Nasuverse Adventure in the Cedar Forest


Well-Known Member
Wow, I am super glad you continued this, I thought for sure it was dead! The fight scene takes a little getting used to. I had to read it a second time just to get the whole thing down, but over all I like the feeling it evokes, having the whole scene from the random almost no name person gives a greater feeling to the whole thing. I really hope to read some more soon.


Well-Known Member
I'm so glad that you decided to continue writing this. I really enjoy the premise. If there's something you could do to improve it, it would be add more description to what's going on.

Otherwise it just sounds bland. I want to get a better idea of how the battle looks and so on and so forth.


Well-Known Member
I liked how you introduced a character, or possibly reintroduced her. Showed her possible crush on Shirou, and then had her casually die. It really helped set the tone.


Well-Known Member
I wonder how Shirou's planning on doing that. Sure, he's got the ability to slaughter them en masse, but he's bound to get tired eventually. It'd probably be easier for him to just project shitloads of rock to fill the hole in; mundane object he projects don't disappear like his Noble Phantasms do, and the fact that the rock lacks detailed internal structure wouldn't really matter when it's just solid rock anyway.


KING (In Land of Blind)
Staff member
So because I visualize what's going on and describe that, sometimes I accidentally start "narrating what's happening before my mind's eye" rather than "explaining what happened"; that's why I'll sometimes slip from past into present tense. Anyway if you see tense conflicts they're all supposed to be in past tense, present tense is an error, that's the take-away.

I re-wrote the last bit to fix that; I also expanded the fight-scene as per requests.



"Sir!" Heather Campbell, sergeant of the Wall Maria Guard, stood at attention with her fist over her heart, saluting her commanding officer.

"At ease, Sergent." Captain Hanneth acknowledged her salute with a nod. He looked out across the grassy plain stretching away from the the wall into the unknown distance. "Any sightings today?"

"Five, sir." She reported. "It's been a little busier than normal."

"Hmm." Hanneth frowned. "Well, stay prepared, I suppose. That's not enough to really worry about, but I never like it when activity is above average."

"Sir." Heather replied.

Hanneth gazed at the recruits manning the cannon watch over the gate. Those three had their last shift as recruits on the watch. It made him feel old, but also proud.

"Something else, sir?" Heather asked.

"Hm? Nothing." Hanneth said, turning away with a sigh. He smirked. "Going to check in on your mysterious wanderer once you get off shift?"

Turning her face away, lips pursed in annoyance she can't quite conceal, Sergeant Heather Campbell had learned not to rise to the bait. But, she must still answer the question truthfully. "Yes, sir." Even if the reason has completely changed, every day after work Heather Campbell checked on the new fort mechanic, Shirou Emiya.

"You're getting pretty close to him." Hanneth said. His voice was laden with meaning.

Even if she will not deny it, she will not admit it, either. "I'm just curious about him, sir."

"Hmn." Hanneth said, a chuckle in his voice. "Well, good luck." That at least was sincere.

"...thank you, sir." Heather said.

With a jaunty wave, the captain left. The sergeant had nothing to do except count down the hours until her relief, and then...

A burst of heat. A plume of smoke. Without warning, without any sign, having somehow snuck past every sentry, the great titan of fire was before them. The enemy is at the gates.

The titan raised its arm.

Heather Campbell grit her teeth and sank into a stance, already shouting orders.

The arm crashed forward, blowing apart the cannon watch above the gate and scattered those recruits. A tremendous pendulum swung from the shoulder out to the fist, that arm crashed along the top of the wall and obliterated everything beneath it.

At the end of that arc, was one lone sergeant of the watch.

Smashed by the fist of the great titan, Heather Campbell's life ended in that stroke.


"Hey, Armin." With his right foot and right arm, he is holding open the jaws of the giant. "You... you taught my about the outside world. So I want to see it for--"

"Eren! Quick!" But Armin's words are too slow. The teeth clack shut.

A single arm is severed to spin towards the ground.

Eren has been devoured by a giant.


"Dammit!" He is the officer charged with maintaining the fort. Practically speaking, he is the quartermaster responsible for the efficient and smooth deployment of the 3-dimensional movement gear's compressed air canisters. He barely passed the mock combat exam. He received only the minimum amount of training each year. Because, Lieutenant Johann Algers has never been a combat soldier. He joined the army to eat, and possessed no exceptional talents. No-one recognized this more than him. 'Supporting the combat troops from the rear,' that is the career he chose based on his own aptitude.

Which means, this disaster before him was already beyond his abilities. The gate fell and the town was under assault by giants.

His responsibility was the resupply of the deployed troops. His own soldiers were untested in real combat. And the concentration of humanity that makes up his noncombatant support staff that operated and maintained the compressors, was nothing more than bait.

Even if he was mediocre, he was never a coward. So Algers lead the assault against the giants storming the heart of the town, the fort.

"Dammit!" He cursed. Clutching the bleeding stump of his arm, having already lost half of the soldiers beside him, they have killed not even half of the giants present.

And more are coming.

Algers was crying. He was scared. Because, he will die. That was the first tear. Even as he clenched his jaw and desperately tried to think of a solution, his eyes continued to leak, because he could only think of all the comrades he is letting down. He could not drag his mind away from the civilians he could not protect.

"Sir... what should we do?"

He was not sure who asked that question. Standing on the corner of the fort, watching as giants approach, knowing that small specimens were already inside his building, Algers was without hope. He was without a plan.

He did not know what should be done. He could only pray for salvation.

And even as he struggled to answer that question, his prayers were answered.

Black and white, whirling twin fish scissored out from the darkness of the building beneath him. Spinning like wheels, black and white rode out, and circled around, each curved path converging with the other. Where they met was the neck of an approaching giant, seven meters tall. Where the twin fish touched, they immediately cut into the giant's flesh. One above and one below, the twin spinning fish sliced into the neck and spun through without even pausing. The radius of their spin was greater than the radius of the neck. One above and one below, each decapitated the giant once. The body collapsed forward, the head tumbled to the ground, and the cut-out flesh of the neck fell free of both body and head.

Under the shocked gaze of the hopeless soldiers, an enemy was easily cut down.

Each whirling shape curved back along the path it's opposite emerged from, closing the circle once more. And, stepping out of the building beneath them, where the whirling shapes closed the circle once more, was a man.

Tall, with red hear. The blue jumpsuit of a civilian mechanic was pulled down, the arms tied around his waist. Broad shoulders covered by the white undershirt. The new guy. Algers liked him because he was a good worker, who always fulfilled every task requested of him.

Now the new mechanic stood confidently in the afternoon sun, even as twin flashes, white and black, returned to his position. His eyes were clear. His back was straight, even as those two fish swum through the air towards him.

With a dance-like movement, he stepped forward and threw up his hands, each towards one of the spinning fish, and he plucked them out of the air with just a single turning step. They were, Algers realized, swords. Ancient blades, shaped like falchions. Not the mass-produced, high-destruction super-hardened steel loaded at his own hips. Standing with the swords readied at his sides, one black and one white, that man was ready for a different kind of fighting than Algers knew.

The man stood still. His gaze was assessing. He looked out across the empty square. His eyes fell upon each of the eight giants before him. They range in height from four to ten meters. They had converged upon the fort, having scented the human prey.

The man stepped strongly; his knee came up, and he fell forward to land on that strong step, arms behind him. Even as he fell into a new stance, each hand was driven outward and around, and those twin swords were thrown out to dart fish-like in a new circle.

And they converged once more, on the neck of the closest giant, standing puzzled in the open square. Again, one high, one low; they carved out the whole neck of the giant, so that body and head each fell to the ground and burned away into nothingness.

Giants do not know fear. So, seeing two of their number cut down so smoothly, they did not cower, or flee. They only recognized that human meat was before them.

They charged. Whatever confusion had beset them at seeing a human walk towards them was dispelled. Whatever inhuman hesitation held them back was thrown aside.

Under Algers' bewildered gaze, the seven giants remaining converged. They simply ran stupidly at that man.

One more was cut down by the flying swords. Jogging with absurd form, his face showed shocked surprise as the swords cleaved his head from his neck and his neck from his body; the expression on his falling face pouted furiously before his head smashed into the ground and he died.

And then, battle was joined at close range. From the front and the right of that man, giants placed him within the range of their hands. Reinforcements were following; two on the left and two on the right, the man was trapped in their closing pincer.

The outcome should have been obvious. Even if they were six-on-one with human odds, the one would be disfavored. And the six were giants--the enemy of humanity, predators that could kill and devour a human with ease. The difference in size was too great for a human to overcome.

But the obvious did not happen. Neither numbers nor size were too great for this human.

As that leading giant lunged forward, diving eagerly with both hands, those grasping hands were each severed at the wrist by a downward stroke, and the man stepped forward toward the open mouth. But with a great leap, he planted his foot on the stooping shoulder of the handless foe. With an elegant spin, he has moved past the ear of that turning head. He was already standing in the middle of that foe's upper back, right before that vital target, the nape of the neck. The man crossed his arms above his forehead.

One hand high and one hand low. The nape of the neck was carved out by swords swung downward and outward. The man leaped away from the boiling corpse, making distance from the giant now at his left. Moving away from the safety of the building, he was also moving away from closing line of those four giants. Now there were two on his left and three on his right; one of those three was very close.

Black and white, the fish dart out to hunt once more, as the man stamped strongly with his right foot, arms throwing strongly. Not at the enemy before him, but at the middle of those three.

But even as the twin blades cut apart that middle throat, they were also in the man's hands. He severed the calf as he sprinted between the legs too fast for those reaching hands to catch. Its leg cut from beneath it, it tripped forward, and caught itself with it's palms, turning to leer over its shoulder at that man. But he was already moving; stepping forward, he sprung up and raced along that crouching back. Without breaking his stride, the swords flashed downward. Before that giant could even recover, it's neck was carved out. The man lept from that collapsing corpse, rolling forward to land in a crouch with crossed swords.

Even as he struck one down with his own hands, those two flying fish arced out and around. Once more they cut the neck from the body and the head from the neck, and smoothly returned.

As the twin fish returned to those hands, their doubles departed. Three giants remain, and five corpses are scattered across the square. Of those three, two are before him and one is behind him. Of those three, all are running towards him.

Of the two before him, it was the farther giant killed by those thrown swords, beard and hair rolling in a spiral falling earthwards as the neck was cut out by those swords.

Stepping strongly, the man flung his arms behind him, and those fish darted out to hunt the neck of the one behind him. Unarmed, he slid between the reaching hands of the last giant. Leering, ten meters tall; the strongest final opponent. Stepping forward strongly, he vaulted over the left elbow and caught those two returning from hunting the bearded one. Even as he stamped the ground, his other foot stepped forward. White flashed down and black rose to meet it; that left arm is severed.

With an unkind smile, his eyes met the eyes staring down from the grotesque face glowering at him over the regenerating left arm. Without lifting his hands, he simply watched as the teeth approach his position. He made no motion to defend himself, as if to say such things are unnecessary.

White and black, the spinning fish returned to their master. When thrown, they were aimed to kill the one behind him; now, the one before their master is between them. That monstrous flesh is cleaved as cleanly as the air.

The last giant fell. Thrown behind him, the twin fish had circled out and killed, and then circled back and killed again at where they were dispatched; now, they traced out another circle like the bottom of the numeral "8". With an elegant motion, the man caught those fish in his hands with a clean spinning step, even as the slain giant crashed into the ground.

Four swords. Between the fingers of his right hand, one black and one white; and between the fingers of his left hand, one white and one black. His shoulders are loose as those swords are held out at his sides, and his eyes stare down as that last giant ignited and boiled away.

The moment was frozen. Everyone was amazed by that man.

It was a miracle. One man, not one of the heros of the scouting legion, not even a soldier, killed nine giants without the 3-D gear, without even the super-hardened swords. No, to say he killed them is not enough. He slaughtered them. And having witnessed that miracle, in the profound stillness of everyone's shock, Algers had one thought.

'What beautiful swords.'

"What was that!?" Cried one of the soldiers. His voice was hoarse with disbelief. The spell is broken.

"Everyone!" Algers shouted, drawing their attention. "We have been granted a new chance! Don't blow it!" He released the stump, and the blood-soaked hand pointed. "Check the perimeter! Close the emergency doors! We can't let any other giants inside the fort!"

"What about the ones that are already inside?" This time, Algers was able to recognize the questioner. Mathers was a good soldier, and Algers discerned no fear in that question.

"Kill them!" Algers roared. "Don't let any more giants inside, and slaughter every single one that has violated our fort!"

With a throaty cheer, with renewed hope, the soldiers swooped out. Gas jetted from their hips as they spun around the building to reclaim it. They were granted a second chance. They were saved from the slaughter; and Algers would not allow this salvation to be wasted.

But there was something he must do. He swung down himself.

The swords were dangling from between his grasping fingers. His eyes are turned up at the wall, the shattered top exhibited as proof of the existence of that tremendous 60-meter titan.

"Boss, I'm sorry." He said, as Algers approached. "I'm afraid I've abandoned my post."

Algers chuckled. "Given the circumstances, I think I can forgive you."

Shirou Emiya turned, and met the eye of the man who employed him. "This city... how can we save everyone who lives here?"

Algers' throat is dry. "That's," he hesitated, and can find no other word. "That's probably impossible. The gate has been smashed open, and giants are pouring in. We in the army will do our best to cover the evacuation, but the city has already been lost."

"What if that gate was closed?" Shirou asked, turning to once more gaze upon the kicked-in wall.

Algers shook his head. "There isn't any way to do that. If we could shut it, we could kill every giant inside and recover the city, but we simply don't have any way of shutting it. We... the best we can do is cover the retreat."

"I see." Shirou closed his eyes. He nodded once. "Then, my path is clear." He began walking.

The question was obvious, so Algers asked it. "What are you going to do?"

Without looking back, Shirou Emiya answered over his shoulder. "I will stand before the gate, and without any exceptions, kill every giant that tries to come through."

"That's..." The word on his lips died. Compared to what he has already seen, he could not say that it is impossible. "I see." Algers swallowed. "I'll, uh, pass that along."

Shirou laughed, and then he turned to smile back at his boss. "Make sure you have a doctor look at that arm, while you're doing that."

Algers shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he won't be able to save it, but I will."

Chuckling, Shirou lifted his hand in a wave as he turned away. Two swords hung from that hand, flashing white and black in the sunlight.

1.2 End



"Have you seen Eren's squad?" Mikasa asked.

Annie glanced up, grimacing as her hunched-over back protested the movement; she had been inspecting the hip-straps of her maneuver gear. "Hello to you too, Mikasa."

"No." Reiner cut in, before the two could really start in on each other. "I haven't seen Eren or Armin; their squad hasn't reported back yet."

Mikasa nodded; the slightest possible motion, even as she looked up to stare into across the yard. Although she appeared calm, from here, Reiner could see how quickly her eyes were darting across the squads that had successfully retreated.

"For all his big talk..." Annie muttered. Her voice was neutral. Reiner couldn't tell if she was scorning Eren's death or worried herself. Even though she was cold and kept everyone at arm's length, even she had ended up being dragged into Eren's rhythm.

"Maybe they're just not back yet." Reiner cut in. "It's still too early to say, one way or the other."

Annie glanced at him and then scoffed, hunching back down to continue inspecting her gear. "Don't hold your breath."

Reiner bit his lip. Although Eren and Jean always ended up screaming in each other's faces and punching each other, at some level they both acknowledged each other as rivals. He suspected that was why their sergeant had been so willing to accept all those excuses at face value: because even if they disagreed, in the end, Jean and Eren respected each other as individuals.

Between Mikasa and Annie, however, Reiner couldn't tell what was going on. They were both intense people with cold personalities. They never got into fights, but something about the way they interacted with only each other made him nervous.

But, this time, it looked like it wouldn't happen. With another of those perfunctory nods, Mikasa turned and walked away.

Reiner didn't realize that Annie had looked up from her gear until she spoke. "She," Annie began, "has the look of someone about to do something foolish."

Privately, Reiner agreed.


"I need to see the commander!" Lieutenant Johann Algers shouted, wavering dangerously. The adrenaline has worn off. He lost too much blood; he shouldn't be standing, but instead, he should be resting. Even now he is swaying and dizzy. The world swims in and out of focus before his eyes.

His tooth is chipped, now. Rather than accept the morphine, he requested a leather strap; biting down on that, he snarled and wept as the doctor sewed shut the jagged bite wound on his stump. Because, he could not compromise his mental clarity. There was one more task still before him.

Now, in a new jacket, with one sleeve twisting uselessly, he is shouting. He has made his report.

But, no one believed him. What he is describing is impossible. One man slaughtering titans single-handedly, that is certainly possible. But, to do so without the 3-D gear? That is certainly impossible.

And so, his words are dismissed.

But, Algers was saved. He is crippled. He will never be a soldier again. And... there are others that were not saved, before and after that man appeared.

So, this is truly his final duty. It doesn't matter if he gets court-martialed. He must definitely be believed.

The soldiers restraining him do not even bother shouting back anymore. They are exasperated, and annoyed; they think he is mad. But, rather than anger, their feelings are closer to pity.

One crippled man, who lost so many comrades? Talking of a fantastically deadly hero, who is not even one of the soldiers?

They do not think he is malicious.

They simply think him delusional with grief.

His struggles are weak. He cannot overpower them. But, this Lieutenant who has spent his whole career carrying heavy canisters to other soldiers, cannot be forced back by them. Uneventful days of heavy lifting, exhausting, boring labor; right now, that is the weight behind Algers' heavy determination.

A sweat-stained, blood-drenched cripple, being futilely dragged away from his command center by two frustrated MPs, that is the sight that greets Dot Pixis.

Supreme Commander of the Southern District of Wall Maria, the highest ranking soldier present at the scene of the current titan incursion. There is no one with greater responsibility over this disaster than this man: Dot Pixis.

He is hearing reports on every side, but glancing around at the sullen soldiers and their broken morale, he suppresses a surge of irritation at the ineffectualness of the MPs.

"My my, what is all this?" He says. His words are soft. The authority in them is absolute.

"Sir!" The crippled man salutes. With only one arm, it is pathetic. "I am Lieutenant Johann Algers, assigned to the Defense Legion Logistical Department. I was the officer-on-watch at the central fort during the invasion."

"I see." In truth, Dot Pixis had recognized the uniform and the man inside it, but that wasn't pertinent at that time. "Then tell me, soldier, why you are causing such a ruckus right outside my office."

"Sir!" Algers said, swaying markedly. But he firmed himself. Once more, he delivered his report.

It is certainly unbelievable.

But it was the second unbelievable report.

Because, there were nine scorch marks in the square adjacent to the central fort. They are too far from the buildings. Only an elite from the Scouting Legion could have killed so many titans on open ground. But those elites were only now being deployed.

Lieutenant Johann Algers has successfully discharged his final duty as a soldier.


She found him. Crouching alone and vulnerable on a roof, Mikasa Ackerman found Armin Arlett staring at nothing with unblinking, unfocused eyes. With no one around, neither human nor enemy, on the roof of a row-house; an alien feeling of privacy. Foreboding engulfed her, like stepping out of a warm house into the winter wind.

When Armin looked up, Mikasa didn't want him to say anything. The desperate, wild look in his eyes. The tears down his face. The clenched teeth under that grimacing face.

She did not want to hear this.

"Tomas Wagner. Nack Teaz. Millius Zermusky. Mina Caroline. Eren Jaeger." Armin shouted, eyes screwed shut.


"The following five confronted our enemies, the titans, and died valiantly in the defense of humanity." Armin continued. His words were loud, pained, and relentless.




"Armin." Mikasa said. Her voice was flat. Her eyes were relaxed and expressionless. "This is neither the time nor place for hysterics." She turned away, and scanned the horizon for signs of the enemy. "The bell for the retreat has already rung. We need to gather with the remaining troops to receive our next orders."

Armin, his body clenched, nodded, even though Mikasa couldn't see him. Even as he was tormented by his own guilt, he knew Mikasa's words were right. And he didn't blame her for her coldness. Even if she was capable of locking it away, her grief at loosing Eren was at least as great as his own. Armin had no doubt of that.

She would be fine. Until this battle was over, she would be fine. But after-wards...

Armin felt a renewed claw of guilt surge up from his belly and scrape his throat, somehow distinct from the burning nausea of the acid. He wanted to throw up.

"Right." He said. There was no time for this. He swallowed. "You're right. Let's retreat."

He stood, and a wave of vertigo passed down through him. Armin shook his head, and set off after Mikasa, springing from roof to roof, swinging between buildings towards the rear gate where the retreat had been ordered.

Something was wrong. Armin scowled, sweating. He was struggling to keep up. There was no need to hurry, so why were they rushing so badly? Mikasa knew he didn't have the same talent, that he couldn't pull the same speed out of the gear as either of them--he swallowed down that claw of guilt again--so why was she moving so quickly? They should be trying to conserve their pressurized gas, rather than sprinting.

What was she thinking?

Armin shook his head. And, in that motion, nearly fell from the sky. He nearly missed his step, because of what he saw before him.

"Titan!" He shouted. "Left!"

Off to the left, charging towards them, was a titan, a 15-meter class. Balding, with a bulbous nose, squinting eyes and a wide mouth, for a moment, Armin was struck by how human this one looked; with his eyes so nearly shut, the glassy, malicious stupidity of the giants was not apparent in them. It worried Armin.

Without acknowledging him, without saying anything or responding in away way, Mikasa moved, like a sparrow changing flight mid-air. She dove, swooped, and before the titan could respond, was already swinging tightly past him.

As she raised her swords for the kill, she shot out a harpoon from her hip. She would tightly swing up the line in the enemy's shoulder, accelerating as she was reeled in, before magnificently cutting out his neck.

That was the plan. That was not what happened.

The harpoon shot out with a half-hearted sputter, barely sinking into the giant's flesh, and Mikasa tumbled through the air, swinging far over his shoulder, spinning past the giant's confused face past the reach of his arms, before plummeting downwards, still spinning along the arc of her line, and absurdly shooting outward across the ground like a released bowling bowl, skimming the ground before crashing and rolling along the ground. She tumbled like a broken doll, before finally coming to a stop face-down in the street.

For a heart-stopping moment, both Armin and the titan simply stared at the aftermath, of Mikasa's stunt. Armin could not believe that she had made such a rookie mistake; the titan was simply dumbfounded with the simple idiocy of its kind.

But then she flipped herself over, sluggishly pushing onto her back with her arms, her feet kicking her over. Somehow, incredibly, she had not broken even one limb, and her motion did not indicate any kind of broken ribs. She was unhurt.

But she was out of gas, on the ground, and there was a giant between her and Armin.

No. The desperation was more total than that.

On her left, a three-story row house. The same on her right. Ten meters before her was the 15-meter titan that she had failed to strike down; Armin was over 30 meters yet further away.

And behind her, rounding the row house, was another 15-meter titan. Walking calmly, with sunken cheeks and deep-set eyes, under scraggly hair, this second titan has trapped her between them.

Armin sucked in his breath. In that instant, even as his mind raced furiously for a strategy, he had no idea what to do.


Eyes narrowed, arms crossed behind his back, Commander Dot Pixis stared down at the carnage stretched out beneath him.

With a delicate motion, he reached his hand out from behind his back, and carefully ran it along the sides of his mustache. It had the same air as someone who was pinching themselves to determine whether they were awake or dreaming.

The sun beating down on his bald head was the same as the sun beating down on the unreal scene before him.

"What the hell am I looking at?" He finally asked.

It is a miracle. It is a slaughter.

The field is scorched. The remains of giants burn and evaporate. There are countless patches of burned-away grass that are testimony to that truth.

But the number of scorch marks exceeds the number inflicted by the cannons before the retreat.

And there is a more unreal sight.

A pile of corpses.

Even if they burn away... even if they dissipate like smoke from a dry-wood fire, there is a pile-up mass of titan corpses. A grisly mound of dismembered flesh.

The top layer moved. Eight meters tall--or it was, when still it had head and neck--the vaguely feminine body was not the tallest or the shortest to be stacked in that pile. But that highest mass was forced upwards, and then rolled away.

Climbing out from beneath that corpse, there was a man.

With a graceful leap, he jumped outwards, hopping down from that mountain of corpses, even as smoke began to emerge.

Without looking behind him, he hopped out and down, landing cleanly on the solid ground and casually walking from the mountain of corpses.

The mountain of flesh he had raised.

Under the gaze of Dot Pixis and his aides, that man was attacked by twenty giants. Alone, standing on the ground without any gear and only those two unusual swords, he was beset by giants from every side.

Without particularly moving, without soaring around and behind them on the 3-D movement gear, he slaughtered them.

When they reached for him, he slashed off their arms. When they lunged in to bite him, he slashed out their eyes and their throats. He carved away their flesh and cut out their necks.

If they facing him it did not matter. He simply cut away their body until the meat between him and the weak-point was gone.

With dance-like motion, he simply cut everything that approached him. He used their size against them, leading one before others to limit the number of giants that could reach him to that one, and then slashing that one down.

His motion was precise, and elegant. There was no waste in his actions. There was not even any particularly strong emotion.

Dot Pixis was old. He had seen many fighters in his time. He had learned to measure their souls in their attacks. Coldly and clinically going for the weak point; white-hot rage as they carved up the opponent; even the lashing, mercurial twitch between fear and anger; he is old, and has read many emotions in the attacks of his soldiers.

What this man was expressing, was contempt.

The simple tactic of stepping so one enemy blocks off others, that even a child would understand. The mocking way that he lazily cut what was in reach rather than lunging for a kill. Drawing them in so they would foolishly trip over their fallen brethren even if it complicated his own movement.

Even if they are four times taller, in truth, he is the one looking down on them.

"A miracle."



Dot Pixis noted the answers his entourage give to his question, but they did not answer as he answered, so he didn't respond to any in turn. Not one of these officers has truly given the correct answer. Perhaps he is an unpleasable eccentric, as they say when they think he can't hear. But he cannot trust anyone else to do this. They did not perceive the darkness inside that man's heart. It is not the hatred that blackens so many of his comrades' souls. It is more subtle. Rather than hatred at the giants, what that man feels, is contempt. If no one else understand this, they cannot be trusted to handle this delicate meeting for him.

"Well, it can't be helped." He said aloud. "I'm going down to speak with him."

He waved aside all disagreement. "He is a hero." Dot said warmly. "He deserves the honest thanks of the defense commander. Nothing else will suffice."


Walking away from the pile of corpses, Emiya Shirou scowled in thought.

The conflagration of death behind him did not concern him. He squinted as he gazed out across the plain. At ground level, no matter how much he Reinforced his eyes, he cannot see past the horizon. On this plain, with the curve of the land, the horizon was something like 35 or 40 kilometers away.

He twitched, grimacing from the heat of the corpses behind him. The sun was beating down on his side. Sweat was stinging his eyes. He thrust Kanshou and Bakuya into the ground, and rubbed his shoulder. The Crest was aching with pain, like hot wires under his skin.

He had only Traced one pair. Because he was trying to minimize prana expenditure rather than win quickly, naturally that meant he was being conservative with his Tracing. And there was another consideration. Even if he had not found one other magus, he was still being careful. Surrounded by witnesses, he couldn't freely swing the more impressive swords. Until he knew for certain they were extinct, Shirou did not want to draw the ire of Enforcers.

The jumpsuit was already opened and those sleeves tied around his waist. Emiya Shirou is considering: if he took off the shirt as well, would the gain in cooling off-set the gain in heating from having to Reinforce his skin to prevent sunburns?

Also, he was worried because he had been sweating without anything to drink. Heat stroke was a concern.

Of course, he mused, as he tracked the motion of the bald man swinging down the wall and walking towards him, followed by two others also wearing the jacket of the Defense Legion, it's not like he could take off his shirt now anyway.

Even if all the spells carved inside it were beyond him, the Crest was a useful reservoir for prana. Continuously siphoning mana into it, it was glowing brightly; exposing an active Crest would be a source of questions, so his shirt needed to stay on.

"Commander Dot Pixis." Shirou said, greeting the bald man calmly walking towards him, on the field outside the protection of the wall. He doesn't recognize the other two, but presumably they are aides to this man, who is the commander of all troops deployed in this place, someone even a civilian worker like him would recognize on sight.

"And you must be the remarkable pressure-vessel mechanic, Shirou Emiya." The commander responded. "On behalf of humanity, I earnestly thank you for defending the outer gate of Trost District. Many lives have been saved by your heroism."

Shirou looked directly into that man's eyes. There was depth there beyond the surface meaning of those words, but no matter. For one moment, Shirou savored those words.

"I'm happy." Shirou said, smiling gently. "I'm happy I could save people."

"I see." Dot Pixis said. His rhythm was disrupted. Someone that sneered at titans such as this man did, saying such direct and heart-felt words, was not what he had expected. Frankly speaking, Dot Pixis was relieved that Shirou Emiya wasn't a complete psychopath.

"Having said that, Mr. Emiya", Pixis continued after a moment, "what are your plans?"

Shirou smiled. This smile was as heartfelt and sincere as his last one. But there was nothing kind or gentle in it. "I will continue to kill every giant that tries to step through that gate until it is closed. That, is all."

Pixis nodded sagely. "And if we can't close the gate?"

"You can." Shirou said simply. "After all, titans cannot move during the night, so I have plenty of time to eat and sleep. Even if it takes months, holding this gate is simple." Shirou glanced at the horizon, judging the speed and distance of the few giants that were sprinting in their direction. There was still time to talk. "Even if you have to place each brick individually, that isn't a problem." Shirou grinned, turning to meet the commander's eye. "Ha... I could probably even pile it shut myself, in-between fighting, if it came to that."

Dot Pixis had no words, so he nodded once more, in that same knowing fashion. His mind whirled to formulate a response for that amazing man. "I don't think it will come to that." Pixis nodded, his own eyes flicking to take in the approaching giants. His aides have been unabashedly staring at them all along; they are disciplined and tough, and will not say anything to contradict his image, but, Dot Pixis mused ruefully to himself, this is exactly the kind of "unnecessary risk-taking" they always whined at him about in private.

"It's a little unorthodox," Dot Pixis continued, "but under the circumstances, I feel it is necessary." He cleared his throat. "Shirou Emiya. Under the direct royal authority granted me as the Southern Regional Commander of the Defense Legion, I do hereby promote and commission you to the rank of Captain, with all the rights, responsibilities, and privileges that entails."

"You are assigned directly to me, the Southern Regional Commander," Dot Pixis continued, "and under that authority I grant you your first order: Captain Emiya, you will hold and defend the Shiganshina Gate, without relief, until it is closed." Although his voice was clear, he allowed an ironic smile to cross his face when he finished formally giving the man before him what anyone would consider a suicide mission.

Shirou chuckled. "Well if it's an order from the Commander, I suppose I have no other choice but to fulfill it." He shrugged, and then paused. "Ah, there is one thing, though."

"Yes?" Dot Pixis asked.

"I don't want to impose, but could you send someone to fetch me some water?" Shirou asked seriously. "I'm beginning to feel a little dehydrated." Without waiting for a response, he pulled free the two swords standing upright in the ground where he left them, and turned, measuring the distance between the approaching threats and himself.

Even as he chuckled at that, and promised he would do so, a part of Dot Pixis remembered: contempt. Surrounded by titans, attacked by enemies from all sides, and this man is so certain of victory he is only worried about whether he'll get sunstroke.

1.3 End


Yes, Shirou has the Emiya Crest implanted in him. After all, it's function is "time manipulation", and I needed to explain how he was (accidentally) flung centuries of years into the future. Ah, if you have questions about that feel free to ask, but since explaining how it ended up in him is going to be several flashbacks of exposition, I might not answer those questions directly. Generally, though, all those questions can be mostly answered with "Acht did it." Who, how, when, where; "Acht did it."

As for SnK cast...someone mentioned having some trouble keeping them straight, so I'm gonna cut-paste from my own notes. These are neither exhaustive nor complete.

The Golden Trio:
Eren Jaeger is the Main Character. "Lancer", but also qualified as "Berserker". Charisma, Rank B. Mental Fortitude, Rank B. Battle Continuation, Rank C++.
Mikasa Ackerman is his sidekick. "Saber". All stats and aptitudes are high. Eye of the Mind (False), Rank B. Yandere, Rank D (possible boosts unknown at this time).
Armin Artlett is his other sidekick. Mediocre stats, excepting high INT. Battle Tactics, Rank B.

Their schoolmates:
Jean is Eren's rival. They punch each other alot. He's the pragmatic guy that wants to join the police. Blond, with short hair, kinda sharp eyes.
Marco is Jean's best friend. Tall, short black hair, round face, small eyes. Patient, calm, straitlaced.
Conny. Short; close-cropped hair. Hot-tempered. Nice. Gullible.
Annie. Blonde with severe bun. Sharp face. Intense; calm; wants to join police. Mentored Eren hand-to-hand at his request.
Reiner. Looks like Jean. One of the Trainee Squad Leaders. Ruthlessness, Rank C.
Sasha: Potato Girl.
Frantz: tall, black hair, Hannah's lover. A sacrifice to be forsaken in the ritual of "shit gets real".
Hannah: Short girl, weepy. Couldn't accept Frantz's death emotionally.
Christa: Dark hair in unbraided pigtails. Crier? Not much dialogue.
Tomas Wagner: Trainee Squad #34. KIA.
Nack Teaz: Trainee Squad #34. KIA.
Millus Zermusky: Trainee Squad #34. KIA.
Mina Caroline: Trainee Squad #34. KIA.

Hanneth (I don't remember his last name) and Dot Pixis are both from the manga. Campbell and Algers are OCs (although if you want to pick out background mooks and declare that's them... why not?)


Well-Known Member
You fell into a habit of so many authors.

You used contempt to describe fighting.

Goddamn it but do I hate that word now.

I noticed it first with Butcher, then it seemed like every other author of any fight scene ever will, at some point, include that damn word in one way or another.

Sorry it's a pet peeve of mind, I'll read the rest now.


KING (In Land of Blind)
Staff member
Avider said:
[contempts the word "contempt"]
I... I haven't noticed a trend like that.


Shirou thinking, "dammit, these are supposed to be the dreaded enemy of humanity!?" is... there's some good reason for that bit of Value Dissonance.

I mean... to Shirou, "dreaded enemy of humanity" would be more like Primate Murder. And/or ORT.

Measured with those yardsticks... I picked "contempt" because it's closer to antipathy than "exasperation", "frustration", or "disappointment", and it's somebody else observing the half-bored, phoning-it-in way Shirou is killing them off.
Contempt...yeah, I can't think of a better word. Annoyance or irritation fits as well. Assuming this Shirou has fought in the Grail War, he has good reason to be feeling contempt because based on what Shirou has done so far, these giants are relatively pathetic. I can imagine him watching them, comparing to heroes like Lancer or Berserker, and finding them complete and utterly lacking. For all the giants' raw strength, Heracles was smaller, but faster and stronger even when he was insane.

Perhaps the soldiers start to notice that Shirou is comparing the giants to enemies past and finding the giants lacking? He's not only more worried about dehydration than he is about the giants, he's reminiscing about more challenging foes from the past.

Granted, Berserker is probably not a foe Shirou could have faced alone without Archer grade Projection even with the Emiya Crest, but the fact remains that the figures that haunt Shirou's nightmares simply don't compare to the present threat.


Well-Known Member
daniel_gudman said:
Shirou thinking, "dammit, these are supposed to be the dreaded enemy of humanity!?" is... there's some good reason for that bit of Value Dissonance.
So Shirou is feeling what Gilgamesh did?
Amodelsino said:
daniel_gudman said:
Shirou thinking, "dammit, these are supposed to be the dreaded enemy of humanity!?" is... there's some good reason for that bit of Value Dissonance.
So Shirou is feeling what Gilgamesh did? actually a good point. I can't remember if someone brought this up or not, but if Shirou was flung into the future, and the general quality of souls continued to degrade, then Shirou's soul has more 'weight' than these modern souls.

When you think of it like that, maybe dropping Shirou in a setting like this is comparable to pitting a bog standard human against a Servant.

And if Shirou can use the Emiya Crest to slow down time and improve the quality of his Projections, his weapons are superior to canon Shirou's at the cost of additional prana. Which is a pretty good deal, given that Shirou is trying to not use any obvious magic.


Well-Known Member
daniel_gudman said:
Avider said:
[contempts the word "contempt"]
I... I haven't noticed a trend like that.
It's there.

With probably the same reasoning you use too.

I'm just noting it. (And I don't like it.)

Thankfully, you at least didn't use its most common form, which usually goes something like, "does X contemptuously" or "with a contemptuous X".

Anyways in my hate for contempt in such context, I'd probably have avoided contempt and work to fit in disdain instead.

And goddamnit contempt is not a verb! (Incidentally, disdain can be)


Well-Known Member
Don't worry, Shirou. If you keep this up for very long, I'm sure one of the skinless human-turned-giants will turn up to try to remove you from the gate so the rest of the giants can get through. I'm sure you'll get an interesting challenge eventually.


Well-Known Member
I keep reading the word.contempt in this chapter so much that I almost saw myself replace shirou with Gilgamesh. I'm gonna lose it if he starts calling people mongrels.


Well-Known Member
nick012000 said:
Don't worry, Shirou. If you keep this up for very long, I'm sure one of the skinless human-turned-giants will turn up to try to remove you from the gate so the rest of the giants can get through. I'm sure you'll get an interesting challenge eventually.
I lol'd.

Cynical Kyle

Well-Known Member
dr.michael92 said:
I keep reading the word.contempt in this chapter so much that I almost saw myself replace shirou with Gilgamesh. I'm gonna lose it if he starts calling people mongrels.
Strange, I didn't notice any glaring focus on the word "contempt" at all, it's likely just a literal preference of yours or perceptional bias after reading Avider's post.


Well-Known Member
I thought it was fine too. I didn't feel like Shirou was being too un-Shirou anyway, and I have nothing against using the word contempt in a story. Seems silly.


Well-Known Member
Well there was a bit of focus by Pixis on "contempt" specifically rather than just pointing out his disregard for them. It wasn't a problem, but mixing it up with synonyms like disgust or disdain would have worked better imo. That's personal preference rather than actual technique though.
deviatesfish said:
I thought it was fine too. I didn't feel like Shirou was being too un-Shirou anyway, and I have nothing against using the word contempt in a story. Seems silly.
Well he seems to be pretty un-Shiro-ish to me. Not that that's a bad thing really, but he seems to be falling in with the "Half-way to Archer" archetype that's been getting more popular as his standard template. Really it's gotten to the point where I'm starting to read "Shiro" as "Archer" now. Not that I'm complaining, Archer is AWESOME!

And Daniel, maybe you should have someone proof read it to correct the tenses for you. Also I thought Campbell was an actual character in the manga, might be faulty memory but I'm pretty sure there was a girl by that name that got offed when the attack happened.


Well-Known Member
He had absolutely none of Archer's traits in this. He's been less like Archer than his canon self.

If anything about this Shirou is un-Shirou it's that his speech is a bit formal.

"I will stand before the gate, and without any exceptions, kill every giant that tries to come through." this and pretty much his entire speech to Pixis just doesn't sound like how Shirou talks. It sounds more like Kojirou to me.
Amodelsino said:
He had absolutely none of Archer's traits in this. He's been less like Archer than his canon self.

If anything about this Shirou is un-Shirou it's that his speech is a bit formal.

"I will stand before the gate, and without any exceptions, kill every giant that tries to come through." this and pretty much his entire speech to Pixis just doesn't sound like how Shirou talks. It sounds more like Kojirou to me.
That is by no means a bad thing. Kojirou is awesome and Shirou channeling our favorite False Assassin is good.

Bonus points if Shirou starts trying to recreate Tsubame Gaeshi.


Well-Known Member
I only noticed tense issues at the beginning.

"If they facing him it did not matter."

The above is the only major problem.


The Collector
Hymn of Ragnarok said:
Amodelsino said:
He had absolutely none of Archer's traits in this. He's been less like Archer than his canon self.

If anything about this Shirou is un-Shirou it's that his speech is a bit formal.

"I will stand before the gate, and without any exceptions, kill every giant that tries to come through." this and pretty much his entire speech to Pixis just doesn't sound like how Shirou talks. It sounds more like Kojirou to me.
That is by no means a bad thing. Kojirou is awesome and Shirou channeling our favorite False Assassin is good.

Bonus points if Shirou starts trying to recreate Tsubame Gaeshi.
Bonus points for wasting time creating a technique which he has no use for?


Well-Known Member
Hymn of Ragnarok said:
That is by no means a bad thing.? Kojirou is awesome and Shirou channeling our favorite False Assassin is good.

Bonus points if Shirou starts trying to recreate Tsubame Gaeshi.
Yes it is. I like Kojirou, but I like Shirou more. Plus, it feels off when he sounds like Shirou one line and then sort-of-Kojirou the next.