Chapter 3: The Weight of Power
Three days had passed since Aion Origin's demonstration in the temple courtyard, and the ancient stones of Ryuudou Temple had become witness to a transformation that would have seemed impossible to any observer. What had begun as tentative alliance between strangers was evolving into something deeper—the careful construction of trust between individuals whose destinies were becoming increasingly intertwined.
The morning sun painted the training grounds in shades of gold and amber as Aion moved through the sword forms Artoria had taught him, his wooden blade cutting precise arcs through the crisp air. Each movement was more fluid than the last, muscle memory seeming to emerge from somewhere deeper than conscious thought. Yet for all his improvement, sweat beaded on his brow and his breathing came in controlled bursts—a testament to the intensity of his training regimen.
"Better," Artoria observed from her position near the stone steps, her critical gaze tracking every nuance of his technique. "Your stance has improved considerably. But you're still thinking too much about the individual movements instead of allowing them to flow as one continuous expression of intent."
She stepped forward, her own practice sword materializing in her hand with the casual ease of someone for whom weaponry was as natural as breathing. "Watch carefully. A sword is not merely a tool—it is an extension of the warrior's will, a physical manifestation of their determination to protect what they hold dear."
What followed was a demonstration that transformed the peaceful courtyard into something resembling the training grounds of legendary Camelot. Artoria moved with a grace that seemed to defy physics, her blade describing perfect geometric patterns in the morning air. Yet beneath the technical precision lay something far more profound—an almost spiritual connection between warrior and weapon that spoke of countless battles fought and won through sheer force of will.
"Your Majesty's skill remains as breathtaking as ever," Merlin commented from his customary position on the stone bench, though his tone carried that familiar undercurrent of playful mischief. "Though I do wonder if our young student might benefit from a more... unconventional approach to his education."
Shirou, who had been observing the lesson with intense concentration, frowned slightly. "What do you mean by unconventional? Saber's instruction is already comprehensive and effective."
The Grand Caster's smile widened, and he gestured languidly toward Aion with one long-fingered hand. "Consider this: traditional sword training assumes the practitioner works within established physical limitations. But our friend here possesses the ability to create new realities with pure intention. Perhaps his approach to combat should reflect that fundamental difference."
Rin, who had been methodically arranging a collection of magical implements near the temple's main entrance, looked up with sharp interest. "Are you suggesting he should rely entirely on his creation abilities? That seems both impractical and potentially dangerous. What happens if his power fails him in a crucial moment?"
"Not rely entirely, no," Merlin clarified, his expression growing more thoughtful. "But consider the possibility of synthesis—combining traditional martial technique with his unique capabilities to create something entirely new. After all, why limit ourselves to conventional wisdom when we're dealing with unconventional circumstances?"
Aion lowered his practice sword, curiosity evident in his dark eyes. The conversation had touched something deep within him—a recognition that the path he was walking might require more than simply adapting existing methods to his circumstances. "What exactly are you proposing, Merlin?"
The silver-haired mage rose from his bench with characteristic fluid grace, his robes shifting and flowing as if animated by their own will. "A demonstration, perhaps. Artoria, would you be willing to engage our student in actual combat? Nothing too dangerous, of course—merely enough to test whether his instincts can adapt under genuine pressure."
Artoria's expression grew serious, her tactical mind immediately assessing the potential risks and benefits of such a test. "Combat training against an experienced opponent could indeed reveal aspects of his abilities that practice forms cannot. However, the margin for error would be significantly smaller."
"I'm willing to try," Aion said before anyone else could voice objections. There was something in his tone—a quiet determination that seemed to resonate with depths of character that even he didn't fully understand yet. "I need to know what I'm truly capable of, and more importantly, what my limitations are. Theory and practice forms can only teach me so much."
Shirou stepped forward, his earnest nature compelling him to voice his concerns. "Are you certain about this, Aion? Saber is..." He paused, searching for words adequate to describe her capabilities. "She's not someone you can afford to underestimate. Even holding back significantly, she could seriously injure you if something goes wrong."
"Then I'll have to make sure nothing goes wrong," Aion replied, and for a moment something flickered in his eyes—a flash of deeper steel that spoke to hidden reserves of will and determination. It was the first clear glimpse of Victor Elderblood's emotional intensity manifesting through his carefully controlled exterior.
Rin finished her preparations and approached the group, her analytical mind already working through the potential variables and outcomes. "If we're going to do this, we should establish clear parameters and safety measures. I can set up barrier spells around the courtyard to contain any unexpected magical discharge, and monitoring enchantments to track both participants' vital signs."
"Excellent foresight," Merlin agreed with genuine approval. "Though I suspect our young friend's abilities may prove... challenging to contain through conventional means."
As Rin began weaving her protective spells around the training area, creating a shimmering dome of translucent energy that hummed with contained power, Artoria moved to the center of the courtyard. Her practice sword had been replaced by something that looked identical but radiated an entirely different presence—this was Excalibur in its training configuration, still a wooden blade but one that had been touched by her noble phantasm's true nature.
"The rules are simple," she announced, her voice carrying the authority of a king addressing her knights. "This is a test of adaptability and instinct, not a contest of raw power. You will attempt to land a single clean strike upon me. I will defend myself appropriately, but will not actively seek to defeat you. The exercise ends when you succeed, when you yield, or when I determine that continuing would be unsafe."
Aion nodded, settling into the combat stance she had taught him while allowing his consciousness to expand, feeling for that familiar stirring of creative power that had become as natural as breathing. "I understand."
"Then begin," Artoria commanded, and the morning air suddenly crackled with tension.
What followed was unlike anything the observers had expected to witness. Aion moved forward with the careful precision of Artoria's training, but as her first parry sent him staggering backward, something fundamental shifted in his approach. Instead of simply attempting to match her technique with technique, he began to adapt in ways that defied conventional martial logic.
When her counterattack forced him to dodge left, he didn't simply evade—he created a small platform of solidified light to spring from, changing his angle of approach in mid-motion. When her blade moved to intercept his strike, he willed his wooden sword to temporarily phase through hers before resolidifying at the crucial moment.
"Fascinating," Merlin murmured, his eyes bright with scholarly delight. "He's not just using his abilities as tools—he's integrating them into his very understanding of combat itself."
But Artoria was adapting too, her legendary battle instincts allowing her to read and counter his unconventional tactics with increasing efficiency. What had begun as a simple training exercise was evolving into something resembling a dance between two radically different philosophies of combat—her perfected technique against his innovative improvisation.
The turning point came when Aion, pressed back against the courtyard's outer wall, made a decision that surprised everyone present, including himself. Instead of creating another platform or attempting to phase his weapon, he reached deeper into his power than he had ever attempted before.
In that crucial moment, he didn't create an object or a barrier—he created a concept.
The air around him suddenly became thick and viscous, not through any physical change but through a fundamental alteration in the nature of space itself. Artoria's strike, which should have ended the exercise, slowed dramatically as it encountered this field of altered reality. Not stopped, not deflected, but simply... changed, as if the very meaning of speed and momentum had been temporarily redefined.
In that stretched instant, Aion stepped through the modified space and brought his blade to rest gently against Artoria's throat—a touch so light it would barely have disturbed a butterfly's wing, but positioned with perfect precision.
The conceptual field dissolved immediately, leaving both combatants standing in the suddenly normal morning air, breathing heavily from exertion and adrenaline.
"Impossible," Rin breathed, her analytical mind struggling to process what she had witnessed. "He didn't just create matter or energy—he created a new physical law. That's not magecraft. That's not even True Magic as we understand it. That's..."
"Divine authority," Merlin finished quietly, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something approaching awe. "The power to rewrite the fundamental rules that govern reality itself. Young Aion, do you understand what you've just accomplished?"
Aion lowered his sword with shaking hands, the magnitude of what had occurred beginning to sink in. "I... I felt like I was reaching into the foundation of everything and just... asking it to be different for a moment. Like reality was willing to listen."
Artoria stepped back, her blue eyes studying him with new intensity. For the first time since they had met, she was looking at him not as a student to be trained, but as something potentially far more significant. "That level of power comes with equally significant responsibility. The ability to alter fundamental concepts could reshape the world itself—or unmake it entirely."
Shirou, who had watched the entire exchange with growing amazement, found his voice at last. "The important question isn't what you can do, but what you choose to do with such power. As long as your heart remains focused on protecting others, your abilities will serve justice rather than chaos."
The weight of their words settled around Aion like a mantle, and he felt something shift in his chest—a deepening of the protective instincts that had driven him from the moment of his awakening. Whatever power flowed through him, whatever cosmic forces had brought him to this place and time, he would not allow them to be used for anything other than safeguarding those who could not protect themselves.
"Then help me learn to control it properly," he said simply, looking each of his companions in the eye. "All of you. Because I have the feeling that this war, this Grail, this entire situation—it's all building toward something much larger than any of us initially realized."
Merlin's smile returned, though it now carried deeper currents of respect and anticipation. "Oh, my dear young friend, you have no idea how correct you are. But that, I suspect, is a conversation for another day. For now, perhaps we should focus on ensuring you don't accidentally unmake yourself while learning to harness such extraordinary gifts."
As the morning sun climbed higher over Fuyuki City, casting long shadows across the temple courtyard where legends were training legends, none of the five individuals present could have predicted how this moment would be remembered in the chronicles yet to be written. They knew only that they stood at the threshold of something unprecedented—a convergence of fate and power that would either save their world or transform it beyond all recognition.
The Holy Grail War suddenly seemed like the least of their concerns.
Sets down pen with the satisfaction of an author who has just unveiled another crucial piece of the grand design
Ah, my devoted reader, do you see how each chapter builds upon the last? Aion's growth from simple creation to conceptual manipulation, the deepening bonds with his legendary mentors, the first stirrings of the cosmic scope that awaits—all woven together with character consistency that honors every aspect of the Fate universe I have spent decades crafting.