I sat near the ruins of the mountain, breathing slowly. My golden armor faded back into spirit particles, and with it, the overwhelming power of Archer, of Gilgamesh—slipped away like molten fire receding into a vessel.
My body felt lighter. Emptier. Yet I knew that golden power hadn't left me.
It slumbered.
Waiting.And it wasn't alone.
I could feel them.
Ten spirits.
Their presence wasn't loud. They didn't scream for control or whisper sweet madness to control me. They simply… existed. Dormant, yet awake. Watching.
I could feel their weight like stars orbiting my soul. Each distinct. Each immense.
Some were like infernos—raging storms of power and pride.
Others were still. Silent. Heavy with history.
But all of them were Heroic Spirits.
And somehow… they were part of me now.
I clenched my fist.
"What the hell am I?"
The first I recognized was easy. I'd fought with his power. Felt his pride. His fury. His grief.
Archer. Gilgamesh. The golden king. The arrogant tyrant who once wept for a friend and turned his sorrow into cruelty. His memories clung to me like shadowed gold—palace walls, enchanted vaults, a throne too high to reach.
Then came the others, faint echoes in my mind.
A sword's purity, noble and burdened. A ruler-king who carried an entire nation and died with his heart shattered. His presence felt warm… yet unbearably sad.
—Saber.
Another pulsed like a burning flame. Righteous. Fierce. Silent and shining. I felt no hatred from him—only unwavering will and compassion edged in fire.
—Lancer.
Then there was the next one. A king unlike any other. Bold and rash. Yet compassionate and understanding. His spirit wild and unruly.
- Rider
A storm followed, dark and chaotic. A brother consumed by divinity and fury, twisted by grief. The pain was endless, coiled in shadow and lightning. The one who went against the divine.
—Berserker.
There was serenity too. A pulse of enlightenment—unshakable peace, unmoved even in the face of gods. Yet somehow willful and following his own path, no matter the cost.
—Savior.
And another that felt old. Timeless. Looming like a forgotten idol wrapped in obsidian smoke and blood-red twilight. Watching the world with mirrored cruelty and amusement. A name forgotten as his people perished.
—Ruler.
A weight of infinite wisdom drifted in next—an arcane collection of magic, numbers, symbols. It whispered every answer, yet demanded a price. The man who held the key.
—Caster.
And there was another. A shadow that walked unseen, cloaked in death. He felt neither joy nor hatred. Just duty and his unwavering faith, surrounded by a storm.
—Assassin.
And then… there was the last. The one that hissed like chains on raw flesh. Rage barely leashed. Grief turned to vengeance. A hero whose form was man but whose fury would made the gods tremble. Tainted by the darkness, he no longer remained a hero.
—Avenger.
I exhaled. My breath fogged the air despite the sun.
"Ten heroic spirits…" I murmured. "Ten legendary heroes soul… inside me."
It made no sense.
Back home, this was fiction. Anime. Fate/Stay Night. Fate/Zero. Grand Order. I'd watched them all—hell, I even laughed when people argued over who was stronger. But I never once imagined I'd become the victim of that mess.
Was this random? Fate? Some prank of Zeltrech?
Or…
Was this really my second chance at life?
I felt the weight of their eyes upon me. Not judgmental. Not angry.
They were waiting.
Not for control. But for choice.
For me to choose who I needed to be.
Not all of them agreed. Some just didn't care.
But I could sense it: when I called on their names, when I equipped them, I didn't just get their powers. I shared something more intimate.
Their thoughts. Their wounds.
Their purpose.
And for a moment, I wondered… would I survive the next time I wore one of their crowns?
Would I still be Edward after summoning the mind of a god-killing madman? Or the sorrow of a dying king?
I stood up slowly.
Somewhere out there was a world I didn't recognize. And if Poseidon was just the start, then I needed answers—fast.
I gazed out at the sea where Pham's ship had vanished. The wind brushed my hair gently.
"I'll figure it out," I said. "For both of us."
Behind me, the sea shimmered faintly. Waiting.
****
The ocean whispered below me, but I barely heard it. I sat cross-legged on the cliff's edge again, staring at the moonlight dancing across the endless waters. My armor was gone now, replaced by the tattered black hoodie and jeans I had died in, somewhere in what felt like another lifetime.
And in a way, it was.
I have just killed Poseidon—one of the most powerful Olympians. Torn him apart and stood over his broken body without even a scratch. It wasn't just revenge. It was justice—for Pham. For the first friend I had made since coming to this strange, mythic world.
But now the adrenaline was gone.
And all that was left was contemplation. They would not take it kindly. Those pompous assholes will come for revenge. It was only a question of when.
And then there was voices in my head. I chuckled as I remembered a fond memory of watching wrestling as a kid, and the iconic theme song .
The spirits weren't talking. They weren't demanding anything. But I needed to know who they were, why was I chosen, and what is the purpose behind it all.
I stood and closed my eyes. "Alright," I murmured. "If you're gonna live inside me rent free, the least you can do is talk."
I heard a chuckle. Then The world around me dimmed, like reality itself took a breath and pulled away.
And in that breath, I fell.
Again.
I stood once more in the vast soul-scape that had become strangely familiar. Ten pillars of light, like eternal flames, flickered around me in a circle. The red sky stretched endlessly above, the cracked golden desert beneath my feet pulsed with mana. Each flame flickered, and from them emerged the ten presences I now knew intimately.
The air was heavy, thick with power—ancient, burdened, restrained.
Saber was the first to step forward. Calm, graceful. His hands were folded in front of his, his noble presence undeniable.
"You seek answers, Edward," he said softly. "But we are not here to give you that. We are not your answers."
I shook my head. "Fantastic! Then why are you all here, packed into my soul like a can of sardines?"
The one with the wild grin—Rider—laughed, arms crossed. "Because your soul called us, boy! It rang out like a trumpet across the world. Loud, wild, and far too dramatic to ignore."
"Resonance," murmured Caster, stepping forward from a shifting portal of sacred light. His presence was wise, distant—like a man who'd seen the world end more than once. "Spiritual alignment. Not fate, but something close. Even my clairvoyance can't see through it."
"You are a convergence point," Lancer added, his deep voice echoing. "A soul forged in suffering, tested in wrath, tempered in compassion. That is rare."
"Unbelievably rare," Assassin spoke from the shadows. "A soul prepared to carry more than one burden. Ten…? That is something the world hasn't seen."
I frowned. "So none of you know why me?"
Archer scoffed and clicked his tongue, leaning against a golden pillar like it was a throne of his own. "Tch. Don't mistake our presence for servitude, mongrel. This isn't some wish-fulfillment fantasy. We're not here to be your parents and hold your hand."
Berserker's eyes burned in the silence, his mouth remaining shut, but his body radiated something like agreement.
Ruler's gaze was unreadable. "You've inherited something mysterious. Something older than us. I sense one more presence, dormant yet alive. You've become a vessel not just for power—but for judgment. The world is shifting. Perhaps we are here… because it needs someone to witness it."
Savior stepped forward, a stillness around him so profound that even the wind seemed to stop. His eyes, closed, carried the weight of a thousand lives. "We are not your tools. Nor your masters. We walk with you only when your heart is in alignment with our truths. I can perhaps guide you to obtain enlightenment."
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "That's comforting. So I have ten legends in my soul plus one random dude, none of you know why, and you're all just... waiting?"
Saber's voice was gentler now. "You want to believe this has meaning. That it comes with duty or destiny. But perhaps, Edward, it is not about the reason we are here—but what you choose to do with us."
Silence.
Then I looked up, gaze sweeping across all ten of them. "Alright. One more question."
I exhaled.
"Can I use all of your powers? I need to finish something. And I don't think I can survive here by myself while hunted by divinity."
The soul-scape went still.
Then Rider let out a loud belly laugh. "Hah! Damn right you can! If there's a war to fight, I'll bring my army. Just say the word, and we'll ride into the sunset—or over it!"
Lancer smiled faintly. "If the battle is just, and your spirit true, you may wield my spear. But do not use it lightly. It was forged to punish arrogance… even your own."
Berserker didn't speak, but his presence flared with chaotic approval. He wouldn't give power for just anything. But if rage consumed me again, he'd lend his madness willingly.
Assassin stepped forward and bowed. "If there is a foe who walks in shadow, you will find me already behind them."
Archer smirked, flipping a key from his hand and tossing it lazily. "As for me? Impress me. Show me a battle worthy of a king's arsenal. I'll open my treasury to you. you've earned that much. But to wield my strength, you have to make it worth my while. I helped this time as I hate those arrogant mongrels." He scoffed disdainfully.
Caster lifted his staff slowly. "Do not call upon me for needless violence. My power is one of guidance, knowledge, and creation. If the world fractures—then I shall mend it. My days of trying to shape it are over."
Saber was calm, his eyes resolute. "My sword is not for vengeance. It is for hope. When you raise it, be certain your cause is one worth dying for."
Ruler tilted his head. "When truth breaks and morality collapses, call me. I do not answer to mortals, only to the balance. But in imbalance, I will come."
Savior opened his eyes.
The soul-scape fell completely silent.
"If you seek to save the world—not from evil, but from suffering—then I will lend you my path. But know this: it is the hardest path to walk."
I nodded.
Not every tool could be called on in anger.
Not every legend fought to kill.
Some were meant to guide. Some to endure. Some… to judge.
And some would only answer when the world truly trembled.
I exhaled, finally understanding.
This wasn't power.
It was responsibility.
A gift, sure—but also a question.
What will you become?
I opened my eyes again, the soul-scape fading as the cliff returned beneath me.
The sea was still. The air cold.
I stood, brushing the dust from my pants. My reflection shimmered in the black waves far below.
My eyes… still faintly glowed .
They weren't just mine anymore.
Not entirely.
But maybe that was okay.
Far off, on the edge of the known world, something stirred. Something ancient. Watching. Waiting.
The Age of Gods was long past.
But it hadn't ended.
It had simply… changed.
And in the center of it all stood a single soul.
One boy.
Ten souls.
A war yet to come.
****
Guess the heroic spirits in comments. Let's see how many you have identified.😎 I have written only this far, and will continue after looking through the feedbacks.