"Another unfamiliar ceiling, huh?"
Though Shirou had fully expected to see an unfamiliar ceiling when he woke up, he couldn't help but remark on it wryly anyway.
Perhaps this dry humor was one of his few remaining comforts amid the endless struggle in the darkness.
His entire body ached painfully—not the usual stiffness that passed quickly after waking. This time, Shirou felt utterly drained, unable to move anything but his head.
He chose not to dwell on where exactly he was. There was no point in speculating about such a nondescript wooden hut.
Whatever I need to know, I'll eventually find out.
"Broken Phantasm…?" Shirou quietly murmured, recalling the previous battle. He wasn't quite sure why he'd spontaneously called it by that name.
Perhaps it was an instinctive naming under pressure.
But the sensation he'd felt projecting Incursio had been entirely different from creating a Nichirin Blade. The Nichirin Blade simply provided him with knowledge and techniques not his own, its uniqueness limited primarily to its effectiveness against demons—otherwise, it was akin to an ordinary katana.
Well, maybe slightly cooler-looking than an ordinary katana, given its flashy changing color.
But never had Shirou felt the potential to explosively detonate a Nichirin Blade—until he projected that particular Teigu.
He had sensed an immense, unstable power contained within it.
Could it explode intentionally and destabilize that massive water sword's form?
If that towering blade of water lost its shape, it would fall harmlessly like scattered raindrops.
Shirou had only needed to trigger it slightly with his magical energy, and the terrifying explosion was the last thing he remembered before losing consciousness. At the time, his physical strength had already been exhausted by his earlier clash with Bulat. Only a tiny reserve of mana had remained.
"You're awake?"
With a faint creak, the door opened, and in stepped a beautiful young woman. She had elegant black hair, vibrant crimson eyes, and a naturally attractive face that required no cosmetics. She carried a bowl of porridge as she approached him, wearing a school uniform-like outfit—a short skirt and tie that looked somewhat out of place here.
Shirou slowly turned his head toward her.
"Thank you," he said gently, not bothering with unnecessary questions.
She paused momentarily, looking somewhat surprised by his response.
"Aren't you curious about where you are?" she asked, placing the bowl on the bedside table before sitting gracefully beside him.
Shirou shook his head slightly.
"I'm grateful enough just to be alive. Asking for anything more would be greedy. Besides, when someone saves your life, isn't your first reaction supposed to be gratitude, not interrogation? Saving me wasn't something anyone owed me."
He would gladly risk his life to save others, but Shirou didn't expect everyone else to share his dedication. Sacrificing oneself for another wasn't something everyone could—or even should—do.
When someone willingly risked themselves for another's sake, gratitude was the only proper response.
"Is that so?"
She nodded thoughtfully, then abruptly scrutinized Shirou from head to toe.
"Wh-what's wrong?" Shirou asked nervously, her intense stare making him uneasy. He couldn't move even if he wanted to.
"It looks like the drug won't be necessary after all," she said decisively, nodding again.
"Drug?!"
Shirou stared in shock at the bowl of porridge beside him.
Had they drugged his food? What kind of drug?
His mind raced with alarm. Had he escaped one trap only to fall into another, even worse one?
Without further explanation, the woman abruptly stood and left the room.
"No drug needed...? What did she mean by that?" Shirou muttered in confusion, still staring suspiciously at the porridge.
Creak, creak, creak.
Sunlight streamed in from the door as Shirou heard something heavy moving closer. Soon the same black-haired girl returned, her expression serious this time. She shifted the chair beside Shirou away and loomed over him, petite yet imposing.
He froze, staring up at her cautiously.
And then—
She calmly lifted him up, carrying him effortlessly like a princess.
"..."
"What exactly are you planning to do?" Shirou asked, bewildered.
She ignored his confusion, walking to the doorway and carefully dropping him into a wheelchair just outside.
"Let's go meet everyone first," she said, taking hold of the wheelchair's handles.
He wanted to resist but was limited to a stubborn glare and defiant expression.
"We're here!" she announced cheerfully, opening another door with a loud creak.
Inside was a spacious room with a long table, around which sat several faces—some familiar, some unfamiliar.
Tatsumi sat happily chatting with Bulat, clearly delighted with his new weapon. Lubbock, munching on a pastry, waved cheerily at Shirou, who sat immobilized in the wheelchair.
On another side, a playful blonde woman teased a pink-haired girl, stealing her snacks. The smaller girl puffed her cheeks indignantly but couldn't seem to stop the playful harassment.
At the head of the table sat a striking woman with short white hair, one eye covered by an eyepatch and a sturdy mechanical prosthetic arm. She exuded authority and watched Shirou closely with piercing scrutiny.
"So this is the rumored Fourth Beast of Esdeath's Three Beasts—the one who saved your lives?" she asked calmly, looking toward Bulat and Tatsumi.
Both men nodded in confirmation. The bright red hair was unmistakable.
"You have two choices," she continued bluntly, already certain of her assessment of this young man's character—someone brimming with a strong sense of justice. Supported by Bulat, Tatsumi, and Lubbock's observations, she felt confident in their judgment.
"Join Night Raid or die here."
This explained the necessity of the drug—to render Shirou incapable of fighting back if he refused. Tatsumi and Bulat had witnessed Shirou's strength firsthand. Allowing him unrestricted movement might endanger their entire base.
For safety, preventive measures were taken until Shirou willingly joined.
The black-haired girl had been chosen specifically for the role—she was pretty, about Shirou's age, and could manage her emotions flawlessly. Feeding Shirou herself was a tactical measure—surely Shirou wouldn't refuse such a pretty face.
But Shirou had been weaker than anticipated, removing the need for drugging. Unfortunately, that meant he'd missed a potential "feeding" scene.
"Seems like I don't have much of a choice," Shirou replied flatly, staring intently at the woman seated authoritatively at the head of the table.
"You already know the Empire's darkness, and you know exactly why we've chosen assassination as our method," she explained frankly. "Furthermore, now that you've seen our base, we can't let you leave alive."
The logic was sound. According to what Shirou had gathered from Lubbock earlier, Night Raid was committed to purging the Empire of its corruption. Their ideals matched his own perfectly. She was certain Shirou would agree.
Nearby, Tatsumi shifted uncomfortably. He felt like he'd heard a similar speech before but couldn't quite place it.
"Night Raid targets only the Empire's worst scum," Shirou said carefully, thinking quickly through all he'd heard. "You're all here because you want to change this corrupt Empire."
Everyone at the table nodded in affirmation. Shirou had perfectly captured their purpose.
"Then," Shirou concluded calmly, "I have no objections."