"Phew… I might've overdone it."
Shirou lowered his twin blades, breathing slightly heavier. The massive mana expenditure from unleashing his Noble Phantasm had left the circuits in his body humming like an overheated engine, a swelling heat filling every limb. Gripping the hilts, he stabbed the blades into the ground to steady himself and ease the burning discomfort.
In gaming terms, he was in a "post-move stun."
Fortunately, his mana recovery had improved greatly after his last bath in dragon's blood—without it, he might not have been able to handle such output.
For example, Archer could also project and unleash the true names of Noble Phantasms, but the cost was so high that it placed a huge burden on his Master. That's why Archer almost never projected original Noble Phantasms, preferring to use fake copies and fire them off to cause Imaginary Number collapse—far more efficient.
Footsteps rushed up behind him.
Shirou turned to see Eriyi approaching quickly, followed by Maso Mayu and her Servant, Paraiso.
Mayu had already been resting for a while, yet she still looked more winded than Shirou—who had just released his Noble Phantasm. Her cheeks were flushed, sweat beading on her forehead, chest heaving. The short, chaotic moments they'd just gone through had left the ordinary high school girl completely unprepared.
"Victory?" Eriyi clapped her hands against her notebook, raising them high, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Shirou couldn't help but smile, lightly high-fiving her. "Yes. Victory."
By now, he'd gotten used to her little quirks. This one was like the special victory pose at the end of a cleared dungeon in a game.
After clapping, Eriyi spun lightly, her long hair fanning out as if celebrating a grand win. She skipped aside to make room for the Master and Servant behind her.
Mayu finally caught her breath, brushing away sweat from her brow, her flushed face damp and sticky under clothes clinging uncomfortably to her skin.
"Um… Shirou… san…"
She broke off as her eyes moved past him—and froze in awe.
The Noble Phantasm "Rikudō Gorin: Kurikara Tenchō" had completely reshaped the terrain. Several streets ahead were swept into a flat, open path, all buildings and clutter gone, only scattered rubble from the crushed ground remaining.
And ahead, the final strike of the white divine sword had carved a pitch-black, terrifying chasm. Even a glance at its depths filled her with an inexplicable dread, making her instinctively step back.
"This… this is…" She almost blurted out something about the power of a god, but remembered Paraiso's earlier words—this wasn't a real god, it was Shirou's… what was it again? She forgot the term.
Shirou kindly supplied it. "A Noble Phantasm. This is the power of a Noble Phantasm."
"Ohhh." She made a sound of wonder—without understanding a bit more.
"By the way, Miss Maso Mayu, how did you end up here? And that Command Seal, and your Servant…" His gaze fell on the red markings on her hand.
When they'd met at the manga shop earlier, she'd had nothing of the sort.
Mayu quickly waved her hands, cheeks pink. "Just call me Mayu. As for how… it just sort of happened…"
She explained her sudden arrival in this "other world" and the strange summoning of an unknown Servant.
"Random summoning?" Shirou looked at the kunoichi beside her. She looked oddly familiar.
"Normally, that's impossible. Summoning needs a catalyst—something to attract the Heroic Spirit. If I may ask, that manga you're holding…"
"This?" Mayu blinked and looked at what she was clutching. "It's Basilisk—with your autograph. I just kept holding it without thinking because it's important to me…"
She suddenly realized how that sounded, her face going redder. She hurried to change the subject.
"So… I summoned her with a manga? But Paraiso doesn't know her true name or origin. Is that because I'm too weak?"
"My lord," Paraiso spoke softly, lowering her gaze. "It is not your fault—it is my inadequacy."
"Kōga…?" Shirou's eyes narrowed as fragments of memory surfaced. Female ninja from the Kōga school… the most famous was Mochizuki Chiyome, who appeared in both FGO's Sub-Singularity III and the Atlantic Lostbelt.
In history, she was a kunoichi of the Mochizuki family, serving the Takeda clan in the late Sengoku era. In the Nasuverse, she inherited the divine curse of her ancestor Kōga Saburō, tied to Ibuki Daimyōjin—another name for the Yamata no Orochi—making her both ninja and serpent priestess.
"Then your true name should be Mochizuki Chiyome, the Kōga ninja."
Chiyome hadn't expected someone to guess her name so quickly.
"So that is my name? Though my memories have yet to return, I am grateful for your aid." She bowed politely.
Mayu stared at her Basilisk manga. Summoning a Heroic Spirit could be this random? You could pull someone from history with a comic book?
While they spoke, Eriyi ignored the adult conversation. She wandered over, picked up Shirou's twin swords from the ground, and began clumsily swinging them around, sometimes striking awkward stances as if mimicking profound swordsmanship.
"What's she doing? Do you understand, Shirou?"
Mayu had seen Eriyi cutting down monsters earlier and assumed every move had meaning.
But the truth was the opposite.
"She's just playing." Shirou recognized it immediately—she was imitating his Niten Ichi-ryu moves and Noble Phantasm poses. Like a kid copying an Ultraman's special attack.
Mayu wiped sweat. "Isn't that dangerous? Assassin said that was the Kurikara Sword of the Fudō Myōō…"
"No, no. That's impossible. These are Miyamoto Musashi's swords. The Kurikara form was only because she worshipped Fudō Myōō in life."
"What? Miyamoto Musashi, the sword saint? Niten Ichi-ryu is like that?" Mayu felt her worldview wobbling—if Musashi's style could summon a Myōō, what about other masters? And if a Myōō could appear as a phantom… then gods might physically exist?
"No, my lord," Chiyome corrected gently. "Servants differ from when they were alive. A Heroic Spirit's legend and feats are all recorded in them, and their Noble Phantasms are part of that ascension—it doesn't directly reflect their living power."
"I see…" Mayu relaxed slightly. So it was just Servants and this strange war—not that the ancient legends were literally real.
"But Assassin, you can judge Shirou's sword and know all this about Servants… yet you still don't remember your own past? And weren't you and Musashi both from the Sengoku era?"
"I still have no memories of my life. That knowledge is common sense the Holy Grail gives to every summoned Servant."
—
Elsewhere in this bizarre world, things were much less relaxed.
"Damn, damn, damn…!"
Fingel sprinted across rooftops, a pack of shadowy yokai on his heels. He kicked over a rooftop water tank to slow them down, rusty water spilling over their twisted forms.
It barely slowed them. His guns and alchemic bombs had all been used up.
"Eight lifetimes of bad luck! Am I gonna die here?"
What? Didn't he summon the invincible Heracles? Use him! Of course he wanted to—but he couldn't.
Earlier, Heracles had carved a path through several districts, then apologized and vanished into spirit form.
Fingel had been horrified—his idol, the great Heracles, abandoning him? But the Servant explained it wasn't that—his Master simply didn't have enough mana to sustain him in combat. Forcing it would drain Fingel dry.
"So mana's… what, exactly?!"
"Mana is a Servant's sustenance," came Heracles' unseen voice. "The Master-Servant contract stabilizes a Servant and supplies mana. The summoning ritual draws huge mana from the Grail's leylines, but manifesting a Servant's body takes mana from you."
"And since you've never studied magecraft, you have very little mana. My stats drop—and…"
"And…?" Fingel panted, dodging a rotting "nue's" claws.
"And you might have to pay with your life force."
"Shit!"
Turns out his trump card was so costly it was unusable without killing himself. Just like Alcides in Fate/Strange Fake, Heracles could only perform such feats with massive mana reserves—like when his Master there used the life force of 24,976 people as mana crystals.
Sweat poured down his neck. His tactical vest felt like a sauna.
"…There are other humans nearby. But I sense Servants with them—they could be enemies."
No thanks. Heracles wasn't worried—this Master could run for hours. He'd wait until enough monsters gathered to wipe them out in one strike.
Fingel was despairing. "Principal, you've screwed me over! When I get out, you'd better give me five Maseratis, or I'll have the whole news club print your scandal with Director Laurent's underage daughter!"
—
"Hahaha! Ange, you old bastard, you finally got yours? Can't even keep track of your car or your student?"
In Tokyo's night streets, Uesugi Yue—dressed in priest's robes—was laughing hard. Earlier, he'd sealed a deal with the Church and was heading to celebrate when Ange intercepted him outside the doors.
Memories from decades ago flooded back—Ange landing with the U.S. forces, making treaties, and during that time learning Niten Ichi-ryu. When they crossed swords, Ange had used "Time Zero" to beat him soundly.
Ange, unbothered by the jibes, calmly tried calling Fingel. No answer.
"Father Uesugi, do you remember God's commandment to 'love thy neighbor as thyself'?"
"I do! I love people. But you, Ange, are an old bastard."
"Decades have passed, and my Niten Ichi-ryu hasn't dulled. We should spar again sometime—share our creeds while crossing blades."
"Oh, so your creed is 'Time Zero' or that folding knife of yours?"
(End of Chapter)
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