In truth, the outburst happened the very moment their handshake ended.
Pain—waves and waves of unbearable pain erupted all throughout Shirou's body, like a horde of tiny devils running wild now that they'd found an opening.
Every bone in his body creaked and groaned, as if rebelling against him—shifting, rearranging, resettling themselves in unnatural ways.
"Nngh—nngh—ah...! Hah... ah... hah..."
He bit down hard on his lip, refusing to let a single cry of agony escape.
No matter what, Shirou still considered himself a man. He couldn't show weakness in front of a woman—especially not pain that might worry her.
—That, perhaps, was one of Shirou's flaws. His stubborn pride, his unwillingness to make others—especially women—worry about him.
But the pain wracking his body now was far too intense to be resisted by willpower alone. It surged like a flood from the moment of creation itself—overwhelming, primal, unstoppable.
His limbs began to go numb. His vision turned blood red. The burning heat within his body started to cloud his thoughts.
At that moment, Shirou was like a piece of iron, thrown into a blazing forge—his very consciousness on the verge of collapse.
Naturally, Morgan noticed something was wrong.
"Shirou!"
Seeing his twisted expression, her heart flooded with worry. Calling his name, she rushed to his side.
Yet even in her anxiety, Morgan did not lose her composure. Instead of panicking helplessly, she acted decisively—reaching out her hand.
This time, it was she who initiated contact.
Their hands clasped again, and the red sigil on Shirou's hand began to glow once more.
"Connecting... magic circuits."
Morgan closed her eyes and began channeling mana. Through this inner inspection, she finally saw what was happening inside Shirou's body.
"Whew... if this is all it is—Shirou! Quickly, use magic!"
She exhaled in relief and immediately gave the command.
"Magic... huh..."
Though his mind was scattered from the pain, Shirou could still hear her voice.
"Shirou—what you're feeling is the awakening of your magic circuits. They're starting to activate, connecting with your nerves, becoming part of your usable magic system."
"It's probably because of me. When the pass opened, my mana flowed into you—and that external mana must've triggered the sleeping circuits in your body."
"I'm sorry, Shirou. But you have to endure it.
Use your magic like you usually do—release the mana inside you, let it flow, and stabilize the circuits before they go berserk."
She explained the cause clearly—her tone holding a hint of guilt.
After all, the pain tormenting Shirou now was tied directly to her mana.
"Release... magic..."
Of course, Shirou didn't blame her.
And even if someone had to be held responsible, it wasn't Morgan.
Even if someone else had formed a pass with him, the result would've been the same.
If anyone was to blame... it would be that mysterious woman who had given him the bracelet—the sigil.
She was the true cause of all this.
"——Trace, On!"
Shirou focused his mind, centering his awareness on his brow. Just like during his nightly training, he began to methodically construct a magic circuit.
No—he could skip that part now.
He already had functioning circuits inside him.
All he needed to do was activate them, use them as converters, and draw mana directly from the world.
—This contradicted what Kiritsugu had taught him about magecraft. But in this moment, there was no time for theory.
Still, when Shirou peered inward and saw the circuits within his body— he couldn't help but be shocked.
"One, two, three... twenty-seven?! I have twenty-seven magic circuits in my body?!"
Shirou was genuinely stunned by the number.
The number of magic circuits a person possessed was determined at birth. That's why magi families practiced selective breeding—to ensure future generations had better circuits.
Before being adopted by Kiritsugu, Shirou had been an ordinary boy. Even with potential, a first-generation magus like him would typically only have one or two circuits at most.
That was the plight of first-generation magi—no matter how hard they trained, they were always far behind descendants of old magus lineages.
"...Am I a monster?"
Twenty-seven circuits... It wasn't comparable to the great families with over a hundred, but for someone of his background, it was monstrous.
You could even call it genius— After all, "genius" and "monster" were often two sides of the same coin.
Still, it explained why Shirou was feeling such immense pain. Twenty-seven circuits awakening at once, rampaging together...
In fact, the mere fact that he was still alive, still able to think, was almost a miracle in itself.
"I have to cast magic to stabilize the circuits... The only thing I've trained in is reinforcement magic—but I have nothing around me to reinforce."
"Reinforce my own body? No—that's impossible. I can't even stabilize an inanimate object properly, let alone my own flesh."
"What else can I use... what other magic do I know...?"
Reinforcement was a no-go. Shirou had to fall back on his only other option.
"Come to think of it... I learned projection before anything else. Kiritsugu said it was useless—told me to focus on reinforcement instead."
"But right now... with nothing around to use, projection is my best bet."
These thoughts raced through Shirou's mind, though only a few seconds passed in real time.
Morgan watched him carefully. If things turned dire, she was ready to intervene. But she hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Because if Shirou could endure this—
If he could overcome this storm—
He would walk away with a great reward.
If she interfered now, he might lose that chance, and suffer this agony for nothing.
.....
Having decided on using Projection magic, the next question was—what to project?
"Should I project... household items?"
The first thing that came to Shirou's mind were the tools at home—kitchenware like iron pots, ladles, or perhaps carpets, fishing rods, dining tables, and so on.
In fact, Shirou was exceptionally skilled at Projection magecraft. As long as he could understand the structure of an item, he could reproduce it—and even preserve it for extended periods.
—Even if he didn't fully understand it, Shirou could rely on his own magical energy to sense the internal makeup of an object, allowing him to project something that looked identical on the outside, but was functionally hollow.
—Like a game console or television—though those projections were utterly useless to him. In a way, that limitation had spared him a lot of trouble.
—Because if he could make working versions, his game-addicted friend Matou Shinji, terrified of real girls, would probably be harassing him daily to project all sorts of retro game consoles and cartridges.
"Projecting ordinary items takes little mana. It's useful for casual practice or mental relaxation, but not now..."
"Right now, I can probably manage one or two uses of Projection magic before collapsing.
If my twenty-seven magic circuits are going berserk, I need to project something mana-intensive."
His mind immediately rejected the idea.
Different situations call for different actions.
In his current state, he needed to burn through a massive amount of mana at once. That meant projecting something with a high difficulty level, something that would force his circuits to stabilize by exhausting them.
With that in mind, his choices narrowed significantly—only two options remained.
"...The golden sword from my dreams... or the spear that was born from its shattered remains."
The golden sword he had seen in countless dreams. The spear that had appeared for the first time in tonight's dream, as if reaching toward the ends of the world.
If he could successfully project either one, it would surely resolve his current condition.
But which one should he choose?
The sword, or the spear?
If Shirou were alone, he would've chosen the sword without hesitation.
He had always felt an inexplicable connection to swords—perhaps even a deep love for them. It was as if some strange fate bound him to them.
But this time was different.
He wasn't alone.
By his side stood a beautiful girl named Morgan, quietly watching over him.
Because of her presence... Shirou's heart whispered something else.
"Right now, the spear... might be more fitting."
His decision was made.
"Conceptual foundation: Confirmed."
Shirou recalled the image of the spear and began the analysis.
"Tearing the skies, anchoring the earth, a spear at the world's end."
That was the essence of the spear.
He completed the analysis quickly—perhaps because Morgan was nearby?
"Define core structure."
With the concept understood, he moved on to shaping the weapon's form.
There was no need for alterations. The spear was already perfect. All he had to do was copy it exactly.
The two most crucial steps were done. The rest of the Projection process would flow naturally from here.
"Replicate material composition."
"Simulate construction techniques."
"..."
"Ggh... khh..."
But this spear—this spear of endings—
was far more difficult to project than Shirou had anticipated.
Unlike ordinary items, this felt like his entire body was being scorched by hellfire.
His projecting hand felt like it was being burned to ash.
And if he couldn't endure the pain, it might truly be reduced to ashes—in the literal sense.
"Shirou!"
Morgan, sensing his pain, called out his name. She reached out with her other hand, grabbing hold of his projecting hand—firmly.
Now, both their hands were joined together.
The mana flowing through the pass became even more stable.
Shirou didn't feel Morgan lending him power directly— but strangely, the burning in his hand eased, as if it were being soothed by a cool spring.
What had been heading toward failure was now nudged back onto the correct path.
"...Thanks."
He couldn't find the right words. That was all he could say.
He resumed the projection.
All twenty-seven circuits within his body responded. Drawn by the formation of the spear, the chaotic energy surged through his arm and flowed into the projection.
"Khh—ghhh—ugh!"
Shirou clenched his teeth. He was nearing the final step.
Between their clasped hands, light erupted—bright arcs like lightning danced across them. From imagination to reality, the spear from his dreams manifested in their grasp.
At last—the projection was complete.
A fantasy turned into form. A spear of myth.
"The Holy Lance—Rhongomyniad."
Shirou and Morgan opened their eyes and spoke together, naming the true identity of the weapon in their hands.
The spear was breathtakingly beautiful—like the ultimate masterwork of an artisan. But of course... it was. It was a Divine Construct, a legendary armament forged by the gods.
Something that Shirou Emiya should never have been able to analyze, much less project.
This was a miracle—only made possible because Morgan was present.
"Thank goodness. The projection succeeded—and your circuits have stabilized, too."
Morgan, who now held the Holy Lance, didn't seem all that amazed by the miracle. What mattered to her was Shirou's well-being.
And she was right.
The pain was gone.
The circuits—after burning through such massive amounts of mana—had grown tired and returned to dormancy.
But that sleep would not last forever.
Now that they'd been activated, those circuits were his to command. From this point on, they would respond whenever Shirou called upon them, granting him true power.
And that—was perhaps the greatest gift of all.
"With this, you'll be able to fight properly, too, Shirou. Holding the Holy Lance... hehe, maybe you won't be able to take on the strongest fairies, but if it's just fighting the Moors, you'll do fine."
"This means I can take you out to explore Britain with peace of mind. We can watch each other's backs."
"I'll use my Morgan Magecraft, and you'll use that Holy Lance—we'll cover each other."
Morgan laughed softly, already daydreaming about the journey ahead.
But before she could get too far into her fantasies—the door to the room opened.
A gentle-looking woman walked in, but her expression was filled with tension.
"Viviane... I heard what you just said.
Are you planning to leave Orkney?"