Fate/Infinity

My foot collides with the severed head of a homunculus.

This one wielded its hair as a weapon, not unlike of that certain butler's

style, rather than the on-the-go Familiar Creation favored by Illya and

Irisviel. I was right—they're scared, as much as poor imitations of human

beings can be.

And they have every reason to be.

I've grossly misjudged my own strength.

While Kotomine Kirei isn't the strongest out there, he's

still quite the heavyweight in the supernatural arena, and his combat prowess

hasn't diminished with my presence to sharpen his.

Using him as a benchmark was a mistake. I'm a lot more

powerful than I credited myself for. "Congrats on getting off-screened." I

sneer at the heap of corpses and the dismantled suits of armor.

Those animated armors used a magnetic field to reassemble

every time they were smashed apart.

My strategy? Lead them to the water fountain—because,

naturally, the Einzbern mansion has one in the main hall—then electrify the

water-drenched floor with a few well-placed bullets.

The resulting electric trap interfered with their magnetic

abilities, taking out most of the automated armors in the process. Efficient

and effective, though likely a one-time trick.

Not that I doubted my victory, but the environmental attack

saved me a good chunk of Od.

'68% left…'

That should be more than sufficient for the boss fight.

Positioning myself before a fractured mirror, I scrutinize

my reflection, meticulously adjusting my attire and taming my hair to appear

halfway presentable.

With a sigh, I start to scour the labyrinth that is Castle

Einzbern in an effort to uncover the entry to their Workshop.

After what feels like an eternity of searching, I finally

uncover the hidden entrance behind the grand throne in the main hall.

Stepping into the Workshop, I'm greeted by the sight of a

platform seemingly suspended midair, connected by a labyrinth of stairways

leading to various sections—many of which don't even make sense in placement,

the stairs upside-down.

The architectural marvel is simply mind-boggling to think

about.

"Enough of this charade, Jubstacheit! Show yourself! I just

want to talk!" Preferably with my guns or Arias, I'm not picky. As expected,

the only response I get are the echoes of my own voice reflected back at me.

The echo of my voice lingers in the air, met with nothing

but silence.

My eyes scan the labyrinth of staircases and doorways, each

one a potential trap, each one leading who knows where. A sigh escapes my lips

as I brush a hand through the strands that rest on my sweat-soaked forehead.

I start walking, my footsteps resonating eerily in the

vast, empty space.

"I don't have time for this."

I've got a stockpile of about a thousand rounds of Equality

ready for 'distribution'.

No matter how big the place is, there must be a limits.

The Einzbern specializes in Alchemy, not Spatial and

Temporal Magecraft.

Knocking on one door, I press my ear against it and knock,

before putting the shotgun against the thin, wooden barrier seperating

whatever's inside and I.

Sure enough, the animated armor lets out an ear-piercing

screech, its arms crumbling to pieces around me. "Not this again…" I mutter,

moving from door to door, only to be greeted by a gallery of horrors—homunculi,

grotesque flesh amalgamations, and abominations that even the darkest

imaginations couldn't dream up.

The twist?

They're far more powerful than any homunculi I've

encountered so far, John Arston included.

My guess is their grotesque appearance is the reason for

their confinement.

Just a glimpse of these horrors would have every cryptid

enthusiast in the world swarming the Einzbern backyard, and they absolutely

cannot afford that kind of scrutiny.

An animated suit of armor is bizarre, but can be written

off as some guy or gal goofing around,

A giant spider made from limbs stitched to an emaciated Xeonomorph

torso?

Now that's a whole other level of inexplicable. "That's the

67th door…" I mutter, growing increasingly weary of the seemingly

endless parade of nightmares.

As I prepare to burst through the next door, I catch the

faint sound of shoes scraping against the dry floor behind me.

Spinning around with my shotgun at the ready, I confront

the homunculus.

John's lucky… Had I entered without [Reinforcement] to

steady my nerves and been just a bit more trigger-happy, his brain would be

decorating the floor.

"At ease, soldier!" He calls out, his tone somewhere

between a joke and a plea. "I'm friendly!"

"Why the Hell did you think it was a good idea sneaking up

on me?"

Should he even be seen with me?

"What about the kill-switch?" I hiss.

"Don't worry, the Space in the labyrinth is distorted.

There's no way for Jubstacheit to monitor this place."

"No additional defenses at all?" That sounds… Rather

uncharacteristic of him.

"Well," John shrugs with a casual smirk, "We figured if

someone can survive everything we've thrown at them, there's really no point in

adding more obstacles. It'd only be a waste of resources."

"Then why does this place exist?" I ask with narrowed eyes.

"Mostly to buy time. The real door to the Workshop changes

location every hour or so," The homunculus explains, motioning for me to

follow. "Relax, I'm not going to lead you into a trap. It is a bit late for

second thoughts now, don't you think?"

Fair enough…

It's hard to trust these days, but if he also has stakes in

seeing me come out on top, it makes the threat of betrayal a little less

concerning.

But as with everything, the odds are never 0.

Being improbable and impossible are two completely

different things.

"Your trust issues seem rather deep-rooted, Lord Magnus. I

highly recommend seeking professional help."

I let out a grunt of acknowledgement, but his insistence

only makes me distrust him more.

Even the way he addresses me has had a noticeable shift,

which does very little to ease my concerns. People don't change on the fly, do

they?

"Hmm, my sensors indicate a slight decline in your trust

levels… Interesting. You strike me as the type who might let their guard down

if their ego is sufficiently stroked," He muses, a hint of mischief in his

tone.

My lips twitch with annoyance, before deciding to steer the

conversation in another direction. "So, about that HUD you mentioned, how does

it work exactly?"

He offers a small smile as he spins an insignia in his

hand, the Mystic Code emanating a constant, thrumming pulse of Mana.

"My overlay? It intercepts all sensory information I

receive and modifies it before transferring it to my brain—fascinating process

really—"

For five minutes, we press on until we find a door that

seems far more humble than the imposing portals I was opening earlier. "Well,

this is it. Regrettably, I won't be able to assist you in the battle, but take

care, Lord Magnus." The homunculus mouths, the title sending a shiver up my back.

'What's with this fucking guy?'

He was not this respectful on our ride here.

"Your trust levels decreased again."

I glare at the homunculus. "Stop doing that."

"Does it bother you to be seen through?"

"Yes." I nod, seeing little use in lying. "You'll come to

realize 99% of Mankind dislike such a feeling. Makes us feel naked."

And nobody feels comfortable being naked in front of

strangers, except for those with a certain type of fetish.

"Is it impolite?"

I bob my head, hand reaching for the doorknob. "Kinda,

yes."

While I often engage in playful jabs at others' expense, I generally

steer clear of hitting sensitive spots or try to overanalyze them. That is,

unless I'm in business-mode, because, as the Chinese aptly put it, 'The market

is war.'

"Then forgive me. I shouldn't have pried."

Pausing, I search his face carefully, then come to the

conclusion, "You're no longer affected by [Eris' Discordance], are you?"

The fake smile stiffening, he scratches the back of his

head. "It hurts, Lord Magnus. I doubt you'll understand, but to get your hands

on paradise and have it ripped away from you; to be something then nothing…

It hurts."

"So you want your next fix…"

If John's a druggie, and I his dealer, then [Eris'

Discordance] is the substance he's addicted to.

It's quite hilarious, isn't it?

While humans—I myself included—constantly seek ways to rid

themselves of pesky emotions; to separate oneself from one's ego, our

artificial counterparts are busy figuring out how to acquire them. One man's

trash is another one's treasure indeed. 'Never been a drug dealer before.'

Never tried or wanted to, even when I was addicted.

My problem's my problem alone, nobody should suffer through

it with me. "Your trust levels just increase… Is it because—?"

"John…" I warn, my voice dropping in a low growl.

"Jubstacheit is just beyond that door. Even I am unaware of

the specifics of the Workshop's defenses, but I would tread carefully if I were

you. He will have all the Mana from the local Leylines at his disposal, along

with some reserves."

"I know," I reply, putting my thumbs up. "I'll be careful.

Wait here. When I bring Illya out, if things start to go south, I want you to

grab her and make a run for Kiritsugu, understood?"

"Understood, Milord."

With that, I fling open the door and step into a hallway

that seems never-ending.

Though it's clearly meant to exude grandeur, it ends up

looking more like a set from a low-budget television series.

The first room I catch sight of is a dimly lit laboratory

cluttered with ancient manuscripts and bubbling concoctions inside flasks, the

air tinged with a musty scent of chemicals.

Opposite to it is a chamber bathed in an eerie green glow

housing colossal glass tubes, each containing humanoid forms suspended in a

grotesque stasis, their faces frozen in silent screams. Further along, there's

a library where shelves groan under the weight of countless books and scrolls,

the scent of aged parchment mingling with the subtle whiff of candle wax, while

arcane symbols and diagrams are etched into the very walls,

A quick glance into another room reveals a garden of

impossibly vibrant flora, each plant exuding a faint luminescence and an

intoxicating fragrance.

If not for the fact there's rustling; whispers and several decaying

corpses that the roots cling to, I'd have thought it Eden.

Then, there's a forge, its crimson furnace casting long

shadows while a minimalistic golem hammers away at a molten artifact, seemingly

unaware of my presence.

Finally, I come across a room that stands in stark contrast

to the others—a small, plain space with a solitary operating table at its

center.

Atop it rests a little girl with hair so white it blends

into her surrounding, while an unassuming vial of pulsating red surrounded by

protective wards and barriers stands next to her. "If you value her life, you

will stand back and let me finish this operation. You are here for her,

correct?"

I grimace as the surgery scalpel digs into Illyasviel's

arm. "What are you doing to her?"

"Making her better."

The golem answers curtly.

"She doesn't look better."

Who does, cut up like that?

"She will be, after I'm done… She'll be a better Magus." Circling

the operating area, I find a comfortable spot and settle in, legs crossed, back

against the wall, spear resting on my shoulder while the surgery takes place. "How

long will this take?"

"A few more hours… It's a dangerous procedure—Artificial

Circuit Implants—but once they're done…"

"You're replacing her actual nerves with artificial Circuits?"

Artificial Circuits aren't new; they're classified as a

type of Mystic Code, but they are not natural.

Much like real nerves, the pseudo-spiritual nerves that

enable us to control, channel, and store the excess Mana our souls produce grow

with age; artificial Circuits do not. "This will stunt her growth permanently."

"The number will make up for the slight decrease in

quality."

"But at what cost? It will affect her lifespan. What if

she's close to achieving Heaven's Feel and then dies in the middle of the

process? You're not thinking this through, golem."

"I've precisely calculated the timing. She will be alive to

participate in the next Grail War and have ample opportunity to return. The

current average human lifespan is 75.8 years. There's no guarantee she'll

surpass that anyway."

My brows knit together in confusion.

Then how comes every source I consulted insist that Illya

could only live for a few more years after the Fifth War concluded? 'Time.' I

realize.

These procedures, much like Crest Transference, are ideally

conducted at various stages in a Magus's life to minimize bodily stress.

However, with the Grail War taking place over 40 years

earlier than scheduled, the golem had no choice but to compress all of them

into an extremely short timeframe.

It wasn't the procedures themselves that shortened her

lifespan so drastically; it was the frantic haste with which they were

performed.

For the next few hours, I sit in anticipation, eyes closed

but senses keen, while the frail wheezes of the girl breathing through a tube echo

against the walls like the wheezes of Darth Vader.

"It's done." The golem overseeing House Einzbern finally

speaks, summoning two homunculi to carry the unconscious girl away. "She'll be

placed in her cell. I assume you don't want our fight to disturb her?"

"Is there a chance we can avoid fighting altogether?"

"Unfortunately, no." The golem replies, discarding his

surgical gloves and tossing them into the trash along with the scalpel.

'Wasteful,' I think to myself.

"Worth a try."

I shrug and make a mad dash towards Illya, only to violently

slam into an invisible barrier that sends me sprawling sideways.

"Patience, Leonis. Patience."

"Lord Magnus, I must commend your bravery, it is why I

tried to offer you an olive branch," Jubstacheit intones, his voice dripping

with condescension. "But I'm afraid this is where your journey ends."

"I've heard that a few times before." I retort, trying to

keep my voice steady.

With a flick of his wrist, the air warps and suddenly,

jagged spears of shadow shoot toward me like missiles. I manage to dodge and

deflect some with [Kinetic Shield], but the golem doesn't seem too concerned

with the miss. 'Right, near infinite Mana…'

This is why you don't attack Magus in their Workshop.

"You'll need to do better than that, Jubstacheit."

Retrieving several pebbles from my rings, already flooded

with Mana prior, I throw then

With a casual wave, Jubstacheit erects a shimmering shield

that deflects my attack as if it were nothing more than a light drizzle. He

smiles, a cold, calculating expression.

"What a barbaric and rudimentary way to use Magecraft," He lectures,

before summoning a torrent of corrosive energy that sweeps across the floor

like a tidal wave.

'Instant 'Matter Transmutation'?'

He just collected the moistures in the air and turned it

into acid… The process of which involves rearranging atoms—the protons to be

precise.

It's not something one just does on a whim. Back during the

Age of Gods and the subsequent Age of Heroes, it may be a common occurrence

since all it took were a few Chants and rudimentary knowledge, but rearranging

protons with Magecraft is the kind of process that requires far more computing

power than the human brain—no matter how much implants are put in—can

realistically handle. 'Right, golem, not homunculus.'

I leap to the side, narrowly avoiding the acidic waves, and

retaliate by casting the pebbles at him again. They collide harmlessly against

the shield that shines around him. 'Urgh…'

"Yield, Leonis. Your efforts are valiant but ultimately

meaningless. Here, I am a God."

"You do remember what happened to them, right? That's not a

flex."

The golem has near infinite Mana, but the Tohsaka chose 'Energy

Conversion and Storage' for a reason. There must be a limit to his efficiency,

input and output. 'Sometimes, you just gotta brute-force it.'

Feeding 20% of my Mana into [Kinetic Blast], I hurl the

spear with everything I've got at the golem. It's quite the sight, watching

that smug look slide off his face when the Mystic Code penetrates the shield,

stopping just before it can pierce his skull. "As expected, you are—" Bullets

slam into the butt of Senza Esitazione, driving it further to graze his cheek.

'Give me something good!'

I beseech the Heavens, beseeching the [Sky-Father's Wrath]

before the name sears itself into my consciousness.

Suddenly, the room is plunged into darkness, engulfed by

roaring, ominous black clouds materializing out of nowhere. A blinding white

bolt of lightning shatters the gloom, striking the suspended golem.

The protective shield encasing it flickers weakly before

disintegrating into fragments.

Desperately, the Spell channels all available Mana from the

Leylines to rejuvenate the shield.

Yet, just as it reforms, another thunderous strike rips it

apart once more.

Had it possessed flesh and bones like ordinary homunculi, I

have no doubt Jubstacheit would have perished.

Remarkably, it rises, though its garments were reduced to

tattered rags.

"How infuriating… Do you think this is enough?"

[Sky-Father's Wrath] rumbles twice.

Once, twelve Olympians ruled with divine authority,

Now, twelve thunderstrikes herald their legacies,

Each one symbolic of the Machine Gods, culminating with

Zeus's mightiest blow. "It broke your shield, didn't it?"

I taunt, dematerializing Senza Esitazione before

materializing it once more. My spear may lack the coolness of Marvel's

Mjolnir's 'Return' Enchantment, but it's straightforward, efficient, and swift—it's

everything a weapon needs to be really.

From above, several golems descend in a synchronized leap,

their forms far less human-like than Jubstacheit's.

Integrating seamlessly, they merge into a colossal

construct like a Power Rangers group. "So, this is phase two, I'm guessing?" I snort,

a hint of amusement in my tone.

"Do take care, upstart."

Jubstacheit intones, his voice mechanical, yet simmering

with a frigid fury.

He leaps forward, an electrified fist rippling through the

air just as I leap aside, narrowly missing the attack.

The third thunderbolt descends, obliterating half of his

mechanical armor, but more golems leap down, fusing with him seamlessly.

'They are impervious to electricity.' But not to the heat.

Jubstacheit lunges at me with surprising speed for his

colossal form, his fist connecting with a bone-crushing force that sends me

hurtling across the room.

I crash into the opposite wall, the impact forcing the air out

of my lungs. Gasping, I collapse to my knees and palms, feeling the sting of a

hit not felt in a long time. The fourth lands on Jubstacheit, ripping his armor

to smoking pieces, yet the golem does not look at all fazed, slowly advancing

towards me like a towering mountain.

"You should've backed off when you had the chance. It is

not in my directives to kill you, I'd have spared you."

The fifth and sixth strike simultaneously, hurling him

backward; yet the golem, its fingers clawing into the earth, inexorably pushes

forward. Overhead, numerous groups of homunculi touch down, forming an ominous

circle around us. Things are looking pretty bleak—or does it?

The realization dawns upon me as I remember a Perk I've yet

to test. Unleashing a primal scream, I summon a dark, malevolent force that

blankets the room, sending ripples through the cavern and eliciting a symphony

of groans from all corners. "Wha— What is this?! What did you do?!"

"Now you know what it's like to be hungry!"

One homunculus abruptly snaps at his kin, maw agape,

sinking in for a grotesque, squelching bite, yet his hunger remains insatiable.

Agonized screams reverberate through the chamber as I

trigger [Hyper-Metabolism], soaring past the golem to chase after the homunculi

who took Illya earlier. 'Sit back and enjoy the show, sucker.'

With all Stats doubled, I skip down the hallway, finally

stumbling on a homunculus who's not affected by [They know not hunger].

"Halt–"

No sooner than the word escapes my lips, my spear pierces

through the artificial lifeform.

It's only then that I catch sight of the room behind,

enclosed in glass, with a girl clad in purple, huddled in a tight embrace.

"Illya von Einzbern?"

In an instant, her posture straightens.

"I am here on behalf of your father, Kiritsugu Emiya."

"I knew it!" She jumps up excitedly. "I knew Kiritsugu

won't abandon me!"

"Right. You know how to open this?"

Her face goes slack with guilt as she shakes her head.

"Nuh-uh!"

Pivoting on my heel, I engage [Structural Grasp] at full

capacity, my expression contorting in a grimace. There's no way to release her

from this predicament, and the glass has been engineered to be exceptionally

pressure-resistant, its surface slick as ice.

But If I can just find a way to get a firm grip… "Illya, I

need you to hide in the closet, wrap yourself with a blanket while you're at it,

close your eyes; cover your ears. This is gonna be loud."

She does as instructed, poking her head out to give me a

thumb-ups.

"Here goes nothing…"

I murmur, slowly imbuing the glass with a surge of Mana

until it begins to glow. Carefully aiming, I unleash a precisely targeted

[Kinetic Blast], the concentrated force weakening the structure's integrity.

With a deafening screech, the barrier shatters into a

million glittering shards, while Illyasviel screams in terror. Luckily, she's

uninjured, if a bit scared. Thank Gods, Kiritsugu would have had my hide if the

girl's hurt. "C'mon, let's get you outta here. Are you hurt?"

She nods weakly, holding her stomach—the spot Jubstacheit

was operating on earlier.

"My tummy hurts…"

"You're a strong girl, aren't you? You think you can handle

it?"

The half-homunculus bobs her head, steeling herself in an

instant.

"Uhm!"

Her arms cling tightly around my neck, her legs latched

onto my waist like a koala bear, Illya yells—"Onwards!"

With a swift move, I step outside, shielding her eyes from

the chaotic scene of homunculi and automaton-like golems tearing into each

other, unaccustomed to hunger.

"LEONIS!" Jubstacheit's enraged cry echoes behind us, but

he's powerless to catch me with [Hyper-Metabolism] accelerating my escape.

Darting into the labyrinth, I spot John idling near the

entrance. "Where's the exit?"

The three of us sprint with everything we've got, until we

finally burst into the main hall.

The ground shudders beneath us, giving way under the force

of the rampaging golems.

I miscalculate a step and slip, but before plummeting, managing

to hurl Kiritsugu's daughter to John. "Take her!"

If I'm to install John as the next Einzbern Lord, I must

eliminate Jubstacheit no matter the cost, and now that Illya's secured, I no

longer have anyone to worry about… Landing in a crouch, I twirl my Mystic Code,

pointing it at the golem.

"Final showdown…"

Jubstacheit roars, saliva foaming and dripping from the

corners of his mouth as he gnashes on the head of a hapless homunculus, his

hands crushing another futilely gnawing at his armor.

"What did you do? What is this feeling?!"

He bellows, voice soaked with fury and confusion.

I smirk, watching as the sky above darkens.

The last bolt's formed, tinged with an eerie blue glow.

"It's called [Gluttony]!"

C30: "Not Me!"

Finally catching sight of his daughter, Kiritsugu breathes

a deep sigh of relief, raising his gun to mow down the few homunculi giving

chase.

A barrage of bullets turns them into riddled heaps,

mercifully hidden from his daughter's view by the homunculus. "Kiritsugu!" She

cries out, prompting a weary smile to bloom on the Magus Killer's haggard face.

He wraps his daughter in a tight embrace, the strength that

had sustained him for so long suddenly drained from him.

"Illya! Illya, it's really you!" He exclaims, voice thick

with sorrow and regret. Tears stream down his cheeks as he cradles her, falling

to his knees. Illya, knowing little else to do, pats his back gently, holding

strong for just a few tender moments before breaking down into tears herself.

"Grandpa Jubstacheit kept saying mean things about you… He said you didn't need

Illya anymore!"

The father and daughter weep together, their shared anguish

pouring out in each other's arms while the homunculus fidgets awkwardly on the

sideline.

"You humans are peculiar creatures."

He muses while observing the heartfelt display.

Above, thunderous dark clouds converge ominously, each

rumble sending shivers down spines as the blizzard intensifies. "What's going

on over there? Where's Leo?"

Kiritsugu asks, concern etched on his features.

"I believe Lord Magnus is engaging Jubstacheit in battle.

He did promise me the Einzbern seat."

The homunculus replies calmly, hands in his pockets.

The Magus Killer's eyes dart between the homunculus, the

menacing sky, and then his daughter.

Taking a steadying breath, he grips Illya's shoulders

firmly. "Illya, I need you to go with him, understood?" He instructs, his voice

calm and steely,

Crossing his arms, he gently pushes a few stray strands of

hair from her face, trying to reassure her.

Gesturing for the homunculus to approach, he commands,

"You're going to protect her."

The homunculus nods, stepping closer as the chaotic storm

above mirrors the turmoil within the Magus Killer.

He yearns to stay with his daughter, to see her safely

tucked aboard an airplane destined far from this accursed place.

But he's worn out, spent really.

His entire existence has been consumed by a singleminded

mission—one that has demanded sacrifices too great to tally, lives lost, Souls

shattered, hearts broken.

The identity of the Magus Killer has overshadowed him

completely, leaving the remnants of Kiritsugu to gather the broken pieces. For

once, he wishes to act for others, not for the grandiose ideals he once

idolized and paid dearly for. He wants to save lives, not by killing for the

greater good, but by simply saving.

"Wait for us at the base of the mountain," Kiritsugu

orders, his voice steady but strained. "If we don't return in an hour—if you

notice anything strange, I want you to head straight for the airport and fly to

Fuyuki, Japan. Do you understand?"

"What about you, Kiri?"

"I'll go get that disrespectful brat."

The haggard man chuckles, pulling out his Thompson—a weapon

he didn't think he'd ever need again and march towards the ruins of Castle

Einzbern. With a third of the structure completely caved in, he won't be able

to get a good shot from this position, he'll need to get closer. "Kiri!"

He whirls around, a tired grin on his face to reassure his

daughter. "I will be back soon, promise!"

"I know you will! Kiritsugu's the strongest!"

Illya cheers, patting her non-existent biceps, then

pointing at her father, who instantly feels a surge of energy coursing through

him.

Flashing her a smile, Kiritsugu runs downhill, guns

clutched to his side. "Hold on."

—

[Infinity] —

Pivoting sharply on my heels, I flee while a surge of power

courses through the air. Fists and kicks asides, the lightning bolt being

charged up will put Marvel's Thor to utter shame, and I want no part in it. "My

gratitude, brother."

I murmur, cupping my hands as I offer a silent plea to Olympian

who's lending me a hand, diving behind a slab of debris just in time as the

thunderous blast reduces half of Castle Einzbern to a smoldering, cataclysmic

ruin.

The atmosphere crackles with a m electricity, the currents

caressing my skin and causing my hair to stand on end, while the thunderclaps

rupture my eardrums.

Though the injury will heal in time, I find myself

momentarily deprived of a vital sense, a handicap I'll have to overcome.

The silver lining is: Jubstacheit seems to have fared much

worse than I, his face a melted, bubbling horror; the flesh sliding off his

skeletal frame while the mechanical armor pieced from other golems

disintegrates into a puddle of molten steels around him.

Head poking over the cover, I taunt, loading up Equality in

the process.

No wonder Bazett's always broke in the original…

I have barely dabbled in this line of work and it's already

chipping away at my savings, must take a lot more to be an Enforcer.

"Lookin' pretty rough over there, good buddy good pal!"

"Centuries of mystical knowledge you've destroyed.

Centuries!" Jubstacheit hisses something incoherent, stumbling towards me with

outstretched hands, feet dragging on the lava beneath his feet. "DO YOU KNOW

WHAT YOU'VE DONE?! DO YOU?!!"

Pulling the trigger, I smile when one bullet strikes its

mark, the other two caught by the dimming shield encasing Jubstacheit.

So much for ending my journey.

This is why you don't talk too much shit before getting the

W.

Took me over 500 games of League of Legends to learn that

lesson.

The golem's voice is a guttural, primal roar that

reverberates through the remains of Castle Einzbern, his 'Matter Transmutation'

turning the once-solid ground into a molten landscape of hazards by vibrating

the atoms at an extremely fast frequency.

"What did you say?! I can't hear you!"

I bellow once more, the bullet which hit Jubstacheit's

silicon-like flesh earlier sizzling and burrowing into his shifting form and causing

the strange, viscous substance shaping his body to bubble and melt further,

drawing enraged screams from the once-arrogant golem.

"House Einzbern has endured for millennia! We will not fall

to you, not like thi—!"

Jubstacheit's face snaps to the side mid-speech, a giant

hole blown into it as he stumbles back, shot by several rounds in the chest.

But the shots didn't come from me. I follow the trajectory of the bullets,

turning just in time to catch a glimpse of Kiritsugu in the distance.

It's almost surreal, seeing him there.

'Huh, he didn't abandon me.'

Shouldn't he be on a plane back to Fuyuki already? It'd

make more sense for him to prioritize his daughter over me. Hell, I'd not have

prioritized me in his shoes.

Kiritsugu's expression is as inscrutable as ever, his

smoking barrel pointing directly at the living relic of House Einzbern.

Jubstacheit, or what's left of the golem, scrambles to his

feet, each movement more desperate than the last, a puppet on strings that are

rapidly fraying under our combined assault.

The holes punched through his silicon-like flesh are

leaking a foul-scented fluid, and his roar sounds more of a gurgle now, a

mockery of his formerly calm, composed tone.

I leap out of the cover, using Senza Esitazione as a

vaulting pole to avoid the lava beneath and approach him. Never thought playing

the floor's-lava as a kid would be useful one day, but if it works…

"Why…? Why do you insist on defiling the sacred legacy of our

House?!"

With a crazed howl, the golem's arm cleaves the air, a

blade of pure Mana slicing through the atmosphere and tearing into the mountain

peak where Kiritsugu's taking pot-shots from, while simultaneously propeling a

fist toward me with his other arm, nails oozing a shinning blue liquid—a

golem's version of blood, if I had to guess.

My instincts kick in, and I raise my spear in defense, but from

my peripheral vision, I catch sight of Kiritsugu.

The Magus Killer looks frantic, limbs flailing wildly as he

somehow finds himself beneath a cascade of debris far heavier than him.

In his current state, he's doomed without my intervention.

'This is why I work alone.'

Abandoning my defense, I fling my spear with precision,

pinning Kiritsugu to the wall. His entire weight now dangles on the strength of

his coat, which's about all I can do for him at this point.

In the split second that follows, I brace myself—muscles

tensing to absorb Jubstacheit's incoming punch.

The impact obliterates my [Kinetic Shield], and the

devastating force snaps my spine next. Definitely not a pleasant

experience—0/10, would not recommend.

Crashing into my old cover, left arm and feet slightly

cooked by the heat the lava emits, I turn Equality at the golem who's still

crawling forwards, despite how… Generous Kiritsugu and I both are at

distrubuting the molten lead.

Draining my magazine, I summon the Automag V and empty that

too. "W-Why?!" I hear Jubstacheit's crazed mumbling—my eardrums having

regenerated just enough to catch his screams. "It-It belongs to us! The Third

is ours!"

He bellows, "Why're you doing this?!"

"Bit of a cliché, but this really isn't personal."

I retort.

It isn't for me, the same probably can't be said for

Kiritsugu though.

Jubstacheit twitches, a last act of rebellion against the

fading hum of artificial life in his veins—Mana made physical.

His eyes, almost vacant marbles roll in his skull as a

rattling cough seizes his frame.

Then, with a final shudder, he falls face-first into the

cooling lava. 

A wave of heat washes over me, thick and choking, yet despite

my aching vessel screaming at the top of its lungs for respite, I dare not

relax; dare not allow the adrenaline to fade. "Leo, are you okay?"

"Ye- Yeah, I'm fine. Just have to fix something real

quick."

My fingers dig into the flesh of my back, nails scraping

against my spine.

I bite back a scream, teeth grinding as I channel

[Reinforcement], weaving the Mana in my insular cortex. The pain quickly dulls,

becoming a distant echo. Whoever said [Reinforcement] wasn't versatile has

clearly never tried to play around with it. The ability to mute agony, to

strangle one's own emotions... That's power beyond measure.

"What are you doing?" Kiritsugu's voice comes in strained.

"Fixing myself," Grunting, my fingers nudge the dislocated

spine in place. "Can't you see?"

"You'll cause permanent damage to your—"

"They will heal."

"Not wholly, Leo." Voice thick with guilt, he asks. "Why

did you do it?"

The 'Why saved me?' Remains unspoken, yet the question's

deafeningly loud still—too loud for me to ignore.

"Well, I need you alive and kicking. Diapers and drool

aren't exactly my forte, and Taiga barely knows which way is up half the time."

"Shiro's young, but she can survive fine without me, and

Illya's older than you."

"Not in spirit." I reply, a bit too serious for my own

good.

Snorting, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips, the

Magus Killer slumps next to me.

"You sound like a, what was it you like to call her, a 'tsu—"

"Kiritsugu." I cut him off, lips twitching. "See that

bubbling cauldron of molten rock over there? Finish that sentence and I swear

on my Soul, I will dropkick you in it myself."

The bastard actually had the gall to laugh, doubling over

and clutching his stomach. "Why act like you don't care?"

Eyeing him, I weigh my options and decide that yes, I do

trust Kiritsugu, enough to give him tidbits if he asks for it, and he's asking

for it, right? "If people know I care, they have power over me; they'll grow to

expect me to do things freely. I can't trust people to not abuse it."

Besides, this is Nasuverse—it's either be paranoid like Zack

Snyder Batman or get shafted by a Cosmic Horror that looks like an anime girl

for whatever reason. There's rarely an in-between.

I cannot afford trust, not without the other person also

putting something important on the line.

"Who're 'they'?"

"Nobody." Comes my reply, a little too curt perhaps.

"Does this mean you trust me?"

"I don't know."

I reply honestly, smearing the blood on my coat.

Gonna be a bitch and a half to get that shit dry-cleaned,

isn't it? "Can I?"

The Magus Killer thinks for a moment, then blurts.

"Probably not."

We chuckle, mainly because of how true it is.

Just ask Maiya, Natalia, Irisviel and the late Lord Emiya

whose rotting brain is probably still stinking up the room where he died.

"A life for a life." He sighs, relieved. "You'll have my

Crest… I can rest easy now that I know you can protect my children."

Without the Emiya Crest, Kiritsugu will die.

His Circuits will decay completely, followed by his

physical body.

"Hold onto it for me. Wouldn't want your daughters hounding

my ass for the Crest…"

Surprised, he turns to me with an imploring gaze.

"I still do need your Crest, I will have it as per our

Contract," I begin, my eyes meeting his. "After you die. It's not like

you have long to live anyway."

"Just had to add that last part?" Kiritsugu chuckles,

retrieving something from his pocket.

The crinkle of a pack next to me draws my eyes as I shrug.

"It was getting too emotional for me."

Turning right, I find Kiritsugu fishing for a cigarette and

without even thinking, my hand shoots out, fingers already pinching the white

cylinder before I can even properly register what I'm doing.

"Whoa there," Kiritsugu chides, plucking the cigarette back

with a disapproving quirk of his brow. "What do you think you're doing?"

I shrug, trying to play it cool, but a wave of relief washes

over me. Yeah, best not to fall back into that particular habit. "Wanted to nab

a cig, what else?"

"Since when do you smoke?"

Since forever, and—"What are you, my mom?"

Thankfully, our conversation is cut short by a loud and frankly

obnoxious buzz in his pocket.

"This is not over."

Rolling my eyes, I de-summon Senza Esitazione with a wave while

the Magus Killer answers the phone.

"Leonis? Yeah, he's here."

Hearing my name, I snap to attention as Kiritsugu puts the

phone in my palm. "It's Tokiomi's girl."

The phone hits my palm and I let out a breath I haven't

realized I've been holding, a strangled sound that comes out more like a

gasp. 

Relief floods through me as I allow [Reinforcement] to

recede, the sudden absence of its taut, artificial focus leaving me feeling

strangely exposed.

"—Leo? It's Kirei! He's gone mad! He broke into my house

and tried to kill me!"

The name hit my ears like a physical blow. "Kirei…" I spit,

the name laced with such venom I'm surprised my tongue doesn't fall off then

and there, while every fiber of my being vibrates with a cold, all-consuming

rage.

I should have let Kiritsugu kill him back then. 

What the actual fuck had I been thinking?

"I'm at my sister's, it's a long story I'll explain

later, but Lord Matou has graciously allowed us to—"

Her words finally punch through the haze of my fury.

The phone creaks in my grip, fingers tightening reflexively—an

unspoken, yet very real promise of violence.

"Rin, listen to me—"

"—We were protected by Lord Matou, but he said he'll

come for the redhead next. He was talking about Shiro, Leo, and Sakura's

grandfather has refused to aid us."

The words slam into me like a physical blow. "KIREI!"

I roar, the phone turning to powder in my grip.

Fury, raw and blinding, surges through me.

While I did want to reintroduce the sisters and mend their

bond, but not like this—not with Matou Zouken of all people fucking present.

I can't even warn her, not with the Worm possibly eavesdropping

on our conversation. "What's wrong?"

"I will beat his face in."

I growl, the word ripping raw from my throat as I push

myself upright, vision a dizzying and confusing swirl. There's no red, just

blur while the my vision morphs. "Kiritsugu, we have to go back. Now!"

"What did that priest do?"

"Rin…"

I choke on the name, wiping away the sweat that clings to

my brow like a shroud. "He attacked her. And Shiro… He's going after Shiro

next. We have to stop him."

The words die in my throat, strangled. "We need to get her out

of there too."

Kiritsugu's face darkens.

He probably has a lot to say about the situation, but

decides to instead stay his lips.

I'm not afraid to admit he's more clearheaded than I am.

"That treacherous fucking twat!"

I roar, pulling out patches of my hair. "Why am I such a fucking

retard! To think I could reason with him! I should have gutted him when I had

the chance!" 

The things I'll do to Kotomine Kirei when I get my hands on

his fucking throat…

"We can use [Broom Flight]… It's not as effective for men,

but it'll get us there much quicker."

"How long will it take?"

"It's a three hours flight to reach Fuyuki," The Magus

Killer states, "But going to Touko's Broom Flight Agency will add another hour

to our journey."

"Four hours in total then…"

Four hours is not a long time, but it sounds like an

eternity given the circumstances.

Even with the advantage she has over her male counterpart,

without the Unlimited Blade Works to help her, she's basically dead meat.

"I gotta make a phone call."

Luckily, my phone hadn't suffered much damages during the

fight.

Nokia really does make the most durable device on the

planet.

Now that I know for certain Gods exist, Gods bless them and

their 'bricks'.

—

[Infinity] —

[Broom Flight] is anything but enjoyable. It's a nauseating

ordeal lasting over two hours, which consists of getting doused with rancid

herbal concoctions in the first thirty minutes that smell like it'll corrode my

skin on contact.

The ride itself is equally dreadful, perched atop the

Mystic Code's near unbearably uncomfortable seat. Gotta give it to the Witches,

they deserve the street rep for being able to balance on these 'sticks'.

About halfway through, a twist of nausea tightens in my

belly, suddenly reminding me of the [Hyper-Metabolism] side effects.

By the time we finally touch down, I'm naught but a

skeletal wreck, collapsing to the ground and ravenously stuffing anything

edible into my mouth, which is about everything I can get my hands on thanks to

[All-Eater].

Stopping myself due to a bloated stomach, I bite into my

forearm, drawing a mouthful of disgusting, metallic fluid that clings

stubbornly to my teeth.

"You go put Illya somewhere safe." I spit, saliva dyed pink.

"I'll head to the Church first."

He looks like he wants to protest seeing the state I'm in,

but between us two, I'm the most equipped to handle Kirei, and he knows it.

"Try to draw him out in the open and stall."

"I know."

The world swims in a dizzying waltz of blinding light and

gut-wrenching nausea, a symphony of discomfort that somehow propels me forward

like whirlwind.

"Ah, your Highness,"

A voice purrs from the shadows as I burst into the Fuyuki

Church. "You're quicker than I expected."

"Shiro…"

I breathe, my gaze falling upon the struggling form bound

and gagged at the end of the room.

A low hum rumbles in my chest as I stalk closer,

"I recall asking once…"

The priest begins, his voice devoid of warmth, "How you

would feel should I choose to… dispose of Sensei's heir. 'Mildly annoyed' was

your answer, if memory serves. Shall we put that theory to the test?"

"She's not Rin, she has nothing to do with this. Neither of

them do. This is between us, Kirei, so let's settle it man-to-man."

"That's it? That's your bargain? You're supposed to be a

capitalist, for God's sake!" Kirei roars with laughter, a bizarre cocktail of

anger, amusement, and thrill contorting his features.

"You're supposed to make deals, convince me! And that's

your best attempt? C'mon! You've been screaming to high heavens about the kind

of salesman you are, Leonis Magnus! Spice things up—offer up your life or a

limb at least; make this fun!"

"Even if I give in, you'll only kill us still. Better she

than us both."

Summoning Senza Esitazione, I stride forth with a

confidence I don't entirely feel, while Shiro, though clearly hurt by my words,

closes her eyes in resignation.

My steps falter as the Black Keys flash, carving thin,

crimson lines across her white skin.

"You—!"

The word explodes from me, my grip on the spear tightening

to the point my hand feels numb.

"Called your bluff~!" Kirei sings, his voice dripping with

a perverse satisfaction.

He circles Shiro like a predator toying with its prey, the

glint of the Black Key almost icy in the dim light.

Then, with a swift, deliberate motion, he presses the

weapon to her face, dragging it from her jawline to the curve of her ear.

A stifled whimper escapes Shiro's lips, and though the

wound won't be fatal, chances are it will scar. I can only hope Avalon can fix

it, or she's gonna have one Hell of a time explaining it to her teacher and

classmates this Monday. "What do you want?"

"Go on then, Leonis. Shove that spear through your leg. I'm

betting you will, but I'm hoping." 

The shittiest part is: He doesn't even crack a smile—emotionless

statue, yet a sliver of sadistic pleasure flickers beneath the surface.

I see it—after all this time, I have become fluent in the

silent language of his facial changes.

He can try to mask it, but the darkness always bleeds

through.

"You're fucking insane."

My defiance dies in my throat as the Black Key finds its

mark, pressing coldly against Shiro's cheek.

"Okay, okay! You win!" This whole charade would go much smoother

if I could just shut off my emotions again.

But I can't risk that with Shiro.

Emotions are the ties that bind, and without them, I dread

what I might allow to happen in the name of victory…

I grunt, dragging the spearhead across my thigh.

It sings, a hot whisper of pain.

[Skymother's Retribution]—if Zeus' Miracles are explosive

and thunderous, then Hera's is far more insidious, reflecting 25% of damages of

the Cursed to themselves, which in this case is me.

Meeting his gaze, I glare.

"What was that? I told you to cripple yourself, not give

yourself a mosquito bite."

Bracing myself, jaws tense with anger, I stab into my

thigh, spearing through the appendage in a single motion, purposefully missing

the bone beneath. "Happy?!"

Movement flickers in my periphery—a pair of twin-tails

flashing past a shadows. Rin…

She presses a finger to her lips, eyes darting to the

shallow cut on my thigh before shaking her head silently.

I hold my breath, stifling the urge to acknowledge

her. 

One flicker of recognition, one tell, and Kirei would see

it.

He always does.

And yet, even in the sliver of a second it took for my gaze

to find hers and dart away, Kirei caught it still.

Fortunately, "That's not gonna work, Leonis. Do you think I

am stu—"

That's when a super-charged [Gandr] flies at his back.

Taking advantage of the situation, I lunge on top of him, screaming

at the Tohsaka whose presence I'm rather thankful of, "Get her out of here

quick!"

A punch from Kirei causes my head to spin, and in response

the elbow I have against this neck increases in pressure.

"What're you doing, Rin?! Move!"

Only when the shadows swallow them whole—Tohsaka with Shiro

bundled in her arms, chair and all—do I dare turn my attention back to the

priest. "You—"

The growl tears from my throat as we crash to the ground, a

tangle of limbs, my fists finding their rhythm repeatedly against his head.

He gives as good as he gets, blood spattering between us,

painting the ground red. "You fucking—!"

But his best is not enough…

It hasn't been for a while.

As if reading each other's mind, our foreheads clash,

resulting in a sickening crunch.

"You think I don't know what you were doing?! TAMING ME

LIKE AN ANIMAL!" The priest shouts, his fist finding its target on my jaw, the

hit nearly snapping my neck in half.

Vision swimming red, I leap towards him, slamming the

priest against the wall.

Our exit from the main hall wouldn't be through the usual

door, not this time, instead we wrestle our way through an human-shaped

entrance.

A pebble blinks into existence in my hand; a pebble I force

my Od in until its physical structure starts to lose stability.

Then, it rips from my hand, tearing a chunk out of Kirei's

stomach at the exact moment his fist slams into my temple.

Finally, we tumble into a heap.

One knee pushing down on his lungs, the other pinning his

hand, my fists—driven by neither rational nor logic—hammer on his defenseless

form.

'Where did I go wrong?'

The first punch knocks out his teeth;

'How did it come to this?'

The second causes his jaw to dangle like a loose

mouthguard.

'I didn't want this…!'

Kirei laughs—a wet, broken sound, while blood erupts from

his nose and mouth,

'I didn't!'

"Yo- You failed… You failed…"

Yet, like a broken record, he keeps repeating.

'Why?'

My fingers coil around his neck—tiny, yet strong like a scarf

of steel wrapped around his neck; nails drawing blood.

'WHY?!!'

Slowly, the priest's struggle begins to weaken, and weaken,

until even his feeble attempt at fighting back is lost within my barrage.

I cock my fist, chest heaving—a hair's breadth from

delivering that final, fatal blow to the man who's been a mentor of sort to me.

"Damn you, Kirei!"

The words rip from my raw throat as I punch, the force

behind my attack dampened by the deep exhaustion I feel. "This was you. I

DIDN'T DO THIS!"

Black spots clouding my sight, I croak, just hoping I'll

wake up tomorrow somewhat whole.

"T- This was you!"

Then, adrenaline dumped, I collapse into the puddle of

blood pooling around us.