After the party slaughtered the fish monsters, they were preparing to continue their journey when a sudden scream rang out from the crowd. Shirou, alarmed by the sound, rushed over to see what had happened. As he approached, he saw a villager writhing on the ground, clutching his leg in agony. A small, dying monster had latched onto the villager's leg, its teeth sinking deep into the flesh.
Without hesitation, a soldier stepped forward, drew his sword, and with one swift, precise stroke, chopped off the head of the small monster. However, even with its head severed from its body, the creature refused to release its grip on the villager's leg. Instead, it tore a chunk of flesh from the wound, its jaws continuing to work as it chewed the bloody meat in its mouth.
The sight was grotesque and unsettling, as the headless monster continued to chew and chew, its movements gradually slowing as its life force faded from its body. It was only when its breath finally stopped, its body growing still, that it stopped its chewing. By then, the piece of flesh had been reduced to a bloody pulp in its mouth. The sight was nothing short of horrifying.
Salter's voice cut through the shocked silence, "I know what that feels like... being so hungry you'd consider eating your own flesh. These magical beasts are no different. Don't let their frail appearance fool you. It's when they're like this that they're the most dangerous!"
Shirou nodded, the truth of her words sinking in. It didn't matter if these creatures were starving and weak; at their core, they were still magical beasts, and that fact couldn't be ignored.
The soldiers, now on high alert, moved forward and methodically severed the heads of the remaining fish monsters. They took no chances, ensuring each beast was well and truly dead before the group continued on their journey.
Shirou decided to walk alongside Sigurd, leaving the carriage for the wounded and the weak. Suddenly, Sigurd turned to him and remarked, "That King Arthur reminds me a lot of Brynhildr. And you, Eternal King, you're very much like me."
"Don't get the wrong idea. My relationship with Saber is nothing like the romantic bond you share with Brynhildr. Saber and I are just companions, that's all."
"Eternal King, it's you who misunderstands," Sigurd countered, "My relationship with Brynhildr is also one of fellow companions. But just like how she was with me back then, King Arthur is being influenced by you, molding herself to your thoughts and ideals, making your way of thinking her own. This is a dangerous path to tread."
Shirou shook his head, "You're reading too much into it, Sigurd. We're all grown-ups here. Our thoughts aren't so easily swayed by others. We've got our own well-established ways of thinking."
Suddenly, a realization hit him. "Wait, you just mentioned that Saber is similar to Brynhildr. And from what you're saying, Brynhildr..."
"That's right." Sigurd confirmed with a sigh, "She took my thoughts as the foundation for her own understanding of the world. Every word I spoke, she accepted as truth and put into practice. But the problem is, back then, I was angry at the world and everyone else. The concepts I shared with her were intentionally distorted and misleading, born out of my own bitterness and frustration with life at the time."
Sigurd continued, his voice heavy with regret, "All she ever wanted was to understand love, to know what it meant to care for someone. It was this very curiosity that led Odin to curse her. And when I discovered who she truly was, I let my bitterness guide my words. I deliberately told her that love and liking were one and the same, and that to love meant to kill. I made her believe that the ultimate expression of love was to take the life of someone you love..."
He paused, his eyes distant, "It was in that moment that I realized the gravity of my mistake. I should never have projected my anger towards the gods onto someone so pure and innocent. I've carried this regret with me ever since. All I've wanted is to see her again, to tell her that what I said was wrong."
Shirou listened intently, understanding slowly sinking in. Sigurd's determination to find Brynhildr arose from a deep-seated need to right his own wrongs. But sadly, some mistakes were inherently difficult to undo, if not impossible.
Shirou couldn't help but draw parallels between Sigurd's mistake and the errors made by others. Merlin, Saber, even he himself had all made similar missteps. These numerous mistakes, intertwined and interconnected, gave birth to the human world as they knew it. Yet, none of these mistakes were predestined by the world; they were all self-inflicted wounds.
"Boom!!!"
A world-shattering explosion suddenly illuminated the distant shore, bathing it in a light as bright as day. Sigurd stared at the incandescent glow, his expression one of utter disbelief. "This mana fluctuation, there's no mistaking it... But how? How is this possible? Odin, are you playing tricks on me again? Brynhildr, could it really be you?"
Shirou's eyes scanned the frozen expanse before him, the other side shrouded by a veil of snow and wind. Yet, despite the obstructed view, he could sense the unmistakable presence of multiple Heroic Spirits.
This sensation was something ordinary people couldn't perceive, a unique wavelength that only Servants possessing a Saint Graph could mutually detect. The only way to conceal a Servant's wavelength was through the Assassin class skill [Presence Concealment].
The sheer magnitude of the Heroic Spirit presence he felt indicated that there was undoubtedly a Servant on the other side of the plain, and a formidable one at that.
As he watched Sigurd sprint towards the source of the presence, he couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness for him. The Servant on the other side was most likely Brynhildr, the one Sigurd had longed to meet for so long. To be able to reunite despite the barriers of time and space was truly a remarkable occurrence.
Shirou understood that encountering Brynhildr at this Connection Point filled Sigurd's heart with immense joy. Perhaps, with this chance meeting, Sigurd could finally make amends for his past mistake and help Brynhildr see the truth, correcting the misguided notions he had once instilled in her.
"Brynhildr..." Sigurd called out softly, but as the distance between them closed and he caught sight of her, his originally smiling face suddenly changed color. Without a word, he abruptly turned around and ran.
"Boom!"
An icy blue light, containing immense magical energy, formed a beam like an icicle and bombarded the place where Sigurd had been just moments before, directly destroying the frozen ground and leaving a gaping crater in its wake.
"Please, don't turn your back on me like this! Don't leave me again!" Brynhildr pleaded, her divine spear in hand as she chased after him.
"Anything, I'll do anything! Just put down that spear first!" Sigurd yelled over his shoulder, picking up speed as he ran.
"How can I put down this love? How can I extinguish this joy burning within me? Only death can prove my love for you. This is my love, my dear Sigurd. Please, don't leave me anymore, don't run from my love." Brynhildr pursued him relentlessly, her divine spear poised to strike. A strange, faint blush colored her beautiful face as she ran.
"No, Brynhildr, it's not like that at all!" Sigurd desperately tried to explain, hoping to clear up her bizarre misunderstanding of love. But her response came in the form of another "loving" strike, icy blue light raining down on him like deadly icicles.
"Oh, no!" Sigurd's mind raced as he quickly shifted his feet, barely dodging the beam attack. The scorching heat singed his hair as it whooshed past him.
As Brynhildr watched him flee, she remained calm, knowing that his speed was no match for her own. What followed was a scene that Shirou could only describe as comical. The white-haired goddess, Brynhildr, deftly tripped Sigurd with a single foot, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then, with an enigmatic smile playing on her lips, she gripped her divine spear and thrust it directly at Sigurd's head.
The swiftness and decisiveness of her attack left Sigurd terrified. He hastily raised his sword in a defensive cross, the two weapons clashing together with a resounding "clang." The blades remained locked, neither able to overpower the other.