Chapter Text
In an instant, Chūn actualized, allowing Shirou to fire shots toward the Pseudo-Servant. The shield he bore flashed forward to block the projectiles. A second later, his bike vanished. Shirou’s feet had barely touched the ground before he exploded into motion, a copy of his earlier claymore appearing in his grip. “KEEP GOING!” The redhead roared, cyan lightning arcing around him. “I CAN HANDLE GALAHAD!” Shirou ordered, accelerating.
“THEN, HANDLE ME, GODSLAYER!” The Shielder roared, curling behind his shield and breaking into a sprint.
Blade met shield in a collision that sent shockwaves rippling across the road. Lightning-fast, Shirou had Chūn aimed at the Pseudo-Servant’s face. However, Lord Camelot crashed into the gun before he could fire, shattering the traced weapon.
Pivoting, Shirou thrust his claymore, forcing Galahad to dodge, but the Shielder managed to strike Shirou before the Godslayer could follow through, the blow knocking him back. Shirou’s eyes widened as the shield of Lord Camelot transformed.
The shield became a monster of a cannon. Its left arm became a tripod stand to support the weight, as the right arm became a scope. The base arm lengthened, shaping into a barrel. “I am the Siege which breaks the enemy! The Spear of the King! O Light of Avalon, grant me the Miracle of Fairy Cannon Camelot!”
“Fairy Cannon Camelot,” the redhead uttered, fear and disbelief in his voice, “An Anti-Fortress attack using Lord Camelot as a channel for the vast magics of the Fae world,” Dark lightning began to gather at the end of the barrel, causing the hair on Shirou’s body to stand on end.
Seeing the Servant target the convoy, the Godslayer acted. “Trace, On! Ignition, Spark!” A wave of swords, overflowing with Od, actualized in front of Shirou. A wave of his hand sent them rocketing toward the Shielder, cyan trailing in their wake.
The cannon reverted to shield as Galahad was forced back. “Lord Camelot!” A single white wall rose, blocking the torrent of blades and allowing the convoy to pass the Shielder without incident. Explosions rang out as Shirou bombarded the wall, switching from mundane weapons to his ruby swords.
“This isn’t working,” he muttered, glaring at the walls of Camelot, “Time to switch it up. Trace, On! My Core is twisted in Madness!” Shirou’s claymore vanished, Archer’s black bow replacing it as Caladbolg II appeared. “Rule Breaker!” The dagger of Medea formed before him and shot forward, the Broken Phantasm following in its wake. A second later, the wall fell as Rule Breaker disintegrated.
Space warped and bent as Caladbolg II flew, swallowing the Pseudo-Servant in a blast of light that devastated the surrounding road. A thick cloud of dust hung in the air, blocking the road from view.
The bow in Shirou’s hands dissipated into motes of light, Kanshou and Bakuya appearing to replace it. “I can still see you,” Shirou said, glaring into the cloud. “So trying to ambush me in the dust isn’t going to work.”
“Forgive me, Master of my King. I did not know of your ocular prowess.” As the Servant spoke, a blade arced, clearing the dust.
“You got a second wall up,” Shirou commented, looking at the blade. “Lladdwr, The Sword of Strange Hangings,” Shirou began, “An A Rank Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm that carries the Binding, Worthy, and Holy traits. The only man-made blade to rival Excalibur.” The Godslayer’s head tilted. “Huh, Barn, Judgement in the Eyes of Solomon, An A Rank Anti-Army technique using Lladdwr to draw on Solomon’s magecraft.” The Godslayer apprised, eyes glinting. And as he spoke, he could feel the blueprints settling into his Reality Marble. “The protections against observation are pretty interesting too.”
“Oh? To learn so much about my blade. With just a look?” Galahad spoke. “Impressive.” The knight commented, slipping into a stance.
Shirou shrugged, “Less so when you account for the origin and element. Swords, and to a lesser degree, weapons are about all I’m good for.” The Godslayer shrugged. “Frankly, I’d have to give up magecraft altogether if I couldn’t appraise a blade. It's essentially my one trick.”
“And yet, Solomon himself protected the blade from scrying,” Galahad said. “To bypass the protections of Magecraft’s founder, in this age?” Galahad locked eyes with Shirou. “I think you undervalue your abilities, Master of my King. Even the Average One could not have discerned so much, not without extensive study.”
Shriou shrugged. “Still, given that blade of yours, I suppose I should use a more appropriate weapon,” Kanshou and Bakuya faded away, Caliburn appearing to replace them.
“So that’s what the Sword of Selection looks like,” Galahad commented, “I can see why My King was sorrowful when it broke. It is truly a magnificent piece.” The shield faded, allowing the knight to grip his sword. “Shall we see whose blade is better?”
Shirou didn’t answer. Instead, the Godslayer swung his blade, releasing a wave of light. Galahad slashed Lladdwr, cutting the wave in twain. A gasp left the Shielder’s lips as Shirou appeared, stomping on his foe’s blade and pinning it to the dirt. An instant later, Caliburn arced, and Galahad barely avoided a beheading as he leaned back.
Blood flowed from the deep cut in his throat, but the Pseudo-Servant pushed on, a gargled cry causing ropes of woven hair to erupt from the blade, capturing the Godslayer. “What-” Od flowed down the ropes, the blade drinking deeply from Shirou’s reserves.
Veins bulged on Shirou’s neck and forehead as he struggled to escape, the ropes holding firm against his attempts. A second surge of ropes appeared, forming a spear. With a gargled roar, the spear launched itself at Shirou. “Avalon!”
The Godslayer became a gold, translucent figure, allowing the ropes to bypass his body. Stepping forward, Shirou swung Caliburn, forcing Galahad to block. The strength of Shirou’s blow sent the knight to his knees. A foot, enhanced with Od, smashed into the knight’s chest, sending him crashing into the road, a trench forming in his wake.
More ropes materialized before surging toward Shirou. The Godslayer summoned blades in response, glaring at the Servant. For a moment, blade and rope clashed, filling the space between the fighters with explosions of blue and gold.
Then, the asphalt exploded as both warriors lunged, their blades glowing with holy power.
Meeting in the middle, the fighters clashed, a shockwave billowing out as Shirou overpowered Galahad. With a roar, Shirou shoved his foe back, and swung again, Lladdwr rocketing up to meet Caliburn. Steel struck steel as the warriors fought, each clash producing waves of light that purged the area of impurities. Moving quickly, Shirou twisted his wrist, allowing Lladdwr to slide down the flat of Caliburn.
The Sword of Selection arced, racing toward the knight of the shield. “Milain,” Shirou grunted, ducking a strike. “The Blade with Two Sheaths.” Lashing out with a foot, Shirou hurled his foe back. “What a nasty curse,” Shirou grunted, summoning a copy of Arondight, “absorbing the life energy from the surroundings to unleash an Anti-Fortress level attack.” Shirou dodged a slash and brought his blades across Galahad’s chest in an X shape, the power of his strike forcing the Servant to backpedal.
A frown marred his face as his blade cut the armor his foe wore but not his skin. “And, of course, it also makes you invulnerable to all attacks.” The Godslayer jumped back, dismissing the two blades. “Of course, he has a discount version of Avalon. Why wouldn’t he? He’s only the true Grail Knight!” The blades of Arthur and Lancelot surged, deflecting Galahad’s twin swords.
Od suffused his legs, allowing Shirou to clear the incoming rope constructs in a single bound, the blades he wielded vanishing in motes of light. And as he gained height, the Godslayer acted. “Trace, On! My blood incites rebellion!” Crimson lightning arced between Shirou’s hands, forming a bow. “This is the Crimson Tide Clarent. My tribute to Mordred.” The Godslayer introduced. Red lightning arcing around the bow as the Godslayer fed Od into the weapon.
Arrows, mundane in origin, appeared. Shirou knocked three at a time, each one becoming a crimson thunderbolt as he fired. Falling toward the ground, Shirou rained arrows on Galahad, forcing the Grail Knight back. Landing with a dull thud, Shirou traced an amber arrow. “Trace, Thunder!” Blue ignited as he fired, a bolt of lightning streaking toward his target.
An explosion rang out, swallowing the knight in another cloud of dust and smoke. The ground trembling from the power of the arrow.
“Trace, On!” With a deep breath, he traced another weapon, a spear. “Safety, Out!” At his Aria, the spear warped, its shaft shrinking and warping as fletchings grew near its base. Within his mind, Shirou edited the blueprint, crafting an arrow built for speed, and sacrificing all over aspects. “Block this,” the Godslayer grunted, crimson lightning arcing around his form.
Knocking, the Godslayer began to chant. “Now, Drill! O Crimson Rose of Exorcism! Sever the magic of mine foes! GÁE... DEARG!” Red light enshrouded the area, growing brighter as Shirou drew his bow. The dust began to settle, revealing a barrier of woven ropes, albeit one that was slowly breaking from his rain of thunder. And from one of the holes, Galahad’s dull eyes glared at Shirou.
Thunder echoed across the night as debris levitated around Shirou, crimson sparks dancing between the floating rocks and stones. The Godslayer’s arms trembled as he held the bow at full draw, waiting for the right moment. Galahad gargled another roar and exploded into motion, dismissing what was left of his barrier and racing toward Shirou with his blades shining.
A solemn breath left the Godslayer as he released the arrow. Crimson light roared forward, breaking the ground as it flew, dragging debris in its wake. The spear turned arrow pierced the Shielder before exploding, dying the sky in a brilliant crimson shade.
“Shirou,” the Once and Future King began, “I trust you have dealt with the mockery of my knight?” The King of Britain asked, her green eyes narrowed in a steely gaze.
“I’ve returned Galahad to his rightful rest,” Shirou said, a serious look in his eyes. “Even if it was a pain to deal with his swords.” The Godslayer grumbled.
“Excellent.” The blonde nodded, returning her attention to the bowl of rice before her.
“I hope you fixed the road, Shirou,” Rin groused, shooting a glare. “I’d rather not donate a liter to repair it myself.”
“I did what I could,” Shirou began, rubbing his head in phantom pain, “so it should only need cosmetic adjustments now,” the redhead said. “You know how it is. Alteration is only so good at such things,” he shrugged, looking annoyed. “Doubly so when using weapons that define “impurities” as man-made additions. Seriously, using Alteration to make concrete is a pain,” the Godslayer grunted. “I should probably look into a line of Mystic Codes that repair things.” He added, after a moment.
“You really should, repairing the damage caused by Heretics is a pain in the ass,” Rin groused. Then a smirk crossed her face as she added, “And not the fun kind, either.” Her smirk grew wider as several people visibly stumbled before moving on.
“Ignoring her lack of decency, I shall get the brochure,” Yuri added, quickly moving to the caravan, ignoring the Cheshire cat grin Rin shot her way. A grunt left Shirou’s lips as blood began to drip from his eyes.
“Shirou!” Artoria gasped. “Your eyes-”
“Are fine,” the Godslayer said. “I’ve checked. It's nothing serious, just a hangover from using so many Pseudo-Authorites on my eyes. I’ll be fine in a bit.” Yuri shrieked as she popped her head out of the caravan, causing Shirou to sigh and repeat his words.
“Ah! Senpai can read this after he’s rested,” Sakura declared, blocking the Miko’s path and taking the brochure from her. “And you need it, Senpai, if you plan to go to school tomorrow. Especially if you want your eyes to stop bleeding.”
“I’m fine, Sakura-” A jaw-cracking yawn cut Shirou off, “I can keep going-” A second yawn occurred, causing the others to give him a disbelieving look. “I can keep going. There’s still areas here that need enhancing.” Shirou said, pausing to yawn twice more.
“Now say that again without the yawning,” Rin uttered, glaring at her lover.
“I’ve gone with less sleep for longer before.”
“During peace times,” Artoria chimed in. “Where you can afford to not be at your best,” Green eyes locked with gold. “But this is a war, Shirou. And, like it or not, our best weapon against Gilgamesh is you.” Shirou grunted as he took in her words. “Go rest, Shirou. Between Lancer, Assassin, Archer, Rider, and I, this bunker is safe. Add in the protections you and Rin have put down? I pity the fool who comes looking for trouble.”
“I’d listen to the ladies, Boyo,” Cú Chulainn said, smirking cockily. “Arguing with willful ladies like them is an exercise in futility.”
“Speaking from experience?” Shirou snarked, getting the Irish Lancer to laugh.
A pair of arms snaked around his neck. “If needed, I can keep His Majesty restrained,” Medusa purred. “And who knows, perhaps we can practice some Magecraft.” Shirou stiffed as something warm and soft pressed into his back, his focus narrowing to two points that felt cooler than the rest. “Independent Action means there’d be no cost to Sakura.”
“Should you not protect your master, Rider?” The Saber growled, dragging the Gorgon Queen off Shirou as the redhead made his way to the sleeping area. “And Magecraft practice? Last I checked, you know nothing of the art?” She hissed, causing the Rider Servant to shoot her a teasing grin.
“Ladies, play nice,” Shirou grunted as he broke free of their grip and began walking to his area, the sounds from outside being muted thanks to the efforts of Rin and Yuri. “I don’t want to spend a morning fixing whatever mess you two make.”
Standing amid a Servant fight was always awe-inspiring. The speed, power, and skill on display was something the young Godslayer still found himself struggling to grasp. Yet, here was his Saber dueling the master of Gáe Dearg. And then, a towering red-haired giant appeared, bringing with him a boy who looked supremely out of his depth. “He announced himself?” Shirou asked. “Talk about confidence.”
“I didn’t expect there would be two fools in one night to have the insolence of calling themselves “kings” and ignore me.” Shirou’s head snapped to the source of the familiar voice, his eyes narrowing in anger at the sight of Gilgamesh.
The gold clad Archer stood on a street lamp with a backward tilt in his posture, his red eyes glaring down at the Servants. His very stance oozing arrogance and disdain as he looked upon the combatants. Shirou growled, clutching the arm he’d lost against the Servant turned Heretic as his fist curled into a white-knuckled grip.
“You are mistaken,” the red-haired giant began. “I, Alexander, am the one who is well known throughout the world as the King of Conquerors.” The Red Rider boasted, his voice echoing like thunder, his posture showing supreme confidence in his power and status.
“Fool,” the King of Heroes maliciously stated. “The only hero in Heaven and Earth who is a real king is me. The rest are a collection of mongrels.”
Shirou’s fists clenched his fist at the gold archer’s words, but the red Rider merely sighed. As if he was dealing with an out-of-control child. “If you want to say that much, could you first announce yourself? If you are such a king, you couldn’t be ashamed of your fame?”
“Are you questioning me? A lowly mongrel questioning a king like me?” A palpable aura of murderous intent flooded the area, so great that even experiencing it secondhand sent a shiver down Shirou’s spine. “I grant you the honor of my presence, yet you can’t recognize me.” The golden archer shook his head in disgust. “Such ignorance isn’t even worth living.”
His conclusion reached, the archer acted. The surrounding space distorted in a golden haze, and in the next instant, the glow of beautiful blades started coming out of the empty space.
However, before the archer could attack, a torrent of Od swept in a roar. Shirou quickly found the source and gasped as the Od coalesced into a familiar form. “So, this is where Berserker Lancelot came from,” he uttered, setting in to watch the battle unfold.
“Hey, King of Conquerors. Did you invite that guy, too?” Lancer, Diarmuid of the Love Spot, asked.
The Red Rider, Alexander, grimaced, “Invited, eh? That one doesn’t look like he’ll take any negotiation, ugh.” As he spoke, the black knight stood, enshrouded in an aura of malice and Od, a low growl building in his throat. “So, kid. What kind of Servant is he, that guy?” Alexander asked his master, the giant’s eyes never leaving the black knight’s form.
After a moment, the small master finally responded. “I don’t know. I simply can’t tell.”
“Whaat? You’re a Master, aren’t you? His strong and weak points should be visible to you, eh?” The Rider persisted.
“I said I can’t see it! That black guy is definitely a Servant,” The small master snapped. “But I just can’t read out his stats!”
Shirou’s eyes narrowed. “A Noble Phantasm that conceals his identity?” He uttered, “Trace, On! With Eyes of Mysterious Might, I divine the truth of all things. Now, O’ great wonders of the world, show thinesevles to me!”
With Structural Analysis triggered, Shirou focused on the black knight. A grunt left his lips, “The armor isn’t the source of this Noble Phantasm, just an effective channel for it.” Shirou scowled. “At least the Armor is useful.” His lips quirked in amusement. “I seem to be favoring more and more of Lancelot’s gear.”
“You mad dog, do you expect pity from me?” Gilgamesh spoke, snapping Shirou’s focus back to him. The Gate of Babylon spun, causing the treasured swords and spears around him to change direction. Their tip was now fully aiming at the new target, Berserker. “You shall at least entertain me when you scatter away, mongrel!”
Shirou watched as the Gate of Babylon opened fire, each weapon exploding forward as a line of gold. “Huh, first time seeing these,” Shirou uttered, “guess there being unlimited treasures in there is true. And that’s some impressive destructive power,” he added, observing the scene. The road surface looked like an explosion had gone off, pulverizing the asphalt and pavement into particles, enshrouding the area in a thick cloud of dust.
As the dust settled, the shadow of a dark, tall figure wavered into their visibility. Berserker stood unscathed. He had merely moved from his starting point, where the road had become a crater.
“The spear,” Shirou uttered, “C rank, Anti-Unit with a range of 30 targets. It uses a delay feature to trip targets up.” The Godslayer whispered, piecing together what happened. “So that Sword should have gotten there first and done some decent damage to him.”
“Yet Lancelot caught the sword and countered the spear,” Shirou added as he visualized the movement. His Saber had been too far away to let him see it. “Still, [Knight of Owner] is one of [Gate of Babylon’s] counters. Good to know.”
“That bastard, is he really a Berserker?” The Red Rider asked, “For someone who has forsaken his reason for madness, he’s a remarkably skilled chap.”
A growl caused Shirou to briefly face Gilgamesh. “How dare you touch my treasure with your filthy hand,” The gold Archer trembled angrily. “Do you want to die that badly, you cur!” A gold ripple erupts behind the King, allowing sixteen new weapons, all Noble Phantasms, to appear. This time, he used axes, hammers, and halberds.
Shirou whistled as Od filled the air, feeling it press down on him even secondhand. “That’s not possible,” the small master whimpered, the Red Rider moving closer to his master and blocking some of the pressure.
“Let's see,” The gold King began, red eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at Berserker. “Just to what point this little compulsive thief can keep up!” Gilgamesh roared, sending the storm of weapons forward.
A thunderous roar shook the night's air, a flash of light exploding through the sky.
Shirou reinforced his eyes, burning the scene into his memory as Berserker grabbed the halberd and began to dance. The black knight moved with a grace that spoke of countless hours of practicing. With each swing of his stolen weapons, he batted the hurled Phantasms away. And no matter which angle they came from, the Berserker’s blades were always ready for it.
The dream began to fade, leaving Shirou with the image of Lancelot’s shrouded form, tearing through the hailstorm of Gilgamesh’s weapons. Gold eyes narrowed as he took the image in.
Shirou awoke to the sound of Yuri’s rage. “Cease this degenerate behavior!” The Miko roared, her voice echoing throughout the bunker.
“What behavior are you referring to?” Sakura asked. Far too innocently. Shirou could easily picture the grin on her face as she spoke. “I am merely demonstrating my skills in Mystic Code crafting to help His Majesty in the future.” Gold eyes, still bleary from sleeping, rolled.
In a bout of rarely had laziness, the Godslayer did not attempt to get up. Choosing to listen to the conversation instead.
“What you’re doing is making a mockery of the sacred cloth of the Hime-Miko!” Yuri hissed.
“Am I?” Sakura asked, sounding eerily like Rin when the elder sister was messing with Issei.
“You Are!” Yuri hissed. “The garment you’ve made is nothing more than a mockery of all robes that have come before it.” A sigh left his lips, this was going to be a problem.
With a grunt, Shirou gathered a change of clothes and some towels before heading to the shower area. As he switched the shower on, he heard Sakura speak again. “Are you sure? His Majesty enjoys the sight of these garments on me.”
The shower head drowned out whatever Yuri hissed in response.
For a moment, the Godslayer merely sat, enjoying the warm water cascading down his body.
Then, a set of arms encircled his neck. “Ah, Shirou, you look much better now,” Artoria said, leaning into him, her warm breath dancing across his neck. The Servant’s action forcing the young Godslayer to focus on the cool gel against his skin.
“I feel much better,” the Godslayer said, lathering his body with shower gel, while doing his best to ignore the pleasant weight of his Servant against his back.
The blonde King hummed. “Here, let me help you.” Shirou stiffened as surprisingly soft hands began to glide across his body. “You’re too tense, Shirou. Relax.” Artoria’s hands roamed his chest and stomach, inching closer to his crotch.
“I can handle that part, thanks,” Shirou uttered, feeling his face grow warmer as his Servant’s hand brushed against the base of his manhood.
“Oh? Feeling shy, Shirou?”
The Godslayer moved, grabbing and pinning the Once and Future King to the wall. “I merely want to leave the shower at a reasonable time, Artoria.”
“A shame you have obligations,” the King sighed, “alas, we shall have our fun at a later date.” Her hands drifted down his back. “Still, it will go faster if you have someone to wash your back,” she said, smirking at him.
“And this is you getting one up on Medusa, isn’t it?” The blonde Servant smirked at him, staying silent as she continued lathering him with the gel.
Shirou sighed as he did his best to ignore his growing hardness, a task that grew more difficult as his Servant pressed her generous bust into him as he washed off the grime from the night.
Soon, he’d washed the gel off and began leaving the shower. A sigh left his lips as he heard Rin speak. “Oh, I don’t know,” her mischievous voice echoed, “Shirou’s eyes do wander over Sakura’s form when she wears the Miko get-up. Maybe my estranged little sister is trying to entice His Majesty into something.”
“EVEN YOUR SISTER AGREES!” Yuri howled in triumph.
“I must admit, though,” Shirou could hear Rin’s grin. “His Majesty does like looking at Sakura in most things. Perhaps Sakura is just casually seductive?”
“Oh? Am I?” Sakura asked, causing Shirou’s brow to twitch. “I don’t think I am.” In his mind’s eye, Shirou could easily picture the younger girl grinding her teeth at Sakura’s nonchalant delivery. “Are you sure Miss Mariya isn’t imagining things?” The Miko let a screech out, causing Shirou to sigh.
“It’s going to be a long day.”