At the ruins of the Elven Temple, the night was black as ink, and the stars were few and faint.
Although they had just finished a delightful little team-building exercise called "beating the hell out of Cerberus," the atmosphere around the camp was split in a rather strange way. On one side of the bonfire sat the members of Fiana's knight order, maintaining textbook military posture as they silently polished their weapons and armor, looking as though they could march off to slay a Demon King at any second.
On the other side was Argo's Hero Party...
...which looked like a disaster so severe it made one's stomach hurt just from watching it.
"Waaah... my holy sword... my legend... my first time..." Argo was clutching the broken crystal hilt of his sword and crying like a three-hundred-pound man-child who had lost his favorite toy. Snot and tears covered his face. "I'd only just pulled it out... I hadn't even had the chance to use it to look cool... and it already snapped! What kind of third-rate script is this?! Who wrote this garbage?! I'm sending razor blades to the author! The quality of this sword was way too bad! Was it some nine-copper bargain-bin trash bought with free shipping?!"
"Shut up, idiot." Oona kicked him in the backside while gnawing on a large chunk of grilled meat—the flesh of that three-headed hound they had just killed. It was a little tough, but satisfyingly chewy. "So it broke. Big deal. You were only going to wave it around a couple times anyway. It's not like you could kill anything with it. Might as well sharpen the broken half and use it as a dagger."
"You don't get it! It's romance! A man's romance!" Argo shot back in grief, even rolling around on the ground for emphasis. "A hero without a holy sword is like fries without ketchup! It has no soul! And daggers are for assassins! I'm supposed to be a knight!"
"Um... what are fries?" Fina the half-elf asked curiously, already adding a new term to the notebook in her hand.
"Ignore him. He's gone insane."
Emiya Shirou sat beside the fire. His face was still pale, but his eyes were exceptionally focused. Spread out before him were several things: the broken crystal blade, the lightning-attributed magic stone they had extracted from the direwolf king, and the rare metals and ancient spiritwood they had scavenged from the temple ruins.
"Emiya, are you really going to use those to repair it?" Crozzo leaned in, staring at the materials with a deeply furrowed brow. As the future progenitor of magic swords, his instincts told him this was no simple matter. "That crystal is a high-purity magical mineral—basically a primitive form of orichalcum. It's extremely hard, but also very brittle. Trying to fuse it with metal or wood... in theory, that's impossible. It's like trying to mount a diamond onto a block of tofu and expecting the tofu not to shatter."
"In theory, yes." Shirou looked up and smiled with calm confidence. "But I'm an unreasonable blacksmith. And I have reference material."
"Synchronize—begin."
Emerald-green magical circuits lit up along Shirou's left arm like an integrated circuit board of impossible precision. But instead of repairing the weapon right away, he first lowered his gaze to his empty right sleeve.
"First... I need to fix myself. Trying to handcraft divine weapons one-handed is pushing the difficulty level a bit too far."
Shirou reached out with his left hand and gripped the broken crystal blade.
"Analyze... disassemble... reconstruct."
The elven sword had shattered, but the "pure magical power" and "ancient mystery" within it made it the ideal binding agent for restoring his dragon-bone prosthetic. What the collapsing arm needed in order to resist rejection by time and space was exactly this kind of high-purity medium—a buffer layer.
To everyone's astonishment, that incomparably hard crystal blade began to melt, turning into a softly glowing white liquid like heated mercury.
Without hesitation, Shirou pressed the glowing liquid against his right shoulder.
"Ugh!"
The pain made him groan instantly, sweat breaking out across his forehead. It was the pain of bone regrowing and nerves reconnecting—like countless marching ants crawling through his veins while drilling holes into his bones to build nests there.
"Emiya!" Fina—Lyu, in a distant future that had yet to exist—instinctively stepped forward in concern.
"Don't come closer... I'm fine." Shirou clenched his teeth and forcibly stabilized the flow of mana. "Fuse... solidify!"
The light faded.
A brand-new arm appeared before everyone's eyes.
It was no longer the skeletal white limb from before, nor the unstable semi-transparent structure that had come after. This arm had the texture of fine white jade, with faint golden patterns flowing beneath the skin. And on the back of the hand, where his Command Spell had once been, there now rested the pale mark of a crystal sword.
Dragon-Bone Prosthetic: Elven Reinforcement ModelStrength: Level 5Properties: Mana amplification, automatic regeneration, greatly enhanced curse resistance
"Hah..." Shirou flexed his fingers and felt the long-lost sense of solidity returning. "At least I'm not a one-armed hero anymore."
This hand was stronger than before. He could even sense the movement of mana in the air around him, like a radar that had somehow gained a sense of touch.
"A-amazing..." Argo stared so hard he forgot to cry, a bubble of snot still hanging from his nose. "Brother Emiya, can you teach me that move? I want to regenerate lost limbs too! That's a top-tier survival skill!"
"Try regenerating your brain first. And wipe your nose." Shirou shot him an irritated look.
Then he stood and rolled his shoulder, testing the new arm. His gaze swept across every person present.
"Now... for the main event."
Shirou's eyes sharpened like a blade drawn from its sheath.
"If we're going to storm the royal capital and tear the place apart, our gear can't look this shabby. Especially if we're up against the Black King and that stitched-together abomination... we'll need some proper finishing moves."
"Finishing moves?" Oona's eyes lit up. "You mean... you're forging divine weapons for us?"
"More or less." Shirou held both hands in front of him, and even the space behind him seemed to start warping faintly. "I don't have enough mana to deploy my Reality Marble right now, but with these high-grade materials, plus my memory..." He paused. "Making each of you a pseudo–Noble Phantasm should still be manageable."
"Noble Phantasm?" everyone echoed, confused.
"In simple terms..." Shirou said, already moving to work, "they're cheat items."
Shirou picked up Argo's lightning-charged wooden sword, the remaining crystal fragments, and the high-purity lightning magic stone.
"Argo, you've always wanted a holy sword, haven't you?" Shirou said. "Then I'll give you one... a sword worthy of the title of future great hero."
"Synchronize—reappearance."
Shirou closed his eyes.
In his mind, he saw the moment that golden-haired girl drew the sword from the stone. Not the holy sword that would later split the stars, but the resplendent blade that symbolized the selection of a king—the sword of certain victory, brilliant and overflowing with hope. It had once broken. And because it had broken, it understood the meaning of reforging better than any other blade.
"This sword's core is lightning."
"Its body is wood and crystal."
"But its concept... is golden victory."
Boom!
Golden lightning exploded in Shirou's hands.
Crozzo had to throw on protective goggles and stared at the scene in horror. "This... this is forging? This looks more like he's causing a natural disaster! Is he really pouring thunder into a block of wood?!"
Ten minutes later, the lightning subsided.
A brand-new sword lay quietly in Shirou's hands.
Its design was almost excessively ornate. The hilt gleamed with a blue enamel-like finish, while the blade itself was a fusion of gold and crystal, with streams of golden lightning flowing within it. It looked almost decorative—but the sacred aura surrounding it was unmistakably real.
Sword of Golden Victory (Caliburn) – Replica, Thunder Version
"Catch."
Shirou tossed it to Argo.
"This sword is called Caliburn. It's only an imitation for now, but as long as you wield it, it will respond to your good fortune. Remember—until the day you truly become a king, this sword will not break. But if your heart strays from the right path..." He paused. "It might explode."
"Waaaaah! It's so cool! Way too cool!" Argo caught the blade with trembling hands. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the hilt, a tingling electric current shot through his entire body and made him shudder. "Th-this feeling...!"
He swung the sword once.
Crackle!
A golden arc of electricity slashed through the air, scorching a black line into the earth and leaving an afterimage hanging in the air.
"This special effect! This feel! This is main-character treatment!" Argo instantly transformed from sobbing wreck to ecstatic lunatic, striking what he clearly thought was a cool pose. "With this, what Demon King? What Minotaur? They're all just drinking snacks! Brother Emiya, I love you!"
"Get away from me. I have standards." Shirou shoved the flying Argo aside in disgust.
Shirou turned to Oona.
"Oona, your axe is too light. For a power-type warrior like you, a weapon needs more than just a sharp edge. It needs weight. Impact. Burst force."
"Exactly! I like them heavy!" Oona rubbed her hands together in excitement.
Shirou picked up a huge block of black meteoric iron—the piece he had found in the underground chamber of the temple.
"Synchronize—projection."
He thought of the Berserker named Sakata Kintoki, and of the giant axe crackling with golden lightning in his grasp. That was the incarnation of the thunder god, the embodiment of monstrous strength.
"This axe is called Golden."
"The material is black iron."
"But I'm infusing it with the concepts of lightning and monstrous strength."
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Shirou's left hand blurred into an afterimage as he hammered furiously at the anvil. With every strike, the meteoric iron shrank a little more—but its density multiplied.
In the end, a single-edged giant axe took shape.
Its entire body was pitch black, but the edge shone with golden lightning. Its design was rough, brutal, and savage, while red lightning patterns ran across the haft.
Golden Eater – Replica, Black Iron Version
"Try it."
Shirou pointed at a massive boulder nearby.
Oona seized the axe in one hand.
"Heavy! I like it!"
With a low growl, her muscles bulged as she brought the axe down in a single full-force swing.
Boom!
No resistance.
The giant boulder, three men tall, was reduced instantly to powder, and even the bedrock beneath it shattered in a wide radius. Golden sparks still danced along the blade.
"Hahahaha! This is amazing! This is what a weapon should be!" Oona stroked the axe lovingly. "Emiya, I've decided. From now on, you're my personal blacksmith. Anyone who tries to steal you, I'll split in half!"
"Fina."
Shirou looked toward the half-elf girl who had been silently observing everything from the side.
"Your archery is excellent. But you lack decisive killing power. Wind magic is fast, but its penetrating force is too weak."
"So?" Fina looked back warily. "You're making something weird for me too?"
"It's not weird. It's art."
From his bag, Shirou pulled out a special piece of wood—the core of Fairy Wood—along with a tendon extracted from Cerberus and purified.
"Synchronize—reprise."
This time, the figure that rose in Shirou's mind was the red-haired Knight of the Round Table: Tristan. The magic bow called Failnaught. It needed no arrows, because sound itself was its arrow. It was an invisible killer, a magic shot that never missed.
"This bow has no physical string."
Shirou bent the fairy wood into an elegant arc and condensed mana into an invisible line.
"It will respond to your mana and convert it into a fusion of sound waves and wind."
The light faded.
An elegant silver longbow appeared in Shirou's hands.
Its shape resembled a harp far more than a weapon.
Failnaught – Replica, Fairy Version
"Take it."
He handed the bow to Fina.
"Try drawing the invisible string."
Half doubtful, Fina accepted it. She placed her fingers against the empty air—
Twang.
A crisp, musical note rang out.
A moment later, a completely invisible vacuum blade shot forward, piercing straight through a tree a hundred meters away and leaving behind a smooth circular hole.
"This..." Fina stared in disbelief. "An invisible arrow? And that sound... it can interfere with the enemy's hearing too?"
"Exactly." Shirou nodded. "And it also carries a conceptual correction of 'certain hit.' As long as your eyes are locked onto the target, the shot will automatically track it. It's there to compensate for the drop in your hit rate during mobile combat."
"M-my hit rate doesn't drop!" Fina snapped, face flushing red. "But... since it was made with good intentions, I suppose I can reluctantly accept it."
Still, she held the bow tightly enough to make it obvious she loved it.
"Last is you, Crozzo."
Shirou turned to the red-haired young man who had been staring at him with longing the entire time.
"I don't need one..." Crozzo muttered self-consciously. "I'm just a blacksmith. My combat ability is terrible."
"Who says blacksmiths can't fight?" Shirou smiled. "You know, in my homeland, there's a legendary smith whose hammer was coveted even by the thunder god."
"A hammer?"
"That's right."
Shirou took out the last major material: a piece of impossibly heavy high-density refined gold alloy.
"Your magic swords are powerful, but their biggest flaw is fragility. So you need a weapon that can withstand a magical overload and also double as a forging tool."
"Synchronize—fantasy."
Shirou pressed both hands against the ingot and compressed into it the concepts of lightning, gravity, and shattering. This was not merely a weapon. It was a mobile anvil.
Rumble.
The ground sank several inches when the weapon finished forming.
It was a square-headed short warhammer of ancient, solid design. Rune patterns were carved into the hammerhead, faintly glowing with lightning.
Mjölnir – Replica, Craftsman Version
"This hammer can be used for ordinary forging," Shirou explained. "Its mana conductivity is ten times greater than a normal smithing hammer. But in battle..." He smiled. "You can throw it."
"It will track the enemy automatically, smash their skull open, and then come flying back to your hand."
"No way—seriously?!" Crozzo lifted it with effort. It was incredibly heavy. But when he poured mana into it, it suddenly became light as a feather.
"Amazing!"
He threw it experimentally.
Whoosh—
The hammer flew out, smashed a rock to pieces, arced through the air, and landed neatly back in his hand.
"This is incredible! With this, I can fight and forge at the same time on the battlefield!" Crozzo was so moved he almost cried.
No one around him had the heart to point out that no normal person would ever choose to smith on a battlefield.
"All right. Full party equipment upgrade complete."
Shirou clapped his hands once and looked over his newly armed companions.
Argo, the clown wielding the golden holy sword replica.Oona, the berserker swinging a lightning-charged giant axe replica.Fina, the archer playing a deathly melody through a false divine bow.Crozzo, the blacksmith hurling a replica of the thunder god's hammer.
The whole party...
...looked exactly like a bunch of pay-to-win players descending on a beginner zone to massacre mobs.
"Um..." Yuris the werewolf and Elmira the dancer, who had been silent until now, finally edged over.
"Um... Brother Emiya? Master Emiya?" Yuris rubbed his hands together with an uncharacteristically flattering smile. "You see... we're teammates too, right? Couldn't you... maybe make me something as well?"
Shirou lifted a brow. "Oh? And who was it that said human-made weapons were trash just a while ago?"
"Who said that? Who?! I'll bite him to death!" Yuris declared righteously. "I have always maintained that Master Emiya is a divine craftsman descended to the mortal world! Anyone who disagrees can fight me!"
"Me too" Elmira threw Shirou a flirtatious wink. "Give me a good blade, and tonight I'm all yours"
"..."
Shirou sighed.
What a bunch of shameless opportunists.
"Fine."
He picked up two leftover scraps of material from the ground.
"But we're short on resources now, so all I can make are smaller accessories."
Ten minutes later—
Yuris received a pair of wind-rune-engraved Talaria – Replica, a degraded version of Hermes's sandals.
"They let you perform a second jump in midair and boost your movement speed by thirty percent."
"Woohoo! I'm flying!" Yuris immediately put them on and started bounding through the forest like a crazed monkey.
Elmira, meanwhile, received a pair of replica Kanshou and Bakuya daggers.
"These have an attraction property," Shirou explained. "Once you throw one of them, the other will generate a magnetic pull and drag you toward the target. It suits your assassination style."
"This is wonderful! Now I can cling to Lord Yuris even better!" Elmira cried excitedly, brandishing the daggers.
"Stay away from me, you freak!" Yuris howled.
...
"All right."
Fiana watched the group of "problem children" testing their new weapons, her lips twitching slightly.
"As ridiculous as this all looks... I can't deny that this party's combat capability has risen by an entire level."
"Helga. Lazar," Fiana ordered. "We'll make our own preparations as well. The battle ahead... may be far more difficult than anything we've seen so far."
"Yes, Captain."
Shirou walked to the cliffside and looked out toward the distant royal capital.
Black mist still shrouded the city.
But through the sight of his Mind's Eye, that darkness no longer seemed quite so terrifying.
Because behind him stood a group of heroes who, though they looked utterly absurd, possessed something far more important—
infinite possibility.
"Let's go."
Shirou turned around and draped the red coat—also a projection—over his shoulders.
"Let's deliver a little present... to that Black King."
"Target: the palace underground sewer system!"
"Operation code name: Everyone SSR, Full Violence Clear Route!"
"OOOOOOHHHHH!!!"
Their battle cry rang through the forest.
The adventure in the Age of Gods was finally entering its last great chapter.
Armed with Noble Phantasms from the future, these fledgling heroes were about to turn that rotten royal capital completely upside down.
....
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