Yo, me again, sorry for the extremely long wait. here is the pre-version of chapter 8. This baby will get edited and most likely changed soooo yeah... have fun^^
Miracle 8
Hill of Dreams
He can hear it, the sound that heralds the end.
His world is being ripped apart by the power of the King of Heroes. Before the unstoppable power of the crimson blade Gilgamesh wieldsà
Nothing can remain.
Metal shatters and breaks under the strain, Space and Time are torn into shreds and even though his shield of swords Archer can feel himself weakening. The strength he had was not enough to defeat the King of Kings by himself, yet, the mocking smirk remains on his face.
Some battles are won by power, by the undeniable strength of the victor over the defeated.
ôCheckmate, Oh King of Heroes.ö
And sometimesà.itÆs all about tactics.
The Blades shatter, the gears that worked tirelessly grind to a stop and the magic that is beyond magic does not shatter, nor does it explode, no, it simply..fades.
The World which was spurned by the red-coated servant welcomes the combatants with streams of sunlight and a gentle breeze.
The Natural Order has been restored.
The King stands triumphant.
Covered in blood and more wounds than he would care to remember he simply stands there.
Thisàis GilgameshÆs total victory. One-armed and breathing hard, he greedily takes in the fresh air around the church, the rune-covered sword still tightly clasped in his hand, he has proven his legend to be true. His strength is no mere fairy tale, no fake might gained by fame alone. Words create Power and Power creates Words and through powerà.he will end ArcherÆs tale here and now.
No one will sing this heroÆs tales ever again. That is Gilgamesh wish.
His features slowly shift into a smile. Not a smirk or a mocking smile but a honest to god smile. For the first time since his summoning into this Holy Grail War, that never ending battle interrupted only by a few years of peace, Gilgamesh feelsàat peace.
This is right. The way to victory that was opened by facing the impossibility of his nearà.loss.
Something touches his shoulder.
The feeling of fingers clad in steel
Black Steel.
The armoured fist tightens with a sickening crunch as the black swordsmen looks down at his opponent. A small smirk blooms on his lips as his eye catches the wounds on GilgameshÆs body.
ôYo, long time no see.ö
For but a moment the king of kings is frozen in àshockàdisbelief? This filthy thing should be dead, gutted by a dozen Noble Phantasm and bound by àEnkà.Enkiduà..the blonde servant realizes his mistake the moment the handle of Assassins blade crashes into his face, the force of the hit sending him flying through the air, right into a tree a few metres away from Guts..
Assassin slowly walks up to the still stunned servant. His steps are light, he isnÆt even straining himself to move, his wounds do no make him any trouble at all. In fact, the armour on his chest and stomach doesnÆt seem to be damaged at all. Only undscathed black steel remains.
ôGoing off and playing all on your own and leaving me laying there all by myself, shit, you bastards sure are bunch of jerks.ö
A scream cuts his advance short. He knows that voice.
Without a doubt, that was the girl-master of that red-coated servant and seeing how that guy seemed to have suddenly disappeared he was guessing that guy had not been as knocked out as it might have looked.
ôI will leave you to your foolishness now mongrel, but for taking up a sword against me, your punishment shall be legendary indeed, filth.ö
Snapping his head around he can only watch as the golden-clad servant fades away, leaving behind nothing but empty space.
The sound of footsteps alerts him to the return of the red-haired mage, Ilya and the blonde girl-servant he had fought before. The black-haired girl is not with them.
The smile has disappeared now, leaving a frown in its place.
ôThose guys sure are annoying, they didnÆt even let me get in one good cut.ö
His scowl deepens. Thenà
ôThough,,, I guess that golden guyÆs pretty though if he can fight after a losing an entire arm. I guess fighting him again will be fun, though the shooting blades and that chain might be a problem.ö
Funny thing about revelationsà.theyÆre never quite as useful as one had hoped for them to be.
Because Shirou Emiya did not need to know that AssassinÆs smile and scowl were both terrifying as hell.
He really didnÆt.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The white-haired servant stands there, on top of the stairs, like a king watching over his realm, but behind the calm stance lies a hidden anticipation.
he was waiting for him. Waiting for their final confrontation.
ôYou are late.ö
ôMaster? Are you sure about this.ö SaberÆs voice is a gentle reminder of her presence. Even though Rin is her master now she wishes to stand by his side and watch this battle. All things considered, he really is grateful for having been partnered with her, even though he was such a abysmal master.
ôItÆs okay, there is nothing else left to do. Just like he wished to kill me from the start, I canÆt accept him.ö
Glancing at him worriedly the king of knights finally nods and turns to his opponent one more time.
ôVery well, I will not interfere, but tell me one thing Archer. Why are you doing this? You areàthe culmination of his dream. His ideal that has been realised, why are you trying to kill him?ö
The red coat swishes behind Archer as he makes his way down the stairs, answering only after he has reached the floor.
ôHis ideal, certainly, I am what he wishes to be. Heroic Spirit Emiya, I am what this kid dreams of. IÆve saved so many people. Hundreds, thousands. I killed a few to save many. That is what it means to be a hero to this child. I slaughtered those I sided against and saved those that I sided with.ö
His voice is becoming harsher. With every word Archer seems to be spitting a curse at the young men in front of him.
ôI saved everyone in my view. Trying to attain happiness for everyone like that, but, it never happened and in the end I was betrayed by those I had saved. But I still had hope, that I could do in death what I had been unable to do in life. To save everyone.ö
ôSo you become a guardian, doesnÆt that mean everything worked out?ö Her voice is breaking now, the girl is realising just what happened to this servant. The fate of Shirou Emiya is unfolding itself before her mind and she doesnÆt like it at all.
ôA guardian saves humanity, yes that is certainly right, by killing a few unfortunate ones. In the end, nothing had changed. I was still killing for the sake of an unattainable ideal. As a heroic spirit, bound outside of time as a mere existence, I had only one hope left. To kill Shirou Emiya with my own hands and wipe the Hero Emiya out of existence.
Saber opens her mouth once more but no sound escapes. There is nothing left for her to say. That man has only one goal now. His reasons are clear to her now. This man is plagued by them same concerns that she has.
ôArcher, tell me one thing, do you have any regrets?ö The question brings the red-clad manÆs attention back to his younger self. Anger shines in his eyes after hearing those words.
ôRegretsà.how can I not have any regrets. From the very beginningà.the road Shirou Emiya walked is one plastered with regrets, strewn with corpses and the only constant there is pain. Call me twisted if you wish, IÆm not the one lying to himself. What you saw was the truth, you should already understand it. ö
ArcherÆs voice has changed. There is nothing mocking left in it. Only hate and anger at the boy in front of him.
ôThen we are nothing alike. Someone that regrets the path he has chosen, I will never accept someone like that. You are not my future. You are not my ideal. You are nothing but the remnants of a broken dream.ö
The boyÆs voice is more aggressive than before. His stance mirrors his enemyÆs perfectly. As expected. This style of fighting, of course it would fit him.
It is his own after all. The style created for Shirou Emiya will always be the best style for Emiya Shirou.
Yet, they have no swords in their hands. There is no need for them yet. This battle will not pit strength against strength.
A battle of swords.
A battle of wills.
For these two, it is one and the same.
Another moment passes.
In a flash of light the twin swords appear in their hands.
They boy eyes his enemies blades. They will shatter his own swords; he understands that just by looking, his blades were not projected perfectly.
Archer regards the imperfect weapons of his opponent for but a moment. They look like the real thing but they lack true understanding. He snorts.
ôItÆs useless IÆm your ideal. You should realize that you cannot match me. Those swords of yours, they wonÆt be able to stand up against mine. Throw away your life, throw away your dream and your ideal, because everything you wanted to beàis a lie, as fake as your strength, so just spare yourself the pain andà.. disappear.ö
And with that he attacks. Fast and furious Archer assaults Shirou with his twin swords. Sparks fly where the two pairs of imitations meet. Yet, ShirouÆs blades are breaking. Again and again the imperfect fakes are shattered by Archers blows.
The attacks are too fast and too precise to allow for any break the boy might use. He is being forced back, losing ground after every clash of swords.
Finally once again one of his blades shatters, forcing him back and giving an opening to his enemy.
A flash of pain. One of the twin-swords cuts up his arm, spraying blood all around him and throwing him back.
He skidders over the floor before landing painfully on a pile of rubble which stops his unintended flight. The stone is stained with red. A moan escaped the boyÆs lips as he tries to fight the pain.
Slowly Archer closes in on his opponent. There is no need to hurry now, the boy can barely hold his sword, he is no danger to him at all anymore. No, he wasnÆt a danger from the beginning.
ôTrying to save everyone but your self, living for the sake of everyone but yourself, such a thing canÆt even be called a person. Someone as broken as that canÆt possibly save anyone.ö His words are full of scorn. Scorn for the young fool in front of him. Scorn for the fool that became a superhero. The hero called Emiya that threw away everything for the sake of his ideal, for the sake of his dream.
He who has reaped only betrayal after betrayal for his deeds. Someone forsaken by those he had tried to save. Killed by those he had shielded with his own body.
ôThat ideal is as fake as you are. In truth, there is no such thing as Shirou Emiya. Even your dream is not your own, was never your own. The only thing that remains is the wish of a person even more broken. This is Emiya KiritsuguÆs dream. You however have nothing of your own. You are nothing but an empty shell.ö
The boy is shaking now, his entire body is shaking and his hand can barely hold on to the single sword he still has, but he can not stop himself. His mind is already confronting something he never wished to face at all.
Because this is his greatest fear. The words Archer is speaking right, they only tell him what he already knew.
The Hypocrisy of Shirou Emiya.
A child that had lost everything, had everything burned away from him. A child that had already embraced the notion of simply fading away.
A child that was saved by a man and a man that was saved by a child.
The ideal that binds them, the wish of Emiya, which would shape the child into the bitter Hero that now, stood before him.
It had never belonged to him. A borrowed dream. Someone elseÆs ideal. Something that had been taken and brought in from the outside. The wish for happiness. To finally put an end to the suffering all around him.
But how could someone that couldnÆt even save himself help anyone? Someone as empty as him could never defeat a Heroic Spirit. He must have known that all along. So why had he chosen to fight?
Because on that fateful day, when that man took his hand, when he saw the tear-stained face of his rescuer, for the boy who had lost everything, who had only seen the ugliness of death and suffering all around him for hours, after seeing that manÆs happiness at saving someone, it was like he had been given a gift. A dream.
It became the most beautiful thing Shirou Emiya had ever known.
And for such a beautiful thing, for walking towards that dream, his body would not give up.
Moving his lips slowly Shirou tries to get out the words he longs to say, finally he manages to spit them out, blood and salvia mixing together in his mouth.
ôShut upö The words that leave the young manÆs mouth are not what Archer had expected.
The boy cannot hope to win like this, yet he still struggles to stand up. His voice, though small seems to fill the entire hall.
ôBreak me a thousand times thenàlet them shatter this broken body again and again, it wonÆt have any meaning at all Archer. As long as the core is good solid metal, as long as the fire burns hot enough, this shattered blade called Emiya, IÆll re-forge it over and over again.ö
Blood is running down his arm, staining his clothes and painting the floor beneath his feet a deep crimson. The cut which goes from his elbow up to his shoulder is deep and it hurts like hell but he can still move his arm, even though the slightest of movement makes him feel sick in his stomach. He can still hold onto his blades. ThatÆs good enough for him.
ôIf I have to kill one person to save a dozen, I will do so.ö
He tries to take a step forward but his body refuses to obey him as fluidly as it did at the beginning of this battle. He feels slow, no he shouldnÆt try to fool anyone, he is slow. Their violent clash took a lot out of him, more than any other battle that came before it. Still, he takes another step, slow and sluggish, it lacks the grace that his imitated style had just a few minutes earlier, forcing his bruised body onwards. Fighting against a servant, even a weakened servant is not something he should have ever hoped to survive.
ôIf I have to kill a dozen to save a hundred, so be it.ö
He is completely and utterly outmatched. The red-cloaked servant in front of him is superior to him in all aspects of war that he can think of. He can not win against him. It is as simple as that. This is the difference between a servant and a master. This is Shirou EmiyaÆs limit as a human. Even the copied style of Archer has been discarded now in favour of simply striking out at his enemy.
ôIf I have to kill a hundred to save a thousand, I will do it.ö
Soàhow can he still move that beaten and broken body forwards? How can he continue to swing those fake swords around even though he can barely stand straight? Why do his blows have gained such a strength.
Because when itÆs all said and done, for Shirou Emiya there is only one thing left to do, that is, to walk the path he has chosen.
ôBut someday, I will give my life tens of thousands of times to save EVERYONE.ö
A Path that allows no regrets.
This is why, even when his body continues to bleed, he fights on. This is why his strength will not waiver nor fade away when confronted with an impossible enemy like the heroic spirit Emiya in front of him.
A strength born from hope, from despair, from hate and from love but most of all, this is the strength of what Shirou Emiya considers his Duty.
His duty to those that died. His duty to those that lived. To defeat Shirou Emiya, that is what he considers his duty.
Defeat is not an option.
He will not lose to himself.
Not Today
Miracle 8
Hill of Dreams
He can hear it, the sound that heralds the end.
His world is being ripped apart by the power of the King of Heroes. Before the unstoppable power of the crimson blade Gilgamesh wieldsà
Nothing can remain.
Metal shatters and breaks under the strain, Space and Time are torn into shreds and even though his shield of swords Archer can feel himself weakening. The strength he had was not enough to defeat the King of Kings by himself, yet, the mocking smirk remains on his face.
Some battles are won by power, by the undeniable strength of the victor over the defeated.
ôCheckmate, Oh King of Heroes.ö
And sometimesà.itÆs all about tactics.
The Blades shatter, the gears that worked tirelessly grind to a stop and the magic that is beyond magic does not shatter, nor does it explode, no, it simply..fades.
The World which was spurned by the red-coated servant welcomes the combatants with streams of sunlight and a gentle breeze.
The Natural Order has been restored.
The King stands triumphant.
Covered in blood and more wounds than he would care to remember he simply stands there.
Thisàis GilgameshÆs total victory. One-armed and breathing hard, he greedily takes in the fresh air around the church, the rune-covered sword still tightly clasped in his hand, he has proven his legend to be true. His strength is no mere fairy tale, no fake might gained by fame alone. Words create Power and Power creates Words and through powerà.he will end ArcherÆs tale here and now.
No one will sing this heroÆs tales ever again. That is Gilgamesh wish.
His features slowly shift into a smile. Not a smirk or a mocking smile but a honest to god smile. For the first time since his summoning into this Holy Grail War, that never ending battle interrupted only by a few years of peace, Gilgamesh feelsàat peace.
This is right. The way to victory that was opened by facing the impossibility of his nearà.loss.
Something touches his shoulder.
The feeling of fingers clad in steel
Black Steel.
The armoured fist tightens with a sickening crunch as the black swordsmen looks down at his opponent. A small smirk blooms on his lips as his eye catches the wounds on GilgameshÆs body.
ôYo, long time no see.ö
For but a moment the king of kings is frozen in àshockàdisbelief? This filthy thing should be dead, gutted by a dozen Noble Phantasm and bound by àEnkà.Enkiduà..the blonde servant realizes his mistake the moment the handle of Assassins blade crashes into his face, the force of the hit sending him flying through the air, right into a tree a few metres away from Guts..
Assassin slowly walks up to the still stunned servant. His steps are light, he isnÆt even straining himself to move, his wounds do no make him any trouble at all. In fact, the armour on his chest and stomach doesnÆt seem to be damaged at all. Only undscathed black steel remains.
ôGoing off and playing all on your own and leaving me laying there all by myself, shit, you bastards sure are bunch of jerks.ö
A scream cuts his advance short. He knows that voice.
Without a doubt, that was the girl-master of that red-coated servant and seeing how that guy seemed to have suddenly disappeared he was guessing that guy had not been as knocked out as it might have looked.
ôI will leave you to your foolishness now mongrel, but for taking up a sword against me, your punishment shall be legendary indeed, filth.ö
Snapping his head around he can only watch as the golden-clad servant fades away, leaving behind nothing but empty space.
The sound of footsteps alerts him to the return of the red-haired mage, Ilya and the blonde girl-servant he had fought before. The black-haired girl is not with them.
The smile has disappeared now, leaving a frown in its place.
ôThose guys sure are annoying, they didnÆt even let me get in one good cut.ö
His scowl deepens. Thenà
ôThough,,, I guess that golden guyÆs pretty though if he can fight after a losing an entire arm. I guess fighting him again will be fun, though the shooting blades and that chain might be a problem.ö
Funny thing about revelationsà.theyÆre never quite as useful as one had hoped for them to be.
Because Shirou Emiya did not need to know that AssassinÆs smile and scowl were both terrifying as hell.
He really didnÆt.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The white-haired servant stands there, on top of the stairs, like a king watching over his realm, but behind the calm stance lies a hidden anticipation.
he was waiting for him. Waiting for their final confrontation.
ôYou are late.ö
ôMaster? Are you sure about this.ö SaberÆs voice is a gentle reminder of her presence. Even though Rin is her master now she wishes to stand by his side and watch this battle. All things considered, he really is grateful for having been partnered with her, even though he was such a abysmal master.
ôItÆs okay, there is nothing else left to do. Just like he wished to kill me from the start, I canÆt accept him.ö
Glancing at him worriedly the king of knights finally nods and turns to his opponent one more time.
ôVery well, I will not interfere, but tell me one thing Archer. Why are you doing this? You areàthe culmination of his dream. His ideal that has been realised, why are you trying to kill him?ö
The red coat swishes behind Archer as he makes his way down the stairs, answering only after he has reached the floor.
ôHis ideal, certainly, I am what he wishes to be. Heroic Spirit Emiya, I am what this kid dreams of. IÆve saved so many people. Hundreds, thousands. I killed a few to save many. That is what it means to be a hero to this child. I slaughtered those I sided against and saved those that I sided with.ö
His voice is becoming harsher. With every word Archer seems to be spitting a curse at the young men in front of him.
ôI saved everyone in my view. Trying to attain happiness for everyone like that, but, it never happened and in the end I was betrayed by those I had saved. But I still had hope, that I could do in death what I had been unable to do in life. To save everyone.ö
ôSo you become a guardian, doesnÆt that mean everything worked out?ö Her voice is breaking now, the girl is realising just what happened to this servant. The fate of Shirou Emiya is unfolding itself before her mind and she doesnÆt like it at all.
ôA guardian saves humanity, yes that is certainly right, by killing a few unfortunate ones. In the end, nothing had changed. I was still killing for the sake of an unattainable ideal. As a heroic spirit, bound outside of time as a mere existence, I had only one hope left. To kill Shirou Emiya with my own hands and wipe the Hero Emiya out of existence.
Saber opens her mouth once more but no sound escapes. There is nothing left for her to say. That man has only one goal now. His reasons are clear to her now. This man is plagued by them same concerns that she has.
ôArcher, tell me one thing, do you have any regrets?ö The question brings the red-clad manÆs attention back to his younger self. Anger shines in his eyes after hearing those words.
ôRegretsà.how can I not have any regrets. From the very beginningà.the road Shirou Emiya walked is one plastered with regrets, strewn with corpses and the only constant there is pain. Call me twisted if you wish, IÆm not the one lying to himself. What you saw was the truth, you should already understand it. ö
ArcherÆs voice has changed. There is nothing mocking left in it. Only hate and anger at the boy in front of him.
ôThen we are nothing alike. Someone that regrets the path he has chosen, I will never accept someone like that. You are not my future. You are not my ideal. You are nothing but the remnants of a broken dream.ö
The boyÆs voice is more aggressive than before. His stance mirrors his enemyÆs perfectly. As expected. This style of fighting, of course it would fit him.
It is his own after all. The style created for Shirou Emiya will always be the best style for Emiya Shirou.
Yet, they have no swords in their hands. There is no need for them yet. This battle will not pit strength against strength.
A battle of swords.
A battle of wills.
For these two, it is one and the same.
Another moment passes.
In a flash of light the twin swords appear in their hands.
They boy eyes his enemies blades. They will shatter his own swords; he understands that just by looking, his blades were not projected perfectly.
Archer regards the imperfect weapons of his opponent for but a moment. They look like the real thing but they lack true understanding. He snorts.
ôItÆs useless IÆm your ideal. You should realize that you cannot match me. Those swords of yours, they wonÆt be able to stand up against mine. Throw away your life, throw away your dream and your ideal, because everything you wanted to beàis a lie, as fake as your strength, so just spare yourself the pain andà.. disappear.ö
And with that he attacks. Fast and furious Archer assaults Shirou with his twin swords. Sparks fly where the two pairs of imitations meet. Yet, ShirouÆs blades are breaking. Again and again the imperfect fakes are shattered by Archers blows.
The attacks are too fast and too precise to allow for any break the boy might use. He is being forced back, losing ground after every clash of swords.
Finally once again one of his blades shatters, forcing him back and giving an opening to his enemy.
A flash of pain. One of the twin-swords cuts up his arm, spraying blood all around him and throwing him back.
He skidders over the floor before landing painfully on a pile of rubble which stops his unintended flight. The stone is stained with red. A moan escaped the boyÆs lips as he tries to fight the pain.
Slowly Archer closes in on his opponent. There is no need to hurry now, the boy can barely hold his sword, he is no danger to him at all anymore. No, he wasnÆt a danger from the beginning.
ôTrying to save everyone but your self, living for the sake of everyone but yourself, such a thing canÆt even be called a person. Someone as broken as that canÆt possibly save anyone.ö His words are full of scorn. Scorn for the young fool in front of him. Scorn for the fool that became a superhero. The hero called Emiya that threw away everything for the sake of his ideal, for the sake of his dream.
He who has reaped only betrayal after betrayal for his deeds. Someone forsaken by those he had tried to save. Killed by those he had shielded with his own body.
ôThat ideal is as fake as you are. In truth, there is no such thing as Shirou Emiya. Even your dream is not your own, was never your own. The only thing that remains is the wish of a person even more broken. This is Emiya KiritsuguÆs dream. You however have nothing of your own. You are nothing but an empty shell.ö
The boy is shaking now, his entire body is shaking and his hand can barely hold on to the single sword he still has, but he can not stop himself. His mind is already confronting something he never wished to face at all.
Because this is his greatest fear. The words Archer is speaking right, they only tell him what he already knew.
The Hypocrisy of Shirou Emiya.
A child that had lost everything, had everything burned away from him. A child that had already embraced the notion of simply fading away.
A child that was saved by a man and a man that was saved by a child.
The ideal that binds them, the wish of Emiya, which would shape the child into the bitter Hero that now, stood before him.
It had never belonged to him. A borrowed dream. Someone elseÆs ideal. Something that had been taken and brought in from the outside. The wish for happiness. To finally put an end to the suffering all around him.
But how could someone that couldnÆt even save himself help anyone? Someone as empty as him could never defeat a Heroic Spirit. He must have known that all along. So why had he chosen to fight?
Because on that fateful day, when that man took his hand, when he saw the tear-stained face of his rescuer, for the boy who had lost everything, who had only seen the ugliness of death and suffering all around him for hours, after seeing that manÆs happiness at saving someone, it was like he had been given a gift. A dream.
It became the most beautiful thing Shirou Emiya had ever known.
And for such a beautiful thing, for walking towards that dream, his body would not give up.
Moving his lips slowly Shirou tries to get out the words he longs to say, finally he manages to spit them out, blood and salvia mixing together in his mouth.
ôShut upö The words that leave the young manÆs mouth are not what Archer had expected.
The boy cannot hope to win like this, yet he still struggles to stand up. His voice, though small seems to fill the entire hall.
ôBreak me a thousand times thenàlet them shatter this broken body again and again, it wonÆt have any meaning at all Archer. As long as the core is good solid metal, as long as the fire burns hot enough, this shattered blade called Emiya, IÆll re-forge it over and over again.ö
Blood is running down his arm, staining his clothes and painting the floor beneath his feet a deep crimson. The cut which goes from his elbow up to his shoulder is deep and it hurts like hell but he can still move his arm, even though the slightest of movement makes him feel sick in his stomach. He can still hold onto his blades. ThatÆs good enough for him.
ôIf I have to kill one person to save a dozen, I will do so.ö
He tries to take a step forward but his body refuses to obey him as fluidly as it did at the beginning of this battle. He feels slow, no he shouldnÆt try to fool anyone, he is slow. Their violent clash took a lot out of him, more than any other battle that came before it. Still, he takes another step, slow and sluggish, it lacks the grace that his imitated style had just a few minutes earlier, forcing his bruised body onwards. Fighting against a servant, even a weakened servant is not something he should have ever hoped to survive.
ôIf I have to kill a dozen to save a hundred, so be it.ö
He is completely and utterly outmatched. The red-cloaked servant in front of him is superior to him in all aspects of war that he can think of. He can not win against him. It is as simple as that. This is the difference between a servant and a master. This is Shirou EmiyaÆs limit as a human. Even the copied style of Archer has been discarded now in favour of simply striking out at his enemy.
ôIf I have to kill a hundred to save a thousand, I will do it.ö
Soàhow can he still move that beaten and broken body forwards? How can he continue to swing those fake swords around even though he can barely stand straight? Why do his blows have gained such a strength.
Because when itÆs all said and done, for Shirou Emiya there is only one thing left to do, that is, to walk the path he has chosen.
ôBut someday, I will give my life tens of thousands of times to save EVERYONE.ö
A Path that allows no regrets.
This is why, even when his body continues to bleed, he fights on. This is why his strength will not waiver nor fade away when confronted with an impossible enemy like the heroic spirit Emiya in front of him.
A strength born from hope, from despair, from hate and from love but most of all, this is the strength of what Shirou Emiya considers his Duty.
His duty to those that died. His duty to those that lived. To defeat Shirou Emiya, that is what he considers his duty.
Defeat is not an option.
He will not lose to himself.
Not Today
