*DAY 3*
The light in the Throne didn't rise or set—it simply glowed, casting a timeless golden hue over the plains. Time doesn't move here, but not quite for a human boy.
Shirou approached the villa, footsteps quiet against the stone path. He had been away, thinking, reflecting. But something told him to return. A tug on the thread of intuition.
When he arrived, he saw them.
Kio and Jack sat just outside the house on a flat stone bench beneath a fruitless tree. The wind gently moved through their hair, but neither of them noticed.
Jack's little legs swung lazily over the side, a paper toy in her hand, crudely shaped like a bird. Every few moments, she would glance at Kio—eyes wide with concern—then return to fiddling with the toy, only to glance again.
Kio just sat there. Silent. Still.
His face, bandage, not moving an inch. His posture was slack but not relaxed—like someone waiting for something they couldn't name.
Shirou approached slowly. "Hey, Kio." No answer. "Kio. It's me." Still nothing.
Shirou frowned slightly, kneeling down in front of him.
Jack finally broke the silence, her voice small. "I tried to get him to play," she said, not taking her eyes off Kio. "I made a bird, like Mama and Mapa taught me. I asked him to fly it with me."
She looked down. "He didn't move. Not even a little."
Shirou studied the boy for a moment. This wasn't sleep. It wasn't rest. It was a hollowing.
Whatever Kio had experienced that moment—it hadn't left him. It was still inside him, echoing. Shirou had seen it before. A body that was safe, but a heart still shattered.
With a slow breath, he sat beside the boy on the other side.
"Jack," he said gently, "Stay with him, just like you are. But don't try to pull him too hard. Sometimes... all someone needs is not to be alone."
Jack gave a small nod, hugging her toy close to her chest, nuzzling her head on Kio's shoulder.
Something around them shifted, it was subtle—like the world exhaled something warm and sweet, a scent of incense and temptation. Then came a voice. Soft. Sultry. Sweet as silk over steel.
"Such solemn expressions on such youthful faces… It must be terribly exhausting carrying so much pain so early in life."
Shirou was on his feet in an instant, body pivoting instinctively between Kio and the source of the voice. His twin blades shimmered into being in his hands.
Kiara Sessyoin emerged from the tree line like a mirage, wearing her nun disguise. Her every step was graceful, measured—not seductive for the sake of allure, but because it was simply how she moved. As if she floated above worldly weight. Her soft eyes flickered toward Kio with a glint of sympathy—or something she wore to look like sympathy.
"Ara~ So tense, Mr. Emiya," she said, voice a melody of mock-innocence. "Is that how you greet an old friend?" "What do you want, Sessyoin?" he asked flatly.
She giggled, tilting her head slightly. "Such hostility~ It's unbecoming of a hero of justice. I merely came because I heard that a poor, wounded child was in need of guidance. And as a therapist, I'm quite qualified to offer... emotional relief."
"You're not helping him," Shirou growled.
"Oh~ but your older sister was practically begging for it," Kiara replied with mock innocence, lacing her fingers together. Shirou didn't budge. His twin swords transformed into guns, pointing straight at her "Say your piece and leave." Hatred burning in his eyes, his skin grows darker.
Jack hissed through her teeth. "You feel gross. Bad lady!"
Kiara laughed. Not offended, not provoked—amused. "How charming." Tentacles spew around her, horn protrudes from her habit. "I think it is time to teach some naughty children a lesson" she spoke as she grows demonically.
Just as the tension reached its peak—Shirou's guns humming, Jack's growl deepening, and Kiara taking one daring step too close—
*SMACK! * A loud slap echoed across the field.
"Ahn~!" Kiara yelped, doubling over in what could only be described as mild euphoria as she dropped to the ground, clutching her backside with a flushed expression. "Wh-What was that~?" Behind her stood a small man in a long coat, eyes brimming with fury, an open leather-bound book in his hand raised for another swing.
Hans Christian Andersen looked downright livid.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, you sorry excuse for a nun?!" he barked, delivering another THWACK! to Kiara's ass.
"Aah~! You're going to make me cum~" she cooed, cheeks flushed with a dreamy smile.
"I'LL WRITE YOU OUT OF THIS STORY!" he screamed, slamming the book against her again. "You freaking cow! Trying to worm your way into the heart of a child?! Have you no shame?! Have you no self-control?!"
Kiara, still on the ground, having a hard time catching her breath, "This is not what you think? I don't go after children. I want to help him!"
Another whack. "Shut it, you corrupted church ornament!" the author yelled once more. Shirou blinked, stunned. Covering Jack eyes from the absurd scene. Kiara curled up slightly, eyes watering from the comedic assault but still smiling. "I'm a therapist just trying to do my job."
"You're a living heresy in high heels! You're a registered sex-offender than anything else." Hans snarled. "This child is broken, and you—you walking, talking sin parade—have no business slinking around him."
Kiara's smile flickered for the briefest second, then returned. "But this suffering child—" her eyes fluttered to Kio's still form, "—his soul is trembling. Something inside him cries out. I can hear it." Her voice dropped to a whisper.
He stepped back, lowering his book. "Say that again."
Kiara tilted her head, blinking at him. "I want to help him," she repeated. "Truly. This pain he carries—it's vast, delicate, and deeply rooted. It resonates with something I've seen before… in people I couldn't save."
Her expression didn't twist into a grin, she didn't purr. Just stared at the boy with something fragile and oddly human flickering behind her gaze.
Hans stared at her for a long moment, his sharp blue eyes searching hers for the lie. He turned a page in his book, muttering a detection verse under his breath—nothing. No enchantment. No spellwork. No illusion.
Just Kiara, standing there in silence. "…You're serious?" he asked, voice flat.
Kiara nodded.
Hans scoffed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I must be losing my mind."
He turned toward Shirou, still visibly skeptical, and jabbed a thumb toward Kiara. "Let her help. But under heavy supervision. I want at least two Heroic Spirits present at all times—preferably ones with the mental fortitude—and I be joining as well."
Shirou raised an eyebrow. "You're trusting her?"
"I'm not trusting her. I'm acknowledging her." He sighed. "Even parasites can give blood. Sometimes."
Kiara dumbfounded. "You always did have a way with metaphors."
Hans pointed at her again. "You're on a short leash, woman. If you so much as look at him funny, I'll shove an entire catalog down your throat."
"Now that a foreplay I would love," she teased, but her heart wasn't in it. She looked back at Kio quietly. Lock on to him, licking her lip. "Now, let's begin"
*DAY 17*
Light filtered down through the misty treetops of the enchanted plains of Camelot. Beneath a regal canopy woven of starlight thread, a quiet yet electric tension hovered in the air. A small group of spirits watched with quiet reverence as two legendary women sat across from each other at a crystalline table, engaged in a peculiar game of chess—though the pieces moved not only by hand but with mana.
High Queen Morgan, seated tall in shimmering blue and black silk dress, bore the cold dignity of a monarch who needed no validation. "Is this all you are capable of, other me?" Opposite her, dressed in elegant white and pale gold, sat Artoria, the Fae of Paradise—her expression stoic, serene, but not lacking the iron determination of a once-hopeful dreamer now made steel. "This is only the beginning. Let's see if you can keep up." Their game was more than strategy. It was memory, regret, rivalry, and unspoken yearning, each move a dance of shadows and pride.
Neither woman spoke. Their game pieces moved with the flick of a finger or the raise of an eyebrow—knights and fae, castles and stags—warriors and wonders shaped like the dreams of Britain.
A short distance away, Leonardo Da Vinci strolled forward, hand in hand with Kio, towards the canopy. Leonardo gave a short, casual wave, as if she weren't walking into a divine battlefield of wills. "Greetings, Your Majesties. Enjoying another battle of wits?" she greeted, tone breezy. "Forgive the sudden interruption. I brought someone who need help."
Morgan didn't look up. "The walking contradiction." Her voice carried the melodic weight of a threat and prophecy alike. She gestured and her queen moved forward on the board, smashing a pawn in its wake.
Artoria, however, looked up with soft blue eyes. Her gaze fell on Kio like sunlight through fog. "Welcome, young one," she said gently. "Are you feeling well?" Only by giving a short answer, Kio nodded his head. "OK"
Morgan glances at the boy, her eyes see the turmoil thrashing inside him. Narrowing her eyes, her gaze silently dissecting every thread of his soul. Baobhan Sith, the Bloody Princess, emerged with the grin of a predator on a sugar rush.
"Ooooh? What do we have here?" she purred, walking with graceful malice toward Kio. Before anyone could react, she had grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, lifting him effortlessly into the air like a stray cat. "Oh? What little vermin has wandered in?" Baobhan Sith cooed, tracing her bloody nail down Kio's cheek. She grinned, baring fangs. "You look delicious, want to play with me? I wonder if you scream like the others did...".
Kio dangled wordlessly, his expression unreadable. Even in this absurd position, he showed no fear—only quiet exasperation, a tired soul encountering yet another strange character in his life. Suddenly, a sharp clang of armored boots struck the ground.
"Baobhan." A low voice calls out. Barghest stepped forward with calm authority. Her armor shimmered silver under light, and her eyes glowed with quiet judgment.
With one swift movement, she snatched Kio from Baobhan's grasp. Placing him back on the ground gently. "You can't be rough with a child," she scolded, her tone firm yet nurturing. "He's not food."
Baobhan pouted, fangs showing as she crossed her arms. "Tch. You're no fun. He didn't even react to my threat. How boring!"
Melusine stood quietly beside her queen, the upper half of her face hidden behind her mask. But something was shifting—something within her stirred.
A ripple ran through her senses. Her gaze, previously passive, now sharpened with sudden intensity. She stepped forward, slowly removing her mask. Her expression was unusually open, vulnerable. Her eyes locked on Kio.
Without a word, she crouched before him, examining him from head to toe—not with suspicion, but with quiet awe.
Then, without warning, she embraced him.
Melusine laughed. Not her usual guarded chuckle, but a bright, genuine sound like bells echoing in a forgotten meadow. She held Kio gently, as though afraid he might vanish.
The other fae blinked in confusion. Even Morgan was surprised
"Ok, she hasn't done that before?" Barghest asked, brows furrowing.
"Are you... smiling?" Baobhan blinked. "Melusine, did you break or something?"
Melusine looked up, her voice unusually soft. "It's strange. When I look at him… something gentle stirs in me. Pleasant memories. I'm reminded of... Percival with a hint of my kin."
She stood and faced Leonardo, a wistful light in her eye. "He brings me peace. I want to keep him."
Leonardo choked on a laugh. "I'm afraid not."
Melusine's shoulders drooped just slightly, but she nodded in understanding, her eyes never leaving the boy. "Even so," she said, "I will watch him. Closely."
Morgan's piercing gaze flicked between the gathered fae, her cold presence sharp enough to cut through the lingering laughter of Baobhan Sith. She stared down at Kio, now standing beside Leonardo and Barghest, something did not sit right.
Her voice sliced through the silence.
"Why have you brought this boy here, False One?"
Leonardo, undeterred by Morgan's regal chill, folded her arms with her usual sly confidence. "Well, I've been studying the nature of fae eyes—how they perceive truth, not just surface images. Your kind sees the essence of things, the layers hidden beneath illusion and flesh. I want him," she gestured to Kio, "to learn how to perceive like that. To hone his developing perception of the world around him."
Morgan's face twisted into disdain. "So, you've come to beg. How quaint."
Leonardo didn't flinch. "I came to ask, not beg. There's a difference."
Without hesitation, "Denied," she said flatly, her gown trailing behind like shadows spun into silk. "I will not waste time on a human. Least of all this one."
Before Leonardo could speak, Artoria stood up from the opposite side of the chessboard. Her movement was fluid, regal, like water rising to defend what it cherished.
"Then I will take the task," she said calmly, stepping forward with gentle determination.
"You?" the High Queen spoke. "Are you willing to bear the burden if something goes wrong, will giving him sight make a difference?"
Artoria smiled serenely. "Enough, I think, to make a difference. Even if it gives just a flicker of hope to someone in need."
The clearing dropped into silence. The noise ceased. Even the knights and fae spirits nearby stood still, sensing the air coil with rising tension.
Morgan's expression changes, her jaw clenched—but only briefly. "You always did carry burdens that weren't yours."
She marched up to Kio, her heels echoing like hammers on glass. The boy remained still, unreadable.
Raising a hand, a glowing hexagonal magic circle formed above Kio, its sigils ancient and coiling like vines.
"If he fails to survive this," she said with a chilling calm, "let it be a lesson about foolish expectations on such a foolish species."
Morgan said nothing at first, looking at Kio with a cool, imperial grace. The other Fae looked on—some curious, others skeptical—as a glowing sixfold circle spun slowly into life, each ring carved with fae runes and angular lines of sorcery.
With a hand, she lifted his face by the chin, her finger cold but precise, lifting him like one might a delicate relic. "Open your eyes," Morgan commanded, her voice low but ironclad. "And do. Not. Move."
Kio, obedient in the presence of power, obeyed. His blind eyes remained blank—clouded, unreadable.
The magic circle above flared to life.
From the sigils spun two luminous teardrops, crystalline and shimmering with rainbow-like veins of mana. Slowly, the droplets descended, drawn into Kio's eyes like stars being pulled into a void.
Morgan's other hand gently laid across both of his eyes, fingers like a veil. The light of the magic dimmed, and the spell settled.
With a quiet exhale, she withdrew her hand.
"Foolish inventor," she said with a sigh, standing back up. "I cannot graft Fae Eyes into a human. His soul would tear itself apart from the strain."
She turned her head slightly, meeting Artoria's expectant gaze, then back to Leonardo's silent stare. "But I can give him something more understanding. The faintest mimicry—a flawed gift."
Her eyes fell back to Kio, as if appraising a half-finished sculpture.
-Artificial Mystic Eyes: Perception (E)-
"An artificial construct. Primitive, limited… but it should allow him to view the flow of energy and intention around him more clearly. If he lives long enough, it may evolve."
As the last remnants of Morgan's spell settled into Kio's soul, a faint shimmer danced across his eyes.
The white clouded pupils that once reflected nothing now held a subtle, bronze-tinted circle with a diamond-shaped core glowing faintly at the center. The transformation wasn't blinding, nor ostentatious—but it pulsed gently with new potential.
Kio blinked slowly, adjusting to the strange warmth behind his gaze.
Then he saw.
Lines. Currents. Patterns.
Threads of mana streamed through the air like glowing rivers of color—wavelengths and auras that he could only describe as beautiful. Each spirit before him had a unique flow, a glow of their existence traced in gentle shapes. Even the wind had a rhythm to it, dancing through the world like a song made visible.
He stared at the Fae Knights: Barghest was wrapped in waves of red and black like a crimson tide, Baobhan Sith's wild aura pulsed in jagged dark pink, like thorns on a rose, and Melusine radiated orderly blue and black spirals that coiled like dragon wings.
Even Leonardo, standing beside him, shimmered in strokes of prism-blue and copper—a chaotic painter's soul captured in ether. Morgan gave off a royal blue with intertwining darkness, proof of her legacy and strength. Artoria, on the other hand, was the same, but instead of dark, there was a golden star shining in endless blue.
Kio exhaled in awe, words tumbling out without thinking. "...Pretty."
Morgan widened her eyes slightly.
The Fae Queen turned her body quickly away from the child, "That is all the pity that you will get from me. Don't expect any more help going forward. We shall take our leave." Her regal posture did not falter, but something subtle shifted in her expression. Her eyes softened just slightly, and at the edge of her lips—so quick you could almost miss it—a faint, smile appeared.
"Cheeky child, but if shown the proper way… It almost exciting to see what happens next. Melusine does have a knack of finding diamond in the rough." she murmured, and with a flick of her cloak, continued walking.
The other Fae followed behind her, each with their own thoughts. Baobhan Sith looked baffled as she walked arm in arm with her mother. Barghest glanced back at Kio with curiosity, bowing her head. Melusine's gaze lingered longest before she turned skyward and leapt into the wind.
Artoria watched Morgan's departure, arms crossed with a quiet grin. "She might be a cold-hearted ice queen, but she does have her moments." As she looks back at Kio, who seems to be having slight pain in his head. "Oh dear," she says, and she examines the boy, "I overlooked this, she did not take into account that he is still a child, and the spell will overload his brain." A magic circle formed on her finger, "Here this shall help." As she touches his forehead.
Glasses materialize on his face, lenses black as ink. The pain subsided; Kio nodded his head in gratitude. "I know things are tough now, but have faith that things will get better before you know it" She kisses the child on his head "May Avalon bless you." A slight blush filled Kio's cheeks
As Kio and Leonardo walked together back to the villa, she noticed slight changes in the boy posture. She smiled that this may be the start of Kio's healing.
*DAY 67*
The soft rustle of pages echoed in the quiet villa room. Hans sat cross-legged by the window, scribbling harshly into a journal with a feather pen dipped in violet ink. Nearby, Kiyohime stood against the door like an ominous porcelain statue, arms folded, tail flicking ever so slightly. Her golden eyes didn't leave the two sitting across from her.
Kiara, the ever-serene nun of temptation, knelt elegantly across from the boy, her robes draped like spilled ink across the tatami. Kio sat still—his expression unreadable, as usual—but his breathing was steadier now. His hands, once trembling at every sound, rested quietly in his lap.
It was progress.
"Tell me, Kio," Kiara asked, her voice sweet, melodic, "what was your mood, the feeling you had that night, where this all began?"
Kio didn't respond. But this time, his brow furrowed. His lips parted—just slightly—as though words were forming. But then…
Clop. Clop. Clop.
The sound of hooves against solid stone rang from outside. A warm, steady rhythm that slowly came to a halt at the villa's steps.
A moment later, the door creaked open, and Chiron entered—noble and composed, his half-equine form cutting a striking silhouette in the light. "Pardon the interruption," the wise centaur said, bowing his head slightly. "But the boy's training is due to resume."
Hans closed his notebook with a snap. "About time. The silence was unbearable."
Kiyohime was already moving, standing beside Kio as he slowly rose from the tatami mat. Without needing to speak, Kio approached Chiron, who leaned down to let the boy climb onto his back.
Kiara smiled gently, brushing invisible dust from her robes. "Physical training and therapy go hand in hand. Strip the body down, and the mind begins to follow."
Chiron flicked an ear toward her but said nothing. With Kio seated securely, he turned toward the open path beyond the gate.
"Come, Kio. This time we will try something more motivational."
Kiyohime followed in silence, grace in every step.
Hans stood up, stretching dramatically. "I'll head to Murasaki's library to do some research."
Kiara remained kneeling in the villa's threshold, her soft eyes fixed on the departing boy. Then, as she rose, a sliver of her shadow detached from her form. It slithered along the floor, unnoticed, and slid into the cracks of the villa like a living smear of night.
Kiara's eyes briefly shimmered gold. "Let's have some fun together, my lost little lamb," she whispered to herself, her smile faint and unreadable. She walked away slowly, following Hans, leaving behind the hidden presence curled like a spider under the floorboards—waiting. Watching. Planning.
Chiron trotted to a stop at the edge of the clearing, Kio perched quietly on his back. A short distance ahead, a group of children was already gathered, each wearing light, athletic sportswear tailored to their own styles.
"Everyone," Chiron announced in a calm but commanding tone. "Form up. We are about to begin."
The children scrambled into action with various degrees of enthusiasm:
Jack quickly collected the knives that she threw at the training dummies. Chloe was already stretching like a gymnast, teasing Illya with a wink. Illyasviel stood front and center, bouncing with energy. "Okay, okay! I'll lead warmups again!" Paris tied up his hair with a ribbon, eyes dreamy, while Jeanne Lily gave a salute that nearly made her fall over. Nursery Rhyme spun in a circle, forming a magical hula hoop out of glowing glyphs as she laughed. Alexander and Miyu quietly assumed position near the front, focused and alert.
Kio slid down from Chiron's back and joined the line as the children arranged into rows. His posture was stiff—his hands loose at his sides, movements slow compared to the rest. Still expressionless, he moved without true engagement. Chiron signaled Illya to begin.
Illya raised her arms high. "Ready! One, two, three—stretch! Arms up! To the side! Other side! Touch your toes!"
The group moved in unison. Kio imitated the movements, a few steps behind the rhythm, his face unreadable.
Chiron, observing nearby with arms crossed, noted the slight lag in Kio's form—not the physical failure, but the emotional barrier.
("He follows because he has to, not because he wants to,") Chiron thought. ("This isn't resistance...") remaining quiet for now, watching.
Nearby, Miyu glanced toward Kio. She didn't speak, but her eyes softened. She'd once been like that too.
Illya clapped her hands and cheered, "Okay! Jog in place now!" The chorus of thumping feet filled the training ground.
Kio obeyed, barely lifting his feet.
From behind, Chloe nudged his side gently with her elbow. "You move like an old man," she teased with a smirk. "Come on, smile Kio. At times like these you need to put you all."
Kio gave no reply. But he loosens slightly, giving a bit more effort to exercising. The training had begun.
"Now onto sprints. You'll run the circuit three times," Chiron's calm voice cut through the morning haze. "Maintain posture. Push your limits. No slacking."
At the sound of the whistle the children shot forward. Kio hesitated a second longer, then followed at his own pace.
The others surged through the field, laughing and competing as they ran. Kio ran too, behind them, his small feet pounding the earth—not with excitement or energy, but with quiet, weary determination. Every step felt heavier, but he didn't stop.
Perched quietly in the shade of a silver tree, two familiar figures watched the scene below.
Kiritsugu Emiya stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but focused. Irisviel von Einzbern leaned gently beside him, her soft smile tinged with concern.
"He's not keeping up," Kiritsugu said.
"But he's still running," Irisviel replied. "And he hasn't collapsed. That's something."
Kiritsugu exhaled through his nose. "That shows change, at least."
Irisviel's gaze settled on Illya, laughing with Jeanne Lily and helping Miyu over a log, Chloe following behind. "I'm glad they're all together. Maybe… maybe this is exactly what they needed."
After an intense round of self-defense drills—where Chloe, Alaxander, and Jack showed off far too much enthusiasm, Chiron finally blew his whistle.
"Break time, go cool down.
The children cheered as they scattered across the field, chatting and laughing. Illya, flushed but cheerful, grabbed a towel and trotted over to Kio. "Here," she said brightly, offering the soft cloth. "You're all sweaty. Let me help you dry up."
Giving a hesitant nod. She gently patted his forehead with the towel, her smile never fading.
Then she looked past him and her whole face lit up.
"Mama! Papa!"
She waved wildly to where two figures stood quietly watching—Kiritsugu and Irisviel, both wearing soft expressions, unseen by most but known by those who remembered. Irisviel waved back with both hands, eyes gleaming, while Kiritsugu simply offered a raised hand in quiet greeting.
But when Illya turned back— Kio was gone.
"Huh?" she blinked. "Kio?"
The children looked around.
"Did he go to get water?" Jack asked.
"He was just here," Miyu murmured.
"Did he vanish?" Chloe asked, now serious. "Like, teleportation?"
Behind the hill line, far enough to be out of sight but not too far from earshot, Kio crouched low behind a tall tree. His forehead rested against his knees, arms wrapped tightly around his head as if trying to press something back in.
He didn't know why Illya's call made him flinch.
No—he did. It was the words: Mama. Papa.
A twisting pain echoed in his chest, the gentle murmur of the wind wasn't enough to drown it out. His hands trembled. His breathing was shallow.
He hated this feeling.
They stabbed at something deep—something tender, broken, and raw. He felt heat rise in his chest, but no tears came. His breath hitched, shallow and uneven.
Then—footsteps.
He didn't move.
"...It's okay to hide," a calm, steady voice said.
Kio's body flinched slightly.
Kiritsugu stood there, hands in his coat pockets, just enough distance between them to give the boy space.
"I used to do the same," he continued, his voice thoughtful. "When it got too heavy. When words like 'family' or 'hope' felt more like a false dream."
Kio didn't respond. But he listened.
"I know that look," Kiritsugu said, kneeling beside him. "It's the same one I wore, once. The one where you don't know if remembering hurts more than forgetting."
Silence. Then, finally, Kio's voice—fragile and low."It's not fair... why did this have to happened?"
Kiritsugu looked at him gently. "I can't give you a reason that will make the pain stop. But I can tell you—what you feel isn't weakness. It's proof you loved."
Kio's fingers curled into the dirt. "I want my Mommy and Daddy" he whispered.
"I know," Kiritsugu answered, his tone unwavering. "But you still have many paths ahead of you. And if you walk the right one, maybe you'll find something new. Something that doesn't replace what you lost… but gives you a reason to rise."
A beat passed. Then Kio moved—not away, but forward. Slowly, he leaned against Kiritsugu's side. No words. No sound. Just warmth. The kind only someone who's been through the same kind of pain can offer. Someone who was an orphan and a father, to sooth his pain, even if it's a little. "(I believe that your parents (any parent for that matter) would gladly sacrifice themselves to make sure that their child sees a brighter future)"
Back at the training ground, Irisviel stood next to Illya, her eyes soft. "Give him time," she said gently.
Illya nodded, her hand pressed lightly over her chest. "I didn't mean to, I just…" she murmured.
"I know, sweetie. And he knows too," Irisviel replied, brushing her daughter's hair.
Back at the training grounds, Kiyohime stormed in a tight circle, pacing like a tiger caged in her own frustration. A narrow trench had formed beneath her feet from the constant motion. She chewed her nails in agitation, occasionally throwing glances at different directions.
"Hmph… That gloomy man again. Why does he get to comfort Lord Anchin? I was right here—ready, devoted, perfect. I would've held him! Comforted him! Burned away all his sadness with my love!"
Chiron gave her a long, silent look but wisely said nothing.
The children had grown quiet, casting worried glances between one another as the moments dragged on.
Heads turned sharply as Kiritsugu emerged from out of knowhere, carrying Kio in his arms. The boy was quiet, calm now, though his face was still blotched from tears. Kiritsugu gave a small nod to Chiron as he gently set Kio down.
The second his feet touched the ground, the others rushed to him.
"Are you okay?" Illya asked, eyes wide.
"Dumb Kio! Don't just run off like that!" Chloe scolded, though her voice cracked at the end.
"You worried all of us," Jeanne Lily said, hugging his arm.
Jack was already clinging to his side, face buried in his shoulder.
Kio stood still, overwhelmed. Then he slowly bowed his head, his hands clenched at his sides.
"…I'm sorry," he said quietly, but everyone heard it. "I'm sorry for being difficult. For running. For making you all worry."
He lowered into a deep bow, his forehead nearly touching the ground. "And… thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me."
There was a moment of silence—short, but thick with emotion.
Then, like breaking a dam, the group rushed forward.
"You dummy, we're friends! We would never give up on you," said Paris, grinning.
"Next time, just talk to us," Miyu added softly.
Alexander slapped him lightly on the back. "Even the greatest kings have the best of aides."
Even Kid Gil, regal but cheerful, gave a half-smile. "This is all part of life."
Kiyohime was the last to step forward. She folded her arms under her sleeves, giving him a very pointed look. "You're forgiven. This time. But next time you run off without letting me help, I will be sleeping in your bed every night until you recover. Understood?"
Kio confused, then gave a faint, tired laugh. "Ummm, OK…"
As laughter bubbled among the children, a weight lifted.
Up on a nearby hill, Irisviel stood beside Kiritsugu. She exhaled a quiet sigh of relief and leaned against his shoulder.
"You found him," she said.
Kiritsugu nodded. "He found himself, but still a long ways to go."
Chiron cleared his throat loudly.
"Ahem. As moving as that was, we are still in the middle of training. Now that Kio has returned to us…" he looked at the boy with a nod, "…let's begin properly. Positions, everyone!"
The children snapped to attention like soldiers. Kio stood in the middle, eyes still red but full of something new—resolve.
"We Are the Champions" – Queen
Kio struggles to hold a proper stance in a sparring drill. Chiyome gently adjusts his posture.
Chloe gives him a thumbs-up from across the training circle as he lands his first clean dodge.
The kids cheer as Kio finally manages to hit on Jack.
Kiritsugu, watching from afar, gives a faint nod of approval as Irisviel smiles beside him.
"Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" – Daft Punk
Nursery Rhyme floats overhead with a stopwatch as the children race laps around the field.
Alexander and Kid Fergus race like its war, dragging Kio into the sprint with infectious energy.
Kio trains with logs, tripping over them at first—but with each attempt, he gets better.
Chiron times Kio's strikes on a wooden dummy. Miss, miss, graze, then finally—a clean hit.
Sweat and effort. Laughs and stumbles. Everyone pushes each other to the limit.
"Gonna Fly Now" – Bill Conti (Rocky Theme)
Weighted push-ups, Kio shakes under the pressure, Jack sitting on his back grinning.
Chloe leads a climbing course up a sheer cliff face. "Hurry up, Kio!" she taunts.
Kio stumbles mid-climb. Jeanne Lily reaches down, grabbing his hand. "I got you!"
Illya and Miyu run next to him, cheering as he breaks through his record lap time.
A final shot of Kio shadowboxing, his eyes glowing faintly bronze.
"I'll Make a Man Out of You" – Mulan OST
Chiron barks orders while the kids form tactical squads. Team v. Team
Kio works as support, covering for teammates and counter attacts.
A mock battle: Kio, Paris, and Jack versus Gil, Miyu, and Jeanne Lily. It's chaos. It's war.
Kio trips—only to roll back up and land a precise hit to score the winning point.
The last scene: all the children posing, sweaty and triumphant. Kio in the center, cracking a small smile.
Chiron claps once,"Well done, all of you. Your spirits shine brighter than any skill I could teach."
Illya grabs Kio's hand, raising it to the sky. "We all believe in you!"
***
Once the long day of training came to a close, the group of young Heroic Spirits laughed and chatted after a long session. Chiron gave his final instructions with a proud smile, watching his students glow with energy.
Kio stood quietly to the side, his body tired but warm from the shared effort. He was about to walk over to join Jack and Illya when—
"Ngh…" he clutched his head.
The others turned quickly, concern rising.
"Kio?" Illya asked, stepping forward.
Before anyone could react further, a strange digital tone echoed in Kio's mind.
[WELCOME, PLAYER]
[MAIN MISSION: SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST]
A pale light pulsed in his chest. The glow intensified—flickering lines of code danced along his skin. Then, without warning, the light burst outward, forming a glyph in midair.
Everyone shielded their eyes.
The glyph twisted, unfolded—and from within emerged a tiny winged figure, like a fairy of crystal and starlight. She hovered midair, eyes gleaming like twin galaxies.
The fairy announced in monotone: "Greetings, Kio. And hello to all gathered observers! I am Archive Logos React Cosmos." Kio collapsed on the field, his small body finally giving in to exhaustion. Gentle snores left his lips, the breeze carrying them like whispers through the trees.
"KIO!!" everyone rushed to his side.
The fairy fluttered down beside him, gently hovering near him
"Don't worry. He's simply adjusting. Activation takes a toll, but he'll be stronger for it." She turned to the everyone watching with stunned expressions. "A new phase has begun. When he is ready, I will appear again." She disappears back into Kio.
Kiyohime, ever doting, but a bit surprised, crouched beside him with a serene smile. "My dear Lord Anchin~ You worked so hard today. Thing will be more chaotic for you, wont it?" With graceful care, she scooped him up onto her back and began the quiet walk home. Everyone look on as the two walked away, the feeling of satisfaction filled the air as they have just started cracking at Kio's locked heart.
Inside, Kiyohime gently laid Kio in his bed, brushed a bit of sweat-damp hair from his brow, and whispered something sweet before quietly leaving the room, closing the door behind her.
Moments passed. From a quiet corner of the room, the darkness rippled unnaturally.
Like ink bleeding across the floor, it began to swirl, condensing until it formed the shape of a young girl. Dressed in pale pink with silky black twin-tails and gold-glinting eyes, she climbed into the bed with soft, dainty movements.
It was Kiara Sessyoin — as a child.
She knelt beside Kio, peering at his sleeping face like a child admiring a new toy. Her eyes glowed softly with something unreadable.
She loomed silently over Kio, tilting her head with a strange mixture of awe and hunger. Her fingers reached out, gently brushing the boy's cheek. "Now that there's no one to interfere with this little chick I'm raising…" she whispered. "Let's have a little taste."
Leaning closer, she extended her tongue and licked his cheek slowly. Her body shivered in delight.
"Mmm~ Not ready yet… but the flavor is starting to change. The foundation of suffering is in place. A little longer… and you'll be perfect."
As Kiara Lily lingered by Kio's bedside, lost in her musings and whispering to herself about how deliciously sweet his potential had become, she failed to notice the shift in the room's pressure.
Two eerily glowing eyes shimmered to life in the dark behind her.
Startled, Kiara almost let out a shrill "eep!" but quickly slapped both hands over her mouth. She spun around just in time to see a lamp turn on—its dim glow illuminating the room with a soft, warm light.
Standing beside the bed, lamp in hand, was Raikou.
Her golden eyes sparkled with a curious light as they landed on the strange child-shaped intruder beside her beloved Kio. A gentle smile curled on her lips.
"Oh my~ Another little one. And here I thought my son was already fast asleep." Her tone was soft, cheerful even, like that of a doting mother catching her children playing past bedtime. She clasped her hands together. "How wonderful… another friend?"
Kiara, now sitting stiffly with perfect posture beside Kio, smiled nervously and nodded. "Y-Yes. That's right. I'm just a friend. I, um, wanted to check on him while he slept. We're... really close."
Raikou walked closer to the bed, peering down at Kiara with a warm glint in her eyes. "What a wonderful girl. It fills my heart with joy to know my dear Kio has such caring friend."
Kiara kept smiling through gritted teeth. "Great. Out of all people… it had to be her."
Not wanting to stay in that room even one second longer, Kiara slid off the bed and gave an awkward curtsy. "W-Well, I should go now! Don't want to get in trouble or anything! Bye~!"
With surprising speed for someone pretending to be a child, Kiara dashed toward the window, hopped up onto the sill, and leapt outside, disappearing like a fleeing cat.
The room fell silent again.
Raikou's expression lingered cheerfully for a heartbeat… then slowly twisted.
Her gentle smile faded. Her brows furrowed. Her radiant motherly warmth turned ice-cold. That unshakable aura darkened.
With her back still turned to Kio, Raikou whispered through gritted teeth, "That woman… If she had done anything more to him, I would have reduced her to ash."
Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles pale. "But… she is aiding his healing. For now, I will hold my wrath."
She turned back to the bed and gently pulled the blanket up to Kio's shoulders. The tension left her shoulders as she leaned over to kiss his forehead softly.
"You don't need to worry, my sweet Kio. Mother will protect you. Always."
*Day 68*
The faint sizzle of bacon and the soft crackle of eggs on a pan echoed through the villa. A rich, savory aroma filled the air—eggs, toast, and sizzling meat—and the faintest hint of melted cheese tickled the senses.
In his room, Kio stirred. His nose twitched, and his stomach grumbled loud enough to wake him. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open and sat up, rubbing his face groggily. Drawn by the delicious scent and his rumbling belly, he shuffled down the hallway in oversized slippers, the hem of his pajama shirt brushing the floor.
In the kitchen, Shirou turned from the stove with a smile. "Had a good sleep?"
Kio gave a small nod, still half-asleep, as he made his way to the dining table. Nearby, Leonardo knelt by the wall, putting the final touches on some strange-looking device embedded there—an interdimensional power regulator, or perhaps a toaster. It was hard to tell with her inventions.
She stood up, dusted her hands, and walked over, joining at the table.
The plates were full and steaming: crispy bacon, golden eggs, buttered toast, even fluffy pancakes with syrup and a side of cut fruit. A breakfast that felt... real.
Kio climbed into his seat and reached for his fork—but stopped.
The others weren't eating.
Shirou stood with his arms crossed, smiling gently. Leonardo, seated across from Kio, rested her chin in her hand, watching him patiently.
"…Aren't you going to eat?" Kio asked, looking between them with a confused blink. "We should eat together."
A soft silence fell.
Leonardo and Shirou exchanged glances. Their expressions, though warm, were tinged with quiet sorrow.
Shirou took a seat on the chair beside him. "We don't need to eat, Kio. We're spirits. This food was made for you. You are still a growing kid, so eat up."
Leonardo chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Doesn't mean we don't enjoy cooking. But your well-being comes first. So go ahead—eat. Don't worry about us."
For a moment, he hesitated—there was something heavy about eating alone. But then…
He picked up his fork, stabbed a piece of egg, and tasted it.
It was warm. Soft. Fluffy. And real.
As Kio continued to eat, the quiet ambiance shifted—the sound of hooves clattered just outside the villa's entrance, accompanied by a few sharp neighs. A second later, the door opened with purpose.
In walked a knight clad in casual light armor, a petit golden crown on her head. Artoria Pendragon—King of Knights—strode into the kitchen as if it were her own hall.
"Hello all," she greeted with a regal nod. "I hope I'm not intruding."
"Not at all," Leonardo replied, glancing up with a knowing smile.
"Hey," Shirou said simply, flipping a pancake with practiced ease.
Artoria's eyes swept the room… and then locked onto the table. More precisely—on the food.
Her noble expression flickered. Hunger sparked behind her emerald eyes, and a single strand of drool slipped down the corner of her mouth as she spoke.
"Ahem—It seems breakfast is being served."
She didn't even blink as Shirou sighed and turned around, already assembling a plate piled high with eggs, sausage, toast, and jam.
He slid the plate across the table. "You're lucky I made extra."
Artoria took her seat beside Kio with practiced elegance—and immediately devoured a piece of toast like a starved beast trying to act noble.
Kio, confused "I thought you said spirits don't need to eat."
Shirou exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… She is a special case."
Leonardo laughed softly, daintily spearing a strawberry from Kio's plate and popping it in her mouth. "We don't have to eat, but that doesn't mean we can't. Especially when it's that one," she gestured subtly toward Artoria, who was now battling a pancake like it had dishonored her kingdom.
Shirou gave in with a low chuckle, finally pulling out a chair and sitting down with them. "Might as well join you."
The villa's kitchen settled into a rare kind of peace—the comforting clink of utensils, soft chewing, and the occasional satisfied hum from a certain hungry King of Knights.
Everyone continues, the sound of utensils clinking in the air. "So, what brings you here, Seibā?"
Artoria paused mid-chew, swallowed quickly, and answered through her next mouthful, "Chiron asked me if I, and a few of the Knights of the Round Table, could assist with Kio's sword training."
Leonardo raised an eyebrow. "An entire Round Table? Better be careful that they don't turn him into a skirt chaser." Letting out a tiny snicker.
"Mm." Artoria nodded proudly. "We will ensure he learns not just the blade, but also the heart behind it."
The wind rushed gently across an open field near the villa. Hooves thundered, kicking up light dust as Artoria's white warhorse, Dun Stallion, galloped thought the field. Kio sat snugly in front of her, his hands gripping the saddle horn as Artoria guided the reins.
Shirou followed behind on foot, jogging steadily, keeping pace.
They rode in silence for a time, until Kio's voice broke through.
"…I've been thinking a lot lately."
Artoria glanced down at him, saying nothing as he gathered his thoughts.
"If I want to stop feeling like this… if I don't want to lose anyone important to me again…" His hands tightened. "Then I have to become stronger. Stronger than anyone. Strong enough that… maybe, just maybe… I can be a hero like all of you."
The wind carried his words like a promise written into the sky. For a long moment, Artoria didn't reply.
Then, she reached out and gently patted him on the head, her gloved hand warm and steady.
"…You are already on the path, but it will be difficult. It will be full of pain, will you be able to endure it?" she whispered, almost too softly for him to hear.
But as she looked over her shoulder, her eyes glanced at Shirou. And in that quick gaze, she allowed the mask to slip.
A flicker of sorrow, of knowing. A warrior's understanding of the cost of being strong, of the price of becoming a hero.
Merlin stood at the edge of Camelot's outer wall, his lavender robes gently rippling with the breeze, his staff resting against his shoulder as he peered out over the land. His expression was unreadable, halfway between a grin and solemnity. Watching the expected guess.
"Everything's been set," Merlin murmured. "His future will be determined here—within the Throne. All that he will endure, all that he will becoming…"
He glanced over his shoulder, the knowing gleam never leaving his eye.
"Don't you agree… Mr. Carpenter? Or was it Shepherd? Perhaps… Teacher?"
A figure in a coarse brown cloak leaned beside him, arms folded beneath the garment. The man's face was hidden beneath the cowl, but his voice carried a calm and quiet strength.
"…That remains to be seen," he said. "This is only the beginning. But I have no doubt—he'll succeed."
He turned slightly toward the magus. "Now then, Merlin. What is that you're holding?"
Merlin smirked, bringing his hand into view. Resting upon his palm, a black-and-gold double helix twisted and shimmered with a pulsing light—ominous and beautiful, a thread of something more.
"Oh this?" Merlin tilted his head playfully. "Just a little souvenir. Swiped it from Zelly when he wasn't looking. I don't think he'll mind.
The cloaked man stayed quiet, but the way his shoulders tightened slightly suggested skepticism. "Is that your prophecy or just another of your many games, Magus?"
"You worry too much!" He raised his hand, and with a flick of his fingers, the helix shot skyward, spiraling into the clouds like a living comet. For a moment, the sky shimmered with threads of cosmic gold before settling once more into quiet blue.
The cloaked man lowered his head. "You're meddling again."
"And you're brooding again," Merlin replied cheerfully, spinning on his heel. "Balance, dear friend."
He began to walk toward the interior stairway, cloak swishing behind him. "Let's watch and see, shall we? The little chick is breaking from the shell. Whether he flies or falls, well... that's the song of tomorrow."
Behind him, the cloaked man lingered, eyes fixed on the heavens—on the trail the helix left behind. Back at the child entering the castle, uttering one word "Survive"
***
Somewhere on Earth…
Ophis awoke with a sharp gasp, clutching her head as pain pulsed through her skull. Her vision blurred. The air felt wrong.
"…Where am I?" she muttered.
A voice slithered out of the darkness.
"Ah, you've awakened, my dear goddess." A man with long silver hair, light purple eyes, and youthful, androgynous features. A slender build and typically wears a white, aristocratic suit with purple linings.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Devil."
"Yes, yes," the voice chuckled, laced with venom and amusement. "You've been asleep for some time. Our little disagreement drained you more than expected."
She staggered to her feet, glaring at him.
"What do you want?"
The Devil stepped forward, half-formed in shadow.
"The same as before. Join me, and I'll help you get back what was stolen—the Dimensional Gap."
Ophis remained silent, eyes cold.
"So, what will it be?" he asked, his grin sharp.
"Join me… or continue drifting from one place to another."
Chapter End