Chapter 429: Sisters, Sisters, Sisters
The Knights of the Round Table dispelled their magical gear, changing back into the gorgeous suits and formal wear they wore in the club.
"We should get moving. The golden radiance from the Noble Phantasm has already attracted a lot of attention," Bedivere said.
"Ah, wait for me a second." Merlin ran off with a smile and returned driving a shiny black Toyota Alphard from out of nowhere.
"A car? Where did you get this?" Shirou could say with certainty that this absolutely did not belong to Merlin.
"Eh, don't worry about it. While you guys were fighting, I happened to run into a lovely young lady and had a wonderful chat with her, so she lent me the car," Merlin said, waving his hand dismissively.
"However, this car can only hold five more people." Kay walked to the car door first, cleverly pulling it open and pointing at the two seats in the middle. He made an unusually gentlemanly gesture of invitation: "Please, enter, King."
The surrounding Knights of the Round Table felt secretly annoyed when they saw this. How had they not thought of this method—the honor of sitting next to the King? Kay scanned the idiots of the Round Table with pride; their brains were clearly hardened by over-exercised muscles. In his heart, he gave himself a perfect score for his wit.
"It is unnecessary, Sir Kay. You may ride with the knights; Shirou can simply ride the horse with me," Artoria said coldly.
"Eh?!" Kay was instantly dumbfounded.
"Shirou, let us go." Artoria leaped onto the horse's back and offered an invitation to Shirou.
"I understand, Artoria!" Shirou nodded, not saying much, and agreed immediately.
With the lives of 20,000 people at stake, they couldn't afford to dawdle. He knew nothing about Moriarty's research facility. Even though he had entered the underground base with Antonio earlier, that level had only been for producing weapons and mechanical soldiers. Thinking of this, Shirou jumped onto the horse's back and wrapped his arms around Artoria's waist.
"Wait... no." Kay wanted to say something else, but he was grabbed by the shoulders by the gorilla-like Gawain and Lancelot, one on each side, and forcibly thrown into the car.
Gawain said, "Alright, alright. Since the King has already ordered me to sit inside, let's get in quickly, Sir Kay."
"Wait! I'm just an older brother who wants to sit next to his sister—why are you obstructing me!" Kay said unhappily.
"No, if we are talking about who is more suitable to sit by the King's side, for the sake of safety, it should be me, as I am better at close-quarters combat," Lancelot said.
"No! If we are really talking about who should sit with the King, it should be me, as the attendant officer," Bedivere joined the conversation.
"Hahaha, you guys are funny. If we are talking about family ties, among those present, only I am a relative of the King by blood," Gawain said with a hearty laugh.
"It makes me sad, but compared to this, surely it is most appropriate for me to play music for the King," Tristan said, touching his harp.
Bedivere mediated: "Alright, the King has her own plans; we should just follow orders. Though, to be fair... Kay really is ill-suited for this."
"Gorilla! Adulterer! Bird-brain! And you too, Bedivere, stop acting like a model student! You bastards, you clearly want a fight, don't you!" Kay roared in a frenzy.
"Oh, that's great, I've been wanting to stretch my muscles too," Lancelot said, cracking his knuckles loudly.
"That won't do, Sir Lancelot. Come to think of it, when it comes to sisters, I'm getting a bit heated myself. Why don't we have a match? Of course, not a real one—just to the extent of denting your head in."
"Wait, you few intend to be disrespectful in front of the King? I must correct your reckless thoughts!"
"Are they really going to be alright?" Shirou asked, looking at the chaotic scene inside the car with some concern.
"It is fine. The Knights of the Round Table are often brawling like this; as long as no one dies, it's nothing," Artoria said calmly, kicking the horse's belly and driving the steed forward.
"Alright, alright, this is a beautiful lady's beloved car, so try not to break it—be a bit more restrained. We're departing. Let's finish this business quickly so I can get back to the hotel tonight and return the car to her," Merlin chuckled and stepped on the gas.
The black steed raced through the night like a black lightning bolt, its speed somehow not losing to Merlin's car. It was the famous mount King Arthur had ridden in life—a horse that had experienced battle after battle with the Round Table, chased down barbarian kings, and outrun giants and dragons. In death, it had become a Heroic Spirit, just like its master.
Under the cover of night, the group returned to the black building. Upon entering, they saw a crowd of people. Because of the constant deployment of mechanical soldiers earlier, the building's security forces were completely depleted, leaving the people inside in a panic. The mages who had foreseen something and the opportunistic hangers-on had already fled.
Those who remained were either people who had been blackmailed or those who relied on Moriarty; every one of them looked terrified and on the verge of a breakdown. Seeing a group of outsiders break in, the gazes of the dozens of people in the lobby turned toward them simultaneously. No one knew what to say, and for a moment, they were at a stalemate.
As for the Knights, if this had been a battlefield, they would not have held back, but faced with these unarmed humans, they really didn't know what to do.
At that moment, Artoria stepped forward. She had changed into a gorgeous black evening gown, like the most dazzling and noble Queen descending upon the place.
"Stand down! Moriarty has been subjugated by me! Anyone who dares to obstruct shall be dealt with on the spot—no mercy!"
Artoria swept a cold gaze over the crowd, and they all lowered their heads, trembling, afraid to meet her eyes. The S-type female executive from before was there too, collapsing directly to the floor. When she fell, the other executives and lackeys were even more terrified; their legs gave out and they knelt one by one, respectfully pressing their heads to the floor in a standard dogeza (prostration), swearing their allegiance to welcome their new monarch.
The "霸气" (aura of a king) that makes people prostrate themselves might not exist as a physical force, but the presence was real. People who have long held high positions have an aura of authority; veterans of the battlefield have killing intent; even street thugs wielding knives have a viciousness that intimidates others.
Different environments, familiar ground vs. unfamiliar ground, confidence vs. uncertainty—all these affect people significantly. When people lack conviction, they often don't even have the courage to hold eye contact. But with conviction, one can stare straight through anything.
As a monarch who had once ruled a country, occupying a few city blocks was an easy task for her, especially since it was the industry of a defeated foe. According to the rules of her era, all of Shinjuku now belonged to Britain. If anyone were dissatisfied, they could bring an army to attack, and she would drive them out just as she drove out barbarian invaders in the past.
No one dared to resist Artoria. Thus, Shirou and the others proceeded smoothly to the basement.
The lights in the basements where the homunculi were cultivated flickered on, and new, important prompts flashed on the monitoring computers. It seemed that because Moriarty had left and the power supply had been cut, some of the girls in the incubation pods had woken up and were pressing their hands against the glass, peering curiously at the outside world.
Across five floors, categorized by the age of the clones, girls of various ages lay in the nutrient pods. The ages were controlled to be under 18—from high school JK and middle school JC girls, to elementary students, kindergartners, and even toddlers aged 1–3 who were still babbling and needed diaper changes and feeding.
Although Shirou was initially lost and unsure if he truly had the ability to support so many people, the moment he saw these children, his heart tugged. In an instant, he made his decision: Yes, he would take good care of these children no matter what and raise them into adulthood.
And so, Shirou began his new life of raising 20,000 sisters.
One week later, in a secluded apartment complex in Tokyo:
"Onii-chan, let's play." "Wait, I asked first~!"
Two elementary-aged blonde girls, each holding a water gun, hugged one of Shirou's legs. They looked 90% identical to Artoria, the only difference being their childlike, undeveloped features.
"Alright, I have things to attend to. You two go play by yourselves first," Shirou said softly, patting their heads.
"Nii-nii, hug~!" A toddler not yet three years old, wearing a onesie, crawled to Shirou's feet, eyes wide and sparkling, reaching out her hands.
"..." Shirou looked at the blonde toddler and really wanted to satisfy her, but besides her, there was a whole pile of babies looking at him with hopeful eyes. If he started now, it would be impossible to stop.
"Boss, stock is low. Japanese snacks, requesting replenishment." "Big Brother, fried chicken too, please!"
Shirou looked back to see the miniature "literary girl" and the miniature cold Saber Alter—the middle-school duo who turned into little demons if they didn't get their snacks.
"Then I'll leave these children for you to take care of. Make sure you soothe them," Shirou said. "Received," the two girls said, raising their hands honestly.
"Shirou-oniisan, I'll help too," the white Lily said. "Thank you, Lily," Shirou said, moved. This child was simply an angel.
"Shirou-niisan, stop doing these things! Come play games with us~!" A brat jumped and bumped into him.
"Sorry, although it's the Europe sector's turn today, I have to go to the Jeanne floor next, and after that, there's the Illya floor, the Elizabeth floor, the Fran floor, the Attila floor, the Jack floor..." Shirou began reciting a very long list of names. Because Moriarty's interests were so wide-ranging, he recited for a full minute and still wasn't finished. Finally, he gave up and looked earnestly at the girls' faces: "So... please understand," Shirou said, exhausted.
"I... is that so? Brother, it's really not easy for you, is it." The girls seemed to understand and didn't dare to ask for more.
"By the way, when did you sneak in?" Shirou asked. The girl in front of him, wearing her hair in a spiky ponytail, looked very similar in the face, but was actually the tomboyish 'Mordred-floor' girl, impersonating Artoria.
Little Mordred hesitated, pointing her fingers together: "T-that... is the big sister in the black clothes, the super handsome and super beautiful one, coming over tonight?"
"No, Artoria went abroad for business today; she probably won't make it back," Shirou said.
"What?! Brother, you have to try harder~! Don't just wait for that sister to come looking for you at night!" The tomboy slapped Shirou's back hard, making a loud sound, and turned to run off.
"I don't need you to tell me that—and why is even this part exactly like the original?!" Shirou felt his back stinging, helplessly saying.
Yes, because Artoria had taken over the industry Moriarty left behind, suppressed all factions in a very short time, and implemented reforms, she had already begun laundering the business into legitimate operations with Merlin's help.
As for the criminals who were unforgivable, after a "friendly chat" with Merlin, they lined up at the Metropolitan Police Department to surrender, sobbing as they recounted their criminal histories, leaving the recording officers with their jaws dropped in shock. The rest were forcefully brainwashed and rehabilitated, returning to society.
As for the ill-gotten gains, Merlin was responsible for cleaning the funds and injecting them into the company accounts. They planned to recruit people from various countries and turn them into refined soldiers through militarized training, establishing a security company providing mercenaries and professional bodyguards. So, there were no financial problems; Shirou just had to focus on taking care of his sisters every day.
Except... he now had two... two-thousand of these strange and diverse sisters...
In truth, the Artoria-line sisters were easy to get along with; at most, they had larger appetites and stronger personalities.
"Brother, the Jeanne floor called to say that if you don't go over, those delinquents are going to get angry and burn the building down," a sister said, handing him the phone. "Yes, yes... I know. Tell them I'm going there right now," Shirou promised loudly. "Brother, do your best!" The pure white Lily at his side clenched her small fist to cheer him on.
"Mm-hmm..." Shirou walked downstairs with complicated feelings. When he stepped out of the building, he sighed with emotion: My sisters are simply angels.
"Are you calling for me!?" Except for those who couldn't walk, the remaining 10,000+ sisters throughout the residential complex—upstairs, downstairs, at the windows, in the trees, on the grass, under the sewer manholes, and in the bushes—all poked their heads out, looked over, and spoke in unison.
"Sluuuurp...!!!" Startled! The red-haired youth opened his eyes wide and sucked back the drool that was about to hit the floor. Shaken, he turned his head left and right until he confirmed that the surroundings were perfectly normal, only then finally feeling at ease.
This was already another world. This was also Shirou, who was searching for true happiness, but for the Shirou here, a few years had passed since he woke up. He was a bit older, looking about 27 or 28, with "dead fish eyes" on his face, looking somewhat dejected and decadent, yet also somewhat Buddhist and indifferent.
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