan War. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Emiya couldn’t help but stare in awe at its immense power.
The Shadow’s form imploded and brought forth a burst of condensed magical energy that raged through the forest. It brought everyone’s knees down in mercy of its sheer power. How were they meant to even fight against the Shadow?
The pure wave of dark magical energy crashed into the shield, its floral form protecting them from the full impact of the attack. It was like a black sun fell upon them. Its force was held back only by Aias. Each flower petal layer had the defensive might of a fortress wall.
But there was only so much Archer could hold back as the Shadow’s corruption ate through the barrier. The petals struggled to hold onto their form, withering under its immense power.
The petals shattered and were engulfed by whatever was left by the attack. Instinctively, Goro dove over to protect Morgana with his body and braced himself. Memories of Akira flashed through his mind, fleeting moments of happiness for both of them, they who had that right stripped away.
The last thought of the brunet was that of Akira’s face, the pained expression he would make upon finding him hurt again. Akira would cry if he saw them. Images of Akira crying flooded his mind.
Goro truly hoped that the raven would forgive him.
And the world went dark for Goro.
Screams echo. The threads connect; from the past, present and future.
Emiya– no… he is no longer of this world. For the sake of his dream, he works and he works, striving for greatness even though he was ordinary. For his miracle, he bleeds. He dies with a smile, saying he is satisfied as the gallows open its doors beneath him.
That was his reward for always helping others, the same conclusion Joker came to all those years ago in that dark interrogation room. Akira must have mourned for him long ago, already knowing how it would end for that altruistic fool who tried to live for others.
Screams plead for a better world. Laughing and sobbing hysterically, their body violently rocks. Their face contorts through various emotions: guilt, gleefulness, anger, and despair.
It isn’t Emiya, but it is his voice screaming at them with a rage never before seen on him. Golden eyes coldly declare the birth of a new world after destroying the old.
A rage so visceral, it reminds him of the days long past, of who he used to be.
Time stands still. All the while, Akira sits atop his throne, forever sleeping. His expression hovers on the line between a peaceful slumber and the mask of death.
The Metaverse is in chaos as it threatens to forever intertwine with the real physical world, threatening the fabric of reality. They have gathered here more than once, after many years as Phantom Thieves, but Akechi will forever be the outsider, and rightfully so.
A world without Akira is not a world worth fighting for. That is true, but he knew this isn’t what Akira would have wanted. He had told the brunet a few wishes; he had told him that he did not want to become a monster.
They are here to stop Emiya’s grief from turning him into just that.
This is his atonement. Akechi made a deal with the world, serving humanity by acting as its deterrent force. Challenging those who disrupted the balance of the world, he did whatever he was ordered to do.
In exchange, he will find a way to save Akira.
In the end Akechi deals the final blow, using Akira’s body to force out Emiya’s protective love for the raven. It works, it stops his attacks and allows Akechi the opportunity to run his jagged sword through his heart. Emiya dies with a smile, his hand caressing the raven’s cheek before disappearing.
Blue flames flicker and fade into nothing, what spark that had remained forever gone. The powers of the Metaverse are collapsing around them as the God of Control withers into nothingness.
Akechi is too far gone; he’s lost too much blood, but he can’t bring himself to care. Akechi will be staying here. This will be his grave.
While sorrowful, it is the first time in years he has felt something soft and warm spread in his chest as he clutches the raven in a protective hold. Despite carrying the corpse of someone he loved, that he still loves even beyond the ends of time itself, he is nearly at peace.
Akira hasn’t aged a day. His heart aches; he apologises to the raven for subjecting him to this fate as a rumble surrounds them. Akira deserves a better resting place than this. He remembers how silver eyes would gaze upon the sea of cherry blossom trees that had yet to bloom. He should be resting among the innocence of nature, not the ruins of a cruel god’s domain.
He hopes that maybe, by some chance, if reincarnation does exist, that Akira will finally have a happy life. A normal life free from harm, where maybe Goro can stand beside him as true equals.
He knows this is too much to hope for, for a man like him. At the very least, he wishes with all his heart that Akira will finally be happy.
His wish–
His wish was…
.
.
.
Because of his selfishness and pride, he disregarded the one person who truly understood him.
Because of his powerlessness, he failed the one person who truly mattered.
And so, he traded one afterlife for another. Or was it better described that he voluntarily sacrificed his afterlife? He killed and he killed. He killed without ceasing. He killed, already uncaring of their deaths because of his past. For every life he took, it meant thousands more would survive, and that was all that mattered.
He fought over and over wherever he was needed. A lesson carried from his past: no matter how many lives he took, there would always be more.
He didn’t mind, he didn’t care. All that truly mattered was one person alone. Believing he could avert that tragedy as a Heroic Spirit by whatever means necessary, he sold the peace he would have found in death.
But he believed he was undeserving of such a kindness anyway.
This wasteland was his world, and it should have been for him alone. Snow fell upon them. Akira stood, patiently waiting for the cherry blossoms to come, with what hope he was allowed to have.
The ever kind-hearted Akira was stuck in this hellish and pathetic excuse of an afterlife because of Akechi’s stupid decisions. His wish was to stay by the raven’s side as equals. Akira carefully held his hands, almost terrified that he would break under his hold. Gentle hands cradled scar-riddled ones.
This was his punishment, and he accepted that. But he could not accept that Akira was barred from happiness.
Akechi didn’t deserve happiness, but Akira would smile at him despite everything. For a moment, when Akira smiled at him, he forgot his suffering.
But what could he do to save him?
The world had offered him a deal, a chance for him to find a way to save Akira. He would find his answer no matter how long it would take.
Winter would pass, and spring would come again one day. When that comes, they could finally see the cherry blossoms.
When spring comes.
A voice called out his name.
“-Get up!”
Teary blue eyes looked down at him. “Wake up! Please!” Morgana was screaming. Goro’s ears were ringing.
“You have to get up! Akechi, you have to get up!” he demanded. “Akira will never forgive me if you die!”
Goro's first response was a groan of pain. “Morgana…?” The relief on the feline’s face was as if witnessing a Christmas miracle. His fur looked singed and covered in dirt. Goro couldn’t imagine how he himself was looking.
“Oh, thank god you’re alive!” Morgana was clinging onto his torso, still covered as it was in Hereward’s armour. ‘It must have been Snow’s doing,’ Goro absentmindedly thought to himself.
It was by pure luck that Goro was still alive. His Metaverse clothing helped serve as protection, better than the regular body of flesh. Other than the general feeling of pain, nothing seemed to be broken or bloodied. He was going to live.
Goro looked around at what was once a luscious forest. The Shadow had disappeared, uncaring of the carnage it left behind. It was gone as abruptly as it had appeared.
Tohsaka was lying unconscious on the ground, still breathing, and not visibly injured. Her Servant knelt beside her as he hacked out his lungs. The blood dripped down from his mouth as it dropped to the ground. His torn red cloak was painted in a deeper red.
He looked close to death’s door, like he would disappear at a moment’s notice.
“Shirou…” That was Illyasviel’s voice; she sounded like she was close to tears. “No, please….”
Goro turned to where the voice called out, where Illyasviel was desperately calling out for Emiya. She didn’t look as terrible as he had worried; at worst, her clothes were dirty and tattered. But most importantly, she was alive.
Meanwhile, Emiya took the brunt of the attack while protecting the white-haired girl. As a result, he was missing his left arm, blood oozing out and painting the ground red. Dull amber eyes struggled to cling onto life.
Slowly, the realistation began to set in of what had just happened.
Shit, shit! Panic took over the brunet’s body as he rushed over to Emiya’s side. Emiya remained unresponsive, just emotionlessly staring on, not grimacing, wincing, or crying out in pain; he was going into shock.
Where did Goro even start? The wounds Emiya sustained were extensive. He tried to apply pressure while getting out the first aid kit Akira had prepared for them. Goro hastily prepared a tourniquet around the bloody stump, and with Illaysviel’s help, he tightly secured the device.
There was so much blood on their hands.
But it wasn’t enough; the flow of blood continued to steadily pour out. Illyasviel was crying out that she couldn’t lose him, just when she gained a new family. That Emiya couldn’t leave her the way Kiritsugu did. Morgana followed closely behind, silently crying. All he could do was watch; that was all they had done since coming to the castle.
Shit, shit, fuck! Samarecarm wasn’t working. Why won’t it work?! No matter how many times he tried. Robin Hood's arrows worked just fine against Zouken’s crest worms. He was powerless without the Metaverse, and he would continue to be powerless now despite everything he wished for.
Would Akira forgive him for allowing Emiya to die?
Frantically searching for any kind of solution, he looked back to the red Servant. “Guess this is the end,” Archer muttered to himself as he gently pushed Tohsaka’s hair from her face, tugging it behind her ear. “Take care… Tohsaka.”
With his hair down, Archer looked eerily similar to Emiya. Archer summoned his sword and slowly approached them. Morgana protested that Emiya still had a fighting chance, but Goro knew that the odds were stacked against them.
“Have you gone mad?” Rider’s voice called out. Goro saw her appear as she approached the Servant.
Did Akira send Rider to them?
“You do know what will happen if you do that?” she said, her voice calm even when Archer drew out his sword. She talked as if she knew what Archer intended to do, and that it wasn’t a coup de grace.
“There is nothing else to think about; if I do nothing, there will be two bodies to bury. My spirit core has been severely damaged beyond repair. This way, at least one of us can survive.” Archer gave a weak chuckle; he sounded like he was at Death’s door. “At any rate, this body is already at its limit. If I’m going to disappear, a missing arm won’t change anything.”
The white blade pressed firmly against his own shoulder. Morgana didn’t know what to say, and Goro was just as speechless. “Would this even work?” Rider asked, dubious about his methods.
To give up his own arm so that Emiya could have the chance to live it was beyond human selflessness. In a cruel twist of irony, it reminded him of Emiya’s ideals despite how much Archer despised the boy.
“In normal circumstances, he would die. But he and I are a special exception,” Archer simply explained, and he left it at that. “Tohsaka should be able to treat him appropriately once she wakes up.”
It was a familiar voice now that Goro listened closely. It was a voice that sounded like Emiya, before he was burdened under the weight of his ideals.
“What is going on? Why does that voice sound just like Shirou?” Morgana whimpered. Goro remembered how the not-cat had once whispered how Archer smelled like Emiya.
A familial ancestor? It was the only logical explanation Goro could think of.
This barren forest would become Archer’s grave, and he knew it. The red-clad Servant accepted his fate, he took one last look at the downed red-head with a genuine smile as if proud of him.
Those questions Goro held would probably be left unanswered despite how much he wanted to tear down the red-clad Servant’s walls to bare the full truth. Archer, who had the answers to his unique existence, his clear animosity against Emiya, his knowledge of the Shadow, and what could be construed as lingering affection or pity for Akira, was going to die.
His answers would be taken to his grave as Archer sliced down his shoulder in one clean swoop.
