(For the next few chapters, I'll rewrite them to be shorter, since writing too long makes it tiring to read, right? So I'll start keeping them short~! Anyway… see you in two day later~!)
Fuyuki – The next day, Miyama Town, Emiya Residence.
The early morning was draped in a gentle layer of tranquility. The crisp, clear air mingled with the lingering chill; clouds drifted lazily across the sky, mingling with thin snowflakes that fell slowly in the soft breeze. On the porch, Zoth leaned against the wooden door, eyes gazing into the distance, lost in thoughts of something Shirou had said the day before.
When he had returned from taking Jeanne to buy a few sets of modern clothes, he unexpectedly found Shirou waiting at the door. Still wearing his usual composed demeanor, Zoth walked over to ask what was going on—only for Shirou's next words to hit him like a shock to the chest, making his heart skip a beat:
"I met someone named Kamiyama Touma in a dream, Sensei… do you know who that is?"
Zoth froze, instinctively taking a step back. His pupils constricted, and his voice cracked from shock:
"Y–you said… you met Kamiyama Touma?!?"
Shirou nodded without hesitation, folding his arms as he continued:
"Yes. He called me the next heir to the Flame Sword and said… I am the sword. That the Sacred Swords are waiting for me. That Wonder World needs a guardian… something like that."
Zoth hadn't expected Shirou to encounter the protagonist Touma. His heartbeat quickened, a wave of unease rising within him. He immediately grabbed Shirou's shoulders and shook him firmly:
"Shirou! Listen to me—whatever Touma-Sensei told you, you must remember it! It will help you greatly on your path to maturity!"
Though Shirou had no idea what Zoth was rambling about, he obediently nodded before heading inside to resume his daily routine. Zoth, however, remained frozen at the doorway, his face tense as though trying to untangle an invisible knot. Finally, he shook his head, exhaled, and stepped inside.
The recollection ended. Zoth rubbed his face, his expression sinking into deep thought. Though he didn't fully grasp the meaning behind it all, he forced himself to push it aside and focus on the present—the Holy Grail War was quietly shifting into motion.
"Um… Zoth? What are you thinking about so absentmindedly?" Jeanne's voice rang out as she pushed open the door, her eyes tilting with a hint of concern.
"I'm figuring out countermeasures… to keep this war under control," Zoth replied plainly.
"Oh, is that so?" Jeanne walked closer and tugged him down to sit. Her eyes were warm, filled with care. She patted his back gently, her voice soft:
"Sometimes, you don't have to force yourself to shoulder everything alone. When it happens, I'll be here. Don't take all the responsibility by yourself."
Hearing that, Zoth chuckled softly and rubbed his temples:
"Haah… fine… this time I'll listen to you—"
But before he could finish the sentence, his body suddenly went still. His dark brown eyes flared into a vivid orange. A low chuckle rumbled out, laced with a growl:
"Ah~ so you're there… and… much more interesting than I expected~."
Jeanne froze, worry clouding her face as memories of Zoth's darker, more deranged days surged back into her mind.
"Zoth… what did you just say?"
Zoth glanced at her, then shook his head. He smiled, placing both hands on her cheeks, and mischievously squished them:
"Nothing… just muttering to myself, huehehe~"
"W–wait! Zoth! What are you doing?!"
"Uehehehe~, it's been too long since I teased you… gotta make up for lost time~"
Jeanne struggled but couldn't break free. In the end, she gave up, letting him pinch her cheeks like a child. The rosy flush that spread across her face replaced the tense atmosphere from moments ago.
Even so, deep within Zoth's eyes lingered a trace of vigilance. He had just witnessed a fragment of the future—a battlefield at the heart of the city. A black-armored figure stood amid a sea of thick, tar-like mud, from which countless dragon heads emerged, roaring. Opposite them, a warrior clad in blue-and-white armor patterned like the Milky Way stood with the Sacred Swords spinning behind him, their light illuminating all of Fuyuki.
Zoth instantly recognized the swarm of dragon heads—Whore of Babylon – Great Beast, Sodom's Beast. But that black-and-gold armored figure—who was it? From the way he spoke, laced with Gen Z slang… there was no doubt in Zoth's mind: this was another isekai traveler like himself.
A plan was already forming in his mind. Tonight, when the Masters and Servants began their moves, he would find a way to eliminate that man.
But for now… he intended to make the most of his time "bullying" this saintly maiden, Jeanne d'Arc.
---
Fuyuki, Late Afternoon – Homurahara Academy
The golden hue of sunset stretched across the school grounds, painting everything in warm amber. Groups of students drifted toward the gates, forming a long stream like a flowing river. Among them, Shirou walked at an easy pace, humming quietly to himself.
Just a few steps from the gate, a hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder. Shirou's brow furrowed; he spun around, grabbed the stranger's wrist, and twisted—only for the other person to block the move, smirking.
"Hey, Shirou… it's me," Shinji said casually, holding Shirou's arm.
"Oh? You? I thought it was some school thug here to settle a score." Shirou let go, his eyes somewhere between wary and uninterested.
"Well… I came to ask you a favor," Shinji swung his arm lightly, looking him straight in the eye with that all-too-familiar smirk.
"What is it? Don't tell me it's homework. No way…" Shirou crossed his arms and shook his head.
"No, I need your help cleaning the dojo."
"Eh? Again… don't tell me—"
"Yup!! It's my turn for cleanup duty today… please, Shirou, just this once more~" Shinji pressed his palms together and gave a small bow.
"Aiz… fine. But this is the last time." Shirou sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading toward the archery range.
"Ok~! Thanks a ton!" Shinji grinned and jogged after him.
They stayed behind after school, splitting the dojo between them. The sound of mops swishing and slippers shuffling mixed with the faint scent of polished wood. By the time they finished, the sun had completely set. They stowed the cleaning gear in the corner, grabbed their bags, and were just about to leave when—
From the doorway, sparks flared—metal clashing with a sharp keng! keng! that rang through the air.
Without a word, Shirou and Shinji exchanged a glance, then darted outside, hiding behind a wall.
Out in the courtyard, two figures fought fiercely. One wore a tight blue bodysuit, with red eyes and blue hair. His opponent—a white-haired man—met his strikes head-on. A crimson spear whipped through the air, clashing against a pair of twin blades, Kanshou and Bakuya. Each time a blade shattered, a new pair appeared instantly in the white-haired man's hands—never missing a beat.
Shinji gaped, pointing at the white-haired fighter.
"Whoa… didn't think there was someone else who could use Projection Magecraft like you, Shirou."
Shirou gave a slight nod. But as he watched, strange fragments of combat knowledge began pouring into his mind—like he was learning each move just by observing the man.
In the yard, the blue-haired man was knocked back, dragging his spear along the ground to slow himself. He looked up, lips curling in excitement, though his voice was cold:
"You… clearly an Archer, yet fighting in melee. That's a first for me."
The white-haired man gave a dry chuckle.
"Since ancient times, archers have loved close combat. What, you'd rather let the enemy get close and kill you instead?"
He raised his twin blades again, ready to lunge—when—
BOOM!
A deafening blast shook the courtyard. The ground split with cracks of golden lightning.
Archer and Lancer turned toward the source. Through the settling dust, a lone figure stepped forward. Dark purple-black hair shifted in the breeze, the hem of a white lab coat fluttering, deep black eyes locking onto them. A single finger pushed up his glasses.
Amid the tense air, he smirked, his voice an odd mix of energy and teasing:
"Damn… y'all goin' at it like it's the final boss fight or somethin'… makin' me lowkey wanna jump in too. But fr, y'all gonna drop your @'s or just throw hands and ghost?"
Both Archer and Lancer froze. Sure, each individual word made sense—but together, it was absolute nonsense. They just stared at him, their expressions a mix of confusion and irritation. The stranger tilted his head, rubbing his chin as if talking to himself:
"Bruh, did I say somethin' wrong or what? I been talkin' like this my whole four years at the Clock Tower… Or is it 'cause I ain't speakin' Japanese so they just sittin' there like 💀?"
Archer twitched an eyebrow, his fighting spirit gone. He straightened up, rubbed his eyes, then asked:
"Lancer… did you understand a single thing he said?"
Resting Gae Bolg on his shoulder, Lancer replied flatly:
"Not a word… plus he's just rambling. Honestly, it's annoying."
The stranger suddenly pointed at them, eyes widening:
"Yo! Y'all fr not gettin' me?? Why you lookin' at me like I'm fresh off a UFO or somethin'? Don't tell me you actually don't get it, 'cause I am NOT tryna sit here and give a whole TED Talk."
Archer and Lancer exchanged a glance, then turned their "enough already" stares back on him.
Lancer tilted his head, smirking faintly:
"Temporary truce. Let's take care of this guy first… his voice alone's giving me a headache."
Archer drew his bow, arrow aimed squarely at the newcomer.
"Agreed. Just showed up and already this irritating."
The stranger just sighed, rubbing his face:
"Man… should've just listened to Assassin, stayed put till she wrapped things up, then rolled in and ended it quick. But hey, since I'm here… might as well have some fun with it."
He said nothing more, pulling out a golden device and snapping it to his waist. Instantly, a belt shot out with a mechanical whirr and locked tightly around his torso.
[Juuga Driver…]
Then, he took out a large golden Vistamp engraved with ten beasts. When he slammed it down, a glowing triple-triangle sigil flashed, and a mechanical voice rang out:
[Juuga!]
The Vistamp was struck hard into the Driver. He smirked, adjusting his glasses as if nothing could faze him. Then, the voice called out in rapid succession:
[Rex! Megalodon! Eagle! Mammoth! Ptera! Lion! Jackal! Kong! Kamakiri! Brachio!]
Ten vivid projections of ancient beasts burst into life around him, roaring as if from a prehistoric age. Lifting his chin, his voice surged with raw energy:
"Aight~! Lemme show y'all the power of 10 ancient beast DNAs, fam! Now… catch these hands straight from the war god himself! HENSHIN, let's gooo!"
He flicked the Vistamp to the right.
[Scramble!]
[Jusshu no idenshi! Tsuyoki kokorozashi! Hazero! Hoero! Chouetsu seyo! Kamen Rider Juuga!]
[Go over.]
Zzzt! — BOOM!
Black smoke roiled up. One by one, the spectral beasts turned into streams of light, slamming into his body as armored plates locked into place with sharp clack-clack precision.
Before Archer and Lancer stood a warrior clad in black armor trimmed with gold. The glossy black plating gleamed like heated metal, golden lines running through it like veins of ore in stone.
His helmet was sleek yet aggressive, with two golden horns sweeping outward like a crown, guarding a pair of burning red compound eyes—eyes that seemed to pierce straight through an opponent's will. The pauldrons flared outward like the wings of a hawk; the gold-plated V-shaped chestplate stood bold against deep shadow, with black crevices lending an abyssal depth. His limbs were muscled in sculpted armor, the gauntlets and greaves etched with lethal elegance—tools made to crush whatever they touched.
The air thickened under his presence. Lancer gripped Gae Bolg, lips curling into a faint grin.
"Huh… not bad. Didn't expect the rambling idiot from earlier to look this intimidating now."
Juuga loosened his shoulders, the gold trim on his armor clinking faintly as he dusted his hands.
"Yo~ so y'all don't gotta be all confused tryna figure out what to call me — or who's about to clap y'all — just call me Juuga. Simple, right?"
Archer narrowed his eyes, bowstring drawn to its limit, the magical arrow trembling with condensed killing intent. Lancer rested Gae Bolg on the ground, tilting his head with a smirk that sharpened.
"Juuga… guess we don't need any more talk."
"Bet," Juuga replied curtly, rolling his neck until the joints popped with dry, heavy cracks.
BOOM!
He stomped down, shattering the ground like a warhammer's blow, body launching forward like a supersonic bullet—leaving behind a black-and-gold shockwave tearing into the earth.
Lancer swung his spear in a wide arc—KENG!—the crimson tip clashed with Juuga's forehead armor, sparks showering in rapid bursts. The force only staggered Juuga half a step before he twisted at the waist and drove a crushing right elbow into Lancer's ribs.
WHAM!
Lancer was blasted back, Gae Bolg gouging a deep trail across the courtyard before he came to a halt, eyes alight with rare exhilaration.
"Not bad… stronger than I thought."
Archer moved instantly, slamming a magic arrow into the ground—BOOM!—a maelstrom of mana erupted, engulfing Juuga in a deadly blast.
As the dust cleared… Juuga stood untouched, armor barely scratched. His voice dripped with mockery.
"C'mon now… you really think one lil' arrow gonna one-shot me? Be so for real. I ain't that easy to kill."
He pulled out another Vistamp and slammed it into the left side of his Driver.
[Absorb… Lion.]
He flicked the Juuga Vistamp again—
[Lion Mighty Attack!!]
A blazing lion crest formed beneath his feet. Golden energy surged into his right leg. Juuga shot into the air, then plummeted like a meteor.
Lancer and Archer's eyes widened, pupils contracting as the incoming energy ripped through the air. Both leapt aside—
CRASH!
Half the courtyard disintegrated in a pillar of dust and rubble. The glowing lion emblem burned beneath Juuga's feet as he stood tall, voice taunting:
"So~? That all you got? Or you want me to turn it up a notch?"
Archer waved a hand through the settling haze, face steel-cold but lips curling faintly.
"Kamen Rider? What a coincidence… I'm a Rider too."
Juuga tilted his head, tapping the side of his helmet before laughing outright.
"Hahaha!! You kiddin' me right now?! You a Kamen Rider?! Don't think I don't know who you are, Mr. 'Hero of Justice.' Aight then… if you really a Kamen Rider, show me some proof. C'mon… hit that henshin!"
Archer chuckled softly. From thin air, a blazing golden sword materialized in his hand. The blade glowed like moonlight as he lifted his gaze, voice cold as sharpened steel:
"Hero of Justice? No… I am a swordsman of the Sword of Logos — right hand of Solomon Holy Sovereignty."
Without another word, a Driver locked around his waist. From the sky, a thick black-and-purple Wonder Ride Book dropped into his palm with a thud. Archer flipped it open—
[Jaou~ Dragon!]
[Cloaked in darkness refined to its limit, releasing the hidden power of countless dragons…]
Juuga froze. Behind the visor, his eyes widened.
"You messin' with me?! Sword of Logos?… Hold up—Solomon?! Bruh, no way Kamen Rider Saber just pulled up?! And… how the hell you even got—"
"No need for explanations. Now… keep your eyes wide open, Juuga."
Archer snapped the Book shut, swiping Jaou Dragon along the sword's edge—
[Jaou Read…]
He slotted it into the Driver—standby loop echoing ominously. The hilt of Kurayami slammed into the Driver, the Book sprang open, and the system roared:
[Ankokuken Kurayami!]
"Henshin."
[Jump out the book, open it and burst.]
[The fear of the darkness.]
[You make right a just, no matter dark joke.]
[Fury in the dark… Jaou Dragon!]
[Dare mo nogare rarenai…]
KRAK-BOOM!
Thunder split the sky as darkness and spectral dragons coiled around Archer. Purple energy exploded outward, armor of blackened violet steel locking into place.
The armor was carved with winding dragon motifs, edges sharp as blades. Spiked pauldrons jutted out like the wings of a demonic wyrm. His helmet bore the visage of a fearsome dragon, curved horns like twin sabers, eyes burning hellfire gold. A faintly glowing sword emblem gleamed at the forehead—symbol of the dark sovereign.
Across the chest, a golden dragon's head flared, wings stretching wide. The gauntlets and greaves shimmered in deep royal purple with gold tracing every joint—regal yet merciless.
Kamen Rider Calibur – Jaou Dragon.
Calibur twirled Kurayami with casual precision, giving a nod of acknowledgement before pointing the tip straight at Juuga. His voice cut the air like steel tearing silk:
"It's time… to end your story."