The abandoned church's backyard had officially become Emiya Shirou's personal "suffering zone."
Or, more accurately—
A "leveling room."
Boom!
With a sharp blast, Shirou was launched like a rag doll, skidding across the ground and rolling three and a half turns before finally stopping.
"Too slow." Alfia stood where she was, a half-finished book in hand, not even bothering to look up. "Your magic circuits run like rusted gears. In a real slaughter, no one is going to wait for you to recite an incantation as long as a funeral shroud."
"Cough… I know…" Shirou forced himself up, spitting out a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva.
He was getting beaten half to death every day, but he could feel it: his body was changing. The sensation was like someone had forcibly injected him with battle experience packs.
"Again." Alfia lifted a finger. Mana in the air began to stir.
Shirou drew a slow breath and closed his eyes. Yesterday's instruction echoed in his head.
Don't imitate the form. Imitate the intent.Compress the chant into your breathing.
He stopped trying to mentally recite the familiar words, "I am the bone of my sword."
Instead, he poured everything—mana, will, focus—into the result.
In that instant, the world slowed inside his perception.
Wind flow. Mana vectors. Even the angle of Alfia's finger as it rose.
Now!
Shirou snapped his eyes open, pupils narrowing to pinpoints. He didn't speak.
He roared inside his soul with the rhythm of his breath.
Trace!
Humm—
No delay. No wind-up. The moment the thought existed, emerald circuits flooded across his body.
And in his hands, twin short blades appeared—black and white, perfectly balanced.
Kanshou and Bakuya.
Not "projection completed."
More like "instant generation."
"…Oh?" Alfia's eyes flickered with surprise. It was only half a second faster, but to the strong, that was the distance between life and death.
"You're starting to look… slightly acceptable."
She flicked her finger. A wind blade screamed toward him.
Clang!
Shirou crossed the twin blades and caught the attack on its line. He still got pushed back two steps, but he didn't fall.
And the moment he blocked—
The blades in his hands warped, stretched, and transformed.
Overedge!
A massive winged greatsword swept out, dragging a black-and-white arc of pressure straight toward Alfia.
"Not bad." Alfia finally closed her book, shifting her body slightly and letting the slash pass harmlessly by. The corner of her lips lifted—barely.
"What do you call that?"
Shirou let the mana disperse and scratched his head. "Uh… maybe… 'Projection: Quick Cast'?"
"That name is atrocious." Alfia looked disgusted. "No taste whatsoever. Still…" Her gaze sharpened. "As a counterfeit, you've hit a limit worth acknowledging."
She turned and tossed him a bag. "Take it."
Shirou caught it and opened it.
Rare magic stones. A few chunks of high-purity mithril.
Practice material—meant for deeper analysis and reconstruction.
"Thanks… big sister," Shirou said cautiously.
Alfia paused for a heartbeat. This time she didn't explode.
"…Get lost. Tomorrow's lunch, I want something called a hamburger steak."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Watching that solitary, arrogant back, Shirou felt a quiet warmth rising in his chest.
She was violent. She was vicious. Her mouth was poison.
But she was teaching him sincerely.
In this hopeless era, that kind of harsh warmth was rare enough to be priceless.
When Shirou returned—tired, filthy, but buzzing with excitement—it happened to be "afternoon tea time."
Calling it tea was generous. It was really just post-training snacks.
"Yo, Shirou! You're back!" Alise lounged over the table with a cookie in hand and absolutely no dignity. "Went for special training again? You look like you got beaten up hard."
"Not too bad. I'm used to it." Shirou shrugged, went to the basin, and splashed water on his face.
"Emiya." Kaguya looked up from wiping down her beloved blade. Her sharp eyes swept him top to bottom. "Your presence… changed."
"Huh? It did?" Shirou blinked.
"Before, your mana felt like water," Kaguya said, standing, one hand drifting toward her sword. "Continuous, but slow."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Now it feels like fire. Your burst output is much stronger."
"Wanna test it?" Kaguya's grin turned predatory. As the Familia's resident battle maniac, she could smell growth like blood.
"Kaguya, don't bully an injured man," Ryuu said as she walked over with tea—though the curiosity in her eyes gave her away.
"It's fine." Shirou wiped his face, his gaze settling into focus. "I also want to test something. In the yard. Point stop only?"
"Good!" Kaguya practically bounced. "Loser washes dishes for a week!"
Shirou smirked. "Deal."
Alise, Ryuu, Lylia, and the others gathered around, fully committed to spectating.
"Begin!" Alise shouted.
"Ha!"
Kaguya vanished.
Her footwork and draw techniques were among the best in the Familia; she crossed the distance in a blink, her blade flashing toward Shirou's shoulder—pulling her cut.
Too slow, she thought. In the past, he would still be starting his chant by now.
But in the instant her edge would have touched cloth—
Shield!
A small violet barrier—only palm-sized—appeared directly on her blade's path.
Clack!
Her sword was knocked off-line by mere centimeters.
For a master duel, that was a fatal opening.
"What?!" Kaguya's pupils shrank. Instant defense?!
Shirou's counter followed immediately.
Sword!
A black short sword formed in his right hand, stabbing at Kaguya's wrist from an angle designed to ruin control.
"So fast!" Kaguya abandoned the follow-up, rolling her wrist and blocking with the hilt.
Thud!
They separated.
Kaguya slid back three steps.
Shirou slid back five.
Silence fell across the yard.
"You've got to be kidding…" Lylia's snacks nearly fell out of her hands. "Emiya just forced Kaguya back in close combat?!"
"Instant projection," Ryuu said quietly, a sharp light in her eyes. "He skipped the chant and constructed the weapon directly with mana. That level of control… is extremely demanding."
"Again!" Kaguya's fighting spirit ignited. She stopped holding back.
Her blade became a silver storm, swallowing Shirou's space.
"So this is eastern swordplay…" Shirou weaved through the storm. His True Mind's Eye could see the trajectories, but her feints and transitions multiplied too quickly.
If defense couldn't keep up, then—
"Let's race, then!"
Shirou clapped his hands.
Barrage!
Seven or eight short swords formed around him—not launched like a treasury, but orbiting him like satellites, spinning into a tight automatic defense mesh.
Clink-clink-clink-clink-clink!
Kaguya's slashes were intercepted one after another.
Each clash shattered a sword—
And another immediately replaced it.
Unlimited Blade Works: Auto-Guard Mode.
A technique Shirou had carved out after being shredded by Alfia's wind blades countless times: pre-generate obstacles along predicted attack routes using precognition.
"That's your 'patch update,' huh?" Kaguya hopped back, breathing hard, eyes narrowed. "That's… an obnoxious tactic."
"Thank you for the compliment." Shirou smiled. The orbiting swords dissolved into motes. "Want to continue, Miss Kaguya?"
"Nope. Not doing it." Kaguya sheathed her blade, scowling. "Fighting you is like punching a hedgehog. My hands hurt. Call it a draw."
"A draw?" Alise popped into the middle like a firecracker. "Then who's washing dishes?"
"Half and half!" Kaguya declared with absolute shamelessness.
Laughter burst out around the courtyard.
Shirou laughed too.
The era outside was drenched in blood and fire, danger in every shadow—
But inside this yard, with these people…
The world didn't feel quite as hopeless.
"Emiya," Ryuu said, stepping closer and offering him a towel. "You got stronger."
"I got forced into it." Shirou wiped the sweat away. "If I don't get stronger… I can't protect that promise."
"Promise?"
"…Nothing." Shirou shook his head.
A promise to the future.
To protect Astraea Familia.
To rewrite the tragedy waiting ahead.
Tonight's meal was unusually abundant—Shirou had picked up better ingredients in the black market.
The table turned into its usual chaos: food being stolen mid-bite, loud arguments, shameless seconds.
In between, the conversation turned grim.
"They say Gluttony showed up on the twenty-fourth floor," Lylia said while tearing into a chicken leg. "He ate several adventurer squads. He's a monster."
"The Evils are gathering their main force too," Alise said, face hardening. "The Guild is sealing information, but I can feel it… the decisive battle is close."
The Great Feud.
Shirou ate quietly, thoughts grinding.
In the known timeline, the Great Feud was Astraea Familia's turning point. Zard and Alfia would clash with Orario's strongest.
And Astraea Familia…
would be lured into a trap.
I have to do something.
Shirou's chopsticks tightened in his hand.
Right now, with his new speed and techniques, he could survive most fights.
But protecting everyone?
Not yet.
"Mr. Emiya?" Ryuu noticed his mood. "What's wrong? Is the food not good?"
"No, it's great." Shirou snapped back, meeting her concerned eyes.
Then, suddenly—
"Ryuu."
"Yes?"
"If… I mean, if." His voice dropped. "One day, we face an enemy we can't defeat… would you run?"
Ryuu answered instantly, without the slightest hesitation.
"No."
Her gaze was painfully steady.
"I am of Astraea's Familia. Justice does not turn its back on evil."
"Even if you die?"
"Even if I die."
Shirou exhaled, half a sigh, half resignation.
"…I see."
Then he gave her an exhausted smile.
"You really are a stubborn elf."
"What did you call me?!" Ryuu's ears went red.
"Nothing." Shirou stood and began clearing dishes. "If none of you will run, then I guess I have no choice…"
He looked toward the window, into the black night beyond.
"I'll go all the way with you."
Outside, the Dark Age's sky watched silently—like a pair of unseen eyes.
Gears of fate turning.
Come on, Great Feud, Shirou thought.
This time…
No matter if it's Zard, or that nightmare lurking deeper in the Dungeon—
I won't let you take even one of them.
Because I'm Emiya Shirou.
And I'm going to be the ally of justice—
the kind that saves everyone.
....
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