"Back to the inn—now!"
Emiya Shirou's mind snapped to the katana he'd seen lying at the inn's entrance.
A wooden stick wouldn't cut it—literally. Not only was it incapable of seriously injuring the enemy, it might not even be able to harm it at all.
And that wasn't even accounting for the monster's bizarre ability.
If he couldn't figure out how that ability worked, then even with the katana in hand, it would be meaningless.
Unfortunately, with his level in [Reinforcement] he could only enhance objects, not living beings. If he could reinforce his own body, he might at least be able to fight, or hold out longer.
But as things stood, all he could do was run—just to buy a single breath of time.
Why can't I land a hit?
Even as he sprinted at full speed, that question echoed in Shirou's mind.
If he couldn't touch the monster, the katana wouldn't matter. An attack that doesn't connect… can't do any damage.
Fssshhh—!
A sharp, clear rush of air cut through the night.
The monster retracted its claws and launched forward, its feet pounding the earth like a bullet as it hurtled toward Shirou's back.
But almost instantly, Shirou crouched low and spun around, grabbing another nearby branch mid-motion.
Turning your back on the enemy was always a mistake.
An unseen attack was far deadlier than one you could see.
Shirou knew he couldn't outrun it. His only chance was to keep it within his line of sight.
"I'm really starting to crave the taste of your blood, boy—!"
But sometimes, what you see isn't what's real.
In the blink of an eye, the shadow-black form appeared before him. The monster's claw, carried by its explosive momentum, sliced through the air, aiming straight for Shirou's skull.
Whoosh—!
A razor-edged gust swept past Shirou's face.
In that moment, he felt it—that haunting echo called death.
No! Something's wrong—!
As he watched the incoming claw clash with his reinforced stick, a wave of instinctual dread surged through him.
Adrenaline spiked.
Shlkk—!
Blood burst through the air and soaked into the ground.
"Urgh—!"
Shirou cried out as pain shot through his side. The impact sent him tumbling across the dirt.
"You little brat!"
The monster snarled, glaring at the blood dripping from its claw. Its playful tone vanished. Cold, lethal intent descended like a crushing weight.
"Cough! Cough! Cough!"
Wiping the blood from his face, Shirou didn't stop moving—he forced himself to his feet and broke into a run, back toward the inn.
Because now he understood what the creature's ability was.
And the creature understood too. It knew Shirou had figured it out. That's why the playful façade had dropped, replaced by cold-blooded murder.
The katana—still lying at the inn's entrance—was just ahead. All Shirou had to do was leap forward and grab it.
But—
"You think you can reach this sword?"
At some point, the monster had already positioned itself in front of him, spinning the very katana Shirou had been running toward in its clawed hand.
"Dawn's almost here. Time to end this little game of cat and mouse."
With a growl, it seized the katana at both ends—and snapped it clean in half.
The blade that had carried Shirou's hopes shattered and clattered to the ground.
"Now you have nothing left to fight back with!"
"Is that so?"
Yet, to the monster's surprise, Shirou remained calm.
Because only with calm could he seize the one opening he needed.
"Still putting on a brave face? I've already crushed every ounce of your hope—so DIE, damn you! Just DIE here in despair!!!"
The monster's snarl twisted into hate. Why wasn't Shirou afraid?
Fear me!
Tremble before me!
Why don't you FEAR me?!
DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE—!!!
A tide of shadow surged toward Shirou as the monster lunged forward, appearing before him in a heartbeat.
This time—it would split his skull wide open.
But in that very instant, a dazzling azure light flared in Shirou's palm.
Projection, begin—
Judging the concept of creation.
Hypothesizing the basic structure.
Duplicating the composition material.
Imitating the skill of its making.
Sympathizing with the experience of its growth.
Reproducing the accumulated years.
Excelling every manufacturing process.
"[Trace—On]!"
A gleaming katana materialized in Shirou's hand. Cold steel caught the light, flashing silver across the monster's face.
"What—?!"
The creature froze. It couldn't comprehend it. That sword—it had just destroyed it. So how was it now back in Shirou's hands?
"…So this is… that swordsman's technique?"
The words slipped from Shirou's lips without meaning to.
And in the next second—
Steel carved a crescent of light through the air.
The blade's arc split the wind in silence, slicing forward like a silver moon.
Shlkk—!
Blood burst like a flower blooming before Shirou's eyes.
"How—how is this possible?!"
The monster's scream rang out, disbelieving. The claws that had lunged for Shirou—both arms—were severed mid-strike, falling to the ground.
Fsssh—!
A second slash rang out. But it missed—the monster had launched itself backward with a single bound, retreating several meters away.
Its eyes flicked up toward the pale sky above. Dawn was near.
"You think… having a sword makes you strong enough to defeat me?"
It sneered. The severed limbs reformed instantly, now tipped with even deadlier claws.
"Maybe not," Shirou said simply.
But he could tell. The monster was cautious now—no longer toying with him.
It was wary.
"Maybe not? I'll teach you the price of that arrogance—NOW DIE!!!"
In the blink of an eye, the monster vanished—then reappeared behind Shirou like a shadow split from the void.