29 Signs of a Storm 2

In the far-off distance, at the edge of the 1st Floor, was a castle. A fortress that served as the strategic chokepoint and bridge that connected the 1st Floor with the 2nd Floor.

Shirou was perched atop the tallest tower, observing Calabdolg II's explosive detonation with his black bow in hand. A booming mushroom cloud could be seen in the distance from across the entire Floor.

A screen appeared, a message relaying that all forces and invaders were repelled and that they won the "raid", if one would even properly call it that. Dismissing the obvious message, a flash of blue light from the corner of his eyes alerted him to the presence of his Servants. They joined him, with Caster waiting by his side.

Caster – Lvl: 100

Caster's wardrobe predominantly consisted of blue apparel, adorned with black sleeves that drooped and had white trimming, accentuated with golden embellishments. Her shrine maiden outfit gracefully draped over her body, with the black and golden fabric wrapped towards the center in a large bow that drew attention to her bare shoulders and her bosom's elegant curves. The sea of lush cherry pink hair cascaded down her head, styled into two long ponytails at the back. Two brown-colored foxy ears perched atop her head, keenly observant of her surroundings. A golden lotus-shaped headpiece crowned her head, embellished with chiming golden bells that added a whimsical charm to her appearance.

Her eyes were a striking pair of golden orbs that gleamed with mischievousness and levity. The whimsical curve of her lips was perfectly complemented by the nine fluffy tails that swayed idly to their own rhythm. And then there was the intricate mirror that floated gracefully beside her, adding an extra layer of charm to her already enchanting presence.

Following the appearance of his Servants, the sound of flapping wings grew as Shalltear descended from the sky, flanked by her Vampire Brides.

"Nice work out there, everyone." Shirou commended aloud, turning to face his allies.

Yet, as the light show that announced the return of his Servants dimmed, he noticed something. Only Lancer and Berserker stood before him, the former with a stoic annoyance clear in her eyes while the latter remained impassive as ever. Rider, he had ordered to the surface to act as an overwatch in the case of another attack.

That left one Servant unaccounted for.

Before he could question the lack of an Assassin he'd distinctly remembered partnering with Lancer, however, he received his answer in the form of a lithe figure jumping and hanging from his neck, the weight on his back minute, yet demanding attention.

"Mommy, they didn't stand a chance!" The little assassin cheered, drawing a soft smile from the magus.

No longer hidden by the black cloak, as it only manifested when she was in combat, Assassin's smile was on full display, with a soft jingling from the number of sheaths for her knives or dagger located at the small part of her back. Despite the knowledge of who the young girl clinging to him was, Shirou adjusted himself to provide her with a proper piggyback.

The white-haired child giggled as she got comfortable.

"Husband~" A light voice called out as Caster leaned on his side.

A playful exhale left his lips as he already knew what Caster wanted, earning another soft chuckle from him as his other hand reached out to give the nine-tailed fox a head pat. The Servant of the spells cooed, purring at his touch.

Unlike the others, Shalltear didn't openly respond, but that was hardly something new. Assassin and Caster were preoccupied to care. Berserker merely gave a nod. As for Lancer, the Queen of the Land of Shadows only scoffed under her breath, before turning her gaze from her fellow spirit to the outstretched land.

"They were nothing special. I was hoping to have more worthwhile opponents. Sending the little one was unnecessary, Apprentice."

"I don't doubt your skill or abilities, Lancer. But we're a team, and we help each other out whether it's needed or not."

Lancer said nothing more, dipping her head and acknowledging his words.

Shirou's eyes wandered, casting a sidelong glance at Shalltear, who was standing behind Lancer. He felt something from the Floor Guardian. Despite her smiling expression remaining unchanged, he could almost feel her frowning. Whether that was because of a trick of light within the darkened environment or just his imagination, he couldn't say for certain. Whatever the reason, his other free hand reached out and patted her on the head affectionately.

"I can't forget about you. You did an amazing job, Shalltear." He praised her, not wanting to leave her out.

Looking away, his gaze turned back towards the underground that was known as the 1st Floor, his eyes quiet and contemplative.

The presence of his Servants more than easily tipped the scales in their favor, despite the fact that there were many invaders and only one of him. Seeing them in action this night only reaffirmed what he already knew. They were formidable on their own, and when they joined forces, their combined strength only multiplied.

"Preparation is key." - It was a sentiment that rang true, no matter if it was the Moonlit World or YGGDRASIL.

Shirou was made aware of the invader's presence well before they entered Nazarick's territory. Sensors within the swamp alerted him to the encroaching parties and granted him a window of time to suitably buff his Servants and lead with the first attack before they could. This allowed the magus to set up the board well in advance to welcome the intruders.

If there was one thing Shirou had to give YGGDRASIL credit for, it was that there were no technical limits to the number of buffs and enchantments one could place on a Player or NPC. A mechanic he abused wholeheartedly before sending them out, fully empowered to the point of overkill with the litany of buffs, spells, and skills aiding them.

His Servants possessed skills and spells, no different from those of other NPCs or Players alike. Unique and powerful ones indeed.

Take, for example, Nightingale's [Human Comprehension] – a fitting skill if there ever was one considering who they were fighting against. Alongside Rider's [Tengu Art of War], [Six Secret Arts of War: Thunder and Gale], and Lancer's [Primeval Rune], which provided protective and offensive strengthening runes, and Caster's numerous spells and enchantments, their stats were comparable to high-level raid bosses themselves.

'I should head out to check and see if any Bounded Fields are still active.' Shirou made a mental note to return with Caster to the Catacombs to install fresh Bounded Fields to replace those that were activated this night. He'd also look into setting a few more down as a precaution.

His hand instinctively reached up to his chin, his thumb absently flicking against his chin as his mind wandered. His heterochromatic eyes idly drifted downward, taking in the soft crimson glow of his Command Seals.

The Servants were valuable in and of themselves due to their strength and versatility, but the addition of his command seals made them exceptional enough to be classified as World Items. He held fifteen in total. Of the fifteen, eight of them were dulled. Shirou had initially used six of them to further augment his Servants, with the remaining nine kept as reserves in cases of emergency, of which he used an additional two throughout the raid.

The magus didn't have to worry about being frugal with his command seals, as he would regain one every eight hours.

Divide and conquer was a rather common strategy, but one that was quite situational and could easily be a hindrance rather than a boon.

With the invaders congregated into parties, it was child's play separating them. Nazarick held a plethora of traps, most common of them were teleportation traps that would relocate any invading forces to specific points of contact across the 1st Floor.

While he and Caster took care of the first two parties on the surface, he dispatched and directed his Servants alongside Shalltear wherever they were needed to engage the enemy parties. When Shirou was finished on the surface, he joined the rest on the 1st Floor. From there, it was simply a matter of systematically picking the parties off and allowing his Servants to collapse on their respective targets one by one until all the invaders were dead and gone.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick was no stranger to raids. They have thwarted countless attacks on their guild base over the years. Many more powerful and numerous clans, organizations, and guilds than the ones seen on this night have tried their hand, only to fail. Following the same trend as their predecessors, none have ever successfully made it past the 1st Floor.

But then again, the magus knew that their attempt this night wasn't with victory in mind.

After all, when going to war, one doesn't send the flag bearers first. No, that role belongs to the scouts.

Over the past several months, Nazarick has been subjected to numerous small raids and fleeting attacks. At first, he was perplexed, but their design became clear once he took a step back and look at them as a whole. These small-scale incursions made on Nazarick weren't with strict victory in mind but rather an objective. They were probing Nazarick's defenses, scouting the tomb's perimeter, and trying to ascertain as much as they could.

The frequency at which they were occurring was troubling, hinting at something much more, something big.

Another guild raid, perhaps even a full-fledged guild war on Nazarick with the intent of bringing Nazarick low for good? With his friend's diminishing playtime, what better time to strike when they are far from their strongest?

Shirou's eyes tightened at the thought.

Nazarick had built up a reputation for being invisible and impenetrable due to every invasion made on it being repelled. One that many people would actively seek out as a challenge.

Undoubtedly, many would take up the challenge in a bid for glory or sport, while others would do it as a form of retaliation against Ainz Ooal Gown as a whole.

Whatever the case may be, it didn't matter to Shirou. All those seeking Nazarick out will be met with the same fate as those before them, with overwhelming force and defeat.

If any fool believes they'll be allowed the mercy of wandering through his home with the intent of desecrating it, they have another thing coming for them.

So long as he draws breath, he'll never let Nazarick fall to her enemies. Be they hundreds of Players or even in the thousands. Anyone who would dare try will fall to his blades, one way or another.

Shirou closed his eyes and let out a steady breath, calming himself. Getting worked up would do him no good, especially so late at night.

For the moment, he successfully repelled the enemy. He should take comfort in that much.

His eyes drooped slightly as the adrenaline from all the fighting wore away. In its place, drowsiness crept in, whispering to him to get some well-deserved rest by going to bed. The raid came just before he could turn in for the night, so he was reasonably tired and more than ready to get some shut-eye for the night.

However, he couldn't fully rest easy just yet. There was no telling if the Seekers would try a follow-up attempt, capitalizing on the perceived moment of victory, and striking again when he believed that was it.

It would hardly be the first time, and there was little doubt in the faker's mind that it'd stop now.

Suppressing an exhaustive yawn, Shirou mobilized his Servants once more onto the field.

"Apologies, Shalltear, but I'll be requiring your vigilance more tonight. At least, until we know for certain, there will be no further attacks." He said, calling on her one last time.

"I'll leave the 1st Floor to your care as always."

Using the ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, he teleported away. His Servants followed a second later.

Alone, Shalltear and her Vampire Brides remained where they were. They took to the air after a brief delay, ready to perform their sworn duty should the need arise once again.

The Floor Guardian smiled widely, as she always did, but if one were to look closely, they would see that it stretched from ear to ear. A hint of pink dominated her cheeks, glowing against her pale skin. Her body swayed vaguely as if merry, flying to a jaunty hum only she was privy to.

[—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—]

'What a beautiful moon.' Shirou pondered, staring at the moon serenely.

The night sky was tranquil this day, with nary a cloud in sight, offering a stunning view of a starry midnight sky to welcome all under its blanket. The soft, radiant moonlight shone softly on the horizon and upon the slumbering garden. Fireflies danced in the night, their twinkling glow casting fragments of illumination that scattered across the backyard.

There he remained, quiet and content, alone on the veranda of the Emiya residence.

"Shirou?" A voice called out, reigning him in from his peace.

Shirou craned his head back, catching a figure walking forth from the shadow of the house. The light of the full moon helped to illuminate all under its gaze.

It was Kiritsugu. He was clothed in a comfortable yukata, exactly as he always remembered his adopted father. His aged face sought him out as he walked forward, a mixture of curiosity and parental worry.

"What are you doing awake? It's quite late." He questioned.

"I can say the same for you. Isn't it past your bedtime as well?" Shirou returned with a lazy grin.

"Cheeky brat, is that any way to speak to your old man?" Kiritsugu snorted under his breath, a waning smile overcoming his weary features.

A hand reached out, ruffling up the young man's hair affectionately. A small grunt left the retired Magus Killer's lips as he leaned against one of the wooden support beams, joining his son in the time-honored family tradition of stargazing.

There the two contently remained, watching the night sky with only the teeming insects of the night to soothe their lullaby. Time stretched on, seconds, minutes, hours. Shirou had no idea how much time had passed, and a part of him wished it could continue like this forever. Eventually, the silence would be broken by none other than himself.

"Kiritsugu, do you have things you've regretted?"

The elderly Emiya didn't answer, the silence continuing into the night. Shirou briefly wondered if he'd heard him.

"Of course. I suppose that's the curse of growing old—to be able to look back on your life and wonder what I could've done instead, what could've been done better." He answered, shooting Shirou a quick and all-knowing glance.

"Father, Shirley, Natalia, Iri, Maiya, Saber, sweet little Illya..."

Shirou listened as his adopted father listed every name, some he knew, and others were strangers, each one heavy with emotion. Kiritsugu's face aged with pained regret with every name.

"Shirou Emiya..."

Shirou remained silent and only listened as Kiritsugu spoke his name among the list and continued.

"In life and in death, what matters is not dying regretting what you could have done better or differently to ease a guilty conscience. It is accepting all that came before us, good and bad, and making peace with it."

Kiritsugu smiled sadly as he leaned back, his eyes fixed on the beautiful moon above.

"A hero of justice..." Kiritsugu began. "Saving the world, defeating evil, and helping and protecting the innocent. A shining beacon, an inspiration for all. Are there any sweeter words than those? The selfless self-sacrifice, an attribute that is held on top of a pedestal – admired and deified, yet it is both a virtue and a Hamartia; a fatal flaw.

There are so many stories where some brave hero decides to risk it all and give their life to save the day. And because of their sacrifice, the good guys win, the bad guys are defeated, the survivors all cheer, and everyone lives happily ever after.

But the hero? The hero never gets to see that happy ending. They'll never know if their sacrifice actually made a difference or not. They'll never know if the day was really saved. In the end, all they can do is make peace with their fate, regrets or not. They have to have faith that everything will work out in the end."

As he concluded, only silence could be heard. Kiritsugu turned and fixed his gaze on his son. And Shirou, he only had one thing to say to sum it all up.

"Ain't that a bitch?"

Kiritsugu snickered at his son's monotone response before tittering. A titter that evolved into a burst of full-blown laughter, raspy and low as if he hadn't laughed in a long, long time. Yet, to Shirou, it sounded euphonious – it'd been a long time since he could remember hearing his father being remotely mirthful in any way.

He didn't realize just how much he missed hearing it.

"When did you get so snippy?" Kiritsugu managed in between laughs. "Whatever happened to that sweet little boy that always knew his manners?"

"He grew up." Shirou answered plainly, his lips twitching into a slight smile.

"Evidently! It seems I ought to have some words with Taiga over your new vocabulary."

Kiritsugu's laughter only continued, drawing him in. Shirou's voice joined his, sharing and basking in the moment. Father and son laughed the night away. A peal of shared laughter that rang out until there was only one voice was left, and then, none.

Shirou looked and saw, he was gone. His face stretched forlornly. He had wished his father had stayed a bit longer. Long enough so that he could say goodbye at the very least. Though Kiritsugu was no longer with him, his words still echoed true within him.

With drooping eyes, he felt his eyelids grow heavy, allowing the tranquil night to come and take him.

In the faint distance, within the sea darkness, a light flickered.

It called out to him.

Shirou raised his arm to it, only to fall short.

His eyes closed, and then, he awoke.

[—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—]

October 16, 2136. World: Helheim. Location: The Great Tomb of Nazarick – 8th Floor: The Cherry Blossom Sanctuary - Emiya Estate

Shirou groaned as consciousness returned to him, stiffness flaring across his body as he moved. His eyes fluttered open, his vision focusing upon waking up. Not much had changed from his dream, with the magus sitting at the same spot on the veranda overlooking the garden; only now it was bright and sunny instead of nighttime, as it always was inside The Cherry Blossom Sanctuary.

The magus bounced to his feet while stretching and loosening up any remaining kinks. He quickly took a seat again, leaning his back against the wooden beam.

'I should probably stop sleeping like this...' He idly mused.

A soft chortle came over him as a particular thought popped into his head.

His friends had made note of his odd propensity to sleep just about anywhere besides in an actual bed. Indeed, he seemed to have an aversion to sleeping in a proper bed, opting instead for a variety of makeshift arrangements throughout the tomb. On the upper Floors, 1st to 3rd, he could be found resting upon the hard ground with nothing but rocks for pillows, while on the 4th Floor, he preferred to set up camp in a cozy tent by the serene underground lake. The 6th Floor's dense, sprawling Amazonian forest was yet another favorite spot, where he would slumber beneath the shade of a sturdy tree or in a comfortable hammock. He could still remember their incredulousness when they found him resting in an igloo on the 5th Floor that one time, or another time when he slept on a stone table in the center of a ruined monastery next to an active volcano on the 7th Floor.

When asked why he did this, Shirou's answer was simply: "I like to spice it up a bit."

In life, he'd gotten so used to sleeping anywhere and on everything besides an actual bed that sleeping on one felt off at times. It was like he was sleeping on a marshmallow, like he would sink to the floor at almost any moment. His personal room on the 9th Floor at times felt too decadent, too comfortable, too fake in comparison to the recreation of the Emiya Estate.

The irony wasn't lost on the Fake Player.

He took in the lovely garden, a sea of perpetually beautiful sakura trees in bloom. Sakura petals were blown through the air freely by a soft breeze. An atmosphere that was the picture of serenity and one that never fails to leave him at peace.

Swept in by the tranquil ambiance, it took him a few seconds before he sensed other presences around him. A glance behind and around revealed Caster and Rider waiting to the side in the seiza position with their hands tucked under their knees. Assassin was sitting on the porch next to him, her small legs playfully kicking back and forth. Berserker and Lancer weren't present, but that didn't alarm him.

He had kept Lancer on watch duty before turning it in for the night. As for Berserker, she has a habit of roaming aimlessly unless instructed otherwise.

Shirou once jokingly considered the idea of building an infirmary or a nurse's office, if only so that when he needed her, it wouldn't be hard to find her.

Shirou's heterochromatic eyes found Assassin, who was merrily sitting there. He found himself wondering about something. He originally stationed her with Lancer, yet here she was.

"Shouldn't you be with Lancer, Assassin?" He asked.

"Jackie goes where Mommy goes!" Assassin slid over, hugging him.

Shirou huffed expectantly, accepting the answer.

For a Servant who bore the name of one of humanity's greatest and most mysterious cut-throat killers, she truly acted how she looked. Not that Shirou was opposed to it.

"Good morning, everyone... No, wait..." A quick check of his menu showed it was the afternoon. "Never mind, good afternoon it is. I hope you guys enjoyed your sleep as well as I did... That is, if you all can actually sleep. I'm still waiting for an answer for that, by the way." He ponderously asked aloud.

None of the three offered a response, so he continued.

"Also, don't tell me you all stayed like that for who knows how long? I've said many times before that you don't need to be by my side all the time. I can't imagine it's all that interesting watching over me while I sleep and laze around."

"It's the duty of the servant to be at her liege's side." Rider was the first to speak, calm and dignified. Her hand was placed over her heart as she gave him a devoted glance.

"A wife's duty is at her husband's side." Caster followed up, happy and assured. Her nine fluffy tails swayed jauntily.

Following that, she produced a small tray with cups of tea, warm and ready. He accepted one with a thank you, earning a loving squeal from the therianthrope as Caster cuddled up beside Shirou. He cracked a small smile. It never failed to evoke a sense of amusement and incredulity at seeing Caster's casual display of high-tier Item Creation used more often than not on the more mundane of applications, such as producing beverages and cooking. Or, more accurately, as it was called in her flavor text, 'Wife Magic'.

Drinking his tea, he ignored the list buffs provided with practiced ease, focusing on the fleeting warmth of the drink spreading, easing both body and mind.

Eyes occasionally flickered towards his Servants, observing and reminiscing.

While NPC customization was nearly limitless, YGGDRASIL regrettably did not support voice lines or dialogue for guild-based NPCs. However, that didn't seem to be the case with the likes of the Servants.

Shirou could still recall the initial shock and surprise following Berserker's introductions, alongside the other four. Something no other Player-created NPC has been shown capable of.

Not only were all five Servant NPCs capable of speech, a feature once thought impossible, but further inspection also revealed them capable of independent action, and movement, in addition to the fact that they could travel with him outside of Nazarick. They also possessed reactions and idle animation. A feature that puts them leaps and bounds ahead of their guild-based counterparts.

He put them to the test for a full week to see the extent of their capability.

If he didn't know any better, he would claim that they were alive, simulating Shirou's condition of existence within YGGDRASIL. Closer examination, however, revealed that the theory was false.

For starters, while his Servants were fully capable of reacting when spoken to, they lacked a certain nuance when it came to proper speech. They often spoke and replied singularly and simply in a manner that was indicative of their character. There was a stiffness to it, similar to reading out dialogue on a sheet of paper, that correlated with what he said.

This fact even extended to some of their behaviors, which occasionally seemed predetermined in accordance with their history and character. One such example of this was Berserker's propensity to wander wherever she went, in search of patients to help and aid, as she calls it. Despite the gesture being extraneous.

Furthermore, while they could respond, the action followed a condition: only if Shirou spoke first. He has yet to see them have the capacity to start a conversation of their own. His Servants were never really proactive; they were always reactive. With an addendum where there were even times when they didn't respond at all, whether it was because they chose not to or because they didn't have a voice line or dialogue tree for whatever it was he was saying at the moment, he couldn't confirm 100%. But generally, they will respond when spoken to.

The absolute exception to this rule was when he was around others, his guildmates, or other Players in general. Shirou earned more than a few bewildered and questioning looks from his friends whenever he first tried showing them off.

Every attempt to catch them in the act, no matter how persistent he was or the strategy he used, fell flat. His Servants only spoke and acted in his presence and his alone. Otherwise, they were indistinguishable from the other NPCs that inhabited Nazarick.

His persistent endeavors to prove their autonomy once culminated in an intervention between him and his friends. It took more than a few conversations with those in the inner circles to dispel the misunderstanding and assure them that no, he had not taken leave of his senses. Or, more concernedly, the loneliness was starting to get to him, and he was losing his mind and believing the NPCs could talk and act as a coping mechanism.

Tabula went on a particular tangent that day regarding the matter of virtual reality and the human psyche. He spoke at length about how the human mind, while exceedingly complex, was just as easily fragile. Games with VR integration typically had limitations; this was to prevent the line between reality and the virtual world from blurring. This allowed the individual to readily distinguish the real world from the virtual one without any major side effects. However, Shirou lived solely in the digital world and thus had no anchoring point. The Brain Eater then speculated that due to living in YGGDRASIL for so long, the magus's mind was deteriorating and that he was going loony. A speculation that further riled them up, all the while Shirou continued trying to convince them overwise to little avail.

The situation opened up a whole new can of worms as the group panicked and added their own crazy conjectures. One thing led to another, and it spiraled so far out of hand that they somehow came to the wild conclusion that Shirou was entering a Rampancy state and that there existed a backup file out there that held an exact copy of Shirou's psyche that could be used to cure his condition, leading to the guild spearheading a mission to find this nonexistent solution.

Thankfully, he managed to talk them out of it and convinced them that, no, he wasn't going insane or anything, and that he wasn't losing his sense of self or anything wild.

He was perfectly cognitive and perfectly sane…

Correction, as sane as he typically was. He was a magus after all.

Withdrawing from the memory, Shirou chuckled softly. It warmed his digital heart to see his friends get worked up for his sake, but honestly, the magus wondered where some of his friends got their hair-brained ideas from.

Then again, reality was often time stranger than fiction.

Shirou's life was irrefutable proof of that.

Back to his Servants, it was these little discrepancies regarding them that put into question if they were truly Servants taken from the Throne of Heroes. Shirou was uncertain whether their existence parallels that of the Fake Player, who uses a digital medium, albeit limited in comparison to him, or if they were an intricate facsimile of the Heroic Spirits they were based on. Whatever the case, being a World Item, they boast greater functionality and undoubtedly possess more sophisticated VI - virtual intelligent processing. A halfway point between semi-sentient but not fully complete.

In any case, the introduction of the Servants only spurred his already nebulous life in another unexpected direction.

At first, he wasn't quite sure what to make of or feel about them. The question of what their presence meant arose after the surprise and awe of the moment subsided. But as the months passed, Shirou grew accustomed to them.

There was a sense of familiarity with their presence – more than just Master and Servant, despite the many years that had passed since the last Holy Grail War. The matter of whether they were real or not eluded him, but in the end, it hardly made a difference. For they would help keep him company when the loneliness and silence became a touch unbearable.

At least with his Servants, he'll have some companions he could actually converse with besides himself in the far-flung future. A rather morose consideration he came to not too long ago after their introduction.

It made the uncertainty a bit more bearable.

And what an interesting entourage of companions he had going.

Berserker was none other than Florence Nightingale, the founder of modern nursing. There was a certain irony to it all that the one who bore the name of Nightingale, known throughout history as a practitioner of healing and a staunch pacifist, would belong to the Servant class known for their rage and destruction. Though perhaps that explained her overly eccentric zeal for the call of duty.

Next, there was Rider, or, as history remembered her, Minamoto no Yoshitsune. The famed Japanese military commander of the late Heian period. And yet another case of Throne of Heroes and history conflicting when it came to her true identity.

Tamamo-no-Mae, the mythical kitsune of legends, held the Caster class. A yokai on par with a high Divine Spirit, famous for her cruelty and power alike. And, while the latter remained true, the former seemed absurd from what he'd gathered. Instead of being a monster, she was just a woman whose only desire was to be a wife and to have a husband to call her own and love. A role she took like a fish to water for him.

Then there was Lancer, the sole member of the Knight Class at his disposal, and none other than the legendary Scáthach, the immortal God-slaying witch. A Queen in her own right and the Witch of Dún Scáith. Legend credits her as a renowned slayer of gods, beasts, and men. Most relevant to it all, she was the teacher to Ireland's very own child of light, Cú Chulainn, the very hero who took his life the first time around. It figured that he would summon the blue lancer's master as his Servant.

Last but certainly not least, Assassin.

At the thought of the Heroic Spirit of Assassination, his eyes strayed to her. At first glance, one would hardly guess that such a disarming-looking little girl would be a Servant. The young girl whose white hair reminded him of better times was perhaps the most twisted of his Servants. More of a Wraith than a proper Servant, she existed as an Assassin composed of hundreds of unwanted children in London who perished early in life. Yet, Jack the Ripper was their name.

What a cruel joke...

Shirou must've muttered words aloud absentmindedly, for Assassin craned her head up as if sensing his inner thoughts.

"Mommy." She said, promptly hugging him again.

Hearing her say this, Shirou's smile only grew melancholic.

His hand reached out, rubbing the head of little Jackie affectionately, who responded by leaning into the touch much like a cat with its owner's loving strokes.

"Mommy." Assassin said again.

When she called him that the first time, he remembered being put off. A quick investigation helped him understand why.

In a manner similar to other non-playable characters, the Servants had their own flavor text that provided a wealth of information and backstory about them. He had complete access to this as their "owner," which detailed their entire history and conception into the Throne of Heroes. Shirou was able to foster a better understanding of each Servant as individuals thanks to this opportunity, especially Assassin and Caster, whose pasts were mired in tragedy. And coincidentally, the ones that clung to him often.

All things considered, he didn't mind it and allowed them to indulge in their peculiarities. Yes, it took some getting used to, but in the end, they were content, and that was good enough for him. He has endured far worse than simple naming conventions.

Moreover, if there was one thing he was grateful for regarding the fact that they couldn't speak in the presence of other Players, it was that he didn't have to explain about those two in particular.

If anyone heard, for an intensive purpose, a little girl calling him 'Mommy' and an alluring vulpine woman calling him 'Husband' in an overly affectionate manner... Well, that would undoubtedly draw suspicion and a few inquisitive eyebrows his way. And that was a conversation he had no desire to get into. No matter how he defends or explains himself, he'll lose regardless.

Shirou could all too easily imagine the snickering and wisecrack questioning made at his expense by his friends, in particular from the likes of Warrior Takemikazuchi and Ulbert, if the truth came to light.

The last thing he needed was to give his friends more ammunition to use against him.

"Still, it's hard to believe that the infamous Jack the Ripper would be a little girl... Then again, no one expected King Arthur to be a woman either... Or Minamoto no Yoshitsune, for that matter." Shirou muttered in a quiet voice, smiling offhandedly at the particular line of thought.

One would think by this point he would've gotten desensitized to all the curved balls thrown at him in his life. Yet, the Throne of Heroes always managed a surprise or two.

Then again, what was life without a few surprises to add some color to it?

With nothing more, Shirou fell into a comfortable lull.

And for a moment, all was right with the world.

This was what he longed for. The moments of peace that made the struggles he endured worth it. They were a rare commodity but nonetheless treasured.

So why then...

Why could he not enjoy it in its entirety?

No matter how he shifted himself, searching for a more relaxed pose, the restlessness would not fade.

Because, despite his wish for the contrary, he knew the reality of the situation that surrounded his guild. They were a boat, encircled by sharks and piranhas alike, hoping to take a bit for themselves.

The events of the previous night flashed before him. His eyes opened, glimmering with resolve and defiance in his silver and golden eyes.

Shirou had fought against a myriad of beings, individuals, and monsters far stronger than he. But this time, he faced perhaps the most challenging opponent because how does one defeat a foe they do not even know?

The magus couldn't simply venture forth to meet them on the field of battle, nor could he stalk or hunt them down himself. They were enigmatic, scattered across the nine realms, biding their time in the shadows.

He couldn't come to them. For better or for worse, all he could do was wait until they finally revealed themselves.

But so be it. They'll be ready.

He'll be ready...

"Nazarick has never been the most popular guild. Hated among the Humanoid Player community and even envied by several of the Heteromorphs, that animosity was bound to boil over. Yet, couldn't it happen earlier? If almost a full hundred individuals were a scouting force, how large is their army? Yet, even at this moment, it could be growing bigger, but I'm unable to go on the offense. When the time comes to defend this place my friends call home, can I count on you, Scáthach: the Queen of Shadows? How about you, Jack the Ripper? Ushiwakamaru, will you be my Vassal? Tamamo-no-Mae, will you burn those who stand against me? Florence Nightingale, will you guard me against death itself? You may have answered my summons, but this circumstance is far from the norm, so... Forgive this selfish request of mine, but I'll be counting on all of you when the time comes again. Help me, be my shield and sword, to fend off those who wish to plunder the home of Ainz Oown Goal!" He declared, springing to his feet, a powerful flourish with his hand gesturing to his faithful Servants before him.

His declaration echoed across the field. A spur of the moment. It was also here that he acknowledged Lancer's and Berserker's presence, who had been away but had somehow found themselves here. It was almost as if his Servants knew beforehand and required their presence to make his speech work.

Several seconds of meditative silence passed. Shirou remained there, facing them with his arm still outstretched in a powerful declaration, while his Servants locked eyes with him.

It wouldn't be long before he could feel the heat rising from his cheeks and the air turning awkward as secondhand embarrassment flooded his entire body in the wake of his impulsive speech.

Either the loneliness was really getting to him that he would espouse something as hammy as what he had just proclaimed, or Momonga and Ulbert's role-playing and chunni behavior were most definitely rubbing off on him.

Honestly, he wasn't quite sure which was worse.

Somewhere out there, Momonga/Satoru Suzuki sneezed. He looked around, rubbing under his nose at the odd feeling. Curious, he wondered if someone was talking about him. Ulbert/Youta, on the other hand, felt his eyebrow twitch, annoyance filling him at the sense of his name being besmirched somehow, somewhere. He also had the powerful urge to give someone the middle finger.

None of the Servants chose to dignify a response, something he was thankful for.

"I'll... take that as a yes, then..." He coughed in a fist, striving to retain some measure of his steadfast composure.

Again, the Servants said nothing. Shirou wished they did, if only to dispel the quietness. They stared at him calmly, as if passing judgment on him behind their fixed expression.

His embarrassment only grew with every passing second.

He then offered a quick and silent prayer to Root or whoever was listening for a distraction, anything to get rid of the suffocating silence he found himself in.

"Told ya he'd be here, Touch'."

It was here that Shirou's ear twitched, catching the call of a voice in the distance and the patter of approaching feet. Warrior Takemikazuchi and Touch Me then appeared as they rounded the corner.

"T-Touch me-san, T-Takemikazuchi-san. It's good to see you two!" The faker greeted, his voice squeaky slightly as he fought to get it under control.

'Please don't tell me they heard that...' He hoped, remembering just how loud he was.

"Emiya-san."

"Yo!"

Touch Me and Warrior Takemikazuchi returned the greeting, the silver paladin with a nod, and the armored samurai with a two-finger salute.

"Is there anything I can help you two with?" Shirou hurriedly asked.

"We were simply wondering where you were, old friend. And..."

"Also, were you talking to yourself again, Emiya-san? ' Pretty sure I heard you talking loudly about something. Is it that time of the month again?" Warrior Takemikazuchi interjected, cutting Touch Me off, his voice dripping with amusement.

The Nephilim turned to his friend as soon as Shirou opened his mouth, not bothering to wait for a response.

"I think ol' Emiya-san might be relapsing. I think this calls for another intervention! Quickly Touch Me-san, call the others!"

"No, no, none of that!" Shirou interrupted, rushing over to stop him. "Just because I was speaking a little bit loudly doesn't mean I'm going crazy."

"Aha! So you do admit that you were talking to yourself." Warrior Takemikazuchi crowed, grinning in triumph at Shirou's 'admission'.

"I... You... ugh!" Shirou struggled, knowing full well that anything he said would be used against him.

"There, there. It's ok." The Heteromorphic Player walked over, placing a comforting hand on the magus's shoulder and patting him reassuringly. "The first step to every problem is acknowledging you have a problem."

"Takemikazuchi-san..." The projection user deadpanned, but he continued regardless.

"Don't worry, we're here for you, Emiya-san. You can talk about it with us about anything. Ain't that right, Touch'?"

"Touch Me-san, please tell him to stop."

Touch Me had his arms crossed, his helm facing away as if in great thought.

"Hmm, I don't know... He might be onto something." The World Champion said, keeping the pair in his peripheral. Although obscured by his helm, the faker could all too easily picture his friend's smirk.

Shirou's shoulder slumped upon hearing his last hope take Warrior Takemikazuchi's side.

"Not you too..." He lamented. "Guys, I'm telling you, I'm fine."

"Hmmm..." Warrior Takemikazuchi leaned in, scrutinizing him for any signs of deceit. He then turned to Touch Me. "I believe him, but I'd say we better get a second opinion. What'd ya think, Touch Me-san?"

"I concur."

Shirou let out an audible noise, already knowing what was going to happen.

"Please no..."

"Here's Mr. Wiggle!" A loud and exaggerated cutesy voice rang out, courtesy of Warrior Takemikazuchi. On one of his hands was a small, cute hand puppet of some kind of hamster.

"Hello~ How are you doing today, Emiya-san?" Mr. Wiggle happily greeted him, the hand puppet shoved right in his face.

Shirou suppressed a suffering sigh. Mr. Wiggle was an item that those in the inner circle purchased in response to an incident where he messed up after he had promised to keep his friend's up to date with everything. Mr. Wiggle was brought out whenever he was being difficult or "relapsing," as they say. More often than not at his expense.

He knew better than to resist, for it'd only embolden them to try even harder until he cracked.

"Hello, Mr. Wiggles. I'm doing fine..."

"Wonderful~! So, I hear you might be relapsing again. Is that true?"

"No, I'm not. I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Wiggles."

"Really~?"

"Yes, really."

"Really, really?"

"Yes, really, really. I am fine."

The two Heteromorphic Players, who were obviously taking advantage of the situation more than they ought to be, were snickering under their breath and attempting to hold back their laughter as Shirou mustered a small glare in their direction.

"Hmmm~~" Mr. Wiggles shifted animatedly from side to side, thinking over his words in great detail.

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

"Super pinky promise?"

"Yes, super pinky promise."

"Super, mega, ultra, powerful, cool, awesome, deluxe, omega, alpha star, pinky promise?"

"Takemikazuchi-san, I swear to the gods I'll... Yes! I super, mega, ultra, powerful, cool, awesome, deluxe, omega, alpha star, pinky promise!"

"Yay~!" Mr. Wiggles raised his tiny hands in the air as small, colorful fireworks and special effects played joyfully in the background.

Swallowing his exasperation, Shirou held out his pinky and wrapped it over the puppet's miniature arm, and they shook, finally putting the matter to a close. However, there was one more piece of advice Mr. Wiggles would leave him with.

"Bye ~ Bye ~ And remember, licking doorknobs is illegal on other planets!"

Mr. Wiggles gave him a loud, exaggerated kiss on the nose after saying those completely out-of-context parting words and then vanished, returning to Warrior Takemikazuchi's inventory.

The two Players found themselves unable to contain their amusement any further, and their laughter erupted in uncontrollable fits. Touch Me was seen clutching his stomach while letting out hearty roars of laughter, and Warrior Takemikazuchi was hunched over, pounding his knees as he struggled to stifle his wheezing.

"Ugh!" Shirou let out an unrestrained groan, burying his head in his hands, and sat down as his friend's laughter filled the air. "I hate you guys so much."

"Love you too." Warrior Takemikazuchi managed, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.

If that wasn't bad enough, Shirou swore he could feel his Servants, mute as they were, deriving some amusement from his misery. He just knew that they were laughing alongside his guildmates, even if it wasn't out loud.

He grunted and turned away, but despite everything, a small smile found itself on his lips.

Shirou waited patiently, allowing their laughter to run its course. He carried on from where Touch Me Last left off once the last dregs of laughter subsided and they had a chance to catch their breath.

"What were you saying, Touch Me-san, before you were so rudely interrupted?" Shirou threw the samurai a pointed look.

"Right, right." He cleared his throat. "We were just wondering where you were. It's nearly time for the meeting, and you weren't answering your [Message]'s."

A quick look at his menu indeed showed several incoming [Message]'s that timed out due to him not answering them.

"S-sorry, lost track of time for a bit. I guess I was more relaxed than I thought during my earlier nap." He played it off.

"Oh? Hear that Touch Me-san, Emiya-san would rather spend his time sleeping around with little harem than hang out with us." Warrior Takemikazuchi jostled with a snicker, earning a light knock from Touch Me's elbow and an eye roll from Shirou as a worn-out grin stretched across the magus's face.

"I feel so sorry for Bukubukuchagama-san, having so many fierce competitions."

"You make it sound as if I'm some kind of deviant, Takemikazuchi-san."

"I mean, I'm not the man who used his World Items to make four beautiful NPCs and a little kid that follows him around wherever he goes. A little kid that's dressed extremely skimpily, might I add. And here I thought ol' Peroroncino-san was the group's resident perv. You'd think you know someone..." Warrior Takemikazuchi shook his head dejectedly, tsking like a parent who uncovered their child has a hidden fetish or embarrassing predilection.

"Oh, for the love of—! How many times do I have to explain that it wasn't on purpose?!" Shirou countered, his face flushing with exasperation.

"Sure, totally, whatever you say, Emiya-san." Sporting that all-too-familiar smirk and a voice full of sarcasm, the samurai drawled, totally believing him.

The silver-haired Player let out a huff, the smile he held was far from diminished.

"I notice you've been rather lethargic as of late. Are you doing alright, Emiya-san? Are you getting enough sleep at night? If not, you should. It's important to make sure you're getting enough rest, not just for relaxation but also to combat mental fatigue." Touch Me expressed concern as he stepped closer to inspect him, like a caring parent checking on their child.

"Chill, Touch'. You know how it is with old people. They like to spend their days sleeping around. Ain't nothing new." Warrior Takemikazuchi joked, his hand clasping the paladin's pauldron and pulling him back.

"How rude. Is that any way for you to speak to your elders? You whippersnappers have no respect these days." Shirou responded with playful indignation, shaking his head in disappointment.

The Bujin snorted in amusement at this. Who the heck even hears, let alone uses the word "whippersnappers" anymore? It only served to prove the samurai's point.

"I'm just calling it how I see it, old man. What are you going to do, wave your walking stick at me?" Warrior Takemikazuchi retorted with a smirk.

At first, Shirou remained motionless in response to Warrior Takemikazuchi's challenge. However, he then projected a lengthy wooden stick and bonked his friend's horned head with it. The strike produced a comical sound effect before breaking into motes of light. A short pause rang out as the trio exchanged glances before all three of them cackled, sharing another bout of laughter.

Following the welcome respite it brought them, the sound of merriment could be heard echoing across the field and sanctuary, carried by the soothing winds.

"I'm doing okay, Touch Me-san. Honest. As for my sleep schedule, well, you'll understand when we meet up with everyone else." He answered the World Champion's previous question, rising to his feet and patting his friend's shoulder.

"Alright." Touch Me accepted after a moment.

Warrior Takemikazuchi slung around, wrapping his arms around them affectionately from the back, drawing them in with his massive frame.

"Now that's out of the way. Let's get a move on, you guys. We all know how anal Moe-san gets when it comes to being punctual! I swear, even after all these years, ol' shorty still got that stick firmly up his as—"

"Takemikazuchi-san!" Touch Me shouted, scandalized.

"What? We all thought about it at least once. Back me up here, Emiya-san."

"No comment."

"See, he agrees."

Warrior Takemikazuchi earned a bump against his chest plate from Shirou, while Touch Me gave him a disgruntled headshake.

"You're incorrigible." Touch Me bemoaned.

"Yeah, what's new?" Warrior Takemikazuchi snarked, the three chortling as they walked away.