The holy man of the church creek

Chapter 1

The moon loomed in the horizon, clouds swirling around a center point situated in the sky. The night was still, the sounds of the cicadas on the trees out of season.

To be a magus is to walk with death.

He peered up at the sky; for within the sky was an anomaly: a dark void in which found writhing within were tendrils of lightning, and the vibrating thrum of thunderclaps.

"Thou clad in taint and steel- of fire and ruin,"

A voice was ebbing through his head. Ancient, otherworldly, but unmistakably pure and devoid of any ill intentions.

"I know I'm not what it is that you were expecting,"

He felt his body growing light, his body steadily radiating bursts of foreign energy.

"Regardless," the voice seemed to grow weary. "I need your help."

His vision blurred, flecks of black forcing him into unconsciousness.

In a brilliant flash of light, He disappeared from the world. His was the story of a boy born in fire. His was the story of boy who defeated a living legend. And so began the tale of an even greater impossibility.
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Shirou opened his eyes, breathing heavily. His short red hair was matted over his forehead which was glistening with sweat. As for the rest of him, his sleek and narrow face had traces of blood from his previous battle trailing down past his amber coloured eyes. His clothes were in tatters. A pair of jeans were reduced to nothing but torn up shorts, and his previous blue and white long-sleeved shirt was split down the center.

His gaze darted to his surroundings: A ruined mansion steadily being eaten away by scorching flames. He shivered from an unpleasant memory and got up on his feet.

His body felt lighter, stronger, and more resilient to the heat around him.

"It's good that you've woken up."

The aged voice once again spoke to him.

He frowned, unable to understand where it was coming from.

"Who are you?"

He asked.

A glow quickly spread out from in front of him, and from it, a small hand-sized chalice appeared. It was gold, the sides of the cup engraved with archaic designs in which flying doves were depicted soaring through the skies.

Staring at it, and the power it exuded, he could only conclude it to be one thing: The Holy Grail.

He stepped back, as far as he remembered, the Grail had been corrupted.

"Fear not," the voice spoke. "It's not completely what you believe it to be."

With another glow, the Grail shrunk to the size of a single pea before it formed into a necklace around his neck using strings created from another burst of light.

"You may know this to be a powerful mystic code, but regardless of its origin, its symbol alone is what is truly needed to be taken into consideration."