"You're awake!"
The moment Emiya Shirou opened his eyes, an anxious voice called out beside him.
Shirou turned toward the voice, immediately confronted by a mass of bright pink hair filling his vision.
"Rider?"
He murmured in confusion.
"Just lie down—you're injured—!"
Seeing Shirou try to sit up, Astolfo quickly pressed him back down onto the bed.
Though Shirou had been treated with healing magecraft, his injuries were severe. According to Caster, he should need at least a month of rest. Yet his current vitality was completely unlike someone who'd barely survived life-threatening wounds.
Astolfo placed his hand on Shirou's chest, eyes widening in baffled disbelief.
"How—?"
Before Shirou could even process the question, Astolfo yanked back the covers, staring incredulously at Shirou's perfectly toned physique.
"How have you healed so fast?!"
Astolfo inspected Shirou closely, his expression one of astonishment.
Shirou was just a human magus—not some homunculus, Dead Apostle, spirit, or Servant. How could he possibly recover from such severe wounds in such a short time?
"Maybe it's just my constitution."
Shirou laughed awkwardly, scratching his head, not explaining further.
After all, even now there was a familiar stationed inside his room, watching him. Revealing the secret hidden inside his body would only invite trouble.
Shirou felt the gentle warmth spreading through his abdomen and gave a wry smile.
If not for whatever this thing inside me is, Shirou mused bitterly, I would have died who knows how many times already.
"I really am far too weak."
He clenched his fists tightly, recalling the previous night's battle.
He'd done nothing useful; rather, he'd been nothing but a hindrance to Arthur.
Whether against Assassin or Berserker, he had been utterly helpless, able only to passively endure their attacks. In the end, all he could do was resort to a suicidal tactic to escape Archer's Noble Phantasm.
He was far too weak.
Suddenly remembering something, Shirou turned anxiously toward Astolfo.
"Rider, where's Saber? Why isn't he here?"
He scanned the surroundings, seeing no sign of that familiar blue figure. If Astolfo was staying by his side, Arthur surely would've come as well.
"The King of Knights, he's—"
Astolfo stammered, looking away hesitantly.
"What happened to Saber?"
Shirou pressed urgently. He'd been unconscious ever since the explosion—he had no idea what had transpired afterward.
"Shirou, can you still sense your contract with Arthur?"
Astolfo asked carefully. Even if Arthur had been at the epicenter of the explosion, they couldn't confirm if he'd truly disappeared. Yggdmillennia's forces had returned later to search for him, but their efforts had been fruitless.
Shirou shook his head—not because he couldn't sense the contract, but because no one had ever taught him how.
Of course, Astolfo took this shake as confirmation of the worst.
"Then...he might have already disappeared."
Astolfo lowered his gaze, voice heavy with grief. If Shirou couldn't sense the contract, it was essentially certain that Arthur had left the stage.
"Tell me exactly what happened after I lost consciousness."
Shirou gripped Astolfo's shoulder, his voice turning grave. He needed to know what had happened after he'd fallen unconscious last night.
"Berserker self-destructed—"
Astolfo began recounting, describing everything he had witnessed, as well as what Archer of Black had reported after the battle.
"By my [Command Spell]—Saber, recover!"
"By my [Command Spell]—Saber, recover!"
"By my [Command Spell], Saber—"
"Wait! Wait! Don't be so impulsive!"
Astolfo panicked, quickly covering Shirou's mouth to stop him from uttering the final command.
If Shirou continued, all three [Command Spells] would vanish. Even if Arthur had survived, Shirou would no longer have any means to control him.
[Command Spells] consisted of three sigils, each granting absolute command over the Servant once, limited to three uses. Exhausting them didn't dissolve the Master-Servant contract, but it did strip away control.
Losing control over a powerful Servant was extremely dangerous—potentially fatal—so normally Masters left at least one command in reserve.
But Shirou didn't care about his remaining [Command Spells].
He wasn't a true magus. He didn't care about commanding his Servant or maintaining control. If his Servant had disappeared, then what was the point of hoarding the spells?
All he wanted was for Arthur to be safe.
"By my final [Command Spell]—Saber, recover!"
In that instant, the three marks faded from Shirou's hand. He felt a powerful surge of magical energy flow outward.
"You—!"
Astolfo didn't know whether to scold or stop Shirou's actions. Darnic had explained the purpose of [Command Spells] clearly at the start, yet Shirou used them without hesitation, wasteful and reckless.
But Astolfo suddenly remembered how Shirou had unflinchingly shielded him from Archer's Noble Phantasm.
The explosion might have only seriously injured him, recoverable through healing magic, not causing lasting harm to a Servant. Yet Shirou hadn't hesitated, using his fragile human body to protect him, leaving Astolfo unharmed.
Astolfo had always been the one protecting others. It was the first time anyone—especially a Master weaker than himself—had ever stood in front to protect him.
His emotions swirled wildly.
Astolfo's expression changed subtly as he looked at Shirou's determined face. In his eyes were admiration—and envy toward Arthur for having a Master who trusted him so deeply.
"Rider...I'm going out for a bit."
---
bonus chaps
100 stones -> 1 chapter
200 stones -> 2 chapters
300 stones -> 3 chapters
and so on
discord.gg/wisetl
patreon.com/wisetl