When it comes to organization, the Fujimura group is a mixed bag. Their attitude of anything goes stops them from being a true collective.

  That said, there are times when they become one.

  “It’s not every day we’re called to a meeting.”

  “Who do you think called for it?”

  “Someone higher up, I assume.”

  “Obviously, dumbass! They’re the only ones who can do that!”

  “Someone’s coming!”

  Quickly, everyone became silent at the sight of their boss.

  “Evening, boss!”

  “Thank you for coming on short notice, but if any of you were te, I’d make sure you would get a thorough ass whoopin’,” Raiga said. “But you all came here for a reason, but that reason isn’t me.”

  “You can come out now!”

  Heavy footfalls were heard as someone else made their way onto the stage.

  Armour of bck, navy, and steel stood before them, his cape swaying with his movements.

  Metal grates stared across the room as light reflected off of them and onto the horns.

  “I would also like to thank you all for coming on short notice but without the threats of an ass-whooping.” A couple of chuckles echoed through the room.

  “I’ll be brief. Recently, it has come to my attention that a group not affiliated with us has started making preparations for trafficking efforts on Fuyuki.” This caused outrage.

  “Who the hell do they think they are!?”

  “They’ll have hell to pay if they want to mess with us!”

  “Was it a rat!?”

  “Everyone, please.” The viginte spoke, “I understand your frustrations, but they’ll be worth nothing if we sit here in unyielding rage.”

  “I don’t know how far along they are in the operation, what they’re taking, or when they're going to strike. As much as it pains me to say this, we will have to wait.” This also caused an uproar.

  “I’m not saying we won’t have our revenge, just that it can’t be right now!” The room calmed. “For now, I ask that you all be patient. Keep your ears open and your eyes peeled. Make notes and convene with your peers; this isn’t a task that can be done with only one person. Keep track of who comes to the family; they may betray more info than they realize.”

  “Sooner or ter the bastards will reveal themselves to us, so it is of the utmost importance to be prepared and not reveal ourselves.”

  “Is that right, men!!!”

  “YES, SIR!”

  “Dismissed!” They all funnelled out of the room.

  “Not bad, kid. Even I couldn’t get em’ that fired up.” Raiga said.

  “Something I’ve learned is that the more people are part of a group, the harder they become to manage,” Shirou said. “However, there are ways to guide them on the right track.”

  “Piss them off and set them on a target. Woo boy! They’ll devour it like rabid animals.”

  (...)

  Kiritsugu Emiya blinked as he stared at the young boy in the middle of his dojo, who was frozen in shock with surprise as the wooden bamboo sword he held in his hands hovered unsteadily over his head.

  "Shirou... What are you doing?" He asked with narrowed eyes, bewildered at such a sight. "Where did you get that shinai? I don't recall ever purchasing one for you."

  Shirou fidgeted nervously with an embarrassed look on his face. "U-um... Taiga came by early today, and she brought her kendo equipment with her. She said I could mess around with it while she was in the bathroom so…”

  She often came by early, but this was the first time she brought her kendo equipment. Perhaps she had a local tourney to participate in? Well... at least one that wouldn't kick her out for her disrespectful attitude

  Speaking of which...

  "Good morning, Kiritsugu!"

  He sighed as the young woman burst into the little dojo, her brown hair tied back into a small ponytail. She fshed him a bubbly smile as she approached, carefree as usual.

  "Good morning, Taiga." He replied with a nod and a smile of his own, though it contained much less energy. "I apologize for waking up so te. I've forgotten that we were supposed to meet today."

  Shirou let the tip of the bamboo sword hit the ground experimentally. "It's sort of heavy... but it doesn't feel too bad. The texture feels really nice, and it bances neatly in my hand."

  "Right? Right?! The feel of a bamboo sword is simply superb! Nothin’ beats that, I tell ya!" A sudden glint appeared in her eyes, making Kiritsugu tense up with slight dread. "Course, there is one other thing! And that is..."

  Much to Kiritsugu's horror, he watched as Taiga bounded over to her gym bag over in the corner and pulled out another shinai while standing triumphantly

  "...To cross strikes with another fighter!" She decred as she pointed the sword at Shirou, who froze in bewilderment at the sudden development. "Two people can convey their feelings through crossing bdes! That is why kendo is such a wonderful sport! Allow me to demonstrate!"

  "U-um..." Shirou eyed her shinai warily as she waved it around dangerously like a wand.

  "Taiga... I don't approve of Shirou partaking in such an activity. He could get hurt, especially if you get too... excited." Kiritsugu said with a small frown as Taiga bounded up to Shirou.

  "Oh, don't worry about it, Kerry! It's not like we're using real swords! At most, he'll just get a few light bruises that'll go away in a couple hours!"

  "But it's you who's attacking me..." Shirou muttered.

  "Really? You don't trust one of the greatest kendo masters in Japan to hold back durin’ a mock battle? You wound me, Shirou!" Taiga pced a hand over her heart dramatically, making Shirou and Kiritsugu sigh at her antics. "Very well! If that's the case, I'll let you have the first strike! I won't even counter!"

  Shirou gnced at Kiritsugu, waiting for his approval. He indeed was an obedient kid.

  "So long as you don't overexert yourself." He gnced at Taiga with a stern look. "And don't go overboard, please. If either of you gets hurt, I get hit with the responsibility."

  Although he said that, he doubted Raiga would get mad at him. After all, even he knew that no one could control his granddaughter's antics. When she set her mind to something, there was little anyone could do to stop her.

  "Alright! Now, come here, Shirou! You're going to want to set the sword in front you like this-" She paused for a second. "Actually... you're already doing it! Wow! Have you been watching any kendo matches recently?"

  Kiritsugu turned towards Shirou, and his eyebrows rose with curiosity as, indeed, Taiga was right. Shirou, who had never seen an actual kendo match, was frozen in the beginning stance of a kendo master. His eyes were forward, his sword set in front of him, and his legs were spaced apart evenly as if he were ready to react at a moment's notice.

  He'd be lying if he said that this hadn't shocked him. He had most certainly not taught Shirou how to do something like this, yet he had settled into the proper stance so naturally without guidance whatsoever. A strange sense of foreboding rose in the back of his mind, making him wonder if he should perhaps actually stop this.

  Even in his declining years, his senses had never failed him. Something was about to happen. Whether it was good or bad, he did not know.

  "This position just seems natural..." Shirou muttered shyly, finding Taiga's gaze on him slightly unnerving as she eyed him up with a critical eye. She checked his grip, his tension, and his posture for several moments before standing back with an incredulous look

  "I'm impressed, Shirou. Getting into a proper stance may seem easy enough, but it's difficult for first-timers. Some are too tight, or their feet are too wide, but you got a perfect bance of both! Are you perhaps some secret prodigy?" She shook her head. "Well, gettin’ in the stance is half the battle, I suppose. The real part starts now."

  She settled down into her stance across from Shirou, perfectly mirroring him. "Now... try and strike me."

  "Hit you? Are you sure?" Shirou asked with a frown, obviously disliking the idea.

  "You're not taking a full swing, Shirou. Kendo isn't about bludgeoning the other opponent to death. At most, you're just giving a hard tap to my midsection." She cocked her head. "Well, I suppose it'll hurt a little more without the proper equipment. Just aim for my midsection, and you should be fine."

  "Okay..."

  Kiritsugu sighed. Of course, Taiga would be okay with having an untrained child strike at her with a bamboo stick. He was more worried that she'd end up getting serious and start beating Shirou subconsciously.

  Luckily, it didn't seem as if that would be the case this time.

  *SWOSH*

  *CRACK*

  Shirou had moved. Or at least, he appeared to move only briefly. With a gesture that was so swift and agile with no wasted movement, Shirou's shinai smacked Taiga's sword out of the way and tapped her on the stomach. It was a move that even a sword master would appud as perfect, and even Taiga found herself gaping when her mind caught up to what had happened.

  “W-what?" Taiga muttered as Shirou lowered his sword, fidgeting with a nervous look on his face. "How did you do that?"

  "I just... sorta did it." Shirou muttered as he gnced down at his sword. "I felt like I knew what I had to do to hit you, and my body just acted on its own. If you were serious I doubt I would have managed to-"

  "Are ya kiddin’ me?!" Taiga excimed with a wide grin as she stared down at him as if she had just struck oil. "You just executed the most perfect move I’ve seen! Regardless of what you believe, I did have my guard up. I wasn't going to let you show me up even if we were in a mock battle, but it appears that it didn't matter! Honestly, you must certainly be a prodigy! Who would have thunk it?"

  "Certainly not me. It appears my son has found his calling in life."

  Shirou blushed as the two adults heaped praises on him. Kiritsugu saw how bashful his son was, and he was honestly amused. Regardless, his mind was wondering what he had witnessed. The fluidity Shirou had achieved in that moment was not normal. A child could not have pulled off such a thing against an adult. Taiga had blown it off as Shirou being a prodigy, but he had a hunch that it was something else

  ‘The way he gripped that sword... flowing like water while being as swift as the wind…’

  ???

  My eyes slowly opened to the sight of well-crafted but worn stone bricks. The ambient heat of the chamber prickled my skin and hair. The consistent ringing of metal on metal reverberated through my skull. Slowly, ever so, I picked myself up from the ground

  I was unsurprised to find myself in a familiar smithy by now, noticing that this time the building itself seemed to have finally stabilized into a permanent fixture. The person hammering and the weapon being hammered on, however…

  I sighed at the familiar shifting of colours, forms, and feelings that the bcksmith and the weapon gave off. The dreams where I entered The Forge were honestly few and far between. Each time I entered, I learned something new. Even if it was just something as simple as the exact angle at which to hit the heated metal or problems to watch while forging. So I decided to once again find a spot to settle down for the remainder of this dream, knowing that the st spot I had chosen took me directly in the path of the bcksmith when he had reached for some tools.

  Propping myself up against the warm surface of the brick wall, I heaved in a deep breath and looked up, only to blink in surprise as I found myself not within the forge. Instead, I found myself on the outside, leaning against the forge wall, the muffled sound of metal impacts still ringing in my ears.

  This was the first time I had ever seen the outside of the forge, let alone left it. Yet I was unsurprised and incredibly disappointed to find myself in an environment that couldn’t even decide what it looked like. The only thing that seemed fixed was that there was ground and swords stuck within said ground… many of which I recognized.

  “What? This is my fme katana I made before going to Engnd.” I muttered, walking over and grabbing the handle.

  The instant I tried to move the bde, I could feel something… strange within myself. The fact that I could even pick up the bde was inherently confusing. Swinging it around a few times, I once again blinked in surprise; not a single change had been made to the sword. For all I knew, I was holding the real thing, rather than standing inside my dreamscape and swinging around a figment of my-

  “Oh right. Dreamscape. Of course, it would feel real.”

  Yet

  Yet that didn’t feel right either. Something deep within seemed to deny that thought, yet I was still no closer to figuring out why it would feel so realistic. I had spent who knows how long swinging and going through familiar motions with the bde, and I still found myself no closer to an answer. So, deciding to shelve that thought for a moment, I continued to look around. I marvelled at all the bdes and weapons he saw whenever he looked around.

  I could even see some of the weapons that Gilgamesh would occasionally pull out around him within the field. Some of them seemed more stable than others, and there seemed to be almost no rhyme or reason as to why. Shirou furrowed his eyebrows, knowing that logically there had to be a reason.

  “Wait, is this Un-”

  Light

  With a quiet groan, my eyes opened to the interior of my bedroom, which did nothing to surprise him if I was honest. Whenever I had a ‘weird dream,’ I always woke up the same way. I was gd I didn’t usually wake up with a jerking movement or loud noise like TV and movies would have you believe.

  Afternoon

  I huffed as I pced the ingot back in the forge, blinking at the ping that went through my mind. With a deep sigh, I pced my tongs down on my anvil, hearing the trapdoor to the forge open with a loud bang.

  “Scum! You dare to return without informing your king?” I rolled my eyes, returning my focus to the dder as the form of Gilgamesh dropped down.

  “Yeah, sorry about that, your majesty. Kiritsugu only got discharged from the hospital recently, and my attention has been divided as of te,” I responded, though I was barely paying attention to him, despite my words.

  Had I said or done this upon first meeting Gilgamesh, I would have likely ended up with another two or more swords stabbed through me for daring to treat Gilgamesh lightly. However, three years was a long time. I wouldn’t lie and say that he and Gilgamesh were friends—lord knows the history between the king and his friends—but we’d certainly grown a lot more used to the other’s presence. Gilgamesh had even begun to cool his temper somewhat in the st couple of months.

  He was still an insufferable POS, though.

  “Yes, I thought so. For a swordsmith of your talent, you waste an awful lot of time fraternizing with Magi and other filth.” Gilgamesh snorted, already approaching the bck leather couch with golden embroidery along one of the walls of the workshop.

  Said couch was the only spot near the forge that was spotless of soot and other impurities and particutes. This was thanks to a Bounded Field that Shinji had helped him set up since he liked to watch him forge from time to time, though it was also occasionally used by Kiritsugu and Gilgamesh whenever they decided to come down.

  “If I didn’t spend any time with them, I would have wasted away to malnourishment years ago because a sword needed more work.” Shirou snorted, getting a bark of ughter from the golden-haired king as he sat down on the couch

  “Truly the mark of your dedication, Smith,” Gilgamesh spoke, flicking a hand in the air. “Despite any worth you might have as a smith, you were always my entertainment first and foremost.”

  “I feel honoured.”

  “As you should,” Gilgamesh spoke, his voice light yet aura serious, “You’re the singur being in this pathetic age that I see any usefulness in.”

  “Hm.”

  “Oh? Nothing to say? Gd to see that you’ve finally realized the gravitas of my magnificent words.” Gilgamesh boasted, a cruel grin on his face, practically begging Shirou to rise to the bait he id.

  “For both our sakes, I hope that remains the case,” I spoke, turning to check the progress of the metal he was heating.

  “And what do you mean by that?” Gilgamesh leaned forward.

  ‘Shit,’ I thought, realizing the mistake I had made, and scrambled to come up with an expnation.

  “As you are aware, I am from another world, yes?” The king nodded back, though he didn’t want to do the action.

  “Thanks to some unique circumstances, I have been granted the ability to not only view but also travel between worlds.”

  “That went without saying, Scum,” Gilgamesh decred.

  “Something I learned early on was that there were…” I remembered that I was talking to an ancient Mesopotamian ruler and that it would be harder to expin multiverse theory to him than to someone from this time. Much harder. “Branches coming from the same sources.”

  “The worlds were the same except for a few changes here and there.”

  “Many of the branches have people who I would much rather not interact with.”

  “And who, pray tell, are those that you wouldn’t deal with?”

  Images raced through my mind. Eyes that brought death. A being born from the earth. Mixed bloods of oni. Undead creatures called vampires. A wizard that could manipute time. A puppeteer whose abilities still remain a mystery. An incarnation of the R-

  “Too many to count.” I said, cutting off my train of thought. “Even speaking their names feels troublesome.”

  “And yet you have the nerve to turn away while speaking to your king?”

  Having nothing to say, I just let the faintest ghost of a smile spread across my lips as I took the ingot out and began to bang on it again. My focus immediately narrowed in on the task at hand, rather than on my golden-haired home-crasher.

  Waiting another few moments, the king's mouth was already opening as soon as I grabbed my tongs to put the ingot back in the forge.

  “Your Mana seems more streamlined. That ridiculous school actually did you some good.” Gilgamesh spoke, getting a raised eyebrow from me.

  “It’s not like you to care?”

  “What I do and don’t care about is none of your concern.” Gilgamesh was quick in his rebuttal, expression ft and tone warning.

  “Not concerned. Just… confused,” I relented with a small shrug, putting my tongs back down. “And it did do me some good; I learned a new method to mix Mana into metals while melting them.”

  “What a load of good that’ll do for you.” Gilgamesh mocked me, gesturing around to the room with one hand, where there was nothing to melt any sort of ore.

  “I’ll need to speak to my dad about it.” I responded, getting a scoff from the king.

  “Kiritsugu this, dad that. You hold them in such esteem for people that limit you and tell you what to do.” Gilgamesh commented.

  I wasn’t quite sure how to respond at first. Gilgamesh didn’t sound cold or apathetic like he usually did when mentioning family, nor did he sound arrogant like he would during most of his seemingly endless comments. Gilgamesh now, though… He sounded angry, didn't he? Like they had somehow done something to anger him personally, and yet, based on his words, that was wrong.

  ‘Does he not like the idea of parents?’ I thought, going back through his memories of the epic of Gilgamesh.

  “Do you not like parents, Gilgamesh?” I asked, still trying to bring up the disconnected pieces of the legend that I had read all those years ago, ‘I really needed to refresh my knowledge.’

  “Hah. That’s hardly my issue with them. I have a hatred of those that force their own ideas and limitations on others. They expect you to follow them for no reason other than they have power.”

  “Mine doesn’t though?”

  “Do they not? They tell you what you can and can’t make or experiment with. They tell you when you can or can’t work on your craft or train.” Gilgamesh sat up straight now, his tone strangely hot and impassioned.

  “That’s what parents do though, right? Make sure that their child doesn’t push themselves too far.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Then what would you have been like as a parent?”

  “Pardon?” Gilgamesh actually blinked at this, mildly stupefied by the question.

  “If you had a kid. What would you have been like as a parent?”

  “What an asinine question,” Gilgamesh ughed, flicking his head back for a moment as he did so. “What answer could you or anyone ever come up with that isn’t ‘the perfect parent’?”

  “I’m not the one answering it? I want to know what you think you would have been like as a parent.” I responded.

  “Hmmm, mighty arrogant for entertainment to challenge the King to a game of words,” He grinned cruelly. “Because I believe the words I spoke were ‘you or anyone,’ not simply just ‘you.’”

  “I suppose they were… So that’s your answer? ‘The perfect parent’?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

  “Of course. I could never be anything less, even if I attempted it.” I chose not to make an outward comment on the btant ego; it was still a bit hit-and-miss on challenging that, to be honest.

  Instead, I let my forge fall into a semi-comfortable silence. After another moment or two, I grabbed out the bde I was working on and began to sm my hammer into it rhythmically, so focused that I didn’t notice when Gil seemed to get an idea and sat up straighter while snapping his fingers.

  “Smith!” The sudden shout made me tense up in surprise, my arm swinging down with far too much force and creating a dent in the middle of the bde.

  A decent smith, Magus or otherwise, would shrug, maybe scowl, and continue working on the bde. Perhaps they put it back to heat it before working to fix the bde and get back on pace. I would consider myself in that category, but my work conditions are far from normal.

  With a sigh I set the bde on the floor and grabbed a bucket of water and poured it on the bde, ignoring the cloud of steam that exploded from the bde as it went from red-hot to dull in seconds. I picked it up before putting it in my unfinished pile.

  Turning back to look at Gilgamesh, I pced the now-empty bucket down heavily and gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look.

  “Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” I said.

  Now, as stated earlier, a regur smith wouldn’t have considered this bde ruined. They might have seen fixing it as a trivial annoyance on the path to making a good bde. A regur person with as much knowledge on smithing as Gilgamesh wouldn’t have even recognized there was anything wrong with it in the first pce.

  Except there was a certain type of feedback loop that happened whenever Gilgamesh was present in my smithing. While the exact reason for each of them was different, the one thing that we both hated with a passion was something done sloppily or half-assed. And for weapons, this went doubly so.

  “You ruined that bde yourself.” Gilgamesh waved me off.

  “Right… So why did you suddenly shout for me?” I asked, grabbing the bucket and walking over to a tap to start refilling it.

  “I wish to see if that asinine school actually taught you anything useful other than small efficiency improvements in your forging.”

  “How would I show that?”

  “You will fight me.” Gilgamesh said simply, as if commenting on the weather.

  “Fight you? Are you genuinely attempting to kill me this time?” I gaped, pcing both hands on his anvil and leaning forward.

  “If I was, you’d already be dead, scum,” Gilgamesh commented, non-verbally calling me a dumbass “I said that you would fight me. Not that we will fight. Should I treat it like a true fight, you’d hardly st a fraction of a second. Spar would be more accurate. A bout, if you will.”

  “Can’t argue with you there. But right now?”

  “No, once we go somewhere that isn’t a basement, unless you wish for me to bring the very foundations of this building down on your head?” He suggested, snapping his fingers and opening multiple golden portals for emphasis.

  “Let’s just get going. I’d hate to take up your time.” I muttered with a dry look, rolling my eyes, something which Gilgamesh ignored to stroke his ego.

  “Of course! You’re finally learning your pce. It took a few years too many, but I suppose the stories of children being stubborn really are true.”

  I just snorted at Gilgamesh's taunt, grabbing my coat off one of his tool benches and walking past the ego-stroking King, beginning to make my way up the dder.

  Far Outside Fuyuki City Limits

  “Well? What are you waiting for?” Gilgamesh asked, a hand on his hip as he tapped his foot impatiently at the being standing across from him.

  “Are you going to give me a bde?”

  “I will not hand you one of my bdes.”

  “Then I’ll have to use Tracing you know?” Alex called back with a raised eyebrow, knowing of the Heroic Spirit's dislike of his Magecraft.

  “Yes. I am aware.” Gil growled, the fist not on his hip clenching tight enough to make his knuckles go white. “However, I can deal with them if I don’t think of them as fakes.”

  “I try not to think of them as fakes; it makes it a bit easier to actually practice Tracing,” Alex smiled sardonically at Gilgamesh, beginning to lower himself down. “I prefer to think of them as references or educational artifacts.”

  “References on what exactly?” Gilgamesh scoffed, flicking some hair out of his eye.

  “The ultimate bde.”

  “That again…” Despite finding the dream ridiculous, seeing as whatever this bde was, it would have to overcome Ea, he couldn’t help but snort with the barest hints of a smile

  The bde that fell into his hands was a katana. Roughly 70 cm in length from Tsuba (handguard) to Kissaki (bde tip) and 90cm in length, factoring in the Tsuka (hilt). It wasn’t his fme katana that he had taken to London, but rather an inherently non-magical bde he had made shortly before said katana. Should the need arise, he would begin bringing out magical bdes, and he was under no impression that it wouldn’t ramp up to that intensity, but he wanted to bring out a non-magical bde first to test his Tracing.

  Gilgamesh watched the bde appear in a shorter time than it would have previously to his excursion to the West. It was still ughably slow compared to his Gate of Babylon, but holding the being’s Magecraft to his own was akin to holding a campfire to the sun and comparing how far the light from both spread.

  Opening a single portal, he unthinkingly began to reach up to grab the protruding bde by its hilt. The instinctive knowledge of fighting he had been born with as a Demi-God came to the forefront of his mind as he looked at the being, the strengths and fws of his stance filtering into the King’s mind. His foot began to shift before halting, barely a few centimeters from where it had originally begun.

  ‘What… What was I doing? I wasn’t pnning to actually, physically combat him. Was I? No, of course not!’ With the slightest flick of his wrist, he sent the bde back into his Gate, shifting it to face Alex before the tip of it poked back out. ‘I was just shifting my weight; that’s all.’

  Yet despite his thoughts. In the depths of his soul, the deepest, darkest parts of his very being. He knew the truth. He knew what he had been about to do, and he knew why he had been about to do it as well.

  Clicking his tongue, he allowed the being no further time for preparation and fired the bde towards him. It was a single bde at what could barely be considered 1/10th of his Gate’s top speed, yet there was a reason behind such a speed. Even if said reason was simply ‘Alex is both a child and human.’

  Unsurprisingly, a single bde at such a speed, with the knowledge it would be fired at him, let Alex deflect the flying bde with the one in his hand. A loud screeching sound filled the air for the briefest moment before Gilgamesh’s bde spun off to the side, and Alex began moving his bde once more. His bde hit the second sword that had been fired by Gilgamesh during his deflection of the first. The being’s body spinning with the momentum to avoid the third bde that he knew would be coming as he let the second bde fling itself off in whatever direction it had decided to go.

  His guess about the third sword was correct as he straightened himself out, only to find the sword heading directly towards his new position instead of his previous one. With a minute widening of his eyes, he threw himself to the side before scrambling to his feet to avoid yet another fired bde.

  “Come now, is this all your Magecraft has to offer? Hah. Even a single Gate is enough to best the only human of worth in this pathetic age.” Gilgamesh taunted him, an arrogant, sadistic smirk adorning his features as he crossed his arms.

  His answer was Alex drawing a new weapon that wasn’t Traced. ‘Is that what a gun looks like?’ The pistol shot bullets toward the stationary king mercilessly. Gilgamesh stared at it with half-lidded eyes, interest dissapating as the singur portal rotated to face the attack. A standard Egyptian khopesh hurtled out of it and both into and through the swarm, cutting it into small pieces of metal that didn’t even reach Gilgamesh.

  What was approaching him, however, was the bde the being had previously been wielding, spinning through the air in what had been a Reinforcement-assisted throw as the pulse of Prana alerted him to the casting of yet another spell. Opening a second portal, he fired bdes from both simultaneously, shattering the construct that had been hurtling towards him with one and attacking Alex with the other.

  The sound of metal impacting metal once again rang through the clearing, drawing the King’s attention to it, and he saw Alex once again holding the bde that he had just shattered.

  “Don’t be too proud of yourself, Smith. I fired six bdes and nearly overwhelmed you.”

  “And you’re a Servant.” Alex retorted without any real heat or malice, merely stating it as a fact.

  “If you wish to create the ultimate bde, you’ll need to be able to stand on my level, mongrel. A bde of such magnitude is not a bde of humans but of Heroic Spirits.” Something in his words had angered the being; Gilgamesh could tell.

  His eyes narrowed, and his grip on his katana had tightened. The minute clenching of his jaw also gave away his frustration at whatever it was that Gilgamesh had said to anger him.

  “Oh? You disagree with your King’s words?” He taunted, waving one of his hands around idly as he did so.

  “I won’t need to be a Heroic Spirit to use the bde.” It was all the response he got from Alex, but an interesting one nonetheless.

  “No, of course not,” The Servant scoffed. “Having a bde in life that can only be used by a Heroic Spirit would be karmic irony even the Gods wouldn’t have attempted without provocation.”

  “Good.” Alex replied before unching himself forward, deflecting a bde before having to dig his feet into the ground to avoid the second one that was quick to follow behind it.

  Roughly Two Hours Later

  Fuyuki Suburbs

  “Gilgamesh?” I asked, limping alongside the completely untouched form of the man walking beside him.

  “Yes?” He hummed, buffing his nails on his jacket.

  “How do you fire your bdes?”

  “Using my Gate, plebeian. Did that near miss with the Warhammer actually knock some of your precious few brain cells loose?”

  “You know what I mean. Your Gates are just portals, right? They shouldn’t be able to fire weapons at those speeds.” I reasoned with him, and had Gilgamesh not been in such a good mood after knocking me around for over an hour, I might have had to dodge yet another bde.

  “And why do you ask such a bold question, hm?” Gilgamesh hummed, looking down at me from the corner of his eye, a strange gleam held in the red orb.

  “Because… it doesn’t make sense to me?” I muttered.

  “…Ah. I see; you’re looking to try and recreate my fighting style. Aren’t you, scum?” Strangely, Gilgamesh’s voice held equal parts mirth and annoyance as he figured out my true agenda.

  “Forget I said anything,” I said quickly, averting his gaze from Gilgamesh.

  “Are you trying to order me around?” A pressure washed over me, making breathing suddenly much harder than it had previously been, and my body tensed up despite my wishes.

  “No, of course not. I’m not suicidal.” I groaned out, breathing a sigh of relief when the pressure disappeared.

  “Good. And remember that the next time you say such a thing to me.”

  “Got it….” I huffed, drawing myself to my proper height once more as the pain in my body lessened slightly.

  “Regardless. I will not give you an answer. Prove you deserve it and do as a proper warrior or magus would; figure it out yourself.”

  The comment I muttered under his breath got me pinned to the ground painfully by a spear as Gilgamesh walked away, cackling at my misfortune until he left my earshot.

  London

  ‘No commissions, no csses, no lectures, no workshops and no inspiration.’ I thought absentmindedly.

  Currently, I am menting the fact that I have lots of time but no way to spend it. I’d practice more on my smithing, but my imagination has run dry, and I have no new materials to experiment with.

  Luviagelita Edelfelt was an unexpected factor in coming here, but surprisingly nice. She’s a young Rin but tries to keep up the facade. However, that’s probably because it isn’t. Her Jewelcraft has also made her a great sparring partner.

  Today, I don’t want to use my political speech, so that rules her out.

  Waver Velvet would be nice to talk to. His knowledge of magecraft impresses me sometimes, though with my unorthodox training, that says more about me than him.

  He recently made his return to the Clock Tower not too long ago. There were even some rumours circuting that he may become a Lord through the El-Melloi faction, but I know that will happen.

  ‘It’s always good to get close to someone successful, even if they don’t know it yet, because then you can coast off of their success!’ I remembered a lesson from my mom.

  Unfortunately, it would be suspicious if we interacted since we shouldn’t know each other. So that pn is crossed off.

  I could read something. While my collection pales to what I had originally, it does have some of my must-haves.

  Pto’s Republic, Contingency, Irony, Solidarity by Richard Rorty and Phantoms in the Brain: Probing the Mysteries of the Human Mind by Sandra Bkeslee and V. S. Ramachandran.

  Admittedly, three books stemming from only philosophy and psychology are a major disappointment, but I ck the space to get so much as a proper bookshelf.

  I could just wave around my Magic Crest enough to get the prestige of a long history, but that would put too many eyes on me, especially the wrong kind. I have already spent most of my life weaving through politics; I don’t want to waste time falling into the same trap.

  So what now?

  ‘Wait.’

  I go to one of my drawers and grab a notebook. The only thing written on it is the title.

  Nerve Circuits

  Shioru’s teaching on magecraft was so fundamentally cking that instead of using the natural source of magic power within him, he should turn his nerves into them.

  Using the part of your body designed to do a task is better than using another for it, like grabbing something with your feet or walking with your hands.

  However…

  That isn’t to say that they don’t have their uses. In a pinch or under the right circumstances, it could be quite useful. I’ve had some obscure knowledge or skill that’s helped me out before.

  But this one has to be the most dangerous by far…

  ‘Who am I kidding? I’ve probably done worse.’

  I sat cross-legged and closed my eyes. “Trace On,”

  I periodically activated all my Magic Circuits as a way to stretch them out before turning them all on at once. It’s an exercise I’ve developed to check my status and see how quickly I can use them.

  ‘Right now though.’ I used Structural Grasp on my Magic Circuits.

  The information runs through my mind, but I instantly flush it out, letting my body soak it in.

  I then Traced a Magic Circuit into my arm.

  Until the burning started, fully capable of consuming my entire being.

  I stopped it before it crippled me, though that doesn’t stop it from hurting.

  I took a moment before going back to the drawing board, my body throbbing as it remembered that sensation, that burning sensation.

  Complex organic things cannot be Traced yet.

  The current method of creating Nerve Circuits works, but still poses a major risk.

  “So how do I make it better…” I trailed off.

  I fell back into my bed and closed my eyes.

  My mind repyed recent events.

  “The forge!” I sat up and started writing in my notebook.

  The original method had Shirou imagining a hot rod being stabbed through his spine.

  If the imagery can be modified, a higher yield may be obtainable.

  “And I think I know what to change it to.”

  I am not very creative.

  Scratch that; in anything besides combat, I ck creativity.

  That said…

  “Trace On,”

  The burning resumed, doubled in intensity. I writhed, unable to endure such a sensation for much longer. However, I was able to muster forth enough energy to utter a single word.

  “Quench.” Instead of a hot rod, a hot piece of steel is pced in oil.

  The burning subsided, threatening to resume its conquest should my focus wane.

  My spine starts glowing so brightly that I can see it despite being in a well-lit room.

  I turn off the lights and go to my mirror.

  The Nerve Circuits were silver and interconnected, looking more organic than the organs designed for that purpose.

  “Experiment… successful.”