hello, this is my very first story im making so please don't be too harsh if the story is awful and i hope you enjoy this, this is a what if shirou was teleported into danmachi with a twist as the astrea familia was never destroyed and alfia is alive and taking care of bell.
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📘 CHAPTER 1 — "The Blade Carried by Fate"
(1200+ words)
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He felt the world cracking.
Not in the literal sense—no tremor shook the ground, no roar split the sky—but deep within the fabric of existence itself. Shirou Emiya had felt this sensation once before, when he projected the impossibility of Caliburn and defied fate for a fleeting moment. That same distortion, that same ripple, returned now.
Except this time, he was not the cause.
The Fifth Holy Grail War had ended. The Greater Grail, buried beneath the city of Fuyuki, should have shut down quietly, its corrupted core eliminated. The last embers of its power were supposed to dissolve harmlessly into the void.
But something went wrong.
Shirou felt it first as a tug behind his navel—a thread hooking into his soul, pulling. He staggered on the scorched ground, the remnants of battle fading around him. Archer's fading presence, Rin's farewell, Saber's gentle kiss of gratitude—they all blurred into a haze of fading memories as a light, unnatural and corrosive, swallowed the edges of his vision.
"…What… is this…?"
No answer came from the empty air.
He reached out with Reinforcement instinctively, forcing prana into his limbs to resist the pull, but his fingers passed through the light as if it were hollow.
A cold voice that did not belong to a human whispered through the distortion.
ERROR. SINGULARITY DETECTED.
RE-ALIGNMENT REQUIRED.
The Grail.
It was the Grail.
Shirou felt his heartbeat freeze, then surge.
"No—wait—stop!"
His shout was torn away as the light yanked him forward, swallowing him whole.
A flash.
A twist.
A lurch.
The world inverted on itself like folded paper.
And then—
Silence.
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Shirou's consciousness returned slowly.
The first thing he felt was the wind—cool, gentle, brushing across his cheek. Not the acrid air of a battlefield, nor the warm humidity of Fuyuki. This breeze carried an earthy scent, tinged with grass and distant leaves.
His eyelashes fluttered.
His vision blurred with light and shadow.
He lay on his back, staring up at a canopy of tall trees whose leaves filtered sunlight into dancing fragments of gold. For a long moment, he simply breathed, letting the unfamiliar air fill his lungs.
His body did not hurt.
That alone was strange.
Shirou pushed himself up slowly, his movements calm and deliberate. Every detail was deliberate—he checked his limbs, flexed his fingers, tested his breath. Reinforcement hummed faintly beneath his skin; he could feel prana circulating normally.
Avalon pulsed faintly in his core, soothing, alive.
…Everything is intact.
His body was whole. His circuits unharmed. No trace of battle wounds.
He exhaled slowly.
"Where… am I?"
The forest around him was peaceful, almost serene. The trees were tall, straight, and densely packed, of a species he did not recognize. Birds chirped overhead, their calls soft and melodic. The grass beneath him swayed gently.
And yet—
Something in the air felt wrong.
Not dangerous.
Not hostile.
Just… foreign.
It felt like the laws of the world were different. His magecraft—his very existence—was resonating differently with the prana in the environment.
Shirou placed one hand on the ground, gathering a small portion of prana. He projected the simplest thing he could—a basic steel dagger.
"Trace… on."
The words left his lips naturally.
Blue sparks flickered.
Circuits ignited along his skin.
The shape pressed into existence—
Then shattered.
The half-formed dagger burst apart into motes of fractured light, scattering like broken glass.
Shirou's eyes narrowed.
He tried again, slower, adjusting for the strange prana density in the air.
"Trace… on."
The dagger formed—complete this time—but its edges wavered with instability, like heat distortion. It was fragile, imperfect.
"UBW feels… shaky," he murmured.
His Reality Marble was responding, but sluggishly, like a limb that had fallen asleep.
This world is interfering with it.
The realization was unsettling, but not terrifying. He could adapt. He always adapted.
He dispelled the dagger and stood.
His legs felt steady beneath him. He scanned the forest carefully, taking in every sound, every motion, every shift in air pressure. Trained combat instinct from Archer's memories guided him—calm, methodical, perceptive.
Then he heard it.
A rustle—far too heavy for a small animal.
Shirou turned sharply.
A large creature lurked between the trees—a hulking shape with dark scales, hunched shoulders, and yellow eyes burning with primal hunger. It snarled low, a gurgling, echoing sound.
A monster.
Shirou did not know the name, but he recognized danger at a glance.
"Great," he muttered, "I get dropped in a forest anget dropped in a forest and immediately find something like this."
He reinforced his legs with a pulse of prana, shifting into a balanced stance. His right foot angled forward, left foot steady, arms loose but ready.
The monster lunged.
Shirou moved at the exact same moment.
He dodged sideways, sliding across the grass with a controlled glide. His palm swept through the air—
"Trace—blade!"
Three short daggers materialized in his hand, imperfect but functional.
He threw them with practiced, precise motions.
Two embedded into the creature's hide with small sparks—its scales were harder than expected. The third struck its eye, making it reel back with a screech.
Shirou pressed forward.
Movement—deliberate.
Footwork—efficient.
Breathing—steady.
He reinforced his clenched fist and slammed it into the creature's jaw. The impact cracked bone and sent a shockwave up his arm.
The monster staggered. Shirou stepped in, swept its leg with a clean low kick, and pinned its head to the ground with a reinforced stomp. A new projected blade manifested in his hand—
—and he drove it down.
The creature dissolved into black dust.
Shirou exhaled.
He adjusted his breathing, letting Reinforcement fade from his limbs. His heartbeat slowed; his senses sharpened again.
He frowned.
"When a creature dies… it turns into dust?"
He had no time to ponder it, because voices echoed through the trees.
"Over here!"
"That sounded like a monster cry!"
"Hurry!"
Shirou stiffened slightly, not out of fear, but caution. He turned toward the sound.
A group of people emerged through the foliage—five women wearing coordinated light armor, each with weapons ready. Their steps were trained, swift, purposeful—a battle unit accustomed to danger.
Shirou knew instantly: they were warriors.
The one in front had fiery red hair and bright green eyes—confidence radiating from her like heat.
Alise Lovell.
Captain of the Astraea Familia.
Behind her were Ryu Lion, Kaguya, Lyra, and Neze—each distinct, strong, and unmistakably experienced.
Alise's eyes widened slightly as she saw Shirou.
"You… took that thing down alone?"
Shirou scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Uh… yes?"
Kaguya narrowed her eyes. "He isn't an adventurer. No falna. He shouldn't be able to kill a monster so easily."
Lyra's gaze sharpened. "Not without something special."
Ryu, calm and observant, looked directly into Shirou's eyes.
She saw no fear.
Only resolve.
Alise stepped forward, smiling warmly yet cautiously.
"Hey. I'm Alise. We're the Astraea Familia. And you…"
She tilted her head, studying him.
"…are interesting."
Shirou blinked slowly.
"…Astraea… Familia?"
He didn't know it yet—but this would be the beginning of everything.
Their lives.
His fate.
This world.
And a new chapter for a blade forged by resolve.
i hope you enjoy this chapter and i might make another if you guys like it.