"Huff—!"
"Haa—!"
Shirou Emiya found himself caught in a desperate situation, one that left him with no other options.
He tore off his clothing and clenched his teeth, tightly binding the stump of his severed arm, forcing himself into a controlled rhythm of breathing.
Drip...
Crimson droplets fell steadily, staining the emerald leaves scattered across the forest floor an unnatural red.
Stabbing his reverse-blade katana into a nearby tree trunk, Shirou gasped heavily, tearing what remained of his clothes into makeshift bandages, expertly tending to his wounds.
Since middle school, Shirou had lost count of how many times he'd fought with delinquents, ending up bruised and battered. Because of that, he had gained plenty of experience in handling wounds.
He felt his body burning up, pain throbbing in every nerve, his strength draining rapidly.
It's as if life itself is slipping away, tormenting him with every passing second.
Shirou desperately focused on his breathing techniques, attempting to stem the blood loss. However, the excessive use of mana while already severely depleted blurred his vision further.
Yet he had no choice. Without forcibly extracting mana to staunch his wounds, he would soon bleed out in this forest.
"I have to move…"
Panting, Shirou had managed to temporarily halt the bleeding. If he refrained from strenuous movements, he could stabilize himself for the moment.
Still, the imperial soldiers were actively searching nearby. Once daylight broke, Imperial Arms users or those with heightened senses might join in.
This was no place to rest. If he passed out here, he'd be completely at their mercy.
Currently, the only place Shirou could rest safely was Night Raid's base. He had to reach it undetected before sunrise.
Thump—
Shirou landed softly, almost silently, near the patrolling soldiers. They took no notice, their own movements noisier than his careful footsteps.
Yet that wasn't his biggest concern.
"Look here! Blood on the ground!"
"Over there!"
"Quick, after him!"
"Careful, everyone! This is the guy who forced Captain Seryu to self-destruct!"
"If you encounter him, don't engage immediately. Fire a signal flare first. Other guards nearby will surround him quickly. The Jaegers have already been alerted—they'll arrive soon!"
As their urgent shouts echoed around him, Shirou realized they'd already found his earlier resting place. Footsteps rapidly approached, converging on his position.
Had he lingered there a moment longer, he'd have been cornered without any chance to escape.
"There he is! I found him!"
The Imperial Guard had long since surrounded the area. Even if he avoided those directly pursuing him, countless other soldiers scoured the woods for any sign of him.
One careless misstep had exposed him to these lazy soldiers.
His dwindling life force dulled his senses. He'd failed to notice the soldiers ahead until it was too late.
"Tch!" Shirou clicked his tongue, swiftly diving into a dense patch of bushes nearby.
At least he could still run.
"Quick, after him! Send up the flare—we've spotted him!"
With support from someone like Dr. Stylish, signal flares had become standard equipment among the guards. Seryu had convinced Stylish to provide them as a gesture of goodwill toward her old comrades.
Boom—!
A bright firework exploded high above the trees, signaling every guard in the forest to converge upon Shirou's position.
This is getting worse.
Shirou glanced upward at the brilliant flare. Although darkness was an assassin's ally, Shirou had never undergone formal assassin training. Night Raid had only taught him basic concealment methods—how to mask his scent and erase his trail—to ensure he wouldn't compromise their base.
Even Tatsumi had mastered these skills easily, so Shirou had learned them quickly as well.
Now, he desperately dashed through the shadowy woods, trying to evade detection. But his increasingly heavy footsteps gave away his position. Places to hide were growing scarcer.
The guards were everywhere now, shrinking the circle around him steadily. They'd carefully surrounded the entire forest, making escape nearly impossible.
If Shirou hadn't been gravely wounded, if his mana hadn't been drained dry, he could have simply brute-forced his way through. After all, ordinary soldiers couldn't have stopped him.
But now, heavily injured and unable to project any more weapons, gripping only his previously projected reverse-blade katana, he had no way to break out directly.
Suddenly, another patrol appeared ahead. Shirou instantly dropped to the ground, concealing himself amidst the dense bushes.
"Where is he?"
The soldiers chasing him arrived moments later. In the pitch-black forest, unless their vision matched Shirou's, visibility was severely limited.
They could vaguely make out his movements but couldn't pinpoint his exact location.
Hidden in the brush, Shirou pressed himself flat against the ground, his chest rising and falling heavily as he struggled to control his breathing.
The two patrols now stood mere meters from him, speaking anxiously.
"Have you seen the fugitive?" asked one group.
"You think he already slipped away?" another responded.
"Impossible. This entire area is sealed tight. Unless he sprouted wings, there's no way out."
"Then maybe…he's hiding right in front of us."
At those words, Shirou's heartbeat surged wildly.
His hand tightened instinctively around his katana.
Is combat inevitable after all…?