The city's night air was heavy with the scent of rain, the streets slick under the amber glow of streetlamps. Archer crouched on the edge of a rooftop, eyes fixed on the faint shimmer of bounded fields in the industrial quarter. Not Shirou's work — these were precise, layered, and lethal, Association craft and in the middle of it, a presence he knew well.
Medusa, a lover in a different life, and her Master — an Enforcer, one he doesn't recognize, and with such a competent master the pairing would be trouble.
At the temple, Shirou stood with Saber and Medea, the aftertaste of the Berserker battle still lingering, he'd been tracking Archer and Rin's movements through Medea's scrying.
"They've found Rider, and her Master" Medea reported, her tone edged.
Shirou didn't hesitate. "Saber, Artoria — go. Back them up. Archer's good, but Rider and an Enforcer together? That's a bad equation, and I wouldn't want to see Rin dead."
Saber's eyes narrowed. "What about you? As your servant it is my duty to be near you."
"Don't worry, I've only gotten stronger, and with my love here, there's nothing to worry about."
She gave a short nod and was gone, vanishing into the night.
The train depot loomed ahead, its steel skeleton lit by the cold glow of floodlights. Archer dismantled the outer wards with surgical precision through the use of Rule Breaker, Rin covering him with a gem in each hand.
Inside, Medusa waited — tall, blindfolded, her presence coiled like a serpent ready to strike. Beside her, the Enforcer, Adrian Voss, stood relaxed but ready, long coat swaying, a pair of rune‑etched short swords in his hands.
"You've been following us, and I don't like being prey." Adrian said. "That ends here."
Medusa moved first, chain lashing out in a blur. EMIYA's Kanshou and Bakuya caught it mid‑arc, sparks scattering. Adrian was already in motion, closing the distance with a low dash. Rin intercepted, her first gem exploding in a burst of concussive force that forced him to roll aside.
Adrian came up fast, slashing in a tight arc. Rin ducked under it, driving a knee toward his ribs, but he caught her leg and spun, trying to throw her. She twisted mid‑air, landing in a crouch, another gem already in her palm.
The depot doors blew inward, Artoria stepping through with Excalibur's invisible edge humming. "Need a hand?"
EMIYA didn't look away from Medusa. "I won't say no."
Artoria was in the fight instantly, her blade meeting Medusa's in a clash that sent a shockwave through the air. EMIYA shifted to cover her flank, their movements falling into a rhythm that felt dangerously familiar, and oh so painful for EMIYA.
Adrian closed on Rin again, abandoning his swords for a flurry of strikes. She blocked high, low, twisting to deflect a palm strike aimed at her throat. He swept her legs; she rolled with it, coming up with a spinning kick that caught him across the jaw. He staggered, but recovered instantly, driving forward with a shoulder check that slammed her into a steel beam.
Rin gritted her teeth, ducked under his next punch, and drove an elbow into his ribs. He grunted, stepping back — just in time for her gem to detonate at his feet, forcing him to leap away.
Medusa broke from Artoria with a sudden leap, landing atop a stack of shipping containers. Her voice was low, almost reverent as she sliced her neck and let the blood flow to form an archaic symbol.
"Prepare yourself — Bellerophon!"
The air screamed as Pegasus burst into existence, wings beating like thunder. Medusa vaulted onto its back, the beast's eyes blazing. In a heartbeat, they were diving, the chain whipping forward with lethal intent.
Artoria braced, but EMIYA was already moving, for once, he wanted to be the one that saved her. "Trace, on."
The seven‑petaled barrier of Rho Aias bloomed into existence before him, translucent and shimmering. Pegasus struck like a meteor, the impact rattling EMIYA's bones, the petals flaring and cracking under the force but they held on.
Artoria surged forward through the fading barrier, Excalibur's invisible edge slashing across Pegasus's flank. The beast screamed, dissolving into motes of light as Medusa tumbled to the ground, rolling to her feet.
EMIYA, injured and broken, pressed the advantage, arrows forcing Medusa back step by step. Artoria's strikes came in relentless succession, each one driving her further off balance. Rin and Adrian clashed again, fists and feet a blur, until Rin feinted low and drove a gem into his chest. The detonation sent him sprawling, his weapons skittering across the floor.
Medusa faltered, and Artoria's final strike sent her crashing to the ground. She dissolved into light, her Master collapsing beside her, unconscious.
The depot still rang with the echoes of steel on steel when the last motes of Medusa's form dissolved into the air. Adrian lay unconscious, bound in Rin's shimmering restraints, the acrid scent of burnt mana hanging heavy in the rafters.
EMIYA lowered Kanshou and Bakuya, the adrenaline still humming in his veins. Artoria stood a few paces away, Excalibur's invisible edge dimming as she exhaled. For a moment, their eyes met — and in that moment, EMIYA saw the faintest flicker of recognition. Not of who he was, but of something older, deeper, a rhythm they'd once shared.
"You fought well," she said at last.
"So did you," he replied, and meant it.
Rin stepped between them, brushing soot from her sleeve. "We need to move. This place will draw attention fast."
As they slipped into the night, the depot shrinking behind them, the city's hum returned in fragments — the distant rush of traffic, the murmur of late‑night conversations drifting from open windows. Even here, Archer caught snatches of a name whispered with awe and uncertainty: the Crimson Knight. A knight in red armor, a blade of gold, saving people from things they couldn't name.
The words were like grit between his teeth.
He's changing the board, Archer thought as they vaulted across a narrow alley. If I let him keep going, I can't orchestrate our battle.
By the time they returned, the temple grounds were still and cool under the moonlight. Shirou was waiting in the courtyard. He didn't ask what had happened — the soot on Rin's coat and the faint scorch marks on Artoria's armor told the story well enough. He only nodded to Artoria, a silent acknowledgment, before turning away.
EMIYA caught the glance. It wasn't a suspicion. It was… kindness. The kind of kindness the supposed Steel-Eyed Raven seemed capable of.
Two nights later, EMIYA and Rin were on another rooftop, the city's veins of light stretching out beneath them. The air was crisp, the kind that carried sound far, and from here they could hear the city's pulse — and its unease.
"They're moving," Rin said quietly. "The others. The Knight's making them nervous."
"Good," Archer answered without looking at her. "Nervous people make mistakes."
She glanced sideways at him. "You're counting on him making one."
He didn't answer, he didn't need to.
Later that night, Artoria found EMIYA alone in the courtyard. The moonlight caught in her hair, turning it to silver.
"You've been watching him," she said.
"I watch the battlefield," he replied.
"You watch him," she countered. "Why?"
He let the silence stretch, then said, "I know where his road leads."
Her eyes searched his face, but whatever she saw there, she didn't press. She only said, "His journey it not yet finished, you may be surprised by what you find."
Hours later, EMIYA stood on a rooftop overlooking the city. The wind tugged at his coat, the lights below flickering like embers. He could feel the War shifting — the Steel-Eyed Raven already causing great chaos by bringing the eyes of the Association and the JSDF. A huge divergence from his timeline, one this version of himself started early with his debut, even now he wonders just what changed for Shirou Emiya to act this way.
From here, every move mattered. Every skirmish, every alliance, every whispered rumor about the Crimson Knight was another step toward the inevitable. Archer would make sure the path led exactly where he wanted it to — to a rooftop, a battlefield, a place where only two versions of the same man would stand.
From his perch, Archer's eyes narrowed as the crimson figure below stepped into the lamplight. Caliburn gleamed in Shirou's hand, the mithril‑thread cloak shifting with each measured step, Archer could feel it — the bait was set, but he also focused on Caliburn in his counterpart's hand, and the small feeling of envy that came with it.
The night air was sharp, the street slick from a recent drizzle, Shirou's breath misted faintly inside the helm as his senses locked on the ripple of mana ahead.
"I know you're there," he called, voice steady.
A low chuckle answered him, followed by the scrape of steel on asphalt. From the shadows stepped a tall man in a black cassock, hands folded behind his back, eyes like polished obsidian.
"Kirei," Shirou said flatly.
Kotomine's smile was thin. "Emiya Shirou, or should I say… the Crimson Knight?"
Before Shirou could answer, a blur of blue dropped from a rooftop, landing in a crouch between them. The red spear spun once before settling in a relaxed grip.
"Yo," Cu Chulainn said, grinning. "It's been a while since I had a proper warmup."
Even now, Shirou is confused. It seems that in this timeline Cu Chulainn and Kirei have a more amicable relationship than canon. Kirei himself must have summoned him instead of killing Bazett, which means she's alive, but why hasn't she interfered yet? I thought the Association would have sent her by now, oh well, can't look a gift horse in the mouth. Before Shirou could even think some more he was interrupted by Cu.
Cu moved fast — a blue streak closing the distance in less than a heartbeat. Shirou invoked Trace. On. and barely got Caliburn up in time, the impact ringing like a bell. Sparks sprayed as the spear slid along the golden edge, the force driving Shirou back a step.
Cu's grin widened. "Not bad kid, let's see if you can keep that up."
He pressed, the spear a blur of feints and sudden lunges. Shirou met each one with desperate precision, Caliburn flashing in tight arcs, the mithril cloak snapping with each pivot.
Kirei didn't hang back. He moved in with the silent glide of a predator, black sleeves whispering as his fists came up. The first strike was a straight, piston‑like punch aimed at Shirou's ribs. Shirou twisted, letting it glance off his cuirass, but the shock still rattled his bones.
The rhythm was brutal: Lancer's spear from the front, Kirei's fists from the flank. Shirou ducked under a thrust, only to catch a heel kick from Kirei that sent him skidding across the wet pavement. He rolled with it, came up in a crouch, and traced a short sword into his off‑hand.
Cu barked a laugh. "Now we're talking!"
The spear came in low; Shirou caught it on Caliburn, then used the short sword to hook the shaft and shove it aside. He stepped in, aiming a slash at Cu's midsection, but the Lancer twisted away, the spear's butt whipping around toward Shirou's head. He ducked — straight into Kirei's rising knee.
The impact exploded behind his eyes. He staggered, barely bringing Caliburn up in time to block the follow‑up spear thrust.
I can't match them head‑on, Shirou thought, teeth gritted. I need to break their rhythm.
He feinted high at Cu, then abruptly dropped to one knee, slamming his gauntleted fist into the pavement. The stone cracked, shards spraying up into Lancer's face. Cu flinched, just enough for Shirou to surge forward, Caliburn's edge grazing the blue spandex armor.
Kirei was already there, intercepting with a palm strike that Shirou caught on his vambrace. The priest's strength was monstrous; the block sent a jolt up Shirou's arm. He let the force spin him, using the momentum to hurl the short sword at Cu's head. The Lancer batted it aside with the spear, but the distraction bought Shirou a heartbeat.
Shirou traced Kanshou and Bakuya mid‑spin, the twin blades flashing into existence with a crackle of Od. He crossed them to catch Kirei's next strike, the impact sending a shockwave through the street. Cu lunged in from the side, spear tip glowing with a surge of mana.
"Gáe—!"
Shirou twisted, dragging Kirei into the spear's path. Cu aborted the thrust with inhuman reflexes, the tip skimming past Kirei's shoulder. The priest didn't even blink.
"You'll have to do better," Kirei said calmly.
Shirou dropped the twin blades, re‑forming Caliburn in a burst of golden light. He stepped into Cu's guard, the sword's edge a blur. Lancer parried, sparks flying, but Shirou pressed harder, each strike flowing into the next. The clang of steel on steel echoed down the street.
Kirei moved to flank again, but Shirou anticipated it this time. He pivoted, cloak flaring, and kicked off the wall of a nearby building, flipping over the priest's head. He landed behind him, slashing low — only for Kirei to spin, catching the blade between his palms.
The priest's grip was like iron. "Predictable."
Shirou released the sword, letting it vanish, and drove an armored elbow into Kirei's jaw. The priest staggered a half‑step — just enough for Shirou to re‑form Caliburn and bring it up to block Cu's next thrust.
Cu's grin sharpened. "Alright, no more holding back."
Mana flared along the spear's length, the air around it distorting. Shirou's instincts screamed.
"Gáe Bolg!"
The world seemed to slow. Shirou's body moved on reflex, Caliburn snapping up — but he knew it wouldn't be enough. The cursed spear didn't aim for the body; it aimed for the heart.
A shimmer of pink light flared between them — a flowery barrier, cast from somewhere unseen. The spear struck, the barrier cracking it like glass, but it held just long enough for Shirou to twist aside and quickly trace Rho Aias. The tip tore through his pauldron instead of his chest.
Cu clicked his tongue. "Tch. Guess you've got friends."
Shirou's breath came hard, but his grip on Caliburn was steady. He surged forward, golden blade meeting crimson spear in a flurry of strikes that lit the street with sparks. Kirei waded in, fists like hammers, but Shirou used the momentum of each block to reposition, forcing the two to check each other's movements.
Finally, with a burst of mana, Shirou slammed Caliburn into the ground. Light flared, a shockwave rippling out and forcing both opponents back a step.
Cu twirled the spear, grinning. "Not bad, kid. We'll finish this another time."
Kirei's eyes lingered on Shirou, unreadable. "Indeed. The night is still young."
With that, they withdrew into the shadows, their presences fading.
The street was silent again, save for the faint hiss of rain on cooling asphalt. Shirou exhaled slowly, Caliburn's golden glow fading to a dull shimmer before vanishing entirely. His armor was scorched along the shoulder where Gáe Bolg had grazed him, and every muscle ached from the relentless two‑on‑one.
He didn't need to look up to know Archer was gone from his rooftop perch. The Counter Guardian had seen enough.
Shirou turned toward the temple, each step measured. The night air was cold against the sweat cooling on his skin, but his mind was still hot with the rhythm of the fight — the way Cu's spear had blurred, the weight of Kirei's fists, the razor‑thin margin between survival and death.
The temple gates creaked open at his touch. Inside, the courtyard was lit by the soft glow of paper lanterns. Saber stood near the engawa, arms folded, her expression calm but her eyes tracking every movement he made.
Medea was beside her, the violet of her robes deep in the lantern light. Her gaze swept over him once — and then again, slower, sharper. She didn't move toward him immediately. She waited.
"You're late," Saber said, but there was no reproach in her tone. Only observation.
Shirou stopped a few paces away. "Lancer. And Kirei."
Medea's lips pressed into a thin line. "I know."
He looked between them. "You were watching."
Saber inclined her head. "I was, we both were."
"Then why—"
"Because," Medea cut in, her voice low but firm, "As your lover, I felt that you needed to stand on your own. That if you were to be the Crimson Knight, that your conviction to be a real hero is unwavering even in the face of death."
Saber nodded once. "I have bore witness to your growth Shirou, you actions tonight cemented your conviction, and earned my trust as a comrade and master."
Shirou blinked at her. "Even if it killed me?"
Her gaze didn't waver. "A knight's worth is not measured by how many times they are saved from the field. It is measured by whether they can stand when the field is theirs alone."
Medea stepped closer now, her hand brushing the scorched edge of his cuirass. "I was ready to intervene the moment you couldn't, and I was just about to when someone else did it for me."
He met her eyes. "Archer."
She smiled faintly. " Yes, that brute intervened before I could save you, oh well even if he didn't, you didn't think I'd let Gáe Bolg take you, did you?"
The tension in his shoulders eased. "Thank you."
Medea's fingers lingered on the damaged armor before sliding up to cup his jaw. "Don't thank me. Just… don't make me do it again unless you have to."
Saber's mouth curved in the faintest smile. "You fought well, better than I expected against those two, especially after having only trained in your path of the sword for so short of a time."
"That's… high praise, thank you," Shirou said.
"Your welcome Shirou," she replied simply.
They moved inside together, the warmth of the temple wrapping around them. Medea guided him to sit, her hands already weaving a minor healing spell over the worst of the bruises. Saber stood nearby, silent, but her presence was steady — not the watchfulness of a commander over a subordinate, but the quiet regard of one knight for another.
When the healing was done, Medea rested her forehead briefly against his. "Next time, tell me if you're going to bait two predators at once."
He smirked faintly. "Would you have let me go if I had?"
"No," she said, and kissed him lightly before standing.
Saber turned toward the door. "Rest. The War won't wait, but neither will your body."
As they left him in the quiet of the room, Shirou let out a slow breath. They hadn't interfered because they trusted him — and because they knew he needed to prove, to himself and to the War, that the Crimson Knight could stand alone.
Tonight, he had.