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 god-slayer . . .
"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 re-established 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 Emiya-sama?"
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 Emiya-sama."
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 Mariya-san. 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, "Mariya-san 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 needed-
The 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.