Sword of Fate | Chapter 22

An image. Projection of one's self. Congruency with the image, aligning the self with one's beliefs.

Crack.

Operating on alternate laws. A world within, projecting the beliefs onto reality by force of will.

Crack.

Techniques available through accumulated history. Ingrained images in the soul. Recreated by projecting the memory into reality, powered by belief in its efficacy.

Crack.

Kirito's blade shone with a bright blue light and swung down with a blinding speed.

Shirou stepped forward and faced his opponent. "Trace on: Vertical." Bright blue light filled his vision and his blade swung down in a perfect recreation of the sword skill.

The mirrored attacks clashed, and both practice swords broke with the impact. Splinters filled the air and Kirito's eyes widened in disbelief.

Shirou took a glance at the broken blade in his hand, a bemused look on his face, then at Kirito. "Huh."

He blacked out.

Kirito tossed the broken practice sword to the side and caught Shirou before he could land on any of the broken pieces. The red-head was steaming, his body burning like a computer's overclocked processer.

"Shirou!" He called out and gently tapped Shirou's face.

No response.

Kirito sighed and lifted his Master up. He didn't know what was happening, but assumed it would be best for Shirou to get some rest. The best place to do that was definitely not the dojo floor.

The black swordsman brought Shirou back to his room, laying him down on his futon, then headed back to the dojo to clean up.

Kirito shook his head in disbelief as he looked once again at the broken pieces of the two shinai they had used. "I can't believe that worked..."

Shirou had performed a sword skill. Sure, it was just a basic one, but he had actually performed a sword skill. A technique from Aincrad. Techniques that, obviously, didn't operate on real world logic. Not only that, the light from his sword, the speed that he attacked with were a perfect match for the way it would have been in Aincrad.

Except this was the real world.

Kirito could perform sword skills because he was a Servant. It was one of the 'personal skills' that he obtained due to being classified as such. Not all of them were available, limited to the one-handed sword skills, parry and, recently, Dual Blades, but the ones that were could be said to be on par with Noble Phantasms depending on their level.

But Shirou wasn't a Servant. He shouldn't be able to use them.

"Right?" Kirito sighed. "Well, magic does exist in this world, so it's not too much of a stretch to think that sword skills might..."

That thought had Kirito thinking. If he could use Sword Skills, and magic existed, then was this another game? It would make sense considering what he had been through.

"But this is too real." This was exactly like reality. The magic and superhuman fighters weren't, but then again wasn't this a 'secret war'? Who's to say that they didn't exist in his time as well, just well hidden from the masses?

Kirito sighed. It didn't matter, he supposed. Sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic, as the saying went. Whether this was a hyper realistic game that he had been trapped in, or if this was reality didn't matter. What did was that Shirou needed him, and that innocent people, like those girls Shirou cared about, would be harmed if Kirito didn't fight and stop the other Servants.

In light of that, why Shirou could use Sword Skills wasn't that important. The fact was that he could, and the knowledge needed to be accounted for in future battles. It might grant them the edge against enemy Servants like Lancer or Archer... provided they didn't use their Noble Phantasms. If worst came to worst, he could at least fend off the other masters with the skills.

Kirito paused at that last thought, then grinned. "Now, if I can just teach him how to use Spell Blast..."

Burning.

Shirou was burning.

"Gah."

His body was searing from the inside out, and he could feel it breaking, tearing apart at the seams. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"What...?"

His vision was black, but he could see it. A hill, standing above a barren plain holding infinite swords. No.

Unlimited Blades.

Shirou ground his teeth. This was wrong. He shouldn't be seeing this. Acknowledging the truth of what he was seeing would break him. A glimpse of a forbidden realm that threatened to drive him to insanity. No, not insanity. It would break him, tear his soul to shreds, and leave him a shell of who he was.

He forced the vision away, trying to shield his eyes from its view, but he couldn't. In fact, it was coming into focus.

But that would break him. His mind, body, and circuits were not ready to accommodate for the knowledge of this.

He couldn't resist the flow of knowledge. It filled his mind, body adapting to suit. His circuits seared as unused pathways forced open, bonding with the nerves to serve as relay between the physical and astral plane.

This was...

"Reality... Marble?"

The world egg. An inversion of the perceived reality with what truly existed. Bringing the truth of one's self, the inner world, and projecting it onto reality. Operating outside of Gaia's authority, it was a forbidden technique that bordered on a True Sorcery-

But this wasn't it. Something was terribly wrong. An outside influence encroached on this holy ground, forcing it to change. To adapt. Something was influencing it, giving it more substance than just a self image.

It was breaking him.

"Stop...it!"

Shirou knew it was wrong. Somehow, his world was becoming...real. Bending the rules around him. Finding loopholes to make his truth reality.

He saw it. A young girl with somewhat curly hair, dressed like a librarian. She stood on that hill and looked at the sky, but then shifted her gaze towards Shirou. "Hm? Oh, you're awake?"

"Stop...!"

The girl tilted her head, and then nodded. In an instant, the world shifted out of focus and the pain stopped. But before it did, Shirou saw the shadow of a giant building looming in the sky.

"I apologize for the pain, but it must be done. This is the only way you can use them. The only way he can be here."

"What...?" Shirou didn't understand. Who was this girl? What was she doing?

The girl shook her head. "Do not worry. We'll meet again soon enough. But be careful. Some things are even beyond your ability to imagine..."

Shirou opened his eyes–

"Senpai?"

–and was greeted by the sight of a familiar purple-haired girl.

"Mm... Sakura?" Shirou tried to sit up, but a sudden pain in his head stopped that notion. "Gah! What-"

"You need to relax, Senpai!" The reprimand was said in a stern tone, but Sakura's face was gentle. She shook her head in disbelief and pushed Shirou back down on the bed he was laying on. "This is a bit much, even for you, Senpai. A concussion is really serious!"

Concussion? Shirou frowned as his eyes took in his surroundings. He was in his bedroom, lying on his futon. His head throbbed, but it didn't seem to be from a concussion. It felt more like the time he tried to reinforce his arm a few months ago. Due to an imperfect understanding, Shirou had failed and ended up with an arm that felt like a thousand needles were stabbing it.

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