The tension in the air crackled louder than the fire swirling around Shirou's sword.
He tightened his grip on the hilt, eyes locked on the man who stood opposite him. His cloak billowed in the wind, the dull steel of his blade reflecting the faint moonlight seeping through the cracked roof. Five figures stood behind the man, but their leader stepped forward alone, exuding mana like heat from a forge.
"I won't say this twice," Shirou said, voice low, steady. "Leave now, or all of you will die."
The man smirked. "You really talk as if you could win."
"You'll need more than five men."
The smirk widened. "Oh, I think you're mistaken. I'm the only one fighting. They don't have what it takes to defeat you."
Shirou narrowed his eyes. His senses sharpened. This man was dangerous.
Just as Shirou opened his mouth to reply, a small sound came from behind.
Nana.
He turned quickly and crouched beside her. The little girl rubbed her eyes and looked around sleepily. "Who are they?"
"Don't worry about them," Shirou said softly. "I want you to turn around and close your eyes. Don't open them until I say so. Got it?"
She nodded obediently.
Shirou took off his cloak and wrapped it around her small frame.
Behind him, the leader called out, "You done with your goodbyes?"
"Yeah."
Flames sparked to life along Shirou's sword as he rose to his feet. Heat pulsed through the room.
The enemy stepped forward, and his own mana flared, a deep violet light wrapping around his body like a second skin. His sword, once plain, now shimmered with violet energy.
"So an ability user, huh?" Shirou muttered.
The pressure rolling off the man intensified. It wasn't just his sword—it was his entire body. The mana wasn't chaotic; it was focused, trained, honed. It clung to him like armour, reinforcing muscle and steel.
Shirou could sense it. He was faster. Stronger. And judging by the way the wooden floor beneath him cracked with each step, he wasn't just bluffing.
"That mana," Shirou muttered, "it's strengthening him. I, too, can strengthen my body by covering it with my mana, but the mana around him seems denser. Is that normal, or is he that efficient in using his mana? No, that can't be. I have a system, so I should be able to do it as well. Then it might be his innate ability. This might be tough."
The leader gave a cocky grin. "You ready to die, kid?"
Shirou narrowed his eyes. "We'll see."
Then the enemy lunged.
Shirou barely had time to lift his blade before their swords clashed with a thunderous clang. Sparks scattered. The force of the impact jolted Shirou's arm. He staggered back, but kept his footing.
The man didn't let up. A flurry of slashes followed—each one faster than the last. Shirou blocked two, deflected a third, but the fourth grazed his side.
He winced, biting down the pain. The heat from his own flame licked his skin as he stepped back and refocused.
Don't try to overpower him, Shirou told himself. Find the opening. Breathe. Stay calm.
The enemy rushed in again, this time feinting a vertical strike before switching to a horizontal slash.
But Shirou was ready. He angled his blade just right, redirecting the blow. Using the momentum, he twisted his body around and sliced upward, flame trailing behind his steel.
The sword bit into the man's coat, cutting across his ribs.
Blood sprayed.
The leader hissed and jumped back, pressing a hand against his side. "You've got fire," he growled, "but no technique to back it up."
Shirou didn't answer. He took a stance, his breathing steady, his sword burning a deeper crimson.
This time, he pressed forward.
"Flame Edge!"
Mana surged through the blade as dark crimson flames coiled around it like a living serpent. Shirou brought it down in a heavy arc.
His opponent met the blow with a swift motion, steel ringing against steel, then twisted his blade into a sharp diagonal slash.
Shirou leapt back just in time, but not before the edge grazed his chest, leaving a shallow cut. He barely flinched. Gritting his teeth, he charged forward—strike after strike, each blow faster than the last.
He raised his sword for a downward swing, aiming to end it, but the man didn't block. Instead, he twisted his body mid-step and slammed a brutal kick into Shirou's ribs.
Pain exploded through Shirou's side. He was flung across the room, crashing through a wooden support beam. Splinters rained down as he skidded along the floor.
He dug his sword into the ground to stop himself, panting hard. Blood trickled from his mouth.
"Okay, I wasn't expecting that", Shirou murmured.
But the man wasn't done. Before he could rise fully, the leader was already upon him, sword gleaming as it came for his neck.
Shirou raised his blade just in time to block. The force nearly knocked the weapon from his grip, but he held on. Sparks flew as their blades locked. Their eyes locked onto each other for a brief moment.
They broke apart, and Shirou leapt back, raising his sword high.
"Flame Arc!"
A crescent slash of fire burst from his sword, roaring across the room. The leader ducked, sliding beneath it.
But that was what Shirou wanted.
"Fire Release—Great Fireball!"
A massive orb of flame burst from Shirou's hand, engulfing the enemy's path. The man jumped back, eyes wide.
As the man dodged, Shirou flanked him, circling to his blind spot.
"Flame Edge!"
The man tried to raise his sword to block it, but too late.
The sword pierced through the violet mana shield and carved into the man's left abdomen, the flame searing the wound.
The leader let out a sharp grunt, stumbling backwards.
Blood flowed freely now.
But Shirou didn't move. His sword remained poised, burning brightly
in the moonlight. His expression was cold, focused.
And behind him, Nana still sat with her eyes closed.