Chapter 22. Emiya Shirou vs. Fanatic I
The last sliver of twilight vanished beyond the distant horizon, allowing the veil of night to fall completely.
"Are you a Master?"
The Servant asked.
The tattered, patchwork robes fluttered in the wind like spreading wings.
Based on the facial structure, her body appeared slender, hidden beneath the broad black robes—flickering and illusory.
Her appearance momentarily reminded Shirou of a similar Servant: Hassan-i-Sabbah. A male wearing a skull mask with elongated, inhuman arms. Elusive and ghostly, his attire was that of a reaper coming to harvest human lives.
—Assassin.
The Class specializing in the assassination of Masters during the Holy Grail War.
"Why do you think that?"
Surprisingly, Shirou didn't feel much.
Aside from the alertness caused by the unexpected turn of events, fear and impatience had already receded from his mind. Shirou was chillingly calm. He even asked the question plainly.
The Servant suspected of being Assassin gestured toward Shirou's wrist.
—So it's that, after all.
Shirou extended his hand, revealing the bruise-like scratches upon it.
"No. This isn't a Command Spell, at least not a usable version. It's just a memento that was forced upon me. To be honest, I don't even know what the point of keeping it is."
Assassin frowned in lack of understanding. Shirou knew it was difficult to explain.
However, a misunderstanding was perhaps inevitable.
"Even assuming what you say is true, you are still hiding something," the female Assassin spoke with a sense of grim severity.
"How so?"
"You are well aware of the concepts of Command Spells and Masters. You are an associate of the Holy Grail War."
Shirou realized the irony and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Shirou was the winner of the Fifth Holy Grail War; if he didn't know, who would?
However, he hesitated for a moment over whether to disclose the information that he had participated in the Fifth Holy Grail War.
In that brief window, Assassin narrowed her eyes and uttered a dangerous phrase: "A magus closely related to the Holy Grail War..."
The scales in her heart tilted.
It was impossible for Shirou to know what she was thinking, so he asked a question in return. This sentence shattered the final balance.
"You're a Heroic Spirit of the Snowfield Holy Grail War, aren't you? It can't always be you asking the questions. I'd like to ask one too—what kind of wish do you and your Master, Assassin, hold?"
The scene suddenly went silent. A chill floated in the air. Piercing like a late spring cold was the presence of hostility.
The scales pressed all the way to one side.
"Our God has no need for a Holy Grail. I would rather die than associate with such heretics! You are a magus who knows of the Grail; whether for good or ill, you have at least insulted this will by imposing such foul thoughts upon this body..."
A quiet fire burned in Assassin's eyes.
"I understand. Perhaps I will not take your life, but I shall temporarily cut out your tongue as punishment."
Her tone was calmer than her previous sentence, yet she spoke words that would make one click their tongue in disbelief. At this moment, Shirou realized—he had apparently said the wrong thing.
Assassin's figure vanished, moving fast enough to leave afterimages. The next moment, she lunged from the shadows at Shirou's side, her pale arm reaching directly for his mouth.
He would be tortured. Because he had chosen the wrong approach. Shirou didn't understand the full context, but this kind of unreasonable death often existed—just as in the past Fifth Holy Grail War, a single mistake meant becoming white bones.
Shirou would grit his teeth and face an existence beyond standard specifications, but if he had faced such an enemy back then, he would have held no hope; he could only have done his best with no expectation of survival.
But...
"..."
"!?"
Assassin's face filled with shock as she urgently retracted her arm. Her other hand, unwilling to give up, struck from another angle, but a second blade appearing out of thin air met the blow, tearing through her muscle and arm as it deflected her.
Only then did Assassin forcibly break off the engagement, leaping back to create distance. On her now-still, slender frame, the second arm she hadn't managed to retract in time began to bleed incessantly from the side, like a crushed orange. She lightly wiped the blood from her arm, saying nothing.
Confusion filled her beautiful phoenix eyes.
Shirou was no longer such a weak person.
He had no weapon. His arms were not reinforced. There was no named martial art in his fists or kicks. But taking the attack head-on was no problem. Shirou, holding the twin swords in a straight grip, watched Assassin's movements closely after confirming the "feel" of the blades.
"I think there might be some misunderstanding between us. I must have said the wrong thing. If I apologize, can we act like this never happened?"
Shirou was beginning to get a lead now; this Servant and her Master seemed to be in a state of mutual incompatibility.
However, Shirou still couldn't understand her values.
That posture of hers was practically like—a fanatic.
"..."
Viewing Shirou's best effort at a remedy as mockery, anger took residence in Assassin's eyes.
"Z—"
Before she could utter an ominous syllable, Shirou acted first, hurling the projected Kanshou and Bakuya at bullet speed. The resonating twin blades zoomed toward Assassin, forcing her to change position.
"[ Zabaniy-Rhapsodic Flash-Shadow]"
The retreating Assassin possessed very high agility. If compared to his impression of Rider, she was likely around A-rank. The current Shirou was not a Master and could not see a Servant's status screen, so he could only guess at the information in this manner.
Assassin, in front of the blades, released her "trump card" known as a Noble Phantasm. Something swelled out from the gaps in her hood, turning into a continuous wave of black that met the two short swords.
Kanshou and Bakuya emitted a metallic shriek and were knocked away. "That thing" broke through its target and came piercing straight for Shirou.
Hair.
Strands of hair, like blades, were being released as a weapon.
"Trace on."
Shirou raised his hand before the hair-blades could pierce him. In front of Shirou, magical energy condensed into a physical form.
A massive stone axe-sword was placed horizontally between them as a shield. The strands of hair made a screaming sound as they ground directly against the massive bedrock.
He had expected other strands of hair to come from the sides, but that tactic was abandoned. To Shirou's surprise, the Noble Phantasm that should have been a trump card was retracted after the failed attempt.
The black-robed figure stood in the darkness cast by the walls, hesitating for a moment.
She seemed to want to stop, yet the flowing magical energy seemed to be preparing for a new move. Shirou couldn't reach a conclusion; he only knew he couldn't leave his life or death in someone else's hands.
Once the battle began, he had no time to worry about her thoughts.
His palm gripped the handle of the axe-sword. The stone axe, larger than a human's height, was lifted single-handedly by Shirou.
His personal strength was insufficient, so his circuits were roaring silently at full power. The monstrous strength of the former giant had been replicated, at least for this short duration.
Gripping the ill-fitting stone axe, Shirou sprinted forward like an arrow leaving a startled bow.
Closing the distance meant victory. If this was the level of her melee combat, she wouldn't be able to stop "that Noble Phantasm" contained within.
He had already experienced the hair. Neither its speed nor flexibility was enough to stop Shirou.
She wouldn't listen, she couldn't be communicated with, and she attacked people at random... until she was willing to stop attacking others, Shirou would fight her until she was satisfied!
Assassin's eyes widened to an extent Shirou had never seen before. In her haste, she exerted her full body strength to retreat once more.
"[ Zabaniya - Delusional Heartbeat]"
However, the female Assassin chanted the same name but executed a diametrically opposite action than expected.
It wasn't her hands, but a long, crimson arm bursting from her back. Because of the strangeness of the position and action, Shirou was even a beat late in figuring out where she had extended it from.
He should have seen it before.
That arm made one's intuition crawl with dread.
It was as long as a demon's limb. Memory surfaced before conscious thought—the silhouette of the skull mask.
"—!!"
In that instant, blue electricity stimulating the whole body surged.
All his magical energy gathered in his palm.
The reddened arm raised high in the air broke its critical point, striking down at its target, Shirou, in a flash.
That palm—he couldn't let it touch him.
Holding only that thought, Shirou watched the strange palm with its five curved fingers.
"Trigger off—[Nine Lives Blade Works]"
His pupils narrowed.
The massive palm expanded until it seemed it would cover his entire body. Like slow motion in a movie, it pressed forward with unstoppable momentum to a distance of only a few centimeters from Shirou.
Like an omen, the sound of the wind ceased.
So... the timing was right.
Without any misjudgment, Shirou released the Noble Phantasm against the enemy who had entered his range.
Unable to resist the almost locked-in time, the inhuman arm, along with Assassin herself, was simply frozen in mid-air. The expression beginning to change on Assassin's face remained motionless.
In a silent world, nine bolts of lightning that blew away everything in the surroundings were silently generated.
Finally finding release as the world began to flow again, Assassin instinctively lowered her hood to block the splashing sand. When she finally overcame her instincts enough to examine the situation, as if in a relay, it was Assassin's expression that froze in confusion this time.
In a world with the normal sound of wind, the inhuman arm did not move.
When she realized this, Assassin noticed the large amount of flesh pattering onto the ground.
Only the stump of the strange wrist remained; of the rest further forward, not even a finger was left.
No waste fluid sprayed out, because even the waste fluid had been blown away.
It showed a clear dividing line—the part that had intruded past the line had completely vanished.
Using the monstrous arm she had modified as a means of attack—lengthening her strike distance and flexibility to deliver a lethal blow—when that attack failed, the massive pain of the body receiving the strike came back to haunt her late.
Without making a sound, Assassin immediately bit her own arm to prevent a lapse in her guard caused by the pain.
The turbulence made it impossible for her mind to remain rational; her pupils switched incessantly between dilation and constriction.
Before her pupils could stabilize, the sharp sound of an object breaking through the air suddenly arrived. Silently, a massive shadow covered Assassin's field of vision.
Judging that she had to dodge this strike, yet finding it was something that could be easily avoided, Assassin immediately tilted her stiffened cheek by a few degrees. The massive rock grazed her cheek, pinning itself into the area behind the woman, letting out a thunderous boom from behind her.
Holding neither killing intent nor the intention to let Assassin's will decide his fate, the red-haired youth, maintaining the posture of having thrown the greatsword, calmly lowered his hand, returning to his harmless-looking state—empty-handed and dressed in plain clothes.