Fate/Inferno Chap #2

"𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕟, 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕥 𝕡𝕙𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕤𝕦𝕓𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖...𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 ℝ𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣! 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕪 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕤! 𝕀𝕗 𝕀 𝕤𝕠 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖--𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕟'𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕣 𝕠𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕤𝕠 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖"

-𝕁𝕠𝕙𝕟𝕟𝕪 𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕫𝕖/𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 ℝ𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝔼𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝟞𝟙𝟞

-One year before the holy grail war-

Shirou POV: Nighttime

It had been years since Kiritsugu's death, and I had tried my best to move forward, dedicating myself to making things right for those around me. Currently, I found myself repairing a broken heater in one of the classrooms at my school, utilizing my structural analysis skills. However, a sudden and intense burning sensation in my hands disrupted my focus. I dropped my tools and hastily made my way to the nearest bathroom, seeking relief.

Once inside, I turned on the tap, allowing the cold water to flow over my burning hands. I hoped it would alleviate the discomfort, but to my surprise, my hands began emitting steam. Confusion washed over me, only to be replaced by a familiar scent that filled the air.

Cautiously, I exited the school grounds, my coat billowing behind me in the chilling wind. The sound of a motor engine resonated from a nearby alley, capturing my attention. With guarded steps, I ventured into the alley, my senses on high alert. As I approached, my eyes widened in recognition. It was Kiritsugu's motorcycle, the very same one he had kept locked away in the shed.

How did it end up here? I questioned running a finger down it silver frame unconsciously I had analyzed its history and a single image appeared in my mind of a beautiful woman with blond hair, green eyes, wearing a black armani suit.

Questions swirled in my mind, but before I could process them fully, the tingling sensation at the back of my head intensified. My expression turned into a glare as I instinctively turned to my right, pointing my finger directly at a figure who held a skull cane Mephisto.

"You," I uttered, my voice laced with silent rage. The sky seemed to flicker as the old man approached, greeting me with his wickedly silky voice. "Hello, Shirou, my boy," he said. I shook my head in warning, my voice stern. "Stay away from me," I commanded, hoping to repel him.

Mephisto chuckled, unfazed by my words. "A little too late for that...nice bike," he remarked, pausing momentarily as his eyes fixated on the motorcycle. I kept my gaze locked on the devil, shifting my stance in preparation. "Why are you here?" I demanded, masking my fear beneath a facade of emotionlessness.

Mephisto took slow steps toward me, his reply dripping with a calculated tone. "Oh, I've always been here, Shirou. Watching you grow under the teachings of the Magus Killer. I must say, I'm deeply impressed with your tracing skill. It's the closest thing to the so-called 'first magic.' It's like watching an investment grow bigger and bigger until the day you cash it in."

As he drew nearer, the voices of my deceased family resounded in my ears, calling out to me, chanting my name. "Shirou! Shirou! Shirou!" Mephisto's face transformed into a darker image, his black eyes whispering my name menacingly.

Stepping back, Mephisto's gaze shifted toward the bike, a sinister smirk playing on his lips. "That day is today, Shirou," he said, his voice taking on a dark, demonic tone. "Find the one known as Blackheart...and destroy him."

Defiance flared within me as I approached the bike. "Find him yourself," I retorted, my voice laced with determination. Once again, Mephisto chuckled, dismissing my resistance. "It doesn't work like that, you're under contract, remember?" he stated, his words sinking into my mind.

Panic started to consume me as an invisible force began to take control of my hands and legs. Desperately, I mustered my resolve, locking eyes with Mephisto, my voice trembling with fear. "I...I am not doing it," I stuttered. Mephisto's black gaze gleamed, his voice echoing in my mind. "You don't have any choice," he declared, slamming his cane down. The engine of the bike roared to life, and anxiety gripped me as the bike automatically accelerated, propelling me forward into the unknown.

The bike roared out of the alleyway, its speed increasing rapidly. I desperately tried to regain control, but my attempts were futile. The wheels of the bike ignited in flames, and a sense of guilt washed over me as I witnessed buildings and parked cars explode in its fiery wake. A trail of destruction marked its path, and I couldn't help but feel responsible.

As the bike carried me away from Fuyuki City and towards the outskirts, my eyes widened at the sight of a police officer in its trajectory. I shouted at him, "Dodge!" But it was too late. The bike whizzed past him, causing his own bike to explode. Fortunately, he seemed unharmed, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Finally, the bike came to a screeching halt in front of an abandoned warehouse, launching me off the seat and sending me skidding across the oily ground.

-play this-

I screamed in pain as I landed, feeling a strange dizziness overtaking me. A burning sensation engulfed my eyes, and steam began to emit from them. With shaky movements, I rose to my feet, but the steam continued to envelop my body and even my shoes. I screamed, desperately trying to make it stop by covering my eyes with my hands, but the agony persisted. As I attempted to take a step, my shoes burst into flames, and I grunted with each forced movement, the pain intensifying.

Loud screams escaped my lips as my sanity seemed to slip away. My golden eyes transformed into flickering fire, and I felt a strange detachment as everything within me began to melt away. It started with the skin on my head, then my hands. I could hear myself laughing maniacally as the rest of me succumbed to the raging inferno.

In a flash of fire, I was gone, replaced by a demonic spirit of vengeance. I observed from within as my head lowered and then slowly lifted, releasing a thunderous roar that echoed through the warehouse. It felt peculiar to witness my own body, yet have no control over its actions. A chilling chuckle emanated from the pale man with black eyes who approached.

"Looking for somebody?" he taunted. The spirit pointed its bony finger at the man. "Back to hell," it muttered in its dark, demonic voice. The man responded with a disappointed tone, "Seems like we're not going to have a meaningful conversation, are we?"

The spirit simply replied, "You're going down." The pale man looked down momentarily before smirking. "I don't think so." A powerful gust of wind propelled us backward, crashing us into a wall adorned with hanging chains.

The sprits skull extinguished for a moment before coming back to life full blast we grabbed the chain pulling it down with us to use as a weapon the spirit had already used my tracing skill to add the blueprint into our minds in case, we needed the chain on the fly or if the original was discarded.

Advancing forward, the spirit found itself ensnared as it stepped on a puddle. Before we could react, a truck collided with us. Mentally bracing for impact, I was astonished to realize I felt no pain. A bald-headed man emerged from the vehicle, approaching the pale man who conversed with two others. The spirit's skull reignited, and we followed the bald man, engulfing the chains in a fiery blaze.

Tapping the man on the shoulder, the spirit addressed him, "Hey, dirtbag." With a swift punch to the face, the man was launched backward, his visage partially disintegrated. Fearfully, he gazed up at the spirit, pleading, "Ha-have mercy." Shaking our head, the spirit replied, "Sorry, all out of mercy."

Flicking the flaming chain back, the spirit spun it around before entangling the man. His screams of agony echoed within the corridors of my mind as he begged for mercy. Gradually, the man transformed into solid stone before shattering into pieces as the spirit retracted the chain.

The chains wound themselves around our torso, adding spikes to my trench coat, modeled after my late stepfather, and spiky elements to the gloves on my hands. As the transformation concluded, the spirit let out a whistle, summoning the same motorcycle that had transported me to the warehouse.

With a menacing laugh, the spirit engulfed the bike in flames, transforming it into a nightmarish cycle straight from the depths of hell. Taking my seat on the bike, I roared it to life before embarking on a hunt to bring justice upon the guilty.

-end of chapter 2-