Chapter 31. A Promise to a Hero!
Inside the kitchen of Twilight Manor, the atmosphere was so heavy it felt like a Round Table conference on the eve of a final battle. Shirou Emiya had just finished an all-night logistics shift and was brewing himself a cup of instant coffee, attempting to rouse a soul drained dry by deep-fried shrimp. This level of labor made him deeply empathize with the struggles of a "Hardcore Grinder."
"Good morning, Emiya."
A cool voice shattered his illusions.
Ais Wallenstein stood at the kitchen door. She wore a light tracksuit, her iconic [Desperate Sword] hung at her waist, and she held two wooden swords in her hands. Her gaze was fixed straight on Shirou, filled with a certain spine-chilling persistence. That look seemed to say: "The training you owe me must be paid for with your life."
"Ais?" Shirou blinked. "Now?"
"You said so." Ais raised the wooden swords. "Special training."
"Now." Ais's reply left no room for negotiation.
"Only the morning hours belong to... training."
Looking at the girl's serious (and slightly airheaded) expression, Shirou smiled helplessly. Although his body was still protesting, he knew this was the best help he could get. Ais's swordsmanship was the most precious textbook in this world.
"Alright, Ais-sensei." Shirou took a wooden sword and lightly rolled his wrists. "I'm in your care, then."
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Twilight Manor, Backyard Training Ground.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Dense impacts exploded like firecrackers. Shirou was forced back by Ais's sword pressure, every step landing on the edge of life and death. He was like a piece of pig iron being hammered repeatedly in a furnace; though it was painful, it was rapidly stripping away his impurities.
"Too slow! Your movements are too big! Too many openings!" Ais's reprimands were sharper than her sword winds.
Shirou coughed and gave a wry smile.
"As expected, in terms of pure swordsmanship, the gap between us is still too wide. Ais's sword is a flawless work of art."
"A work of art?" Ais lowered her sword. While she wasn't dissatisfied, she believed swordsmanship didn't need many adjectives.
"My sword is for killing monsters, not for aesthetics. Your defense is solid, but your sword is too hesitant."
"Hesitant?" Shirou fell silent. He knew what Ais meant. His sword always wavered between "slaughter" and "protection."
"Again." Ais's voice became solemn. She stopped the storm-like barrages. Stepping back three paces, she gripped her sword with both hands and took an extremely simple thrusting stance.
That was... the starting form for [Lil Rafaga]. There was no mana involved, but the sheer aura alone was enough to make Shirou sense a fatal crisis.
"This is my strongest sword," Ais said calmly. "Come, Emiya. Tell me, how will you deal with this strike?"
Shirou didn't answer. He closed his eyes. [Mind's Eye (True)] opened instantly, and his magic circuits burned to their limit.
In his mind, that golden thrust was decomposed into countless data points.
Speed: Extreme, a burst of Level 6 base speed. Power: Sufficient to pierce Level 3 heavy armor. Trajectory: A perfect straight line, no lateral shift, no openings. Conclusion: In a pure contest of martial force, he at Level 2 would undoubtedly lose.
"You aren't looking at the sword; you're looking at the result," Archer's mocking whisper echoed in Shirou's heart. "Since the result cannot be changed, change the process. Your strength isn't the sword—it's the concept."
Shirou snapped his eyes open, a firm light flashing in his pupils.
"Trace—On!"
He didn't project [Kanshou]. Instead, he projected an extremely slender, nearly transparent—Mana Needle. This concept was incredibly bold, requiring a level of precision that surpassed even Noble Phantasm projection.
He didn't fire the needle at Ais's body. He aimed for the muscle group three inches below the elbow of her right arm—her sword hand.
BOOM!
Ais's thrust erupted with terrifying wind pressure. However, at the very moment her power reached its peak—
Zing!
The mana needle pierced precisely into that vital power-delivery point below her right elbow.
It wasn't a lethal wound; it was a momentary disruption of muscle coordination. Using mana, Shirou inserted a tiny, one-millisecond delay between Ais's muscle "burst" and "transmission."
"Ah!" Ais let out a soft gasp. Her body instinctively executed the Level 6 full-output command, but the tiny sensation of numbness in her elbow caused her power output to lose balance.
The storm veered. The originally guaranteed hit whistled past Shirou's shoulder, the wooden sword pinning itself deep into the rock wall behind him.
Meanwhile, Shirou's sword (the wooden one) was held at Ais's right waist—a blind spot perfectly suited for grappling and subduing in close combat.
Dead silence.
Ais stood rooted to the spot. She retracted her arm, looking at her grazed training sleeve, then down at the wooden sword pressed against her waist.
She had lost. She lost to a one-millisecond prediction and a one-inch analysis of an opening.
"You... won," Ais spoke slowly, her voice carrying an unprecedented shock. "This isn't strength... this is..."
"It's analysis," Shirou said calmly as he dissipated the mana needle. His heart was pounding wildly because, for that strike, he had gambled nearly all of his mana precision.
Though he held the Origin of [Sword], Shirou Emiya didn't consider himself particularly gifted in swordsmanship or physical arts. Compared to the heroes on the Throne of Heroes, he was even less noteworthy.
But precisely because he was not a hero...
He was far better at using [Magecraft] and [Assassination] to fight.
Rather than "skill," this was better described as... [Experience]!
"You have no openings," Shirou evaluated Ais seriously. "But your body is biological. As long as it's biological, it has limits. Even if I were Level 5, I couldn't block your thrust head-on. So, I could only interfere with your 'circuits' the moment the command was sent. This is how a Magus fights."
Ais fell silent. She looked at Shirou, and in those golden eyes, there was no longer just simple admiration, but a near-reverent... tremor.
Shirou Emiya. He didn't have Level 6 strength, but he had eyes that "saw through the future" and a mind that "changed the rules."
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— Bullet-chat from the observers upstairs —
"T-This... how is this possible?" Tiona's voice was trembling. "Lady Ais actually lost? Was she defeated by 'technique'?"
"No, it was philosophy." Finn put down his coffee cup, his thumb steady as a rock, but the light in his eyes was more fervent than ever. "Ais pursues the absolute sword—perfect lethality. Emiya pursues the possibility of victory."
Riveria sighed as well.
"That isn't a level of precision a human can reach. Compressing mana to the extreme to interfere with neural signals... this understanding of the microscopic world would probably amaze even Hephaestus. He isn't a swordsman; he's a human-shaped engine of war."
"Finn, you should give him a higher title," Riveria concluded. "He isn't just 'Senji Muramasa.' He should be called 'The Calculator.'"
Finn shook his head slightly. "No, Riveria. Everything he does is to protect. His core is kindness, but his methods are cruel. This contradictory soul is what makes him shine brightest."
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"From now on..." Ais walked up to Shirou, her gaze determined. "Please teach me... your 'sight'."
"With pleasure, Ais-sensei," Shirou replied with a smile and a nod.
Watching the two walk toward the kitchen side-by-side, the "onlookers" upstairs all let out aunt-like chuckles.
"This isn't special training; this is the classic trope of a high-IQ male lead conquering a high-combat-power female lead with his brains!" Tiona shed tears of emotion.
"No, this is called 'using strategy to crush stats'—typical pro-player move," Tione remarked ruthlessly.
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Dusk, Orario.
After finishing the morning's "special training" and "feeding," Shirou received an urgent mission from Finn.
Operations Meeting Room.
Captain Finn stood before a massive map, his expression more serious than ever.
"Emiya, you've come at the right time."
Finn pointed to a Guild document on the table. "This is a mandatory 'Special Commission' issued by the Guild, targeting Orario's 'Pleasure Quarter'."
The Pleasure Quarter. The place in Orario where desires intertwine, and money and vice flow freely.
"The target is a high-end club there called the 'Amethyst Pavilion.' The Guild suspects it's a hidden source of funding for a certain Dark Guild."
Finn's gaze locked onto Shirou's face.
"Emiya, this mission requires you to be the sole infiltrator."
"Why me?" Shirou asked.
"Because of your identity," Riveria explained. "You're a Level 2 rookie with the name 'Senji Muramasa,' but very few people know your true combat style. Acting alone makes it less likely to catch the Guild's attention."
"Most importantly..." Finn lowered his voice, a note of gravity in his tone. "We need to rescue Haruhime from there. A captive Fox Person. It's said her unique ability has been targeted by the Dark Guild and could trigger massive chaos."
Finn pushed a detailed intelligence report toward Shirou, his eyes full of weight. "The intel we have is that her ability is related to 'Level Boosting.' If this ability is used by the Dark Guild to mass-produce high-level adventurers, the entire balance of Orario will completely collapse.
Therefore, Haruhime is currently considered an S-rank dangerous target. The Guild requires us to act in secret and use 'strong-arm tactics' if necessary.
And you, Emiya." Finn's eyes were sharp. "You need to use your identity as a 'Chef' or a 'Wealthy Merchant' to infiltrate the interior of the Amethyst Pavilion, find Haruhime, confirm her ability, and rescue her without alerting the main force.
The internal defenses of the Amethyst Pavilion are strong, with Level 4 or even Level 5 adventurers stationed there. The danger of this mission is higher than your encounter with Dix."
"Dangerous?"
Shirou's gaze became resolute. Level boosting ability? A rare Fox Person? Captive of the Dark Guild? This was practically a "punish evil and promote good" script tailor-made for him.
"I understand."
Shirou didn't hesitate for a second, standing straight.
"I accept the commission.
However, let's change the plan."
"What plan?" Finn asked.
"The infiltrator won't be a 'Chef' or a 'Wealthy Merchant'."
A confident smile curled on Shirou's lips—the kind of edge he only showed when facing evil.
"I am a private guard for a high-ranking noble. An agent responsible for tracking the whereabouts of family members. Only this identity allows me to carry weapons and perform small-scale 'corrections' without causing a massive riot.
I guarantee in the name of 'Senji Muramasa' that I won't alert anyone. I will use my sword to 'correct' everyone who tries to touch her.
Besides, a place like the Pleasure Quarter..." a cold light flashed in Shirou's eyes. "It's time those rats hiding in the shadows learned the meaning of the 'Iron Fist of Justice'."
Finn looked at Shirou, his thumb twitching slightly.
Emiya's decision-making speed and risk assessment abilities far surpassed average adventurers. He clearly knew that infiltration wasn't his forte, but small-scale precision strikes were his killing move.
Finn nodded slightly; this deal was worth it!
"Authorized," Finn said deeply. "Bete will be on standby on the perimeter. Your communication channel will remain open the whole time. Go, Emiya. We'll be waiting for your good news."
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That night, the lights were just beginning to glow.
Orario's Pleasure Quarter stood in stark contrast to the daytime Babel. It was filled with decadent music, intoxicating perfumes, and the scent of money—like a massive stage of luxury and dissipation where dramas of desire and sin were performed.
Shirou Emiya changed into a magnificent black tuxedo, his lapel adorned with a family crest (a projection) that only high-ranking nobles dared to wear. He wore no sword at his waist, but [Otherworld Kanshou] had already been projected into the form of hidden sleeve-blades, tucked away in his cuffs.
"Honestly... why do I have to wear these clothes?"
Shirou grumbled in a corner. While the suit fit perfectly, it really didn't match his combat style.
"Can't be helped, mission requirements."
Finn's voice came through the miniature magical communicator, sounding slightly impatient. "Stop complaining, Emiya. Remember your role: cold, efficient, and uninterested in women (mainly to avoid trouble). The floor plan of the Amethyst Pavilion has been sent to your 'Mind's Eye.' Good luck."
"Understood, Stealth Mode active."
Shirou took a deep breath, using [Presence Concealment (Pseudo)] to lower his presence to the minimum.
His gaze locked onto the brilliantly lit building ahead—the Amethyst Pavilion.
The building looked magnificent from the outside, but Shirou's [Mind's Eye (True)] clearly perceived that beneath the luxury lay countless guards, traps, and... desperate souls. This contrast between the interior and exterior was practically the standard for dark fantasy literature.
"It's time."
Shirou straightened his collar and stepped into that maze of light and shadow—the Amethyst Pavilion.
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In the shadows of the Amethyst Pavilion.
A golden-haired figure stepped out from the darkness. She wore ordinary adventurer's clothes and a small mask covering her nose.
Ais Wallenstein.
She watched Shirou's departing back, her hand tightly gripping a bundle—inside were the "Cheese Fried Potato Puffs" Shirou had made for her.
Her eyes were filled with worry and self-reproach.
"Emiya..." Ais whispered. "He went... to the most dangerous place."
She hadn't forgotten that Shirou Emiya had just been "corrected" by her swordsmanship this morning; his body should still be in a fatigue period. Moreover, the place he was going was a hell of human hearts even darker than the Dungeon.
She didn't hesitate. Putting away the potato puffs, Ais's silhouette blended into the darkness of the Pleasure Quarter like a ghost.
She didn't notify anyone. This wasn't a Familia mission; this was her personal decision.
"I... will protect him."
This wasn't an order. This was the purest vow sworn by "Sword Princess" Ais Wallenstein to the "Hero" she held in high regard.
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