Magic Crest
For the next two days, Shirō spent most of his time immersed in the training plan Sakumo had arranged for him. On the first day, he briefly met with a few friends, but after that, nearly all his attention was on training.
It had to be said—Sakumo's reputation as the White Fang of Konoha was not for show. The training regimen he devised was far more refined and practical than anything Shirō could have prepared on his own. Over those two days, Shirō felt his progress accelerate sharply, with many of his foundational weaknesses being steadily corrected.
Sakumo also cleared up much of Shirō's confusion about Ninjutsu. Up until now, Shirō's grasp of Ninjutsu came almost entirely through Projection Magic, which allowed him to replicate techniques, weapons, and movements. But much of that understanding was instinctive, like knowing what to do without understanding why. Sakumo's guidance gave Shirō the missing theory and discipline he needed.
By the end of those two days, Shirō had gained a great deal. Many of his lingering questions had been answered, and his Projection Magic—something he had once assumed had reached its current limit—actually advanced further.
The chakra cost for projecting C-rank Noble Phantasms dropped noticeably, and aside from a few higher-tier Noble Phantasms, he could now even release their True Names. Moreover, he could perform a complete Crane Wing Triple Strike with only minimal chakra consumption.
Of course, Shirō did not neglect his study of Magic. It was too deeply tied to his long-term goals. But as he pressed forward, he realized his path had reached a critical crossroads:
Should he focus on Modern Magecraft, or pursue the older Divine Era Magic?
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Modern Magecraft vs. Divine Era Magic
The distinction was crucial.
Divine Era Magic referred to sorcery from the Age of the Gods in the Type-Moon world. Back then, magi drew directly on the Great Source of Magical Energy from the world itself. This made it vastly more powerful and enduring than modern systems, needing only an incantation to unleash its force.
Modern Magecraft, by contrast, was born after humanity lost access to the Great Source. It relied instead on the practitioner's Lesser Source—the magic circuits within their body. While inherently weaker and shorter in duration, Modern Magecraft was far easier to learn, quicker to activate, and better suited for combat flexibility.
On the surface, Divine Era Magic was tempting. If Shirō could channel the Great Source, he could bypass his chronic chakra shortage, and even enhance his Projection. But the drawbacks were severe. His Origin limited his efficiency in cultivating other forms of Magic. Choosing Divine Era Magic would delay his plans to construct a Magic Workshop—something essential if he wanted to harness Tailed Beast chakra in the future.
Furthermore, even if Projection Magic were fueled by the Great Source, the projected Noble Phantasms would still degrade in rank. Power alone wasn't enough. Efficiency mattered more. And Divine Era Magic, with its reliance on longer incantations, simply didn't fit Shirō's fast-paced combat style.
In the end, Shirō chose Modern Magecraft.
It was the only path that aligned with his goals. But the problem of limited chakra and magical energy remained. He needed a temporary solution until his Workshop could be built.
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Searching through the system's archives, Shirō eventually found a potential answer: the Magic Crest.
In the world of magic, a Magic Crest was the legacy of a lineage—a carved, inherited set of circuits that preserved generations of research, spells, and even raw magical energy. Functionally, it was similar to a reusable scroll, except it carried centuries of accumulated magecraft. Most importantly, a Crest could serve as a storage unit for Magical Energy.
Shirō recalled how, in the Unlimited Blade Works route, Shirō had gained the power to maintain his Reality Marble thanks to transplanting a portion of Rin's Crest. If it worked for Shirō, then it could work for him.
The difference, however, was that Shirō would need to create his own.
The process was dangerous. A first-generation Magic Crest was typically made by embedding fragments of phantasmal beasts or artificial magic circuits into one's body. The foreign material caused severe rejection, often crippling or even killing the magus. Normally, it took several generations of refinement before the Crest stabilized within a bloodline.
But Shirō had one advantage: his system. By using its Strengthening function, he could accelerate his body's adaptation to the rejection, compressing generations of suffering into a shorter period. The risk and pain, however, would be even greater. He had to be prepared.
As for the material, his options were limited. Many powerful substances existed in the Shinobi World—Tailed Beast chakra, for example—but most were far too dangerous or inaccessible. After much consideration, Shirō settled on chakra metal. It was safe, compatible with both chakra and magic, and—most importantly—something he could realistically obtain. With Kushina or Sakumo's help, acquiring it would be possible, provided he had enough money.
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The problem was, he didn't have that kind of money.
And in his case, money burned a hole in his pocket. In his past life, he had the bad habit of spending impulsively, and that hadn't changed even here. So, as a precaution, he handed his savings to Sakumo to hold onto for him. At least that way, he wouldn't blow it all on snacks or scrolls before he could afford the chakra metal.
But Shirō's preparations weren't limited to his Crest. He also had another obligation weighing on him—Miyue's graduation gift. He had promised it recklessly, and now he had to deliver, no matter how troublesome it was.
Choosing the right gift was tricky. Something too plain would feel thoughtless, while something too extravagant would be inappropriate—especially since they hadn't known each other long, and he didn't have the funds anyway.
After much deliberation, Shirō decided on a bird familiar as a summoning beast. It was practical, inexpensive to produce, and—being handmade—showed sincerity. In short, it was the perfect choice.
Fortunately, he had already provided the village with a simplified version of the summoning familiar design in earlier scrolls. That foresight now gave him the cover to work on Miyue's gift without drawing the suspicion of the Intelligence Division.
After all, the essence of a Secret Skill was its secrecy. And Shirō wasn't foolish enough to explain everything he was capable of.
Some mysteries were better left unasked.