158I confess, both Berix and I got sick of looking at this chapter any longer and couldn't bear one last proofread. There may be more errors than normal.
"Didn't I tell you to stay in your room?"
Chiron's interjection cuts through the chatter like a hot knife through butter. All conversation dies out, suddenly and without warning. It's as if the very air had been sucked away, leaving behind a vacuum from which no sound can escape. The sort of silence in which you can hear a pin drop.
Everyone's attention is split - half on me and half on Chiron. I can practically see the cogs whirring inside their heads, the meaning behind the old man's words gradually sinking in. The very fact that he acknowledged me is a confirmation that there's at least a vein of truth behind whatever gossip there is about me circulating around the camp.
The inevitable result is that everyone arrives at the same question. If I do in fact exist, are the other rumours also true?
Everything abruptly erupts into chaos, the assembled campers falling into panic in one form or another. Some shout questions that are drowned out by yet more questions. A few stand a little too quickly and end up tumbling head over heels down the benches, taking out several others in their uncontrolled descent. More drop to the floor and take cover behind the benches, as if I had just tossed a grenade in their general direction. Atitha nervously munches on a tin can.
"Silence!" Chiron booms.
The frantic group of campers freeze in place. They look around, their eyes clear of the hysteria they exhibited moments before. And seeing the bedlam they had wrought, they quietly return to their seats, mortified looks present all around.
"I'm sure you all have a lot of questions," says Chiron, gently. Then, looking at the drawn blades still in the process of being sheathed, "And for some, concerns. But now is not the time for it. Anything you may wish to ask, I will answer - but later, after this issue has been dealt with."
He turns back to me, his face tense. "Why? Why would you volunteer for something like this?"
Why? Well, that's obvious. There's just one reason, just as there's only ever one motivation behind everything Shirou Emiya does.
"Because it's never wrong to want to save someone."
He doesn't respond straight away. Rather, he does nothing but stand stock-still, as statuesque as his students before him. Yet his expression shifts many times, reflecting changes in emotion almost too subtle to notice. Almost.
For one drawn-out moment, he wavers back and forth. Then at last he makes a decision.
"Fine," he says. "You want my trust? Then go out there and make sure they arrive here safe and sound. If you can do that, I will consider you a friend and ally, with all the luxuries that come with it."
"Of course." I nod. "Whatever it takes."
He too nods in turn. "Good. Of course, you can't go alone, so, as I was saying before, is there anyone who—"
"Chiron!"
A heavily-armoured camper charges into the amphitheatre like a rampaging bull, decked out in a set of crimson Hoplite regalia. For a moment, I feel a slight sense of camaraderie for this warrior cast through time.
Then I register the uncovered head and face and realise I recognise this person. And unlike myself, they very much belong here.
"Clarisse," Chiron drawled. "how nice of you to join us."
"The prisoner! He's escaped!"
"Oh, I'm well aware."
At Clarisse's perplexed expression, Chiron merely gestures towards me.
She scans her eyes over the benches. I can tell the moment she notices me, as she stiffens suddenly. Her face scrunches up in an expression of indignation, quickly turning the same shade as her breastplate.
"You!"
She draws her sword, enacting the wordless promise she made back in the farmhouse - to cut me down should I cause any trouble.
"That won't be necessary, dear."
Chiron smiles. For some reason, he looks eerily like Rin when she's pretending she's not angry.
"But, Chiron—"
"I seem to recall asking you to keep an eye on our guest, no?" interjects Chiron, still smiling that terrifying smile. "It seems that he has volunteered himself for a mission. As the one responsible for him, I believe it's only appropriate that you go with him. Don't you agree?"
...I suppose I have my first teammate.
"You know, I don't know whether to punch you until you spill your guts out, or give you a big hug."
It's been around half an hour since I elbowed my way into the camp meeting, which - after the disturbance that was my appearance - proceeded rather quickly. When his second call for volunteers went unanswered, Chiron fired off four names and ushered us all out before we could so much as say 'Olympians'.
And that leads me to where I am now, waiting inside a 'Delphi Strawberry Service' van as the others make their preparations, the surprisingly short hundred-eyed giant Argus at the wheel. Sat opposite me is none other Clarisse, now armed with a two-metre-long spear in addition to her sword. As penance for losing me before, she has yet taken her eyes off me ever since she clambered in the vehicle after me. An action made all the more concerning by the way she's fingering the shaft of her weapon.
I make a pointed effort to keep my unease from making itself known, instead raising my brow inquisitively.
And yet, despite my invitation for her to elaborate, she doesn't say another word.
"Alright Clarisse, I'll bite. Why'd you want to punch me exactly?"
"You made a fool of me, punk," she snaps. "I had to run around like a dumbass looking for you. The whole camp'll be laughing behind my back for weeks."
"Okay, I get that. And for the hug part?"
Her scowl gives way to a vicious grin. "You gave me an excuse to leave camp - that doesn't happen often. Chances are I'll get to kill something too. So thanks to you, I'll get to put all that training to work and cut loose a little."
Ah, so she's one of those people. A battle maniac looking for a good scrap, much like a certain Irishman I know. In other words, not someone I'd typically want to associate with, but it's something I can work with for now.
My eyes trail over to the still-open door. Chiron seems to be wrapped up in a discussion with some sort of… spatial distortion some distance away. The air seems to shimmer and sparkle under the faint light of the moon.
I lean forward in my seat to get a better look at it, only for my view to be obstructed as three bodies move into my line of sight. The van rocks and dips as the other reluctant volunteers hop in.
By the time they move out the way, the distortion has disappeared and Chiron is making his way over.
The centaur lowers his head through the door.
"I managed to make contact with the group's protector. They are alive and well, for now. But there's no telling when that will change. I told them to take shelter where they were and await rescue."
"And where exactly are they?" I ask.
"West Hempstead." He exhales audibly. "It is fortunate that they are not further afield. There just might be a chance…"
He cuts himself off. "No, I shouldn't think such thoughts. Nor keep you any longer - time is of the essence, after all. Stay safe, all of you. And no undue heroics out there. A dead hero is of no use to anyone."
And with that morbid remark, he slams the door shut. The van roars to life and pulls away, leaving the farmhouse and camp behind.
And leaving me to awkwardly bear the full weight of Clarisse's glare.
Unable - or perhaps unwilling - to endure it for the entire trip, I scrabble for something to distract her.
"That's a nice spear, by the way. Electric, right?"
She blinks in surprise. "Yeah… you can tell?"
"Weapons are kinda my thing."
A muttered 'sword mage' comes from somewhere on my left. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the ridiculous pseudonym, I glance to the left, then - seeing nothing but a toned, dark-skinned upper arm and shoulder - up, meeting the gaze of the young African-American man curiously staring me down.
"I don't think we've been introduced," I say.
"Beckendorf. Charles Beckendorf. Most just call me Charlie," he replies. "Head of Cabin Nine. Hephaestus."
"Ooh! Are we moving onto the introductions now?" the two boys sat either side of Clarisse chime in suddenly.
"I'm Travis Stoll," says the one on the left.
"And I'm Connor Stoll," adds the one on the right.
"Co-counsellors of the friendliest cabin around一"
"God of travellers and trade, Hermes!"
The two pose as dramatically as they can within the cramped confines of the van, all smiles and laughter; and I just know I'm going to struggle to tell them apart in the future. They both have the same mop of brown hair, the same blue eyes, the same slightly-mischievous grin. Looking at those impish features, I'm reminded that Hermes goes by another moniker too - one that's rather less flattering than those offered by his two sons.
"Charmed."
I turn to my right, where the last member of our party, another boy in his early teens, sits quietly reading a book. I couldn't tell you what it's about though; a glance at the pages shows they're entirely filled with Greek writing and… mathematical formulae?
Perhaps feeling the weight of my stare, he peels his attention away from his book.
"I suppose it's my turn then. Malcolm Pace, vice-counsellor for Athena cabin."
He turns his back to his book as if those scant few words were all I need to know. Figuring that I won't be getting anything more out of him just yet, I guess it's time for my own introduction.
"A pleasure to meet you all," I say. "My name's Shirou Emiya. I'm Japanese, if you hadn't already guessed as much. And as Beckendorf so eloquently put it, I'm a mage, though swords aren't the only thing I have up my sleeve. I look forward to working with you all."
"Same here," replies Beckendorf. He scratches his cheek absently. "So… you know who your godly parent is?"
"Hmm? I don't have one."
Everyone gives me this strange look, like I've just grown an extra head. An awkward air fills the cabin.
"Ah… has nobody given him the talk yet?" Connor asks.
Of course, he's not talking about the birds and the bees, but the conversation all the demigods have when they first arrive at camp. That moment when they discover their absentee parent didn't die in a car crash or run off with the babysitter, or whatever cover story they've been fed until that point. The point they realise their divine heritage and discover themselves to be more than just a dysfunctional outcast.
"Oh, I've had the talk. It doesn't apply to me because I'm not a demigod," I explain. "Just a plain and ordinary— well, mostly ordinary mortal."
A collective 'ah' emanates from the rest of the group. A beat of silence passes. Two.
Then an ungodly chorus of shouts shreds the tenuous peace.
"What do you mean you're a mortal?!" booms Beckendorf.
"What are you, then? An overgrown pixie?!" the Stoll brothers shriek.
"Such a liar," grumbles Clarisse.
"Can you not? I'm trying to read here," Malcolm mumbles.
I wince at the sudden ringing in my ears, made all the more painful for the irritated glares Argus's many eyes are shooting at us over his headrest. "Like I said, I'm a mortal. One-hundred percent human. I have no godly powers, but I had the potential and opportunity to learn magic, so I did. That's all there is to it."
"Wow," sighs Beckendorf. "And I was sure you were a dead ringer for Hephaestus, with the weapons and all. You sure?"
"Positive," I answer. "I… heard one of the common signs of being a demigod is having an absent parent. I don't remember them well, but... I know at one time I had both of them in my life."
Uncomfortable looks cross over everyone's faces, as if I'd evoked old memories— and not the good kind.
"I'm sure there's a story there, but I won't ask," says Beckendorf. "But for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
I smile faintly, feebly attempting to dispel the sudden gloom. "Don't be. It's not like you're responsible for what happened. And besides, it happened a long time ago - I'm over it."
Inexplicably finding myself unable to look any of them in the eyes, I turn my gaze to the floor.
If I were to face them head-on what would they see? What sort of expression would I make as I sift through the remnants of old memories, old recollections of the faces of people that are no longer around?
I can't for the life of me imagine what it would be. I'm not sure I even want to. Far better to live in ignorance than confront my own ugliness.
So instead I glare through the undercarriage to the road beneath. Even now, the distance to our destination is shrinking, as we continue to barrel towards it as fast as any mundane goods vehicle is capable of. Is it fast enough? There's no way to know. But I sure wish we'd picked something a little faster.
"So… Shirou, was it? How does a mage go about fighting monsters, exactly?"
I look up. Malcolm is still in the same position he was last time I looked at him. Except for the fact that his book is now closed and his face ever-so-slightly turned towards me.
"How? The same way anyone else would. They find themselves a monster and something sufficiently deadly to hit it with and keep at it until the monster stays down."
"Funny. I was hoping for something more specific though. And by that, I mean specific to you," he retorts. "We're about to go into battle, at the end of the day. It would help both of us to know what the other can do."
"Is that your personal doctrine or something?"
Malcolm's eyes flash with mild amusement. "That's the doctrine of all of Athena's children. There's a reason she's also known as the Goddess of Strategy and Warfare."
"Touche."
Yes, he does make a point. While I'm confident in my own skills, the enemy shouldn't be taken lightly. Given the relative difference in experience with regards to these foes and the cost of failure here, it only makes sense that I should use what they know. And in the same respect, them knowing what I'm capable of means they will be able to give me better directions in what's to come.
Even so, I'm hesitant to tell them everything there is to know. I may not be the typical magus, but I've still been instilled with a sense of secrecy even so.
In the end, I settle with a simplified explanation of my magecraft: that my body is capable of producing a limited supply of magical energy that can be used to cast spells; that my skills are tailored for battle over more 'wizardly' functions; and that I generally make use of these skills by manifesting weapons to fight with.
"Interesting," muses Beckendorf. "And these weapons of yours can kill monsters just like our Celestial Bronze blades?"
I eye the sheathed sword perched on his lap. A wide blade. Maybe eighty-five, ninety centimetres - too long to be a typical Greek Xiphos. Wrapped leather grip. Hammered into shape over the course of six hours, then bathed in Greek fire. Blood and sweat shed in equal parts to forge a blade that can cut even a god. M̷i̸n̴e̷d̷ ̵f̷r̵̫̈o̸̞̒m̵̥̈ ̵͍̙͆͒t̶͒̃ͅh̴̠̽e̴͇͒ ̵̖̹̉s̶͕̖͊̾è̵̥͒a̴͔̩̍͂t̴̻̾̍ ̶͎͖̆͘ó̶͍̫f̴͙̻͂̚ ̴̨̲̈t̶̮̹̐͝h̷̛̦̣e̴͔̒̌ ̴̜̺̓̑g̸̫̈o̴̜̓͊d̵̬́̂s̵̲̫̄́ ȃ̵̸̡͚̙́́͝d̴̖̈ ̶̙͕̾i̸̍̈́͜£̸̬̩̈̀&̷̬́ū̶̮"̶͚̙̋*̶̰̯͋ḏ̷̄̋ẇ̶̼̎̆͗|̶̡̘̙̮͆͝/̶̯̝͓̯͌̃͑~̸̛̩̔
There it is again. That feeling that there's something missing, some key component that lies just beyond my comprehension. Just what is that?
"...I've only tested one pair of blades on the locals so far," I answer mechanically. "but I'm sure I have others that'll work just as well."
Clarisse snorts. "Yeah, right. What good are your swords if you can't fight with 'em?"
I meet her doubtful gaze with a smirk. "Who said I can't?"
She blinks once, her scepticism shifting slightly towards uncertainty. Then the moment passes and the sneer returns.
"We'll see, won't we?"
"That we will."
All too soon, even. The moment of truth approaches. All that's left is to find out what waits for us. And pray that we're not too late.
The moment my team members and I dismount, the van peels away with a roar and the screech of rubber.
"He's not staying?" I ask.
"Nope. Too dangerous for him to hang around," Beckendorf answers. "We'll meet up with him later when we're in the clear."
We waste no more time with words and start to look around the area. A low-density residential district with the odd shop or two, but not in any significant quantity.
"So… any ideas where to start?"
Everyone shakes their heads. With no further indications of where to start, we opt to simply search the area on foot.
I eye the surrounding buildings curiously as we pass by. My earlier foray through the city had been far from leisurely, so I hadn't exactly had the time to take in the view. So this is essentially my first proper look at an American city.
It's… different from what I'm used to. There's just so much space. Intellectually, I knew that space was hard to come by in Japan in general, even if Fuyuki doesn't suffer nearly as much as the larger cities. As a consequence, nearly everything you see is built to be as space-efficient as possible.
That's not the case here. The population density can't be more than a fraction than it would be in Nakano, Toyonaka, or even Itami. And yet the way the roads have been laid out and the buildings spaced, it's like they expected that ten million people might suddenly start parading around at a moment's notice.
Something tells me that's not terribly likely this far out of the city, so the design choices are somewhat baffling.
Other than that, the general atmosphere is very different. It's more… chaotic, somehow, which is rather counterintuitive considering just how much given how empty this place is in comparison. Somehow a throng of ten-thousand Japanese businessmen marching to their various destinations feels more orderly than everything going on here.
There is one thing that's vaguely familiar, however. The sense that everything around me is the same, more-or-less unchanging no matter how far I go.
"It feels like we're going nowhere," I mutter. "Everything looks the same."
"Oh, are our cities too boring for you?" Clarisse grumbles. "I'm dreadfully sorry that we didn't make an effort to make our buildings unique and pretty. We were kinda busy making sure everyone didn't have to live out of a shoebox."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend," I apologise.
"Yeah, sure you didn't."
I open my mouth to apologise again but shut it without so much as another word. At the moment, it seems that Clarisse is determined to take anything I say in the worst possible way. It's probably best I just don't say anything at all.
Maybe that was also the wrong decision because she just scoffs at me. Damned if I do and damned if I don't, I guess.
I try to put it out of my mind for the time being. It doesn't particularly matter if my teammates like me, after all. As long as we can cooperate long enough to complete our mission, then I'll consider it a job well done.
By the time I come to that conclusion, the landscape changes slightly. The road that up until this point had been more-or-less straight starts to curve to the left and away from the residential area. Concrete construction starts to give away to an increasing amount of greenery.
We pass by a hospital and end up walking along the side of a slip road that angles towards a major thoroughfare. Either side of us, the ground slopes away towards a sapphire mantle. A lake, broad but short. Light flashes off the water's surface as it ripples from a gentle breeze.
I pull ahead of the others slightly as they stop to discuss what to do next. Giving half an ear to their conversation, I turn the rest of my attention and my gaze to the scenery, surveying the surrounding area. A particularly strong gust of wind billows past and I breathe in deeply, a reflexive action I've developed from being cooped up with the stale air of the Big House.
The breeze carries the scent of wet earth and wild gooseberries, stagnant water and oil. And sulphur… the only scent that continues to persist as the breeze dies down.
Behind me, the discussion has escalated into a full-on argument. Without turning around, I add my own voice to the discussion.
"Hey," I interject. The voices cut off. "If a satyr was in trouble and had to find somewhere safe to hide, where would they go?"
A brief pause.
"Well, satyrs are creatures of nature," Malcolm answers, "so somewhere they can use their nature magic: a meadow, or a forest, maybe."
Eyes still fixed on something ahead, I ask, "How about a park?"
Malcolm is the first to join me. Brushing aside a tree branch, he inspects the very thing occupying my attention.
Across the lake, less than a kilometre away, there's a large single-storey building surrounded by trees. Between the sycamore boughs, a sign reads: 'Welcome to Hempstead Lake State Park'
"Yeah, that'd do it," he breathes.
"I'd say it's especially likely given that there are monsters in those trees," I add.
"Really?" Connor asks, squinting over my shoulder. "Frickin' hell, he's right! How can you see like that, man?"
I absentmindedly slap his hand away as he reaches for my back pocket. "Magic. And it's not that impressive. I bet there're lots of people at camp who can beat that."
Travis chimes in with a snort. "Yeah, the Apollo kids, maybe. But archery is kinda their whole shtick."
"Enough chit-chat!" Clarisse snaps. She tries to punch Travis in the shoulder to accompany her words, but he dodges out of the way with practised ease. "Let's go kill shit."
"She's right," says Beckendorf. "This isn't the time to be standing around."
Without wasting any more, we start jogging down the roadside, following the narrow path that leads across the lake.
It isn't long before we reach the far shore, our exit coming up shortly after.
"Wait."
At my call and raised fist, everyone comes to a stop behind me.
"What's the hold-up? Quit stalling," Clarisse grumbles.
I block her with one arm and make a shushing motion.
"We've got company," I explain.
I point ahead, to where a hellhound is sniffing around the base of a tree.
"Let's avoid it for now," whispers Beckendorf.
Not eager to draw attention to ourselves too soon, we give the beast a wide berth and edge around it. Fortunately, it seems absorbed enough in its rooting around in the undergrowth to not notice us.
We all breathe a collective sigh of relief as we put the hellhound behind us.
"Where to next?"
"Let's try the building first," suggests Beckendorf.
"You really think they'd hide in a building?" Connor asks incredulously. "What happened to the whole 'satyrs are one with nature' thing we were going on?"
"C'mon, it's worth a shot, isn't it?" Beckendorf retorts. "'Sides, it's right here. Wouldn't you feel stupid if we ignore it and later find out they were here all along?"
Despite our misgivings, we all agree to scout out the building first. We try the front door first, only to find it's locked. With a wordless gesture, we circle around to find another way in.
On the opposite side of the building are several doors, glass panes with wooden frames. One of the panels is conspicuously smashed.
"Chances that our guys didn't do that?" asks Connor.
"A big fat zero," finishes his brother. He bows to Clarisse, gesturing to the door. "Gorillas first."
He doesn't quite manage to dodge her punch this time.
Ignoring the antics of my companions, I reach through the gaping hold in the door. Feeling neither a latch nor any give in the inside handle, I instead move my fingers to the lock itself. I shut off my vision and extend my perception to the mechanisms within.
An image appears in my head. A flick of a switch and my magical energy invades that image.
The lock crumbles under my fingertips. With a light push, the door effortlessly swings open.
I look back to an array of shocked expressions.
"Not much point cutting ourselves on the glass, is there?"
Not bothering to wait for an answer, I step across the threshold. Glass shards crunch beneath my feet, announcing my entrance for all to hear.
Thankfully, that only persists for the first few steps and then it's nothing but clear grey vinyl floor.
Since nothing's attempted to shoot or stab me in the few seconds I've been inside, I take the opportunity to get a good look at the space around me.
Once again, I'm taken aback by the difference in architectural style. Wooden panels line sage-green walls and the timber beams holding the vaulted ceiling aloft lie exposed. The room I'm in seems both open and large, taking up nearly the entire floor space of the building. Two doors lead to boxy little rooms in one corner of the otherwise rectangular room. And at one end, a door leads to another room of indeterminate size.
Towards the opposite end is an open space occupied by a few round tables, then a brick column and… a carousel?
I blink at the unexpected sight. A fairground ride is not something you'd typically expect to see indoors, after all. I turn to the others with an 'are you seeing this?' kind of look, but nobody seems particularly surprised by it.
"Let's look around," directs Beckendorf. "The more thorough we are, the better."
He and the others briefly look over the room - a superficial glance, really - and turn their attention to the doors at the end. Seeing no point adding one more body to their search, I head in the opposite direction. I turn my eyes upwards on the off-chance that satyrs can somehow make like a spider and climb ceilings, then look under the tables, even though I could clearly see from a distance that there's nothing under them.
But as I'm looking down, I see something unexpected. Stray drops of a crimson liquid trailing across the floor and towards…
I take a good look at the end of the room, past the barrier that surrounds the carousel.
"Oh my, that sheep's looking a little worse for wear."
The 'sheep' bleats back indignantly. "Goat. I'm a goat."
"Half goat," I retort. "Now, are you going to stop with that ridiculous pose?"
The satyr that didn't at all blend in with the roughly-painted wooden horses straightens and dusts himself off.
"Quite the rough fellow, aren't you?"
"I am when people's lives are on the line."
I turn away. "We're up one goat-man."
"And one half-blood," announces Beckendorf's disembodied voice. A moment, he and the others emerge from one of the side rooms with a child in tow.
The kid, a boy no older than eleven or twelve, shakes like a leaf as his gaze flicks between us, his eyes filled with trepidation— nay, terror. Until he notices his protector. "Ichin!"
"It's alright now, Matthew. These people are here to help."
"That's right," nods Beckendorf, ruffling Matthew's hair. "You've got nothing to worry about now. We'll deal with whatever comes our way."
As tears start to well up in the kid's eyes, a disturbing thought occurs to me.
I turn back to the satyr. "There were meant to be three of them. Where are the others?"
His expression clouds over. "They couldn't stand the waiting. They thought it'd be better to make a run for it."
"You let them go?!"
"What choice did I have?!" he snaps. "I tried to stop them, I did. But with the monsters right on our tail and them trying to leave… I couldn't risk them drawing their attention. Figured it'd just be better to let them go and take their chances."
A red haze comes over my vision. It's all I can do not to throttle him.
"Where. Did. They. Go?"
"I don't—"
I don't stay to listen to the rest. Within a flash, I'm outside, the door torn from its hinges in my haste. The voices of my companions, cries of shock and calls to come back, barely register to me.
But I ignore it all, even as my magical energy spreads to my ears and my eyes, empowering my senses. The sound of my own breathing rings loudly in my head. Too loud. I can hardly hear anything over the sound of my own body.
I grind to a halt and try to halt the hammering of my heart, forcibly instilling some degree of calm on my adrenaline-filled body. Through sheer force of will, I stifle the very same bodily functions that are keeping me alive.
The snow crunches behind me.
"Don't go running off like that, asshole!"
My concentration is interrupted by the one person that followed me. Clarisse, stumbling through the snow, breathing heavily despite the relatively short distance.
"Now…" she pants. "Stand still a second while I—"
"Quiet."
She inhales. Probably to snap some stupid retort.
"I can't hear a thing over you," I pre-empt. "Which means you need to be quiet."
Thankfully, she refrains from answering long enough for me to restore my focus. I return to my vigil and extend my senses to the world around me, losing all sense of self in exchange for perfect situational awareness.
I hear something off in the distance.
"That way."
"Huh?"
It takes Clarisse a second to realise I'm already gone. Another second to realise I'm already way ahead of her. Only then does she start to chase after me.
The gap between us narrows, slowly.
We run in silence, my head swivelling from side to side like a radar dish. An empty car park comes and goes, but a fleeting reprieve from the oppressive gloom of the skeletal trees.
A scream breaks the silence.
My vision blurs and I shoot forward at the speed of light. My eagle eyes pick out figures between the trees.
A flash and Archer's bow appears in my hands. A flurry of arrows takes flight and strikes with the power of a cannon blast.
As the monsters disintegrate into a white powder, I race towards their victim; a young girl, lying prone on the ground.
She panics at the sight of me and scurries backwards like a spider.
"It's alright, I'm here to help. Where's the other person? The one you were with?"
She looks off to the side. "H-he went that way."
As much as I want to stay and make sure she's alright, there's something much more urgent I need to do. I shout for Clarisse - who's still trying to catch up - to look after the girl, then rush off in the indicated direction.
The foliage thickens, shrubs briar and hawthorn left to grow untended between the trees. My range of vision dwindles and I'm left to run blind.
I stumble on the last of the missing demigods before I know what hit me.
One second I'm hacking away at a bush impeding my path. The next, I'm in the midst of a very surprised group of monsters. One of them, a giant even larger than the ones I killed on the camp's outskirts, stands over his prey; his weapon, a large club, held over his head.
There's no time to think. My bow is quickly discarded and a bronze two-hander takes its place.
The club descends.
And my blade rises to meet it.
My legs buckle slightly under the weight of his attack, the sheer momentum of such a brutish weapon hard to counter. But I hold it at bay.
And force it back.
The giant stumbles back and I turn, levelling my blade. And with a pirouette, I cleave him in two. A circular slash that slices through his midriff, bisects those unlucky enough to be within striking distance and drives the rest back with a gust of wind.
Only it's not as effective as I'd hoped. The giant rights himself, a gaping wound across his chest.
But he's still standing. Reinforced or no, a mundane blade isn't enough to take him down.
I click my tongue and dispel my weapon. Kanshou and Bakuya materialise in my hands. I bury them both up to the hilt in his gut, severing his spine in two places.
I pull my blades free and kick the giant away, just in time to bat away the clawed appendage that rakes at my neck. Two... animal-automaton constructs come at me from either side, their pointed fangs and crimson eyes painting a fearsome visage.
Unfortunately, I don't have time to test their mettle right now. One bout is all I'll allow.
They rush at me together and I end their lives in tandem, a quick amputation and beheading for both.
The skirmish ends as quickly as it began, the encirclement overcome in but a moment. I take but a moment more to ensure there are no other threats within range. Only when I'm certain that there's no immediate danger do I relax.
Now that the fighting's out of the way, let's move onto the next matter. If only this one was so simple.
Maybe it's best I don't do this next bit with swords in my hands?
Sparks flutter between my fingers as their form breaks. I turn and offer my hand to the boy at my feet.
"We should have some time now. Let's get out of here."
A moment's hesitation. He reaches up and matches my grip.
I idly note the contrast of his skin again mine, the slightly darker tone. Then the tan suede jacket, the feather earring hanging from his earlobe. And his chestnut-brown eyes boring into mine.
I haul him to his feet.
"We need to move quickly. Can you keep up?"
"I- I think so."
"Good. Let's go."
We catch up with Clarisse and her charge as they trudge through the snow and back to the pavilion. The look Clarisse of disdain gives me when we meet up again is quite something.
"Finally back are you? And here I was thinking you'd deserted."
"Do I really look like the kinda guy who'd run away from a fight?" I retort.
"Totally. You have this look that just screams 'coward'."
"How about we save the banter for when we're safely home, alright? And hurry up, you're dragging your heels."
She growls at me, but I pay it no mind and push ahead. Her steps speed up to match mine.
"Keep up, girl, or we're leaving you behind!"
I resist the urge to chastise Clarisse for her rough attitude. This situation is already terrifying as-is for the uninitiated without piling on. But we really can't afford to be divided right now - not when the headsman's axe is still hovering over our heads.
We slink our way back over the car park we passed earlier. Where we ran through at full tilt earlier, now we're conscious that two of our number have neither training nor weapons. They're vulnerable. Even a simple skirmish could prove deadly if we make the slightest mistake.
So we move carefully, doing everything we can to avoid attention.
But of course, our good luck eventually runs out. However, the only warning I get is the sound of a pattern of irregular footfalls.
"Incoming!"
A hellhound lunges at us from the shadows, jaws opened wide. Its target - the boy I rescued - barely has time to react.
I throw myself into the beast's path, stabbing at it with both my blades. But it twists at the last second, the thrusts aimed at its neck and heart missing their intended targets.
The full weight of its body slams into me and we go down in a tangle of limbs. It snaps at my head and I retort with a forceful application of my fist to its jaw. It recoils and I pull my knees towards my chest, then kick it up and over my head with all the strength my reinforced legs can muster.
I feel more than hear its ribcage collapse inward, eliciting a pained yelp. Though it weighs a lot more than I do, the hellhound flies through the air, tumbles across the snow and slams to a halt against a tree.
I roll back onto my feet, Clarisse and I both racing to finish it off.
But not quickly enough. A second before we bury our weapons in the hellhound's ribcage, it tilts its head back and unleashes a deafening howl.
The sound cuts off quickly, but the damage has already been done. First with a screech, then a roar, the forest comes to life. A cacophony of sound that can be boiled down to just one word: trouble.
"Move!"
The two break into an awkward sprint, feet catching on the snowdrifts. It's a pace both uneven and uncontrolled, a wildness driven by desperation.
They won't be able to last like that. But it's the only thing that will save them.
I can hear them now. A vast horde lies just out of sight, but there exists a vanguard of monsters that are all but breathing down our necks. We only have seconds until they're upon us.
I break away from the others and move to confront them, married blades ready and waiting.
And the monsters descend on me like a crashing wave. There's no time for thought. No time to even breathe. There's only the fight, the gnashing of teeth, slashing claws and the clash of metal against metal. Action and reaction, until there's nothing left standing.
A dracaenae stumbles back from an attack not my own and suddenly I'm not alone. Clarisse and Beckendorf and the others are at my side, hacking at the enemy with a zeal no less than my own.
The tide turns and now it's the monsters that are on the back foot. Beckendorf hews apart a Laistrygonian with a wide, sweeping blow. Clarisse jams her spear down the gullet of an over-eager hellhound. The Stoll brothers dance around the monsters like imps, stabbing at their ankles, tying their feet together with bronze wire and just being nuisances in general.
The enemy numbers dwindle into single digits, then to zero. A half-circle of ash mingles with the snow.
I breathe deeply, for what may have been the first time since the battle began.
Then the air is forcefully driven out of my lungs by Clarisse's fist in my back.
"What do you think you were doing, you idiot?! You really think you could take 'em all on your own?"
"Relax, Clarisse," chastises Beckendorf. "Everything worked out, didn't it?"
"It's alright, Beckendorf," I interrupt. I turn to Clarisse. "I wouldn't have done it if I had any choice. Besides, I'm fine."
And surprisingly, I am. Despite the madness that just ensued, all I have to show for it are a few tears in my clothes and superficial scratches. Flesh wounds and nothing more.
"Now, are you going to keep trying to chew me out over it? Or should we put it off until we're not in mortal danger?"
That sobers her up real quick. She gives me a quick look over and a less quick glower.
"We're gonna have a nice long chat about this later."
"Fine. But after we get back."
We resume our mad dash through the trees, the calls of the monsters echoing behind us.
Twice more we are assaulted by groups of monsters. Twice more we deal out death. Then we reach the forest's edge.
I stop just before the last tree.
"Go. I'll buy you some time."
Nobody bothers to argue, knowing they have neither the time nor energy to spare. With a few muttered 'good luck's and a threatening glare, they depart.
Leaving me alone to face the monster horde.
I'll admit, I don't fancy my chances of beating them all by myself. While they haven't been able to do much harm so far, I imagine that'll change the moment I'm unable to maintain my reinforcement. Or something stronger than a harpy or hellhound shows up.
No, I plan to do exactly as I said. If I can slow their advance, there'll be no need to fight them all. Just to hit them where it hurts and put as many obstructions in their way as I'm able to, for as long as I can. And then I can make my exit.
The first of the monsters makes itself visible through the treeline. My role begins.
"Trace on."
My reserves are currently sitting at a little under half. Nowhere near as much as is desirable, or even as much as I'll need. So, knowing I may have to make use of them later, I draw on the mana around me instead.
There's but half a second delay before my circuits start to process it into the form I need. A significant increase over using my od, but with such a distance between me and my foes, I can spare that length of time and more.
"This attack won't be nearly as powerful as it could be. But I hope you find it sufficiently deadly even so."
My left hand grasps the weapon that manifests before me. A bow, as long as I am tall. Powerful, nameless. A weapon that slew many a man, but was resigned to obscurity as ages passed. Just like the hero who wielded it. Just like the hero that continues to wield it.
A sword settles in my right hand. Another of his favoured arms - and one I have also taken a liking to. With a thought, the blade twists into a helix, notches emerging on the hilt. No longer a sword, but an arrow, if only by the slimmest definition of the word.
One of a pair, it wasn't meant to be used alone. But, for its brief moment of existence, it will wreak havoc on those who would oppose me. Heat flushes across my skin and rushes outward, filling the vessel to capacity. Making it powerful, but brittle.
Making it Broken.
My bowstring tightens, my shot ready and aimed. Then, with but a slight movement of my fingers, it flies free.
A beam of moonlight streaks through the darkness.
And erupts in a brilliant flash.
An explosion rips through the night. Trees topple like dominos, torn out at the root. The ground rolls and heaves like an ocean wave. And the monsters caught in the blast are erased without a trace.
An ungodly scream echoes through the darkness. An untold number of voices crying out in surprise.
A second arrow follows the first.
The screams become a roar. The monsters' advance falters.
That's it. Look upon my light and tremble. Know that you face your end.
Light flares at my fingertips again, an unmistakable but deadly portent. A prelude to a sudden end.
I will hold you here. So just try to get past me.
Merciless and unrelenting, I fire arrow after arrow. The terrain itself becomes a barrier, great trenches barring the path forward. To cross this desolate wasteland is to meet death.
Five minutes pass by. Then ten. Then a quarter-hour. But my ruthless slaughter continues on.
My shots strafe across the enemy lines, spanning both the length and breadth of their formation. Sparing none. Whether they run or fight, the moment they enter my vision is the moment their fate is sealed.
And then the field settles. Not a single monster made it through. No longer do they dare to try. The way behind me is simply too treacherous. Instead, they flow around the lake banks, looking for another way across.
I could stop those others too if I wanted. The distance is not so far that I can't reach them.
And yet, there is no need for such, not now. I've already bought all the time they need and more.
So, with the grim satisfaction of my hard work occupying my forethoughts and an uncomfortable heat across my entire body, I leave behind the blazing woods and slip like a ghost into the night.
It's about an hour later when I finally catch up to the others, some ways outside of West Hempstead. They're already on the way home, having evidently met up with Argus and gotten on the road, so to speak.
I briefly wrestle with the question of how exactly I'm supposed to rejoin them, before deciding that the simplest option is the best one.
So with that rationalisation, I jump up onto the roof. An inadvisable course of action at the best of times, but even more so when the vehicle in question is going approximately eighty kilometres per-hour.
I land with an uncomfortably hard thump and narrowly avoid slipping off. But hey, that's better than the alternative of overshooting the van and landing just in time to get hit by it. A favourable enough resolution, if you ask me.
Of course, just as I think that, I nearly get skewered by three swords and a spear from underneath. I hastily knock on the side door to the tune of shave and a haircut before the occupants think to go for a round two.
The door slides open. Clarisse pops her head out, her spear poised inches away from my nose. Then, seeing my upside-down face staring back at her, she wipes her eyes.
"Room for one?" I ask.
She wordlessly opens the door wider and I carefully clamber in, collapsing into the nearest available seat. Clarisse takes the next seat over.
I sigh wearily. "Well, then. I think that went rather well, don't you?"
"That it did, Shirou, that it did," Beckendorf answers. "In no small part thanks to you."
"Good. Good."
"You said that twice," remarks Travis.
"Is it a sign of insanity, or lack of sleep?" Connor asks.
"That's a good question. Let me get back to you after I've eliminated the one possibility I can actually address."
"Sure, sure."
With that final remark, I close my eyes. A sudden jolt sends a flash of pain down my spine.
I might've pushed myself a little too far…
While the surplus of mana here has certainly improved my overall combat effectiveness and operating time, it certainly has its drawbacks. It seems I'll have to put a long more thought into how I manage my circuits from now on.
But that's a problem for tomorrow. For now, all I need to worry about is recovering. And the first step is always a good night's rest.
Of course, I forget to factor in my dismal luck. Under Clarisse's withering glare, I don't manage to get so much as a wink of sleep the whole ride home.
Our reception on arrival is a warm one. Despite it being way past curfew, it seems as if the entire camp is ready and waiting for our return.
The moment my foot touches solid ground again, there's a sudden rush and in an instant, I'm surrounded by people. Faces blur together as I'm jostled every which way by campers eager to catch a glimpse of the returning victors, to congratulate them on a safe return or clap them on the shoulder. It's as if nobody wants to be left out - and in some cases, are eager to outdo the others with increasingly extravagant displays of gratitude.
Before I know it, a bundle is forced into my arms and more quickly heaped on top. First a jacket with the emblem of some sports team on the back; then a pair of clearly second-hand but well cared for winter shoes that are two sizes too big and a book titled 'A quick-start guide to monster-slaying; or keeping your innards from becoming outards'. Someone from the Hermes cabin flashes me a wink and slips me a collection of surreptitiously-taken photos of several older female campers in various states of undress. Presumably without the victims' knowledge.
Unable to reject the last in the heat of the moment despite how highly sketchy it is, I bury the photos among the other gifts before someone catches sight of them.
The others are quickly drawn away and surrounded by well-wishers of their own. Every so often, they'll resurface for a second or two, letting me know they're still around. But I do notice that Beckendorf disappears after a while… must have made his escape early before things got too hectic. Lucky guy.
"Woah, make way, make way!"
A figure rising head and shoulder over everyone else looms into view. The throng parts respectfully.
"My my, quite the fuss they're making, aren't they?" says Chiron. "It's been quite some time since I've seen them this excited."
"With good reason," I reply.
"Yes, quite." Chiron looks out across the scene. "A daring rescue and everyone made it back in one piece. I couldn't ask for more."
He looks at me consideringly. "Mr. D and I had a rather lengthy discussion in your absence."
"About me, I imagine. Did Mr. D advocate throwing me out or something?"
"Actually, he was rather indifferent about you, in all honesty."
"Ah." Figures.
"Yet, it appears he has no strong feelings against you staying here either. Besides that, I've also heard you performed quite admirably out there."
He leans ever so slightly to one side. Over his shoulder, Beckendorf gives me a thumbs up.
"Is that so?"
"It is. So, given that our camp director doesn't have any major objections and your conduct so far, I have come to a decision."
He straightens, adopting a more formal air.
"Shirou Emiya. Though your circumstances are far from the norm, you have proven yourself a friend and an ally to everyone here. I hereby offer you a place here among us, for as long as you deem fit. What say you?"
Never one to make light of a serious situation, I straighten up, my head held high.
Joining the camp was never something I'd set out to do. From the start, my only priority was finding a way home as soon as possible. But the means by which I might do that are beyond my knowledge and beyond my power. The current me doesn't have what it takes to leave this world.
However, that doesn't mean I can't find a way. That I can't effect change. I will find my way. home.
But.
Such a thing takes time. And there will be many obstacles in my way, many enemies I may face. This isn't something I can do alone. So, to that end, I need someone I can trust.
I don't know yet if Chiron and his campers are that 'someone'. But sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith.
I lower my head. "That's quite a gracious offer. I accept."
As if to cement our agreement, we shake hands. His grip is firm, unwavering.
"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Shirou Emiya."
Finally... it's over.
My eyes hurt and I probably need a break from my computer, so I'm going to try to keep this brief.
Firstly, an apology for the chapter and my delay in putting it out. I feel like the quality is a little all over the place (good in parts, shaky in others) and it took way longer to write than it should have. Unfortunately, I've had a rough time since I last updated. Normal writing issues coupled with IRL issues. I don't think I've mentioned it on here before, but I've spent the last two years dealing with my deceased father's affairs (and things are particularly busy on that front right now thanks to certain events); I had technical issues where I thought I was going to have to replace two of my hard drives and get a new copy of Windows (I thankfully fixed that at the cost of wiping my boot drive and losing the vast majority of my data on it as well as a significant chunk of time) and more recently, my grandmother passed away, which sucks in itself but also means I'll likely have to become a full-time carer for her brother, who suffers from dementia and was wholly dependent on her and the part-time support worker that would visit them.
So, as you can tell, I'm not doing so well. So that's why, I'm sorry to say, I need to take a break from writing. Not for too long, hopefully - I'm only planning on it being for a month or two, so you probably won't notice anything being different considering how sporadic my updates usually are. But I definitely need some time for a mental break and to make some lifestyle changes that'll hopefully put me in a better place mentally. I fully intend on replaying the F/SN VN, watching/reading some other Fate works, devouring season 5 of My Hero Academia in preparation for updating An Ideal Hero. And do some research on stuff. Hopefully, I'll be in a much better position to continue writing when I come back.
Thank you all for your support and your patience so far. And again, I'm sorry for making you want even longer for the next chapter. I'm planning for the next chapter to be the last filler chapter before the main plot starts, which is probably what you've all been waiting for all this time. So please bear with me until then.
Since I don't know if/when I'll be able to return to work, I'm going to be a really sucky person and plug my P.A.T.R.E.O.N, even though this isn't the best of times right now with everything going on. I wouldn't do this otherwise, but every little helps and I could really do with a little help right now. I'll actually make the effort to put something on my P.A.T.R.E.O.N, which admittedly hasn't felt like it was worth it until now because it was getting zero interest (probably precisely because I hadn't put anything on there, therefore making an endless circle of nothing happening). Otherwise, I'll probably just delete it cos I just feel really cringe right now.
Other than that, please point out any mistakes you see so I can correct them. And give this fic a follow/favourite if you want to see more. Would be cool to break the 4-digit barrier on follows with this chapter, if I can. It would be a nice pick-me-up.
There's probably so much I've forgotten to say, as usual, but it's so much worse knowing it'll longer than normal before I'll be back to address it. I feel like I should rationalise some of my decisions with this chapter before somebody lambasts me for it, but I really don't have the energy to do so. So for now I'll just say... thank you all for being here. And thank you again to Berix for sticking with me through all of this^^^^ mess. I consider myself blessed to have a beta who can tolerate me for so long.
Goodbye, for now. I'll see you in the next one.
If you like what you read here, please consider supporting me on P.A.T.R.E.O.N.
P a treon.c om (slash) TheEternalEscapist