Fate: Abyss of the Heart

A Love Corrupted

Artoria Pendragon had been summoned by the Counter Force, standing as humanity's last bastion against a force capable of obliterating not just civilization, but the very world itself. She now found herself in the ruins of what once was a bustling city, now a wasteland where life had been erased, leaving behind nothing but ash and silence. The wind howled through the barren streets, carrying a sense of foreboding that weighed heavily on her.

Clad in her resplendent armor, Artoria gripped the hilt of Excalibur, its holy light dimmed by the overwhelming darkness that loomed over the land. Avalon, her sheath of immortality, rested by her side, a symbol of the hope she still held onto. In her other hand, she felt the weight of Rhongomyniad, the spear that held the power to uphold the boundaries of the world itself. It was as if the Counter Force had armed her with every divine weapon at her disposal, as if knowing the magnitude of the battle she was about to face.

And yet, as she stood in the eerie silence, there was no immediate enemy, no monstrous figure looming in the distance. Only the suffocating emptiness of a dead world. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of anticipation and dread, but her expression remained steely, a testament to her unshakable resolve.

Then, a sound—a footstep. One singular, deliberate step that shattered the silence. Artoria's breath hitched as she opened her eyes, narrowing them towards the source of the noise. What she saw froze her blood and sent a chill down her spine.

Before her stood Shirou Emiya.

But it wasn't the Shirou she remembered, the one who had fought with her, who had stood for justice and humanity with a heart of unyielding fire. No, this was something else entirely, an abomination wrapped in the familiar visage of her beloved.

His once vibrant red hair, which she had loved for its warmth, was now as black as the void, devoid of any light, as if the very essence of night had consumed it. His once bright, hopeful amber eyes that radiated life and determination were now cold, golden orbs that seemed to burn with demonic intensity, swirling with an abyssal darkness. They stared through her, not at her, and what she saw in them was not the man she knew—but something twisted, corrupted.

Worst of all, his smile, the comforting expression she had cherished, was gone. In its place was a mask of emotionless disdain, his lips set in a firm line, devoid of warmth or care. An oppressive aura of wrath and malice rolled off of him, an energy so thick with dread that even someone as strong as Artoria felt it like a weight pressing down on her chest.

For a moment, she was too stunned to speak, her mind grappling with the horror of what stood before her. This wasn't just Shirou consumed by darkness—this was something far worse. The sheer magnitude of his presence was overwhelming, and she could sense the unearthly power radiating from him, a force strong enough to annihilate everything she was sworn to protect.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken tension, until finally, Shirou broke it with a single, venom-laced word.

"Pendragon..." His voice was low, almost guttural, laced with an edge of hatred and disgust that cut her deeper than any blade could. There was no recognition in his tone, no warmth, only cold contempt.

Artoria's heart clenched painfully at the sound, and she felt the weight of her sword increase as if the very soul of Excalibur mourned this twisted encounter. The man before her, the one she had loved in a different time, was gone. In his place stood something far darker, a nightmare made flesh.

Her grip on Excalibur tightened, her knuckles turning white as she fought the rising tide of sorrow and fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She had faced countless enemies, both monstrous and divine, but nothing had prepared her for this—a battle against the one person she had never thought she would face as an enemy.

"Shirou...?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the howling wind, but there was no softness in her tone, only confusion and heartbreak.

But the Shirou standing before her did not respond to the name, as if it no longer held any meaning to him. Instead, he merely stood there, eyes glowing with malice, waiting.