Fairy Island Britain — a fantastical land, like something out of a fairy tale.
The island was home to countless fairies. They loved freedom. They guarded love and the future. They led Britain toward prosperity.
—At least, that's what the fairies of Britain themselves believed.
But fairies weren't the only living beings on the island. There were also wild boars, beasts, and... humans.
Among them, humans were the most peculiar kind of "animal."
Their lifespan rarely exceeded thirty years. Most of them would die after that. And yet, these short-lived creatures possessed a creativity and imagination so astonishing that even the fairies themselves admired it.
Humans brought emotional joy to the fairies.
Humans pushed civilization forward for the fairies.
Humans provided the fairies with unparalleled spiritual happiness.
To the fairies, humans were special, precious, and immensely valuable...
Until they lost that value—at which point, they could be discarded without hesitation.
They were pets.
"There's no doubt about it—this is a human! Just like the books said!"
Inside the palace of Orkney, the fairy named Morgan stared uncertainly at the unconscious red-haired boy lying on the ground.
She had never seen a human before—only read about them in the books stored in the Orkney library.
"The books said humans look very similar to the Wind Clan... except they don't have wings. Not even wing stubs..."
"But this is strange. The palace is protected by a barrier. There's no way a human could break in... Could it be a prank by another clan?"
"Hmm... no, that can't be. Mother said this palace's barrier can't be breached by unknown fairies either—wait, could he be from my homeland? Maybe he appeared here because of me!"
The blonde girl pondered deeply about the red-haired boy's origin. Eventually, she arrived at the most reasonable explanation.
She was a Paradise Fairy, not one born in the land of Britain, but a foreigner who had drifted in from the Inner Sea of the Stars.
She was different—special.
She carried many relics from her homeland, some of which she hadn't even used yet.
—Such as a certain spear she had never taken out.
It was because of these connections that Morgan reached her conclusion.
From her point of view, this was the only explanation that made sense.
"If he's a human from my homeland, then he must be different from the humans of Britain... Hmm, though I have no reference for comparison. Still, leaving him lying here like this isn't right."
"Luckily, I just invented a new spell yesterday! Hehe~ It's a magic even I can cast with my limited mana!"
The blonde girl beamed with joy as she infused mana into her wand and cast a spell on the red-haired boy lying unconscious on the floor.
The native-born fairies of Britain were extraordinarily powerful—born with immense magic, they could perform feats equivalent to magecraft just by breathing or playing.
Compared to them, Morgan, as a foreign fairy from the Paradise, had weak mana—so weak, in fact, that even lower-ranking fairies surpassed her.
Fortunately, the Rain Clan who took her in didn't mind this. They treated Morgan as a cherished princess, showing her no prejudice based on her origins or magical ability.
"——Morgan Magic!"
With a gentle incantation, the spell she invented caused the red-haired boy to rise into the air, enveloped by invisible currents of mana.
Under her mental guidance, he floated slowly toward her room. The sight filled the blonde girl with delight.
"Yay~ It worked!"
She couldn't help but hop up and down in celebration.
Though her mana was far inferior to other fairies in Britain, she possessed a unique talent for magecraft—frequently creating low-cost yet highly practical spells through bursts of inspiration and creativity.
She called them "Morgan Magic."
—To fairies, magecraft was seen as worthless. Only strange eccentrics ever bothered with such things.
—Asking a creature who naturally breathes to learn how to breathe would sound absurd. That's how most fairies viewed magecraft.
Yet for Morgan, every time she created a new spell, she felt a joy deep within. Perhaps, she thought, this was the same joy of creation described in books about humans.
Though she wasn't good at all types of magic, when it came to invention and design, Morgan could very well be called a genius in magecraft.
.....
In his dream, he saw a sword—a vague, indistinct sword.
Though its exact appearance was unclear, he could still remember certain traits about it: it shone like gold, a sword so noble that it seemed fit only for a true king.
"Tch..."
Was he realizing that he was inside a dream?
Shirou let out a faint, raspy sound, but his consciousness remained trapped in the darkness of that dream. All he could do was keep watching the golden sword.
Yet, to him, this wasn't torment.
Shirou Emiya was not someone who dreamed often.
—or rather, he was someone who always had two kinds of dreams.
One was the nightmare of the great fire from ten years ago. The other was this recurring dream—of the golden sword.
So, he had grown used to it.
No matter how painful the nightmare, ten years of constant repetition had numbed him to surprise or fear.
Such is the horror of familiarity.
But... tonight's dream about the golden sword was different.
"The sword... broke?"
Shirou muttered in disbelief.
He stared at the golden sword—only to find that it was riddled with cracks, as if it could no longer withstand the strain. Without a sound, it shattered into countless fragments, crying out in silent anguish.
But the transformation didn't stop there.
Those countless fragments, as if tossed into a blender, began to swirl and churn, and then—amid the chaos—reformed into an entirely new weapon.
"The sword... turned into a spear?"
It was strange. As he looked at the newly formed spear, Shirou felt like he understood everything about it—its structure, its essence. The name of the weapon rose unbidden in his mind.
"It tears through the sky, anchors the ends of the earth..."
"The Holy Lance—"
"...Mmm..."
The dream faded.
Shirou let out a sleepy murmur as he slowly awoke, his consciousness still clinging to the dream that was clearly unlike the ones before.
"I remember... I fell asleep in the shed... This is bad. What time is it? If I overslept, Sakura will take over making breakfast again... What time is it... Huh?"
Still groggy, Shirou began to notice something was wrong. He hadn't woken up in the familiar training shed where he practiced every night.
He was in an unfamiliar, spacious room.
The décor was distinctly Western—there was a fireplace, intricate wall patterns he couldn't read but found beautiful, and the furnishings around him, even at a glance, were clearly extremely valuable.
—It looked like something straight out of a royal chamber for a prince or princess.
That was the first thought that popped into Shirou's mind.
"Was I... kidnapped?"
As his eyes adjusted and he fully took in the luxurious surroundings, Shirou voiced a guess that felt all too plausible.
This wasn't his home.And if it wasn't a dream... then the only explanation was that he had been abducted.
But by who?
Why would someone with a room this extravagant go out of their way to kidnap an ordinary high schooler like him?
It didn't seem like a crime for money—or any kind of material gain.
"Could it be... another magus? Someone after Kiritsugu's magic...?"
His thoughts scattered as he muttered the possibility aloud.
But before he could ponder it further, a voice responded.
"Mhm! I knew it—you really are a magus, aren't you!"
The presence had been beside him all along—someone he hadn't noticed until just now.
Shirou's heart jumped. He turned toward the voice—and the first thing he saw were eyes like emeralds...
No, wait—eyes like a quiet lake, pale blue with a tint of green, glimmering with curiosity.
And beside them was a girl with large, intelligent eyes, framed by glasses, staring at him with profound fascination.