490I. Effulgent Dawn
"I was dreaming. On nights of the full moon, I would become a small child and find myself embraced by nostalgic warmth. But when I wake from the dream, only a vague sense of longing remains. That, too, soon fades away. With a single tear like morning dew."
– Muira Kentaro
"Victory is yours."
As my body trembled with exhaustion and pain, each breath agonizing as I breathed in the acrid odour of burnt wood and metallic scents of all sorts, the stench of death and decay lingered in the air. My muscles, wounded and protesting from the constraint of battle, struggled to find balance upon the slick, blood-stained cobblestone.
The night sky was a canvas of golden threads, each one intricately woven and pulsing with an otherworldly power. Each thread led to a different weapon, each one poised and ready to strike me down with deadly accuracy, with the faintly illuminated moon bearing witness to my helplessness.
"Perish with that satisfaction, faker."
Defeat loomed over me, a familiar but unwelcome presence.
I had tried my best, pushed beyond my growing limits, but it was not enough. As I stood on this battlefield, I could not help but question if it were worth it; the answer came as immediate as the question.
Yes, we have saved countless lives and prevented a tragedy, but at what cost? The sacrifices of this war weighed heavily on my heart, casting a shadow over any sense of accomplishment.
Was it truly a victory when much was lost?
The Once and Future King, Artoria Pendragon, faded from this world after fighting relentlessly against her lone source of hope. She sacrificed her idealistic dream to save both myself and the world. Now, she has returned, sworn to serve once more.
I felt a pang of worry as I sensed fading prana from Tōsaka, but I knew she was intelligent and strong enough to survive – I would make sure of it.
Like a wounded lion, I rose to meet my final foe, my body battered and bruised, but my resolve burning bright like the furnace within that forge.
The air around us was thick with the smell of magic and power, almost suffocating in its intensity. And underneath it all was the faint scent of burning incense, a reminder of the countless prayers and offering made to this legendary king.
The oldest writings of the world told of a greedy king that amassed riches in his quest for immortality. A benevolent king that fought the gods for the sake of humanity. A tyrant that believed the world to be his garden. Every single one of those characteristics suited the man before me.
I could not deny his otherworldly magnificence.
Gilgamesh stood before me, his piercing scarlet eyes betraying a complex of emotions. It was as if he were granting me one final glimpse of the sunrise before my time was up.
But that was not to be.
An unfathomable knot of chaos erupted from beneath the severed limb of the king, disrupting the solemnity of the moment and unleashing a torrent of writhing energy. The spherical confinement shattered as the chaos expanded, devouring everything in its path like a hungry beast. In a blink of an eye, it engulfed the man entirely, leaving only scattered debris in its wake.
As I watched in horror, a gilded chain materialised before me – The Chains of Heaven, my mind scrambled – and snaked its way around my arm with an unbreakable hold. The links stretched out into that otherworldly void as I desperately tried to free myself. But it was no use. A surge of panic overwhelmed me as my instincts screamed at me to flee, but I was rooted to the spot by an unknown force. In a fleeting moment, I even considered severing my own arm to escape, but maddeningly, I could not move a muscle. Cursing my own weakness, all I could do was grit my teeth and brace for impact as the chaos pulled at me too.
From within the swirling miasma, Gilgamesh materialises with a roar of anger. His hand clenched tightly, blood dripping onto his most prized possession – a testament to his unparalleled power. "You malformed abomination!" His words cut into my skin like shards of glass as the chains tightened around me, digging deeper and deeper with each passing moment. "Does it not realise that a Servant cannot serve as its core?!"
Pain shot through every fibre of my being as the chains constrict with an unrelenting force. I grit my teeth in agony, struggling to maintain even a shred of defiance in the face of Gilgamesh's unbridled fury.
Gilgamesh's ferocious roar echoed across the battlefield, his scarlet eyes set ablaze with defiance. "I refuse to die!" he bellows, his voice dripping with scorn. "Stand your ground, you filthy ruffian! I will not fall until I have climbed back to where you stand!"
In a desperate frenzy, I try to summon my strength and project a blade to free myself from the gravitational vacuum. But my efforts were in vain, my weakness making it impossible to escape the pull of my adversary. And just as I gathered my last bit of energy to push against the force, a misstep caused the tile beneath me to shatter, sending me into a disorienting state of weightlessness.
As time slows down, I came to a chilling realisation and a sense of dread washes over me. An ominous expression takes over my strained face as I know that this may be the end for me.
I will not be able to keep my promise to you, Rin.
Suddenly, I was wrenched into the unknown.
Faith, to some, is a comforting concept – a promise of rest, a journey to paradise, or simply nothingness. This belief was passed down from generation to generation among magi, ingrained in their culture and practices. But for Emiya Kiritsugu, raised by a strict father, faith was nothing but a futile invention of the corrupt to prey on the weak. Yet, one truth remained certain in his mind.
"Death is absolute."
But for Emiya Shirō, it was excruciating.
Agonised screams tore through his raw, exposed throat as his body convulsed and contorted in a never-ending cycle of pain. His fingers dug into his own flesh, carving deep trenches of torment and madness.
Each excruciating shriek echoed for what felt like an eternity, only to be followed by the same cry repeating itself. His body died and was reborn, over and over again, within this void of nothingness, each time glowing with intense heat before turning bone-white and freezing, then shredding apart and reforming.
His primal instincts screamed for him to reinforce himself, to protect himself from the unknown horrors of the universe that invaded his senses and shattered his sense of reality. But how could he defend against something he could not comprehend? How could he fight against everything when he was nothing but a speck in its continuity?
As the cycles continued, a fleeting thought flickered through his mind, a desperate whisper of a long-forgotten hope; he prayed for salvation.
He is ainu,
Hakushu's words echoed in my mind, a reminder of my own struggles as I dragged through each day, the words taking a new meaning. Was I truly living or going through the motions? The exhaustion and pain that consumed me made it hard to decipher the answer.
It may be that I was barely surviving instead of truly living.
brows shimmering,
A laboured gasp and a brush of death's lips conjured within me a brutal truth; I was blind. My eyes could not perceive the light scorching my bare flesh nor the lush greenery beneath my body, trapping me in eternal darkness.
white beard hanging down his chest.
Alone in the darkness, I am consumed by fear and dread. Every breath is laboured, and every movement sends waves of agony through my battered body. As I lay dying, abandoned and forgotten once again, I am tormented by the thought of facing death alone once more.
Thatched mat laid outside the house, solemnly attus,
I could not help but clench my fists in frustration.
On one hand, I did not want to let go. I had so much left to do and see. But on the other hand, I could not bear to keep fighting this pain any longer.
My mind was filled with conflicting thoughts – I needed to know if Fuji-nee was well and fed, if Rin had made it through, if I could fix the temple for Issei and his family. But above all, I wanted to achieve my ideal, no matter the cost. It was a constant battle within my mind – between my will to survive and my desire to fulfil my purpose.
However, as I lay there, struggling with these conflicting thoughts, I realised that death may not be the worst outcome.
blade in hand, sharpening, sitting cross legged,
huffing and puffing.
I feel torn between wanting to prove Archer wrong and proving myself right.
I cannot help but wonder if my countless attempts to save have all been in vain, a foolish pursuit of an unattainable dream. But a part of me still wants to prove myself wrong and show that I can save everyone.
I want to save myself.
His eyes, focused,
A voice, soft and maternal, caressed my ears. It seemed to emanate from a figure in glancing light within that shroud of darkness, briefly revealing glimpses of platinum hair and olive skin. I could make out her features, but I sensed she was there to answer my desperate pleas. My throat constricted, as if punctured by sharp nails and rusted blades. Speaking became a struggle as I tried to form a single word. It was excruciating, yet I could not tear my sight away from the mysterious figure before me.
he is ainu.
"It can only be a miracle, dear child. To have endured such endless suffering in the void, yet still cling to life." A comforting hand reached out and held my chin gently. "You are indeed an incredible child. To have achieved such existence without the aid of the heavens is nothing short of remarkable." The warmth and kindness emanating from their touch filled me with a sense of hope and gratitude. It was as if the very heavens were acknowledging my resilience.
Soft were the fingers that traced my scarred visage, a different kind of warmth caressing my twisted cheek, beckoning a sense of nostalgia, a longing that seemed many a lifetime ago.
God of his land, descendant of
Wisdom and Life.
"Do not be afraid." Words that invoked a sense of terror and disbelief. "I will provide you sight and speech. O, Light of Invigoration."
I felt as though I were immersed in the depths of waters, light shattering the darkness from the distance. I reached out to it, reassured that I was nearing salvation, and as I broke through the surface, I breathed.
Only for it to be taken away at the sight of my saviour.
I failed to find the words to describe her, the woman whose gaze conveyed an abundance of warmth and care, her eyes crinkling with merriment as her lips drew back in relieved joy.
It brought tears to my eyes, and I wept.
Light feathers quietly encompassed my surroundings, her splendour a secondary thought as she held me tightly. Her warmth was a source of comfort as I wept; whether of grief or celebration, I did not know.
She accepted it all with kindness.
"I – I apologise." I spoke, but the tongue was otherworldly.
Strange, yet so remarkably familiar.
Platinum framed her delicate features, watery blue eyes quietly studying me as I did her. Her presence told of divinity, beautifully hallowed by a golden hue that emanated from that radiant halo that hovered above her head.
"Dear child, your soul is burdened. So weary were your cries that reached the very heavens." She confessed. "As is my sworn duty, my brethren and I govern the safety of humanity – stranger or not." A look of understanding, and a kind smile. "I ask thee; for what is it you pray?
Perishing.
Because of her kindness, I could look to the scenery around and found lush greenery and mighty trees radiating with such fullness, it could only be attributed to the holy essence of the woman before me. The moonlight shone with such iridescence, I almost believed it to be day, were it not for the stars gleaming so bountifully in those dark skies.
In that moment, a strange voice, one whose name was beyond reach, whispered truth and unveiled the nature of this world.
"An impossibility." It spoke. "You are very far from home."
She was an impossible existence, for the Age of Gods had ended so long ago.
People pray. They fast their lives away. Fornicate in a twisted sense of worship and make offerings of children to gods to gain favour. Such was the fruitless endeavours of humanity that led them to the whims of evil; Magus are born of that evil, thus their practices pertaining a varying degree of inhumanity.
This land of milk and honey cannot be of that world.
"Ever since I was young, I have wanted to help people. It is all that I have ever wanted to do." I found it easier to communicate. "It may not be my own dream, but it is an ideal I wish to make a reality, if only for the sake of the man who saved my life."
The living dead.
He had called us a machine, perpetual and unstopping in our duty. "I have battled myself, one who failed to realise this ideal. He sought to kill me with the hope of ending his own suffering as well." Mechanically, I stared at the woman before me. "Was it wrong to wish to prove my father correct? Is it so wrong that, despite facing my future, I wish to prove even myself wrong? To prove that my father's dream was simply not that, a dream?"
I came to realise it during our battle that Archer was not wrong; even his desire to end my life was warranted. He, who has seen countless deaths and caused about as many – for the greater good – wished to save me from the torment of which he would never escape.
Truly, the path of a Hero of Justice is a thorny one.
Nodding to the summer day,
the white sunlight, looking down.
Wondrous were the eyes that watched on as I laid my heart before her, softening at the despair of which I undoubtedly exuded. With my mind clearer than ever before, I wondered whether my words proved the damage that Rin found within me, or whether it triggered incredulity as in the man I was to become someday.
Instead, her expression softened, and I found myself laid bare before her presence.
"One's act of saving another can never be wrong, dear child." Sitting before me, her presence was comforting. "I know of another such as the one which you speak of. Damned was he for his pursuit, and yet, his love for your kind remains boundless."
I could only hold my breath as she spoke, her words touching a part of my soul which had remained hollow throughout my life and the past that never came to be.
"His life, no matter the turn it took, is beautiful. Just like your self, the one whose life was spent in pursuit and failure to reach that dream." Her brow furrowed, a hint of sadness to it. "Saving every single life is an impossibility, dear child, regardless of how beautiful a dream it may be."
I lowered my head, accepting of the truth of which I had learned through meeting myself.
"Yet, it is possible to save many." She spoke with a tone of hope; a hope borne of an ageless faith. "Dear child, I wish to grant you the means to do so."
Simply catching his breath.
It was as if I was bathed in pure light, embraced by the vibrant flora that seemed to rejoice in her splendour. Her wings, glistening with white and gold tresses, multiplied before my very eyes as I tried to count each one. She was a Seraph, a heavenly being that beckoned the resonance of a core that oft lay dormant.
Glimpses of the King of Knights brought forth whispers of an eternal promise, once in war, twice in an everlasting garden. A promise of faith and of protection; another of a bond with the Fae that constructed this most beloved artefact. She smiled as if realising the nature of the Everdistant Utopia.
Her words rung like a melody sung by the most ethereal choir, each one carrying centuries of wisdom and grace. Her wings, a manifestation of her nature, radiated power, and authority of the likes that even the most revered of kings would fall in piety.
"I, Gabriel of the Seraphim, acknowledge you, Emiya Shirō, a dear child from a world beyond." Her wings thundered just as powerfully as her words. "I offer thee a gift and ask for your aid, that you fight by my side as an emissary of Truth."
I do accept, I thought wondrously.
Holy Fire seared through my body, but I felt no pain. A blinding light befell me, yet I could not take my eyes from her. I was strengthened by her, emboldened by her faith, that I would not lose sight of the one placing her faith in me. It was within that trance that I noticed an object approach, and despite my unfamiliarity, I recognised it.
"Strange." I thought as a torrent of power washed over me, its origin emanating from the object that belied such intrinsic care and mindfulness. "What a miraculous world this is."
Kiritsugu was wrong; death is beginning your life anew.
"That was beautiful."
'Truly, I do have a story to tell, and I hope to have the means to do so.'
- cheapseance.
(08/08/24)