Scarlet Lightning Piercing Through Heaven and Earth
Emiya Shirō's Magic Crest had been carefully adapted to complement the technique. Although he could invoke True Name Release, the destructive power still scaled with the amount of magical energy he could pour into it.
"Hahaha! Just a sword—what can it possibly do?!" Mōryō mocked.
"You'll find out soon enough."
Without hesitation, Shirō raised the projected blade with both hands and roared:
"Clarent Blood Arthur!"
A sky-piercing scarlet bolt of lightning erupted from the rebellious king's sword, surging upward before crashing down toward the battlefield like divine judgment.
Shirō seized the moment and swung the sword downward with all his strength. The scarlet torrent cleaved through the air, roaring toward Mōryō.
Sensing mortal danger, Mōryō twisted its enormous body, attempting to evade—but it was already cornered, its movement hindered by the combined efforts of Nakamura and the others.
"Graaaahhh! You wretched brat!!!"
The crimson lightning slammed into the demon's body. Mōryō's roar of rage turned into a shriek of agony as its flesh seared under the heavenly light.
The shinobi present could only watch in awe as the scarlet torrent split the heavens. The force of the strike whipped up a violent gale, forcing even veteran jonin to brace themselves.
Once, they too had been hailed as the pride of their villages. But compared to Shirō, whose blade defied heaven itself, the gap was undeniable—almost pitiful.
Yet Shirō himself was far from relieved. He could feel it—Mōryō still lived. The monster had taken grave damage, but its vast reservoir of chakra kept it clinging to existence.
He clenched his jaw, forcing his Magic Crest to its absolute limit. Agonizing pain lanced through his body as circuits overloaded, but he refused to stop.
"Not yet! As long as I can move—!"
Drawing on every last shred of chakra and prana in his body, Shirō roared again.
"Clarent… Blood… ARTHUR!!!"
The scarlet lightning thickened, as though his sheer willpower had given the Noble Phantasm new weight. This was no illusion—Clarent resonated with the wielder's emotions. Fueled by Shirō's burning determination and the unnatural modifications of his system, the weapon roared with even greater fury.
Mōryō's howls were drowned out by the thunder as its body was swallowed whole by the crimson storm.
When the light finally faded, silence blanketed the battlefield. Where Mōryō once stood was now a colossal gully carved into the earth, its walls still sizzling with residual heat.
Everyone present could feel it—the afterimage of overwhelming power.
Shirō, however, barely registered any of it. He knew Clarent Blood Arthur was an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm, a weapon not meant to exist here. Without the restraints of the Counter Force, its might could easily exceed what his body could handle. The only reason the land still stood was because his chakra reserves had run dry before the blade could unleash its full potential.
But there was no time to linger. He had bought only an opening.
"Miko-sama! The rest is up to you!"
"Understood. Emiya-kun… you've done more than enough. Rest now."
"Yeah… leave it to you."
With that, Shirō collapsed, consciousness fading.
"Shirō!" Nakamura rushed to his side, panic flashing in his eyes. A quick check calmed him—Shirō was unconscious but stable. "Just exhausted. Nothing fatal."
Relief washed over the team. Pingyi stepped forward, nodding. "Let's get him back to the city. He needs proper care."
The other ninja, including those from rival villages, wisely stepped aside. None dared to provoke Konoha after witnessing such a display. Even suspicion was buried—reputation outweighed recklessness.
"Sensei! What happened to Shirō?!" Taiyi and the others hurried over, worry written all over their faces.
"Don't panic," Nakamura assured. "He'll be fine after some rest. He just pushed himself too far."
"Pushed…? Then that lightning just now—was that really Shirō?!"
Their voices wavered between awe and disbelief. Even from nearly a kilometer away, they had felt the oppressive might of the scarlet strike. To think that the boy they had trained beside was the one who summoned it…
Nearby, Rasa stood frozen, a shock plain on his face.
A year ago, Shirō had been little more than an annoyance, forced to rely on cunning tricks. Now, he had unleashed a strike that could rival legends. That scarlet lightning… even the Third Kazekage, hailed as the strongest in Sunagakure's history, might not have withstood it.
The attack carried dangerous side effects—Shirō had collapsed from the strain—but it wasn't suicidal. And that made it far more terrifying.
Magnet Release? Against that? Worthless.
Rasa clenched his fists. Until he devised a countermeasure, he swore never to face Shirō directly.
Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, another observer smiled coldly.
"Emiya Shirō… Emiya? Impossible. That clan should have perished generations ago. And this power—hardly the work of a mere bloodline…"
The black silhouette faded into the earth, its voice a whisper of malice.
"Mōryō was only a pawn. A tool. And it failed. But this boy… this 'Emiya'… he is intriguing. I must learn more."
It was Black Zetsu, the ageless schemer. For centuries he had manipulated the world from the shadows, twisting history to resurrect his true master. Mōryō had been nothing but a disposable pawn.
But Shirō? He was an anomaly worth investigating.
---
When Shirō finally opened his eyes, the ceiling above was unfamiliar.
"Ah… the familiar… no, wait. Wrong line. The unfamiliar ceiling…"
"Shirō! You're awake?" Taiyi leaned over, relief plain on his face. "Are you okay?"
Shirō groaned, trying to sit up. "Yeah, I'm fine. But why is it you again? You're not secretly in love with me, are you? You Uchiha types… I know your history…"
Taiyi nearly fell over. "What?! Don't lump me in with that kind of clan behavior!"
Despite his words, Shirō couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. Deep down, he was grateful.
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