Ok, I wrote this basic idea once before and I just remembered the idea again. I haven't read my original version I did and since how my brain tends to format itself on its own I don't remember much of it. Since I do consider my past self to be trash I won't go and read it, so I don't know how much of it is the same.
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"Ah..."
He blinked.
"Where am I?" He felt wozy and exhausted. "Ugh... My head..?" There was something in his hand, he noted as he felt it throb, asking for him to notice it.
It was dark and the air felt heavy. The only source of light coming from the object in his right hand, illuminating the barren earth in a circle around him.
The sword, for a sword it was, in his right hand was a rather beautifully crafted one. It's golden patterns humming pleasantly in his hand, the large inlaid jewel on the pommel amplifying the radiance of the blade.
His head throbbed as he looked at the blade for a moment.
He knew this sword.
He knew it well.
Clarent. No, that's wrong, I've never seen Clarent. You're-
"Ah... It's you." A bitter smile.
"I shouldn't use you, not after all I've... Sorry for bringing you out like this." He muttered as he thrust the point of the blade in the dirt deep enough to leave it standing.
Just as his hand left the handle, a surge of pain rippled through him. Not sharp, not hot, not pain.
More akin to a low humming throb echoing all throughout his being as an afterglow.
Slowly opening his eyes as the worst of the pain was gone he peered around him. Was it getting brighter again? But the shadows on the ground hadn't receeded one bit.
Then the smell hit him.
Not shadows veiling the ground. Blood.
As far as the eye could reach, barren earth with blades stabbed into the ground covered in blood.
For a moment there was confusion, but that did not last. He knew what it was.
Every blade here was stained. Bloodstained. Every blade, demonic and holy had a patch of rust from the blood of innocents.
Not because they had been wielded by heroes or villains, not because they had been created for such.
No.
The only reason for their marred splendor was him.
He had seen them. He had wanted them. He had used them.
And he was stained. His hair ashen, skin burned, mind tired.
The blood of thousands, possibly millions stained his hands.
He swallowed to suppress the feeling of disgust and self-loathing. A sword next to him was pulled out of the ground. Another behind him. Every blade was drawn from the soil, held in his hands.
The blood had to have come from somewhere after all.
By every blade held by a hazy figure kneeled an innocent. An innocent who had to be cleaned. For the sake of the many Alaya reasoned and compelled.
"I..." This wasn't real. It was just pieces of memories that didn't belong to him.
Every instance of him raised a blade. Every innocent stared with frozen horror at their death.
"I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS!"
Not like that would matter.
His will wasn't to be.
This wasn't real. These were just memories.
Fresh blood spilled the ground as all the figures disappeared, blades stuck back into the ground.
"I... I didn't... not for this...!"
___________________________
Ahh.
He felt pretty good. Relaxed. Calm. Serene even.
He frowned in his half-asleep state, his eyes closed as he muttered to himself. Aside from that dream just now. What a nightmare. Usually his nightmares were of that day, not something like that.
He took a deep breath as he turned to sleep on his side. The sudden motion from him caused a reaction in someone a few inches away from him.
He blinked, his eyelids lazily allowing perception.
He was in... The Einzbern castle outside Fuyuki. He almost smiled. He hadn't been here in a long time. He used to sleep in these quarters next to the kitchen often.
With a lazy smile and drowsy gaze, he turned to the squeak from a few seconds ago.
Ilya. He almost snickered. The look in her eyes was one he was intimately familiar with.
The look was a cross of a deer-caught-in-the-headlights-of-an-incoming-car and desperate I-can-still-work-my-way-out-of-this.
Ilya, the little imp was planning something again. No doubt a prank on him. Taiga was such a bad influence, Rin too. What was it this time? Permanent marker mustache or a hair dye job? He still remembered that time she dunked his head in white paint so they would have matching hair.
He snickered this time, causing the little snow fairy to blink in surprise. She didn't relax one bit, though. Quite the opposite, she tensed up even more. She was really planning something, huh?
Well, not that it bothered him. He trusted her, and her pranks were pretty funny after he'd cleaned up and thought about them.
"Ilya..." A lazy smile and an amused twinkle in his eyes. She froze up, going ramrod straight and her mouth opening to say something.
Ohoho, she knew she was busted.
His hand reached out, her eyes following it in frozen terror as he grabbed, gently, her shoulder.
With a lazy pull, the tiny girl was next to him on the bed, blinking and mouth open in bewilderment.
She began a protest, but the complain died in her throat as he pulled her closer to him, hugging her with one hand and gently patting her head with the other.
"Ilya, Ilya, Ilya..." He whispered to himself almost like a laugh, closing his eyes and petting the white haired girl who was putty in his hands.
"uh, ah, eh... Ah you... Ilya? You.."
He snickered at her confusion, causing the girl seemingly further bewilderment.
"Ilya, is everything alright?" He began, still petting her long white hair. She blinked and stared at him, not able or sure what to say.
"You know you can tell oniichan anything, that I'd do anything for you..." He gave her another warm smile, which hit the still mentally unbalanced girl like a Caladbolg II.
"O-oniichan?" She breathed out like it was the most ludicrous thing ever.
He mm'ed a reply and snuggled closer to the snow fairy and chuckled. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me. I trust you, Ilya. Just know that you can count on me for anything..." He patted the wide-eyed girl and closed his eyes with a content sigh.
He was tired. More so than he'd thought. Maybe he should sleep a little longer. His eyelids felt pretty heavy. Maybe take the day off, too...
"o-" The White haired girl began, tripping over the word almost bashfully. "Oniichan?" He opened one eye lazily and eyed her.
"Oniichan... You're my Oniichan?" She half-whispered, not quite sure she was asking that. He chuckled and held her tightly.
"Of course. I wouldn't let anything happen to my Ilya..."
She was staring at him wide-eyed awe. Strange girl, he'd said it so many times already, yet she still reacted to him saying it.
His eyelids felt heavy, so he complied and closed them. With the soft breathing of Ilya next to him, under his arm, he smiled and let himself fall asleep.
____________________________
Her thoughts raced.
Left and right. Back and forth. Up and down. There and here. Now and then.
It had to be a trick. The way he looked at her.
You're still as merciless as ever, Ilya.
But he'd looked at her like that even when she'd been his enemy, his executor.
She grit her teeth. It was prepostrous, it confounded her, it made her so unbelievably angry.
How had this no name servant nobody had even heard of managed to beat HER BERSERKER.
Herakles was the greatest hero of all time! This man was, was...
By the way, Rin. May I confirm something? I can buy you time if that's all you want, but it's okay if I beat him, right?
She blinked.
Flippant.
In the face of the greatest hero, the beast that had previously batted Saber around like a doll, he was flippant, like it was all a joke?
She looked at the slowly rising and falling chest of the sleeping Servant.
Could he be a hero greater than Herakles? No, no, no, no way.
Nobody had even heard of him, or anybody like him for that matter.
But he had gone head to head with her Berserker, and won.
With the difference in his ability and Berserkers, it shouldn't have even taken Herakles a minute, yet the fight had gone on and on and on. And before she knew it, her Servant was down to six, with the flippant, arrogant, unruly and still amused servant alive.
Bleeding and beaten up like nothing she could believe. But alive.
And smirking, like he was holding back from laughing at a joke nobody else could possibly understand. She shook her head out of the memory. The Servant hadn't been phased at all from waking up next to her, an enemy master.
She looked at him. Really looked. And then it struck her.
The pants. He was from the future! The pants! They were of fairly modern design as far as she knew.
Of course she'd known that Servants could come from any era, but becomming a Heroic Spirit had gone from an figurative impossibility to a literal impossibility due to how much humanity had advanced and changed.
But nobody knew of him. Servants were given knowledge of the era they had been summoned to, to be able to work with their masters and be able to recognize other Servants by their Noble Phantasms.
But the future? Would they know about the future? Could they know about the future?
Nevermind that. How could somebody become a Heroic Spirit now, much less in the future? It would be mindbogglingly improbable. No, no, no. It would be impossible.
He had to have had done something akin to Sorcery...
...
Had he reached the Root? Her eyes widened and looked at the lightly snoring Servant.
No, no, no, even that couldn't be enough.
He must have mastered all the Sorceries, reached the Root, saved the world from a dozen alien invasions and caused world peace...
Her thoughts rambled and she frowned.
She looked at his sharp features, his dark complexion and his white hair.
He couldn't be from the future. That was just crazy.
But still, If...
If his legend surpassed Herakles', the implications were unsettling. Mostly because Rin had managed to one up her.
And then...
She looked at the floor next to the bed.
The shattered remains of the Axe-Sword had been collected there. The original catalyst for summoning her Berserker.
The loop hole in the system meant she could still summon a servant, if she had another servant and a catalyst. She could summon Herakles as an Archer.
But... She bit her nail as she looked at the rugged Servant.
If his legend surpassed Herakles', then his claim as Archer would surpass Herakles's. Meaning it wouldn't do anything other than fully heal him with her prana as she tried to bind him to her control.
She'd with Sella's help barely managed to stabilize the Archer, keeping him from dying and joining Berserker. Keeping him at low prana was keeping him from returning to his master.
There was no way that this Servant was stronger than her Berserker!
Aside from that fact that he'd killed the hulking legend, if barely.
She bit her lip as she tried to make sense of the situation. Her thoughts rambling on and on, going over things she'd already decided on and trying to find something to make up her mind.
She looked at the Servant who'd patted her hair and said he would protect her, her hand reaching out to touch his own white hair...
"Oniichan..." The word had just slipped out, her outstretched hand shooting back to cover her traitorous mouth. She blinked as the sleeping Servant smiled in his sleep.
"...O...Oniichan...?" He smiled again, his arm around her holding her tighter to him.
She let herself relax. And after a seeming eternity, she'd made up her mind. Slowly, carefully and precisly she got out of the sleeping Servants grasp and walked to the door of the room.
It was time. "Sella."
The stern maid appeared stepped forth, seemingly from the shadows.
"Mistress."
"Bring the Dress of Heaven." The stern maid blinked and fidgeted in place. "But mistress, his Magic Resistance is only at D rank, you should have no problem overcoming it, summoning Herakles as is wouldn-"
The sharp look mixed with fury from the pint sized homunculi froze the stern maid in mid sentance.
"Sella, you may be my magic teacher and guide, you may be my caretaker, and Acht may have placed you in charge of looking after me. But I shouldn't need to remind as to who. I. AM." The taller maid had frozen in place, shivering as she couldn't tear her gaze away from her mistress.
"Now. Fetch the Dress of Heaven and assist me into it." The maid nodded, bowed to hide from the after effects of her mistress' gaze and compose herself once more.
"Leysritt."
Another maid stepped out, her slight smile on a otherwise softer face giving her a stark contrast to the sharp and stern Sella.
"Sweep the room, put the shards... somewhere, I don't really care right now." Illyasviel nodded to herself.
The maid nodded and with a skip in her step went to find a broom.
Illyasviel chuckled to herself. This was a definite risk, but if it worked out in her favor she would definitelly have an incredible trump card. And an Oniichan. But that was totally not the reason for her change of plans.
It was just unlikely she would be able to summon Herakles succesfully. Yeah, that was it.
She nodded to herself, to convince herself one last time as she walked after Sella.
It was time to cheat the grail system a little bit. Okay, a huge bit. But hey, she was Illyasviel von Einzbern, daughter of Emiya Kiritsugu, it wasn't like she considered rules and established norms to be of any real importance.
_____________________
Hahahah.
Here he was.
Emiya Shirou. Heroic Spirit. Well, not really.
Matching Herakles. Somewhat. Half-assedly. Cheating his ass off.
Well technically he was getting his ass kicked seven ways from here to Sunday, but he was winning.
Kind of.
His memories were still fuzzy from the summoning by Rin, but none of that mattered, really. He remembered his basic goals and stuff, so even if most of his memories were one big fuzzy mess of swords, blood and fire, he was pretty sure of who he was.
Kill Emiya Shirou. Keep Ilya, Taiga, Sakura, Rin, Ayako and Issei alive if possible. Get Rin to contract Saber and handle it from there after he'd paradoxed himself out of the history books. Well, not that he was in any history books.
Buuut, then Ilya showed up. Of course, she had to go and kidnap Shirou and throw a huge monkey wrench into his plans. He swore that Ilya's origin had to be 'Chaos' or 'Screw with Emiya Shirou's plans' or something like that. Still, he should have remembered that this would happen. Not like it wasn't one of the biggest moments of his life, meeting Ilya and all.
So here he was. All alone, against the biggest and baddest of the bunch. Oh joy.
There was sort of twisted pleasure, almost satisfaction, he felt at being able to stand up to Berserker like this. Boogeyman of his War, at least until Gilgamesh showed up. Still, he was going to die, he'd figured that much out.
Kind of silly. Instead of agreeing to Rin's plan of staying behind until they could run away, he should have just told them to have Shirou give up his seals and Servant to Rin. Not like the boy would protest. Hell, Saber would probably be annoyed at how easily Shirou would agree.
Probably. The boy might've protested out of spite for him.
But no. It came down to this. Again. Well at least the boy got a threesome. Probably. His memories were fuzzy on that. Sex and relationships had a sort of 'Irrelevant Information' classification in his memories.
Dodge left, jump, kick off his shoulder and twist around in midair.
"Steel is my body..." A bow appeared in his left hand. "and fire is blood." A sword appeared in his right hand.
In less than a second, the greatest Heroic Spirit had reeled in his wide swing realizing he'd missed and lost his target, turned around, and faced his elusive opponent to charge again.
This instant had however been enough, as the Servant in red smirked, having fully drawn his arrow already and releasing the projectile with a bark.
"MERODACH!"
The sword shattered on impact, exploding with white hot fury of a holy sword forced to self destruct.
Archer landed, his bow disappearing to be replaced by twin swords as he twisted and darted into another hallway of the Einzbern castle. Okay, so far he'd shot Caladbolg, Moralltach and now Merodach. Moralltach missed anything vital so it was a dud, though it allowed him to take the extra second to use the slightly awkward Merodach against the hulking brute.
"Three, two..." Smirking under his breath, he twisted on his step and jumped into a meeting room from the hallway, his shoulder busting open the oaken door easily, moments before the spot he'd been standing in was torn to shreds by the massive axeblade of Herakles.
He snickered as he jumped out the window and scaled onto the roof in less than a handful of seconds.
Rin had told him to buy time. Made sense, he was an Archer. He specialized in Independant Action. But honestly, it was a suicide mission. There was no way he would be able to keep this up. He'd burned up most of his prana already, and the massive Servant could outrun him easily.
Herakles was built like a closet, no like a vault and still had A-rank Agility. That just wasn't fair. White haired hero grumbled under his breath and got his breathing under control again.
Slap into the equation the Einzbern bounded field, that pretty much told Ilya where he and every living thing bigger than a squirrel in the whole forest was, and he stood no chance of trying to run away or trying to use guerilla tactics.
Yeah. Rin wanted some time, she'd get it. And trying to match the strongest of the strongest like this was pretty enjoyable. In a catharsistic, who-cares-if-I-die-painfully kind of way. Almost made up for his failed suicide plan.
Though, while he had an ample supply of A-rank noble phantasms, most of them weren't exactly practical, or efficient. So survival, much less victory was looking like a pretty nonexistant possibility.
Merodach had been pretty good. With how long it had taken Berserker to catch up, he must have lost at least one life.
Alright. Merodach line of Noble Phantasms sounded good. A bit slow to create and conceptualize into arrows, but he could shoot them from his bow as Broken Phantasm pretty efficiently. They were pretty normal longswords, after all. Some A-rankers were a little bit... Outside the Norm. Somehow they squeezed into the category sword and got into his head, anyhow.
Gram was next up, having lost almost none of the power with the name change, and gained a slight boost to it's concept thanks to the whole v÷lsunga saga and Sigurd. It amused him how a demonic sword of destruction and glory with an anti-dragon aspect would turn to later be Sabers first sword.
Well, it had still been that in Uther Pendragon's hands as Clarent, though it had changed a fair deal due to Merlin's schemings.
[Judging the concept of creation]
[Hypothesizing the basic structure]
[Duplicating the composition material]
A twisting back flip from the roof that exploded underneath him as Berserker appeared with the force of a runaway rocket.
He landed with a soft thud followed by a jump through yet another window back inside the mansion.
[Imitating the skill of its making]
[Sympathizing with the experience of its growth]
He chuckled, thinking what it would cost to repair the castle after all this, as he kicked down another door leading into the hallway.
Only to come face to face with a pintsized homunculi master. Unable to stop, Archer's mind speed up forcing the world around him to a crawl to deal with his situation.
-[Hostage]
-[Kill prana source]
-[Make his Berserker take out Ilya as collateral damage]
He shook his head forcing the thoughts out of his and kept on running toward the white haired girl, who now realized just who was coming right for her.
"Bers-!"
She began as he ignored her and jumped over her like a gymnast. His right hand tapping her on the head as he did a split in midair over her head leaving the strongest master a blinking, confused statue.
Ah... Oniichan. It's alright. I knew this day would come. Don't cry Shirou... I had... fun...
In his arms, limp-
No, he was fighting Berserker. Not his Ilya, not this one.
On cue, the black beast crashed in through the wall, almost grinding Archer into red paste.
Ignore it. Concentrate on the fight.
[Reproducing the accumulated years]
[Excelling every manufacturing process]
[Projection Ready - Standby]
He grinned, dodging under a wide swing. The razor winds in it's wake cutting his left cheek fairly deep causing blood to run freely from his face.
Sliding underneath Berserker, avoiding being stomped by his foot by an inch, Archer hopped up and onto the railing. He was back in the lobby of the castle. Jumping off planning to jump all the way over to the other side, he twisted in the air to face his opponent.
"I have created over a thousand blades." Blade and bow in hand, he nocked the twisted projectile for the first time and-
"_________________________________!!"
Oh crap. He's right there already.
The arrow had been nocked and drawn already, might as well release it. Well, if he didn't, the axe-sword coming at him would cut him in two and kill him. Hmm, certain death or mostly certain death.
Mostly certain death sounded kind of better.
"Gram!"
The Sword managed to travel an incredible 2 meters from Archer before it reached Berserker. And then it exploded with the white hot fury that equaled it's predecessor Merodach. Technically it was the same sword, yet it wasn't.
Wonder if God Hand will block i-
The explosion rocket the lobby, blowing Berserker's head clean off his shoulders and tearing a sizeable hole in his upper chest with a bit of his spine sticking out amusing Archer in a macabre fashion as he watched the approaching blast of prana as his brain was still forcing his perception of time to be all wonky.
Berserker flew back down and collapsed against the wall on the first floor of the lobby.
Archer other hand, in midair trying to cover himself with his arms and legs ended up blasted to the other side of the large room. The wall shattered behind him as his bloodied body smashed against it, leaving a red smear as he fell down to the first floor.
His left arm and leg were burnt and shredded. His right arm numb from the elbow down. Breathing was a bitch and his vision was hazy and wobbly as all hell. Great, he was still alive.
"No... No more point blank Broken Phantasms... Gotta write that up somewhere..." He coughed up blood for trying to talk and blinked trying to make some sense of the situation.
Right. On the first floor, fucked up beyond belief. Berserker was healing.
Ilya? Dead. Because o-
He shook his head, she'd run up to the railing he'd jumped off of, her eyes wide and unbelieving. She was barking something at Berserker.
Looked alive and well. Angry even.
Huh. Both of them looked angry and alive.
Right Berserker. Gotta get up.
With his left leg not of any real use, he still somehow managed to bring himself up with his still somewhat usable right arm. His breathing shallow and raspy, he eyed the already healed Berserker while balancing on his one good leg.
"Unknown to death," A sword in his right hand sparked into existance. "Nor known to life." Fire burned him to cleanse him of doubt and fear, steel pierced him to help him stand and fight.
And as blood poured from him, he stood straighter and taller than before.
A bow fell on the floor next to him.
Right, his left hand was out of the game. Melee it was.
Great.
Not like he could run, either.
At least he had a sword, he mused with a smirk as Berserker picked up speed and began running toward him.
A sword. Wait. Which sword? The next in the line of these swords that he knew was Calib-
"No... No, I didn't mean to-" STUPID STUPID YOU STUPID-
Saber went to die alone. He'd dreamt of that sword.
Ilya died because I was too blind to see that something was wrong. He'd used it to protect, to stand against those far stronger than him.
Sakura was crippled and lost her mind because I was too stupid. He'd failed every single time it mattered, since he could only stand alone in the end surrounded by steel and fire.
Rin got sealed away because I was too naive and trusting. And as only more and more blood was spilt by him, he swore to never again tarnish that blade. That blade belonged to better than him.
He wasn't even a Heroic Spirit.
A chuckle escaped his lips.
What a pathetic hero he was.
Emiya Shirou. Goddamn it. Here he was, feeling shitty for a life that he regretted only after he'd lived it.
Berserker was upon him, axeblade descending, the instant stretching on in his mind. An easy route around to his back presented itself in his Mind's Eye. Not that it mattered. He couldn't move well enough anymore. Hell, he could barely raise his sword.
A fitting death for Emiya Shirou, to die lamenting all that he'd screwed up in his life. Even if it took the second time for him to realize how stupid he was.
The boy who didn't want to see anyone cry, would be forced to see nothing but the misery of others for an eternity.
-ield m-!
And time snapped back into play. He could hear himself roar, the sword in his right hand shooting forward, the point of the sword parting the air with it's silvery blade.
And he managed a 'huh' as he stared at the elegant, almost ornamental crossguard touch his opponents chest as the blade had bitten deep into Berserker. The sword was all the way through the greek hero, possibly severing his spine.
The Axe-sword lay by their feet and falling in the air around them, shattered and in pieces with the remains of a handle in the massive hero's hands.
"What th-" He managed before the golden sword awoke and drank from him as the words forced themselves into his mouth.
"CALIBUUUUURN!"
And the light took him to the hell of unconciousness with all his lovely memories the didn't belong to him.
_______________________________
"Ah..."
He blinked.
"Where am I?" He felt wozy and exhausted. "Ugh... My head..?" There was something in his hand, he noted as he felt it throb, asking for him to notice it.
It was dark and the air felt heavy. The only source of light coming from the object in his right hand, illuminating the barren earth in a circle around him.
The sword, for a sword it was, in his right hand was a rather beautifully crafted one. It's golden patterns humming pleasantly in his hand, the large inlaid jewel on the pommel amplifying the radiance of the blade.
His head throbbed as he looked at the blade for a moment.
He knew this sword.
He knew it well.
Clarent. No, that's wrong, I've never seen Clarent. You're-
"Ah... It's you." A bitter smile.
"I shouldn't use you, not after all I've... Sorry for bringing you out like this." He muttered as he thrust the point of the blade in the dirt deep enough to leave it standing.
Just as his hand left the handle, a surge of pain rippled through him. Not sharp, not hot, not pain.
More akin to a low humming throb echoing all throughout his being as an afterglow.
Slowly opening his eyes as the worst of the pain was gone he peered around him. Was it getting brighter again? But the shadows on the ground hadn't receeded one bit.
Then the smell hit him.
Not shadows veiling the ground. Blood.
As far as the eye could reach, barren earth with blades stabbed into the ground covered in blood.
For a moment there was confusion, but that did not last. He knew what it was.
Every blade here was stained. Bloodstained. Every blade, demonic and holy had a patch of rust from the blood of innocents.
Not because they had been wielded by heroes or villains, not because they had been created for such.
No.
The only reason for their marred splendor was him.
He had seen them. He had wanted them. He had used them.
And he was stained. His hair ashen, skin burned, mind tired.
The blood of thousands, possibly millions stained his hands.
He swallowed to suppress the feeling of disgust and self-loathing. A sword next to him was pulled out of the ground. Another behind him. Every blade was drawn from the soil, held in his hands.
The blood had to have come from somewhere after all.
By every blade held by a hazy figure kneeled an innocent. An innocent who had to be cleaned. For the sake of the many Alaya reasoned and compelled.
"I..." This wasn't real. It was just pieces of memories that didn't belong to him.
Every instance of him raised a blade. Every innocent stared with frozen horror at their death.
"I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS!"
Not like that would matter.
His will wasn't to be.
This wasn't real. These were just memories.
Fresh blood spilled the ground as all the figures disappeared, blades stuck back into the ground.
"I... I didn't... not for this...!"
___________________________
Ahh.
He felt pretty good. Relaxed. Calm. Serene even.
He frowned in his half-asleep state, his eyes closed as he muttered to himself. Aside from that dream just now. What a nightmare. Usually his nightmares were of that day, not something like that.
He took a deep breath as he turned to sleep on his side. The sudden motion from him caused a reaction in someone a few inches away from him.
He blinked, his eyelids lazily allowing perception.
He was in... The Einzbern castle outside Fuyuki. He almost smiled. He hadn't been here in a long time. He used to sleep in these quarters next to the kitchen often.
With a lazy smile and drowsy gaze, he turned to the squeak from a few seconds ago.
Ilya. He almost snickered. The look in her eyes was one he was intimately familiar with.
The look was a cross of a deer-caught-in-the-headlights-of-an-incoming-car and desperate I-can-still-work-my-way-out-of-this.
Ilya, the little imp was planning something again. No doubt a prank on him. Taiga was such a bad influence, Rin too. What was it this time? Permanent marker mustache or a hair dye job? He still remembered that time she dunked his head in white paint so they would have matching hair.
He snickered this time, causing the little snow fairy to blink in surprise. She didn't relax one bit, though. Quite the opposite, she tensed up even more. She was really planning something, huh?
Well, not that it bothered him. He trusted her, and her pranks were pretty funny after he'd cleaned up and thought about them.
"Ilya..." A lazy smile and an amused twinkle in his eyes. She froze up, going ramrod straight and her mouth opening to say something.
Ohoho, she knew she was busted.
His hand reached out, her eyes following it in frozen terror as he grabbed, gently, her shoulder.
With a lazy pull, the tiny girl was next to him on the bed, blinking and mouth open in bewilderment.
She began a protest, but the complain died in her throat as he pulled her closer to him, hugging her with one hand and gently patting her head with the other.
"Ilya, Ilya, Ilya..." He whispered to himself almost like a laugh, closing his eyes and petting the white haired girl who was putty in his hands.
"uh, ah, eh... Ah you... Ilya? You.."
He snickered at her confusion, causing the girl seemingly further bewilderment.
"Ilya, is everything alright?" He began, still petting her long white hair. She blinked and stared at him, not able or sure what to say.
"You know you can tell oniichan anything, that I'd do anything for you..." He gave her another warm smile, which hit the still mentally unbalanced girl like a Caladbolg II.
"O-oniichan?" She breathed out like it was the most ludicrous thing ever.
He mm'ed a reply and snuggled closer to the snow fairy and chuckled. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me. I trust you, Ilya. Just know that you can count on me for anything..." He patted the wide-eyed girl and closed his eyes with a content sigh.
He was tired. More so than he'd thought. Maybe he should sleep a little longer. His eyelids felt pretty heavy. Maybe take the day off, too...
"o-" The White haired girl began, tripping over the word almost bashfully. "Oniichan?" He opened one eye lazily and eyed her.
"Oniichan... You're my Oniichan?" She half-whispered, not quite sure she was asking that. He chuckled and held her tightly.
"Of course. I wouldn't let anything happen to my Ilya..."
She was staring at him wide-eyed awe. Strange girl, he'd said it so many times already, yet she still reacted to him saying it.
His eyelids felt heavy, so he complied and closed them. With the soft breathing of Ilya next to him, under his arm, he smiled and let himself fall asleep.
____________________________
Her thoughts raced.
Left and right. Back and forth. Up and down. There and here. Now and then.
It had to be a trick. The way he looked at her.
You're still as merciless as ever, Ilya.
But he'd looked at her like that even when she'd been his enemy, his executor.
She grit her teeth. It was prepostrous, it confounded her, it made her so unbelievably angry.
How had this no name servant nobody had even heard of managed to beat HER BERSERKER.
Herakles was the greatest hero of all time! This man was, was...
By the way, Rin. May I confirm something? I can buy you time if that's all you want, but it's okay if I beat him, right?
She blinked.
Flippant.
In the face of the greatest hero, the beast that had previously batted Saber around like a doll, he was flippant, like it was all a joke?
She looked at the slowly rising and falling chest of the sleeping Servant.
Could he be a hero greater than Herakles? No, no, no, no way.
Nobody had even heard of him, or anybody like him for that matter.
But he had gone head to head with her Berserker, and won.
With the difference in his ability and Berserkers, it shouldn't have even taken Herakles a minute, yet the fight had gone on and on and on. And before she knew it, her Servant was down to six, with the flippant, arrogant, unruly and still amused servant alive.
Bleeding and beaten up like nothing she could believe. But alive.
And smirking, like he was holding back from laughing at a joke nobody else could possibly understand. She shook her head out of the memory. The Servant hadn't been phased at all from waking up next to her, an enemy master.
She looked at him. Really looked. And then it struck her.
The pants. He was from the future! The pants! They were of fairly modern design as far as she knew.
Of course she'd known that Servants could come from any era, but becomming a Heroic Spirit had gone from an figurative impossibility to a literal impossibility due to how much humanity had advanced and changed.
But nobody knew of him. Servants were given knowledge of the era they had been summoned to, to be able to work with their masters and be able to recognize other Servants by their Noble Phantasms.
But the future? Would they know about the future? Could they know about the future?
Nevermind that. How could somebody become a Heroic Spirit now, much less in the future? It would be mindbogglingly improbable. No, no, no. It would be impossible.
He had to have had done something akin to Sorcery...
...
Had he reached the Root? Her eyes widened and looked at the lightly snoring Servant.
No, no, no, even that couldn't be enough.
He must have mastered all the Sorceries, reached the Root, saved the world from a dozen alien invasions and caused world peace...
Her thoughts rambled and she frowned.
She looked at his sharp features, his dark complexion and his white hair.
He couldn't be from the future. That was just crazy.
But still, If...
If his legend surpassed Herakles', the implications were unsettling. Mostly because Rin had managed to one up her.
And then...
She looked at the floor next to the bed.
The shattered remains of the Axe-Sword had been collected there. The original catalyst for summoning her Berserker.
The loop hole in the system meant she could still summon a servant, if she had another servant and a catalyst. She could summon Herakles as an Archer.
But... She bit her nail as she looked at the rugged Servant.
If his legend surpassed Herakles', then his claim as Archer would surpass Herakles's. Meaning it wouldn't do anything other than fully heal him with her prana as she tried to bind him to her control.
She'd with Sella's help barely managed to stabilize the Archer, keeping him from dying and joining Berserker. Keeping him at low prana was keeping him from returning to his master.
There was no way that this Servant was stronger than her Berserker!
Aside from that fact that he'd killed the hulking legend, if barely.
She bit her lip as she tried to make sense of the situation. Her thoughts rambling on and on, going over things she'd already decided on and trying to find something to make up her mind.
She looked at the Servant who'd patted her hair and said he would protect her, her hand reaching out to touch his own white hair...
"Oniichan..." The word had just slipped out, her outstretched hand shooting back to cover her traitorous mouth. She blinked as the sleeping Servant smiled in his sleep.
"...O...Oniichan...?" He smiled again, his arm around her holding her tighter to him.
She let herself relax. And after a seeming eternity, she'd made up her mind. Slowly, carefully and precisly she got out of the sleeping Servants grasp and walked to the door of the room.
It was time. "Sella."
The stern maid appeared stepped forth, seemingly from the shadows.
"Mistress."
"Bring the Dress of Heaven." The stern maid blinked and fidgeted in place. "But mistress, his Magic Resistance is only at D rank, you should have no problem overcoming it, summoning Herakles as is wouldn-"
The sharp look mixed with fury from the pint sized homunculi froze the stern maid in mid sentance.
"Sella, you may be my magic teacher and guide, you may be my caretaker, and Acht may have placed you in charge of looking after me. But I shouldn't need to remind as to who. I. AM." The taller maid had frozen in place, shivering as she couldn't tear her gaze away from her mistress.
"Now. Fetch the Dress of Heaven and assist me into it." The maid nodded, bowed to hide from the after effects of her mistress' gaze and compose herself once more.
"Leysritt."
Another maid stepped out, her slight smile on a otherwise softer face giving her a stark contrast to the sharp and stern Sella.
"Sweep the room, put the shards... somewhere, I don't really care right now." Illyasviel nodded to herself.
The maid nodded and with a skip in her step went to find a broom.
Illyasviel chuckled to herself. This was a definite risk, but if it worked out in her favor she would definitelly have an incredible trump card. And an Oniichan. But that was totally not the reason for her change of plans.
It was just unlikely she would be able to summon Herakles succesfully. Yeah, that was it.
She nodded to herself, to convince herself one last time as she walked after Sella.
It was time to cheat the grail system a little bit. Okay, a huge bit. But hey, she was Illyasviel von Einzbern, daughter of Emiya Kiritsugu, it wasn't like she considered rules and established norms to be of any real importance.
_____________________
Hahahah.
Here he was.
Emiya Shirou. Heroic Spirit. Well, not really.
Matching Herakles. Somewhat. Half-assedly. Cheating his ass off.
Well technically he was getting his ass kicked seven ways from here to Sunday, but he was winning.
Kind of.
His memories were still fuzzy from the summoning by Rin, but none of that mattered, really. He remembered his basic goals and stuff, so even if most of his memories were one big fuzzy mess of swords, blood and fire, he was pretty sure of who he was.
Kill Emiya Shirou. Keep Ilya, Taiga, Sakura, Rin, Ayako and Issei alive if possible. Get Rin to contract Saber and handle it from there after he'd paradoxed himself out of the history books. Well, not that he was in any history books.
Buuut, then Ilya showed up. Of course, she had to go and kidnap Shirou and throw a huge monkey wrench into his plans. He swore that Ilya's origin had to be 'Chaos' or 'Screw with Emiya Shirou's plans' or something like that. Still, he should have remembered that this would happen. Not like it wasn't one of the biggest moments of his life, meeting Ilya and all.
So here he was. All alone, against the biggest and baddest of the bunch. Oh joy.
There was sort of twisted pleasure, almost satisfaction, he felt at being able to stand up to Berserker like this. Boogeyman of his War, at least until Gilgamesh showed up. Still, he was going to die, he'd figured that much out.
Kind of silly. Instead of agreeing to Rin's plan of staying behind until they could run away, he should have just told them to have Shirou give up his seals and Servant to Rin. Not like the boy would protest. Hell, Saber would probably be annoyed at how easily Shirou would agree.
Probably. The boy might've protested out of spite for him.
But no. It came down to this. Again. Well at least the boy got a threesome. Probably. His memories were fuzzy on that. Sex and relationships had a sort of 'Irrelevant Information' classification in his memories.
Dodge left, jump, kick off his shoulder and twist around in midair.
"Steel is my body..." A bow appeared in his left hand. "and fire is blood." A sword appeared in his right hand.
In less than a second, the greatest Heroic Spirit had reeled in his wide swing realizing he'd missed and lost his target, turned around, and faced his elusive opponent to charge again.
This instant had however been enough, as the Servant in red smirked, having fully drawn his arrow already and releasing the projectile with a bark.
"MERODACH!"
The sword shattered on impact, exploding with white hot fury of a holy sword forced to self destruct.
Archer landed, his bow disappearing to be replaced by twin swords as he twisted and darted into another hallway of the Einzbern castle. Okay, so far he'd shot Caladbolg, Moralltach and now Merodach. Moralltach missed anything vital so it was a dud, though it allowed him to take the extra second to use the slightly awkward Merodach against the hulking brute.
"Three, two..." Smirking under his breath, he twisted on his step and jumped into a meeting room from the hallway, his shoulder busting open the oaken door easily, moments before the spot he'd been standing in was torn to shreds by the massive axeblade of Herakles.
He snickered as he jumped out the window and scaled onto the roof in less than a handful of seconds.
Rin had told him to buy time. Made sense, he was an Archer. He specialized in Independant Action. But honestly, it was a suicide mission. There was no way he would be able to keep this up. He'd burned up most of his prana already, and the massive Servant could outrun him easily.
Herakles was built like a closet, no like a vault and still had A-rank Agility. That just wasn't fair. White haired hero grumbled under his breath and got his breathing under control again.
Slap into the equation the Einzbern bounded field, that pretty much told Ilya where he and every living thing bigger than a squirrel in the whole forest was, and he stood no chance of trying to run away or trying to use guerilla tactics.
Yeah. Rin wanted some time, she'd get it. And trying to match the strongest of the strongest like this was pretty enjoyable. In a catharsistic, who-cares-if-I-die-painfully kind of way. Almost made up for his failed suicide plan.
Though, while he had an ample supply of A-rank noble phantasms, most of them weren't exactly practical, or efficient. So survival, much less victory was looking like a pretty nonexistant possibility.
Merodach had been pretty good. With how long it had taken Berserker to catch up, he must have lost at least one life.
Alright. Merodach line of Noble Phantasms sounded good. A bit slow to create and conceptualize into arrows, but he could shoot them from his bow as Broken Phantasm pretty efficiently. They were pretty normal longswords, after all. Some A-rankers were a little bit... Outside the Norm. Somehow they squeezed into the category sword and got into his head, anyhow.
Gram was next up, having lost almost none of the power with the name change, and gained a slight boost to it's concept thanks to the whole v÷lsunga saga and Sigurd. It amused him how a demonic sword of destruction and glory with an anti-dragon aspect would turn to later be Sabers first sword.
Well, it had still been that in Uther Pendragon's hands as Clarent, though it had changed a fair deal due to Merlin's schemings.
[Judging the concept of creation]
[Hypothesizing the basic structure]
[Duplicating the composition material]
A twisting back flip from the roof that exploded underneath him as Berserker appeared with the force of a runaway rocket.
He landed with a soft thud followed by a jump through yet another window back inside the mansion.
[Imitating the skill of its making]
[Sympathizing with the experience of its growth]
He chuckled, thinking what it would cost to repair the castle after all this, as he kicked down another door leading into the hallway.
Only to come face to face with a pintsized homunculi master. Unable to stop, Archer's mind speed up forcing the world around him to a crawl to deal with his situation.
-[Hostage]
-[Kill prana source]
-[Make his Berserker take out Ilya as collateral damage]
He shook his head forcing the thoughts out of his and kept on running toward the white haired girl, who now realized just who was coming right for her.
"Bers-!"
She began as he ignored her and jumped over her like a gymnast. His right hand tapping her on the head as he did a split in midair over her head leaving the strongest master a blinking, confused statue.
Ah... Oniichan. It's alright. I knew this day would come. Don't cry Shirou... I had... fun...
In his arms, limp-
No, he was fighting Berserker. Not his Ilya, not this one.
On cue, the black beast crashed in through the wall, almost grinding Archer into red paste.
Ignore it. Concentrate on the fight.
[Reproducing the accumulated years]
[Excelling every manufacturing process]
[Projection Ready - Standby]
He grinned, dodging under a wide swing. The razor winds in it's wake cutting his left cheek fairly deep causing blood to run freely from his face.
Sliding underneath Berserker, avoiding being stomped by his foot by an inch, Archer hopped up and onto the railing. He was back in the lobby of the castle. Jumping off planning to jump all the way over to the other side, he twisted in the air to face his opponent.
"I have created over a thousand blades." Blade and bow in hand, he nocked the twisted projectile for the first time and-
"_________________________________!!"
Oh crap. He's right there already.
The arrow had been nocked and drawn already, might as well release it. Well, if he didn't, the axe-sword coming at him would cut him in two and kill him. Hmm, certain death or mostly certain death.
Mostly certain death sounded kind of better.
"Gram!"
The Sword managed to travel an incredible 2 meters from Archer before it reached Berserker. And then it exploded with the white hot fury that equaled it's predecessor Merodach. Technically it was the same sword, yet it wasn't.
Wonder if God Hand will block i-
The explosion rocket the lobby, blowing Berserker's head clean off his shoulders and tearing a sizeable hole in his upper chest with a bit of his spine sticking out amusing Archer in a macabre fashion as he watched the approaching blast of prana as his brain was still forcing his perception of time to be all wonky.
Berserker flew back down and collapsed against the wall on the first floor of the lobby.
Archer other hand, in midair trying to cover himself with his arms and legs ended up blasted to the other side of the large room. The wall shattered behind him as his bloodied body smashed against it, leaving a red smear as he fell down to the first floor.
His left arm and leg were burnt and shredded. His right arm numb from the elbow down. Breathing was a bitch and his vision was hazy and wobbly as all hell. Great, he was still alive.
"No... No more point blank Broken Phantasms... Gotta write that up somewhere..." He coughed up blood for trying to talk and blinked trying to make some sense of the situation.
Right. On the first floor, fucked up beyond belief. Berserker was healing.
Ilya? Dead. Because o-
He shook his head, she'd run up to the railing he'd jumped off of, her eyes wide and unbelieving. She was barking something at Berserker.
Looked alive and well. Angry even.
Huh. Both of them looked angry and alive.
Right Berserker. Gotta get up.
With his left leg not of any real use, he still somehow managed to bring himself up with his still somewhat usable right arm. His breathing shallow and raspy, he eyed the already healed Berserker while balancing on his one good leg.
"Unknown to death," A sword in his right hand sparked into existance. "Nor known to life." Fire burned him to cleanse him of doubt and fear, steel pierced him to help him stand and fight.
And as blood poured from him, he stood straighter and taller than before.
A bow fell on the floor next to him.
Right, his left hand was out of the game. Melee it was.
Great.
Not like he could run, either.
At least he had a sword, he mused with a smirk as Berserker picked up speed and began running toward him.
A sword. Wait. Which sword? The next in the line of these swords that he knew was Calib-
"No... No, I didn't mean to-" STUPID STUPID YOU STUPID-
Saber went to die alone. He'd dreamt of that sword.
Ilya died because I was too blind to see that something was wrong. He'd used it to protect, to stand against those far stronger than him.
Sakura was crippled and lost her mind because I was too stupid. He'd failed every single time it mattered, since he could only stand alone in the end surrounded by steel and fire.
Rin got sealed away because I was too naive and trusting. And as only more and more blood was spilt by him, he swore to never again tarnish that blade. That blade belonged to better than him.
He wasn't even a Heroic Spirit.
A chuckle escaped his lips.
What a pathetic hero he was.
Emiya Shirou. Goddamn it. Here he was, feeling shitty for a life that he regretted only after he'd lived it.
Berserker was upon him, axeblade descending, the instant stretching on in his mind. An easy route around to his back presented itself in his Mind's Eye. Not that it mattered. He couldn't move well enough anymore. Hell, he could barely raise his sword.
A fitting death for Emiya Shirou, to die lamenting all that he'd screwed up in his life. Even if it took the second time for him to realize how stupid he was.
The boy who didn't want to see anyone cry, would be forced to see nothing but the misery of others for an eternity.
-ield m-!
And time snapped back into play. He could hear himself roar, the sword in his right hand shooting forward, the point of the sword parting the air with it's silvery blade.
And he managed a 'huh' as he stared at the elegant, almost ornamental crossguard touch his opponents chest as the blade had bitten deep into Berserker. The sword was all the way through the greek hero, possibly severing his spine.
The Axe-sword lay by their feet and falling in the air around them, shattered and in pieces with the remains of a handle in the massive hero's hands.
"What th-" He managed before the golden sword awoke and drank from him as the words forced themselves into his mouth.
"CALIBUUUUURN!"
And the light took him to the hell of unconciousness with all his lovely memories the didn't belong to him.
