Fate-in time

34

-What lies in the darkness may not always be what you expect.

Staring at the woman whose features were so similar to his, Shirou blanked as a hand reached out to touch his cheek. It was cold to the touch, but the feeling was only momentary as the woman withdrew her hand and seemed to step out from the shadows.
She was ethereal, a being that seemed to exist, yet not exist at the same time much like a paradox. However, to the him presently staring at her, the woman couldn't have been any more real.
Long locks of ginger-coloured hair encompassed a face that was youthful as it was elegant. The contours of her mouth was spread into a warm tilt, and her bronze-coloured eyes seemed to regard him as the center of attention.
When she drew back her hand, he felt an explicable feeling of loss that suddenly turned cold when he noticed the deathly blankness of her face.
"Foul wench, to take the lady's face as your own, you're lucky this bird doesn't reduce you to ashes," Efret spoke with a glower.
Unlike the human world, Efret could directly convey his thoughts within the space in the Reverse Side of the World. It did not matter how proficient he was in the human language, in here, he could directly convey his words just as well as any other human.
Shirou wasn't surprised at the sound of Efret's voice as Efret had been communicating with him since young. However, the animosity he heard in it drew his attention.
Almost as soon as Efret spoke, the visage of the woman before him smiled before begining to shift. The hair that was once a ginger colour had now gradually become a shade of pale black tied into a tiara around her head.
The warmth that had been in her expression had long since disappeared. Instead, what remained was a solemn looking woman who looked at him in two parts pity, and one part expectation. The complexion of her face was a tad pale, but there was a rosiness on her cheeks, which denoted her excitement even as she ignored Efret's glaring. Walking within the mist-like shadows of the world around him, she appeared before him in a cloud of dark that seemed to regard him with scrutiny. The shadows themselves seemed to be her clothing, swirling patterns like black fur on a satin dress.
"You're late," were the first words out of her mouth, her eyes drooping. "The Lady no longer has the strength to see you herself no matter how much she wished to. Although, it was probably for the best that she hadn't."
Saying that, the woman gave out a long sigh. "From the blank expression that was on your face, you couldn't even recognize the woman who sacrificed everything for you. How ungrateful."
"Agatha," Efret spoke sharply, a flame in its eyes.
"Ah, a name I've not been called by in a long time, but I suppose it will do for now," Agatha said without a care before glancing at Efret with a raised brow. "You asked why I dared appear as the Lady? Well clearly, it was because something had gone wrong. With how it was supposed to be, the child was to take up his inheritance years ago, yet the Lady didn't so much as offer a complaint as she sacrificed even more for him in the past years until it was too late. Only now does the son return when the mother is too weak to offer greetings."
Efret clamped down with its beak, suppressing the rage it felt at this moment. Agatha's actions were a clear form of vindictiveness in his perspective. By appearing as the Lady, Agatha wished to witness a suitable reaction before berating him on his tardiness. However, she would get a reaction that was completely unexpected.
To think that the son would remember nothing at all.
Shaking her head, the excitement in Agatha's eyes began to die down; only a modicum of it remaining when she noticed that Shirou at least had the Ashton Magic Crest.
"What is going on?" Shirou finally could no longer remain silent. "Why are phantasmal species once again returning to the human world?"
Agatha pursed her lips, but eventually began to elaborate under Efret's watchful gaze.
"Because one of the Anchors that prevented the phantasmal species from traversing sides is weakening. The artificial anchor created by Lord Ashton himself." Agatha elaborated with a wave of her hand.
The Anchors in question were objects that fastened the very planet together. They ensured that the phantasmal species on the Reverse Side could not destroy the world of humans on the outermost layer of the world. Therefore, its importance could not be over looked.
However, Agatha was so nonchalant about delivering such news that she was even sitting atop a surface in the dark and making herself comfortable.
"And why is it weakening?" Shirou asked.
Agatha gave him a glance before replying. "Because the final source of power it had to maintain itself was on the verge of dwindling. Lady Ashton could not hold on any longer, and she refused to drag you into it for as long as possible regardless of my opinion."
"It's because you're a savage. Only a fool would listen to your opinion," Efret scoffed.
"And you're a flaming bird," Agatha replied evenly. "You might as well let nature take its course and become a roasted chicken."
"Y-YOU," Efret's feathers ruffled.
"Enough," Shirou said. Now was not the time for arguments. "Is there any way to strengthen the anchor?"
Agatha fell into thought before tossing Shirou a stone the colour of ivory. Inspecting it, it was of the same make as the object Lord Barwheld had given him. The same stone that had brought him here.
"You must gather all of the phantasmal species that were able to make it to the other side with this stone. Their power should be enough to fuel the Anchor created by the Ashtons for at least another millennia before depleting. Of course, you can also just seal the Anchor away after securing it and allow Gaia to deteriorate it. However, that comes with its own consequences."
Agatha shrugged. "The choice is yours, but if you were to take my opinion-"
"Agatha," Efret interrupted.
The woman in question rolled her eyes and ignored Efret.
"There is another way and one much quicker if you're decisive enough." Agatha stood up from her position in the shadows and walked to stand before Shirou.
"It was the method Lord Ashton used before his fall. When only a specific group of phantasmal species were able to cross through the Anchor, all others unable to even think of crossing."
Agatha lifted her arms, and free from the shadows, the shackles that bound her were evident for Shirou to see. They rattled as Agatha moved around him, a wryness in her eyes that could be nothing other than nostalgia.
"A pact of old. And with it, I can guarantee that no other phantasmal species may cross ever again. You need only accept."
Agatha stared at him now, searchingly. Her gaze spoke of her loneliness, making it such that it was not hard to understand what it was that she was thinking.
He would decline her.
Someone bound so tightly by chains even in the Reverse Side of the World should not be someone of little value. She was dangerous, and he could tell just from a single glance. The way her crimson eyes shone in the dark had an enchanting allure to it that even now made it difficult to stop staring at them.
"Young lord," Efret advised warningly from the side.
He ignored Efret for the time being, his attention on Agatha alone.
Why would someone so powerful such that it was necessary to bind her in chains, remain loyal to a family of magi, the Ashtons? He did not know the answer.
Yet staring at Agatha, there was a voice that spoke in his mind. Gentle and soft, a woman who seemed to care for him too deeply for her own good.
Agatha isn't bad. She's tough on the outside, but a big softy in the inside.
And it was ultimately this voice that allowed him to make a decision. Besides, he had mixed feelings when he saw that Agatha was in chains. The loneliness he could see in her only made it worse.
"Then I will make a pact," he said decisively.
Agatha suddenly paused in her steps, her expression stiff as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard. However, Efret reacted the most. Its body froze as if it had just died on the spot.
Opening and closing her mouth, Agatha finally swallowed before pursing her lips and moving to stand directly in front of him. From how close she was, he could smell the scent of gooseberries exuding from her hair. Yet, it wasn't the smell that made him feel as if he'd made the right choice, but the way she smiled at him instead. It wasn't forced, nor was it fake, it was genuine.
"Do you truly mean your words?"
He could hear the agitation in Agatha's voice along with her growing excitement. Her body seemed to shift away from the shadows at that moment, becoming corporeal as she scrutinized him.
Looking at his resolve, Agatha licked her lips, leaving them glossed as she smiled bewitchingly. She no longer appeared to be that elegant woman of before, but rather, a matriarch that had once commanded the respect of many.
"Interesting." Lush lips opened to reveal a bewitching smile. "And so let the pact be sealed once more, son of Ashton."
Shirou nodded, his eyes betraying nothing. This caused Agatha to raise her opinion of him from what it already was.
Efret did not know what to think as he watched the situation silently. No matter what, it would simply follow the will of its young lord.
Agatha suddenly laughed. "Good courage youngling! You remind me of that damned father of yours! Very well! Take upon this blood of mine and smear it over thine hands!"
It was the tiniest of trickles, a drop of blood that dripped down from Agatha's outstretched finger, but with that drop, the chains that bound her began to wither away.
The drop itself landed on the back of his hands, shining a vibrant red before marking the symbol of two fangs and a sword on his skin. It emitted a faint heat, and from it, he could understand that it was a mark similar to a sigil or rune containing traces of potent magic.
He would not understand its significance until later, but now, he was not able to speak before Agatha beat him to it.
"The Beasts of the Blood Pacts stand by your side, Master. May we bathe in the blood of our enemies, and strike fear into their hearts!"
One can still find hope where there is nothing.
Arturia tightened the grip she had around Caliburn, the words Merlin had once imparted to her playing through her mind. It gave her strength, even if it was only temporary. After all, the nervousness that welled up from within her was not something she presently wished she had.
A breath left her mouth, her eyes drooping as her thoughts wandered to the concern she felt for Shirou. In fact, her concern was what was truly driving her at present. Above fear of death, she feared losing the people she cared about more.
Her eyes sharpened.
O sword that vanquishes the wicked, grant me strength.
The enemies approached at an astonishing rate, the wooden barricades the townspeople had set up nothing more than trampled twigs underfoot. Her breathing evened, her feet planting against the ground before she lightly pushed off.
Legends spoke of Dragons and Knights, of Witches and Wizards, and the enemies they faced.
Now, she was the same.
Fleet of foot, her steps were without sound, leaving behind only the rustling of the leaves from the swift breeze left in her wake. She was no longer that little girl that cried in the darkness of the woods. She was no longer that child following behind the backs of others.
No, she was much more.
A delicate step over uneven ground, and then silence.
Mana Burst!
The howl of the wind exploded outwards, a hurricane seeming to form around her in the shape of a cone as she gouged a path through the very earth. A violent tempest of zephyrs that scattered dirt and dust into the wind; the sight of which rendered all at a loss for words.
It was as if a spear were thrusting forward to pierce a path through the dark.
The air was cold when it pressed against her face, her hair unbraiding and whipping back to flail behind her. Golden tresses that shone in the radiance of the moon.
The beasts snarled in response, the rolling wave of thick-furred animals increasing their speed. They lumbered forward on all fours, claws digging into the ground as fat gobs of viscous saliva rolled off their lips. They had the heads of wolves and dogs, their bodies disproportionate, yet it only made them appear more frightening.
They seemed to pay particular mind to her approach, the entire wave of them pausing abruptly.
Parting, the beast of her childhood stepped up at the front to meet her charge.
Its eyes were bloodshot, and the hatred it harboured was palpable. It remembered clearly the events of that night, of the child who should have died beneath its claws yet survived due to the emergence of a sword.
Even now she still had it in her possession, the sword Shirou gave that dictated the moves of its wielder. It had been the only reason she had survived that confrontation, her experience nowhere near enough.
As she approached with each step sending her bounding forward ten meters, it was as if time had frozen for her.
Her pupils dilated minutely, her hands holding onto Caliburn's hilt shifting along with her body as she began to twist.
No matter what,
"Tah!" Her feet planted firmly into the ground, the gale following behind her blowing past and shooting towards the beasts.
This was a battle she had to win.
She erupted on the beast's side, ramming her shoulder into the beast's chest before grunting and throwing herself right into the lot of them. Her head began to ring from the imapct, a bout of nausea making her vision swim, however, her training kicked in. Spinning on her heels, she gripped hard onto Caliburn with both hands before executing a horizontal sweep. Flesh and bone scattered in a shower of red that matted against her face.
It smeared in the next moment when she abruptly threw herself to the side.
Heart pounding furiously, she watched closely as a large claw pierced the ground where she had just stood. Thereafter, she was swarmed.
Not good.
Even without Merlin or Shirou explaining it, she knew that it was never a bright idea to fight while surrounded, but she had no choice.
Mana Burst!
The ability she had learned all too long ago flooded her body with magical power as she hurled herself further into enemy lines. Spittle flew as she rammed herself into a beast and then pushed. Hard.
Like a spring, her small body pushed forth with immeasurable magical strength that hammered through the enemy line. No matter how many beasts were in front of her, she never stopped pushing as craters formed beneath her feet. The beast she had propped directly in front of her rammed into beast after beast, the lot of them clumping up before bursting when she eventually reached the other end of the beast's encirclement.
However, it wasn't without difficulties.
The Magical Armour Merlin had given her offered her enough protection, but it couldn't stop everything. Small bruises and cuts appeared on her exposed skin, but was primarily on her shoulders. They stung with every movement, yet all she could do was grit her teeth and persevere.
Caliburn pierced forward, its blade severing flesh from bone before swinging out again in a repeated process.
She didn't know how many beasts she'd stabbed, hacked, or slashed, but what she did know was that it wasn't in vain. From the initial charge, the beasts were closing directly in on Bristol and its townsfolk, yet by directly piercing through the beasts, she'd changed the situation.
It was much like a man stirring up a hornet's nest, they gave chase to her immediately.
Running through the fields, she eyed them warily, feeling fatigued as she wasn't used to flooding her body with magical energy for so long. Mana Burst was the only reason she was able to maintain her position ahead of the beasts, yet she knew that further use would only exhaust her.
Shirou.
She pursed her lips. It was times like these when she depended on him. Even now, her gaze would constantly shift to the sky looking for the familiar sight of flying arrowheads. To hear their familiar whistle as even though Shirou wasn't beside her, he always had her back.
"Even if you ever think your alone, you're not because I will never leave you."
The words he once spoke to her caused the apprehension within her to increase as they filtered into her mind. It occurred shortly after the Vernier incident when she refused to let him out of her sight for even a moment. He had surprisingly taken her into his arms and whispered sweet nothings into her ears as if she was just some ordinary village girl. And yet, she treasured that memory like none other, just the thought of it making her giddy.
A memory that now only served to further her anxiety.
Her expression warped as Caliburn lodged itself into the body of a beast, it's muscles contracting to hold the blade in place.
"Geh," she groaned as the beast then lunged at her.
She was out of options.
Her magical energy exploded from within her once again, the coattails of the white dress Merlin had dressed her in fluttering upwards. They were like white rose petals dancing to the din of battle.
Instantly, power thrummed into her arms, Caliburn emitting a magical heat that pained the beast greatly. It howled in grief, yet she could give it no respite. The other beasts were already closing in on her. With a squelching sound, Caliburn dislodged itself from the beast's body, severing the sinew of its arms in the process.
She had no time to kill the beast and put it out of its misery as the others immediately tried to swarm her.
Once again, she was shifting across the battlefield fleet footedly, seeming to dance from one place to another, leading the beasts further and further away from Bristol. She was completely intent on ensuring their safety.
As a result, she didn't know what was going through the minds of the people behind her, and she would have had been shocked to find out the impact she was having on them.
With blades, men charged into battle.
With valor, they slew their enemies.
And when the air festered with the likes of monsters that blotted out the very fields, it was a flower blooming in the chaos that changed everything.
It was like a dance, elegant and regal, a woman with a swift sword greater than the attack of any foe. Yet it was more than just that in James's Wolfred and the people's eyes, for she appeared as hope itself. And when that hope appeared to be tiring, a ferocity appeared in James Wolfred's eyes that had not shone so brightly since his youth.
Body trembling, James's could no longer hold back the turbulence welling from within him. He was a man, and he was left cowering in the back? Cowardice! He would no longer stand for it.
A wolf doesn't abandon its own.
Gaze sweeping across the other men around him, he was proud to discover them in a similar state of agitation.
His mouth opened, and a voice stronger than any other echoed throughout the bloodied hills.
"To ARMS!"
Men and woman alike held dainty looking sickles and sticks as not many had the luxury to afford a sword. Even still, urged by their desire to fight, they stood over their fears to gather together.
It was simply the draw of Charisma.
"Helen, gather the men and woman on one side and meet me at the furthest walls," James said.
Helen, Sir Ander's sister gave a curt nod before issuing commands. The bulky armour on her person still made her look a bit off, but James couldn't help but admire her personality.
"My Lord," the garrisoned Knights he had left in Bristol saluted James.
"Fetch my armour, and sound the horns," James beckoned. "If we die tonight, we die as spirits of vengeance!"
For the woman who was risking her very life for them, it was a good day to die.
And so, armed with nothing but the armour and weapons they could barely scrounge, James charged forth at the front with Helen, screaming at the distant wave of beasts.
His shout carried through the still air before the sound of horns blaring encompassed it.
Startled, Arturia was just barely able to sweep past an over head strike before her expression froze when she noticed James and the rest. A warmth spread through her at that moment.
When you fight for others, they won't give up on you.
Already the exhaustion was causing her face to pale, but she renewed her efforts with vigor.
She no longer ran away to distance the beasts from Bristol. There was no longer a need as the people themselves revealed their intentions. They would fight alongside her.
"Eei!" She shouted, Caliburn flying up into an arc.
Sparks flew as a claw grated along the flat of Caliburn's blade, lighting up Arturia's face as she angled Caliburn to run over the edge of the claw. It was with a flick of her hands that Caliburn sliced directly into the beast, and with a quick flash of Mana Burst, the beast was severed in half by the waist.
The torso fell to the side, but she was forced to kick the legs away to trip the next lunging beast.
It was then that the beast of her childhood struck her from the shadows.
The wind was literally knocked out of her, as she stared blankly at the fist that pushed against her chest. Then in the next moment, she tumbled against the ground, swarmed relentlessly by the attacks of the other beasts.
She immediately brought her hands to cover her head as the blows literally showered over her like rain.
"Agh," she cried out in pain.
"Get away from her!"
A barrel of steel rammed into the beasts and gave Arturia enough time to stagger onto her feet. However, the barrel of steel in question did very little to even damage the beast it had run into, instead it barely even left a nick.
"Damn it," Helen cursed as she withdrew. "Lord Wolfred hurry!"
Just as Helen had done, James and the rest struck out and pushed forward with all their strength. Their weapons buckled and snapped almost immediately, but they pushed on with their bodies alone.
Almost immediately the beasts retaliated. Bulky arms swung out in unpredictable arcs that bludgeoned James and the others.
Blood began to run down James's face, but he and Helen refused to retreat.
Even if they couldn't directly kill any beast individually, as a group they could force them back.
"Hurry wife of Ashton! Get over here!" James yelled urgently. He didn't know how long he and the others could keep the beasts at bay, but by the popping of his bones, it wasn't going to be long.
Unable to say anything in response to James's words, Arturia rallied to them in an instant to ease their pressure.
Her arms were already numb, and her muscles were screaming at her to rest. However, she was of Dragons blood, and had greater stamina then her peers.
"Fall back!" She said to James while striking out with Caliburn. "You'll all die if you stay here!"
"Then we die fighting friend," Helen said.
Helen wielded a knife of all things due to a lack of equipment. Each strike was like lightning with how proficient she appeared to be with it. It was almost absurd to think that all of her skill with a knife had come in preparation for her marriage. A way to a man's heart was food after all.
Yet this knife was not cutting anything close to food at the moment.
A beast hissed in pain as the knife jabbed into its eye before snapping.
"Well shit," Helen cursed before falling back behind James.
The armour Helen was wearing had numerous grazes and was even pierced directly through the chest. However, perhaps because it was too bulky, the attacks had barely missed contact with her actual skin.
The situation was bleak. Even with Caliburn thrumming with power by Arturia's side and mowing down enemies with every swing, there was just too many of them. Unlike Shirou, she couldn't fire off an unlimited number of swords and arrows, but rather she was specialized solely on single-combat.
Merlin, Shirou, Kay, Sir Ector.
She felt helpless. What was she supposed to do? All around her she could see the people James brought with him die left and right. They were just ordinary townsfolk, not once swinging a real sword in the entirety of their lives. In fact, most were just using simple harvesting sickles as weapons, but they shattered upon impact.
How could a King allow his subject to die right before his eyes without doing anything?
"R-Retreat!" She pleaded to James. She couldn't bear to see others dying for her sake. Now more than ever, she wished to be strong. Not just strong enough to stand by Shirou's side, but strong enough to protect those who placed their faith in her.
For it was her path to Kingship.
Caliburn suddenly pulsed with white light, shooting a beam that incinerated half the beasts bearing down on James and the rest.
They stood there stunned for a moment, and Arturia used that chance to her advantage.
She swung again and again, beams of radiance incinerating the wicked as a voice urged her with only a single command that was lost to her in the heat of the moment.
Call my name.
Caliburn, the Sword of Choosing.
It seemed to strike at the rhythm of her pace, and soon, the beasts backed off from James and the others.
She was breathing heavily, only now that she'd stopped swinging Caliburn could she feel the dip in her magical reserves.
"Y-You, that sword?" James said quizzically, yet the admiration in his eyes couldn't be hidden.
The others were the same. To them, Caliburn was a peerless magic sword that was warding away all danger.
It was only when James scrutinized Caliburn that his eyes widened into saucers. After all, as a Noble, there was no way that he'd never once glimpsed the Legacy left behind by the late King Uther.
"The Sword in the Stone! T-Then the King!" James's exclamation was drowned out by the combined howls of the beasts, making it difficult for anyone to hear him.
A short moment passed when the howls died down, and still, in that one moment, a chill traveled down Arturia's back.
It was a shadow that zipped towards her too quickly before she could react.
A clawed hand clamped over her head and she immediately felt her feet leave the ground. A muffled shout escaped her mouth as she felt the hand tighten unbearably. Caliburn immediately began hacking at the appendage, her strikes increasingly more powerful as she grew more and more desperate.
When the pressure on her head felt as if it was about to burst, Caliburn once again lit up with a dull light that completely severed the hand. Falling off of her face, the hand fell limply over the ground and revealed her complexion. Red marks marred her pale cheeks as she then gasped for air.
Across from her was the lone beast that she had once fought in the forest in her childhood. It had grown, and even though it was missing a hand, it stared provocatively at her.
The distance from Arturia and the rest was around a hundred-meters from how far the beast was able to drag her away, and already she could see the other beasts beginning to converge on them.
She needed to help them!
Putting strength into her legs, she attempted to bypass the beast in front of her.
An arm blocked her path
Exhausted, she was just barely able to block with Caliburn.
Th sword as if reacting to the beast's touch sent out a wave of light that forced the beast to distance itself. However, it still placed itself directly on the path towards James and the others.
Arturia bit her lips, her numbed arms once again positioning Caliburn in front of her. She glared, eyes burning with fire.
Yet even if she wanted to do anything at that moment, reality was too harsh.
The beast leered at her, seeming to be completely confident in its victory. She couldn't understand why. Even if she was exhausted, she still had ample magical reserves in stock. After all, her reserves were something that even Merlin considered monstrous.
If push came to shove, she would release it all in a desperate bid.
A cold feeling that wrapped stiffly against her ankles.
She looked down rigidly, only to see the beast's severed hand clasped around her feet.
"!"
Almost before she could use Caliburn to free herself, the beast was before her, a claw aimed squarely at her chest.
Mana Burst!
Her magic swelled at the exact moment the claw made contact with her armour, but even then she couldn't help but black out. The strike was too strong.
All she felt after the claw descended on her, was that she was flying.
Flying so high that she dearly missed the weight of Shirou's hands over her shoulders.
Keeping her safe.
"Take a seat," Agatha insisted, letting him rest on top of Efret when Agatha realized she had no chairs to offer.
Shirou didn't respond.
He was left in a daze trying to understand what the Beast of the Blood Pacts were. Agatha slyly ended up having her way with Shirou. Not that it was a bad thing, as she made sure that he was comfortable by glaring at Efret to ensure that Efret was at an appropriate size to be a chair.
Truly Efret felt wronged, but how could it argue when it was for the sake of the young lord?
After making the pact, Agatha's attitude towards Shirou had improved such that she was being more cordial. However, Shirou vaguely had the idea that it was more likely that she was just enjoying her newfound freedom. The chains that had once bound her were gone after all, allowing her to move without restraint.
Even if he felt happy for her, he still had to make sure to settle matters first though.
He cleared his throat to get her attention. "So, the other phantasmal species won't be able to cross anymore?"
"Oh, they won't dare, I assure you," Agatha said with a strange grin. "Just leave all that to me. However, for the phantasmal species that have already gone through, they would have to be dealt with by more forceful means. Not all phantasmal species can be as magnanimous as myself after all."
"You, magnanimous?" Efret looked as if it had swallowed a fly.
"Shut up chair," Agatha replied without missing a beat. She then focused her attention on Shirou. "For such phantasmal species, they will have to be confronted. That simple."
Shirou nodded his head before deciding that it was probably time to head back. He was sure that Arturia was worried for him. After all, he had just suddenly disappeared right in front of her before.
When Shirou mentioned leaving however, Agatha put on an apologetic face. "You can't right now," she said simply. "I need to gather more strength to send you back. As I am now, I would only be able to pierce a small hole back and nothing larger."
Shirou fell silent, his worry clear.
Agatha frowned in response. From how it was originally supposed to be, Shirou was supposed to use the residual power of the stone that brought him here to return. However, he had already stayed for too long and the residual power of the stone had long since dissipated.
"Well, I can at least show you what's happening on the other side," Agatha said apologetically.
It was done to ease Shirou's worries, but Agatha had no idea that it would have the opposite effect.
The first scene Shirou saw after Agatha waved her hand to produce a thin mist before him was Arturia facing a wave of beasts alone. That scene was followed by Arturia sailing across the air before tumbling onto the ground unmoving.
Shirou's fury burned like a bitter cold. His hands balled into fists so tightly that the sounds of bones popping echoed in the air. Yet he paid it no notice. Muscles tense, and face unnaturally calm, his magical energy fluctuated violently around him. Interface patterns began crawling up his skin as his magic circuits thrummed to life in an instant.
Eyes narrowing, he stared so heatedly at Agatha that she felt as if she were looking at one of her own. It made her impression of Shirou increase even more. She licked her lips and couldn't help but estimating the capabilities of the young Ashton. What would he do? She waited in anticipation.
"How large of a hole can you tear into space with your current power?" He probed.
Agatha rose a brow with intrigue, the question not something she was expecting.
"Around the size of two hands," she said cordially. "Although I would advise not trying to force yourself through. You never know what you'll end up losing if you do."
He fell silent with her answer, but moment later he nodded as a shining radiance stemmed from the sword that appeared in his hands.
Almost as soon as that sword appeared, Agatha immediately grew startled, eyes dilating as the hairs on her body stood on end. The world itself began to glow.
This was far from anything that she was expecting. It was borderline unthinkable.
"S-Symbols of the Fae," Agatha muttered in alarm. "But that's impossible."
Agatha shut her mouth as her mind reeled from what she'd just scene. Any preconceptions she might have had about her new contractor were suddenly shattered in a single move.
Shirou ignored Agatha's reaction and simply stared at her without a change in expression.
"The size of two hands is more than enough," he then said. "If you will?"
clumsily, Agatha raised her hands to pierce into the void.
A wind picked up from the east and began steadily blowing to the west; the sounds of fighting continuing to echo overhead, yet everything ceased in the next moment.
When the birds no longer sing, and the world lays barren in ruins,
A hero must stand from the rest.
A flock of crows circled the sky above, black feathered messengers of death lying in wait for a quick morsel.
Their cries too were snuffed out though, their forms banished away as a heavy pressure filled the area.
It was a feeling that prickled at the backs of all. Something distinct that caused a lull in the unfolding chaos of the battlefield, and everyone felt it.
A presence that knew no equal.
Swallowing, the beasts stared at one another as hesitation flashed within their eyes moments away from swarming James and the rest. They knew this power, for it was one that was feared even by those on the Reverse Side. Yet it should have had been impossible. The likes of them wouldn't interfere in other's matters so easily.
Space began to warp, creating a funnel that seemed to pierce into the fabric of the world.
A light that was inextinguishable.
Cusps of air began to blow in the dimness of the evening, causing the hairs on the beasts' bodies to rise like startled cats, and even then, it wasn't enough to hide their trembling.
A palpable tension rose and proliferated, only becoming worse as time stretched on.
With the swaying of the leaves and the grass, the silence of the hills became deathly apparent. And in the dim moonlight, an object steadily began to appear from the cloudless sky, a chorus of voices following with it as the night seemed to burst into life.
Children's laughter.
High pitched and energetic, and only the beasts could hear it.
It was the sound of celebration, of reverence, and awe as a seemingly sacred object began to emerge.
A sword of the Fae.
And the proclamation of the fairies and nature.
The trees, the shrubs, the water, and the earth, they were all of nature, connected intimately to what was known as the Phantasmal species of the Elves and the Fae.
Bards told of them as mischievous winged creatures, but also beings of great renown and beauty.
When the Fae existed in the world of man, nature was truly alive, the spirits of plants and animals rejoicing. And in this moment, mots of fiery yellow light began emitting from them, swirling into the sky where they floated like lanterns.
A situation in which night became day.
The beasts were stupefied, no longer able to understand what was happening. This was even more so for the young beast that had been facing Arturia, a vague sense of dejavu welling from within it.
Over with Arturia, her fingers began to twitch as she willed herself to stay conscious, her grip beginning to slacken on Caliburn's hilt, but she refused to let go. Lying sprawled on the ground, her fingers then dug into the grass, looking for purchase to push herself up.
Her body groaned in response to her actions, the earlier blow to her stomach sending waves of pain that seemed to eat away at her mind. From the way it felt as if she was being stabbed numerous times with every breath, she was sure that she had broken a rib in her last exchange too.
Shaking her head, she gritted her teeth and pushed on.
She coughed once, then twice before she propped herself up on her hands, her vision beginning to blur from exhaustion. However, it was then that she determined that something was wrong.
There was no way the beast that she was facing would have had ceased its attacks just to watch her struggle to get up.
Flecks of light glowing like fire flies in the night.
She blinked, making sure that what she had just seen was real.
Around her hands were several mots of light that twirled around her before flying back up into the sky.
Her eyes trailed their path and eventually landed on the object that had fully emerged into the world.
A sword shone with the luster of radiant gold.
A language that could not have been forged by human hands.
And ancient words etched into steel.
Her breath caught in her throat, her blood pumping furiously within her.
It was calling her, and she felt it despite being unable to understand why. She felt a connection towards the sword as if she herself was the actual owner, yet that was impossible. No matter how deeply she thought, this was definitely the first time she had laid eyes on it.
But it didn't matter.
A breath left her mouth, and a dragon seemed to roar in her ears as her blood of dragons coursed relentlessly through her.
The King who would lead a country.
And the swords that fought by the King's side.
A power began to exude from Caliburn, its dim glow seeming to react in response to the emergence of the other sword. It thrummed once, then twice, before the sword of choosing bathed itself in a blinding white.
Almost as soon as this occurred, the sword floating in the sky shot down to plant itself directly before Arturia as if encouraging her to persevere.
Face paling, she forced herself forward with sheer willpower.
Wobbling onto her feet, she had no choice but to use Caliburn as a crutch, but nevertheless, she stood up. And in that one act, the sword before her seemed to present itself to her, hilt first.
The reaching of a hand was all it would take.
On a blood soaked field where a flower bloomed alone in the swaying of the tall grass, a girl stood with two swords in hand. One to support, and the other held out in front. One glowing a faint white while the other was basked in resplendent gold, fiery mots of starlight traveling down its shaft like rolling grains of sand.
One breath, then two.
When the moon loomed overhead and the sword was raised high, a towering spire of magical energy shot up into the heavens.
A power and strength to be exalted.
For it was a blade crafted upon the hopes and dreams of Humanity.
Sword of the Fae.
"Holy Sword Excalibur."