Shadows And The Unknown
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Well, well, well.
Guess who decided to just wing their really important Chemistry test, and write another chapter that is nowhere near as important?
…
Seriously? You don't know?
It's obviously me! -w-
Yup, I winged it, because I just can't be bothered to study more science T-T.
I don't think I'll fail, but I don't expect that good of a grade…
…
Maybe I should have studied…
…
Well, anyways, let's get on with the next chapter!
Yup! The chapter I said I was gonna post next week, but FUCK THAT!
I write my own rules, and break them as I please. I'm just cool like that~ UMU
Also, thanks for all your support! I never expected my okay-ish story would reach over 4000 views in less than 5 hours! That's crazy!
I actually luv y'all so much TwT
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-I wanted to be a Hero of Justice-
A battlefield, crimson-soaked and littered with fallen warriors. Emiya stood among the wreckage, his hands stained with blood. The ghostly visages of the slain stared up at him, their eyes wide with disbelief and accusation.
-A Hero that could save everyone-
A village, once vibrant and full of life, now reduced to smoldering ruins. Flames danced in the night, licking at the sky, while the echoes of terrified screams filled the air. The faces of those he had betrayed flashed before him, their horror crystallizing into a single, damning accusation
-And then I made a deal to save just one more life-
A child, eyes brimming with tears, reaching out with tiny hands for help that would never come. Emiya could feel the desperation, the need for a hero, but all he offered was the cold steel of his blade. Each repetition dug deeper, carving lines of sorrow across his soul.
-And thus, my fate was sealed-
A friend, fallen in battle, their life extinguished by his hand. The betrayal gnawed at him, twisting the knife deeper into his already fractured spirit.
-I killed-
An army of faceless foes, each strike of his blade resonating with the finality of death. As he fought, he became the very monster he had sworn to vanquish, a dark mirror reflecting his own failures.
-and killed-
Again, and again, and again, he was deployed without fail, and as the countless millennia passed, he kept killing, and killing, and killing, cleansing worlds of life, destroying entire populaces at a time. It was no longer a choice of whether he could 'save everybody'; he could only kill one to save a hundred; a hundred to save a thousand; a ten thousand to save a million. He could no longer chase after that dream, his mind growing disillusioned, the despair finally settling in.
-and killed-
He was left kneeling amidst the ruins of his shattered mind. He felt the rough ground against his palms, the coolness a stark reminder of his own warmth—of life lost to his own hands. His head sank, and his body trembled as he cradled his face in his hands. The screams of the fallen rang in his ears, relentless and unforgiving.
-̷̣̏̒̌a̷̰̝̔̑̾̃̾ņ̴̢̬̩̾̈d̵͖̟̟̈́̾͋͗̈́ ̵̛̺͓̀k̷̛̘̎̒̔̚i̸̢̛͖̯͈̱̋̾̌̚l̴̛̞̙̕͠l̶̥͖̳̺̒̊̋͠ͅe̶̫͆d̵͕̥̯͈̂-̶̛͎̭̦͆
Upon a bloody hill of swords, he knelt there, his mind breaking, eyes downcast in despair. He unleashed a raw, anguished scream, a howl that cut through the silence of his torment. "This isn't what I became a hero for!" The words burst forth like a dam breaking, flooding his heart with the bittersweet taste of his failure, echoing into the void, seeking a mercy he feared he would never find.
-Truly, I continue to walk down this road. A hero's work is never finished…-
-̵̡̤̗̪̓͛͒͜͝P̴̰̗͉̐̾͠ͅl̷̰̽̊͒̌ê̵͉͈̝̎̔̉ͅa̴̧̘̗̭̎̒ͅs̵͖̮̆͝e̴͆,̷̤͌̇ ̴̲͑H̸̻̉̂ę̷̱̠̟̳̕l̷͉̣͝p̸͔̯̚͘ -̵̶̡̤̗̪̪̲̹̠̲̓͛͒̊͜͝ M̵̭̿̀̍̚̕e̵̢̝̤͖̎̇̄͛̃..-̴̹̠̼̄͋̌͛-̵̡̤̗̪̓͛͒͜͝
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"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain."
- Harvey Dent (The Dark Knight)
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Chapter 2: Shadows And The Unknown
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Emiya's breathing was shallow, each inhale sharp and deliberate as he pressed forward through the dense undergrowth. His legs, though heavy with exhaustion, did not falter. The weight of his battered body was like a distant hum in the back of his mind, just another obstacle to overcome. He had been in worse situations before—had dragged his broken form through hell and back, fighting for every breath. This time was no different. Just another forest. Just another enemy. He could push through the pain.
Still, this forest was unlike any he had seen before. The trees, twisted and ancient-looking, seemed almost to leer at him. The air, heavy and thick with fog, felt unnatural. The forest's atmosphere gnawed at him, digging beneath his skin in ways that weren't immediately apparent. It wasn't fear—he didn't feel that. But unease? A quiet sense that this world was built on something fundamentally wrong? That was something he couldn't shake.
"Where am I?"
He didn't expect an answer from the trees or the shadows. The question was more for himself, an anchor to his fraying thoughts. He couldn't remember how he'd ended up here, in this strange land, with his body bruised and mana circuits on the verge of collapse. There were fragments, flashes of memory—the battle, the endless fight, the fracture tearing time and space apart, ripping open around him, and then… Nothing. His mind traced the edges of those memories, but they slipped through his fingers like water. Every attempt to grasp them left him more frustrated.
Pushing through the undergrowth, his senses sharpened. He scanned the twisted landscape, eyes narrowing as he catalogued every detail. The trees, the distant sounds of wildlife—or what passed for it here—the ever-present thrum of energy beneath his feet. It was all wrong. The energy wasn't Gaia, at least not as he knew it. There was a pulse to it, but not one born from the earth's will; it felt more like something… Divine. It was more detached, distant, and yet it felt… present. Watching him.
His hand brushed the ground as he crouched, testing the sensation once more. A warmth bloomed through his fingertips, faint but unmistakable. He frowned. The forest wasn't hostile, not exactly. It was more like an unfeeling observer watching, curious, waiting to see what he would do next.
"I don't like this," he muttered, rising again, his muscles protesting against the effort.
The oppressive weight of the fog clung to him as he moved, swirling around his feet like ghostly tendrils. Each step forward was deliberate and measured. He couldn't afford to rush, not in his state. His mana circuits were still struggling to recover, and his wounds, while not fresh, still burned beneath the surface. He'd been through worse, but that didn't make it easier.
The sound of trickling water reached his ears, faint but steady. His body, though weary, responded immediately, drawn toward the promise of relief. He moved faster, his boots crunching through the leaves and dead branches that littered the forest floor. His throat was parched, his lips dry, and he needed to drink—needed to keep his strength up.
He broke through the trees, the sound of the river growing louder until it came into view. The sight of the clear, flowing water brought a wave of relief, but only for a moment. Instinct kicked in, and he scanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of danger. Nothing moved. The forest, despite its twisted nature, was still.
Kneeling by the riverbank, Emiya cupped his hands and drank, the cool water soothing his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the tension in his shoulders loosen ever so slightly. But the peace didn't last. His mind, sharp as ever, refused to let him relax fully.
'This place isn't right,' he thought, his brow furrowing as he stared into the water. 'I can't see it, but I'm certain. There's something watching. Something waiting.'
His reflection wavered in the stream, distorted by the gentle current, but his gaze remained fixed on it. There was a tension in the air, a sense that something was about to happen. Something inevitable. He hadn't seen anyone—or anything—since he'd woken up in the forest, but the feeling of being watched never left him.
"Always moving forward," he muttered to himself, pushing himself back to his feet. "This is my only path."
He turned his back to the river, his hand instinctively reaching for the familiar weight of Kanshou and Bakuya. But his weapons refused to manifest. His circuits, still unstable, sparked in protest. A grimace crossed his face. His blades were as much a part of him as his mind, yet right now, they were beyond his reach. A lesser man might have panicked, but panic was a luxury Emiya never allowed himself.
"You can't stay here. Move."
Emiya's internal voice was calm, detached, the voice of someone who had seen too much. He had learned to compartmentalize, to push down emotions when necessary. It wasn't about being cold—it was about survival. His mind had been honed into a weapon sharper than any blade he could forge. That same clarity now guided him as he started forward again, moving deeper into the forest.
The trees closed in around him, their branches hanging low, as if reaching for him. He kept his pace steady, each step calculated, despite the fatigue pulling at him. There was a rhythm to the way he moved, instinct guiding him through unfamiliar territory, always aware of his surroundings.
And then he saw it—movement.
At first, it was a flicker at the edge of his vision, something small and subtle, but unmistakable. His muscles tensed, and his instincts flared to life. There, among the trees, something was watching him. A shadow, just out of reach, lingering in the depths of the forest.
He stilled, eyes narrowing as he tried to focus on the figure. His hand twitched, yearning for the weight of his blades, but his circuits were still unstable, and they refused his call.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, but he didn't let frustration cloud his judgment. His body was already tensed to act. Years of combat had taught him not to wait for things to come to him—he needed to be ready, always.
The figure stepped forward, out of the shadows. Its form was small but strangely imposing, cloaked in the dark of the forest, with only one clear feature—its eyes. Cold, black eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light. They locked onto him with an eerie, detached focus.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The tension between them hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. Emiya's instincts screamed at him to be ready for anything. Yet, strangely, the figure didn't advance. It simply watched him, those black eyes holding his gaze as if studying him, trying to understand.
"What do you want?" Emiya said coldly, his mind focused. But there was no answer. Only the silent, emotionless stare of the figure before it turned and disappeared into the shadows once more, leaving behind nothing but the faintest smell of a snake.
The encounter left Emiya standing alone, the forest silent once more. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Whoever—or whatever—that was, it wasn't human. That much was clear. And though it hadn't attacked, its presence felt like a warning.
He was not alone in this world.
Pushing off the momentary distraction to the back of his mind to contemplate for later, Emiya pushed forward again. He couldn't afford to stop. Not now. The forest might have let him live for now, but that could change in an instant. He needed to find shelter, a place to gather his strength and figure out his next move.
After what felt like hours of walking, the forest began to thin. The oppressive fog started to lift, and in the distance, just beyond the tree line, he saw it—a cottage.
It was small, unassuming, but it stood out in this strange forest. A single light flickered in the window, casting a faint glow into the dimming light of the forest. The structure looked old but sturdy, as if it had stood there for years, untouched by the chaos that permeated the forest around it.
Emiya narrowed his eyes, his mind racing with possibilities. Whoever lived there might have answers, or they could be something else entirely. Either way, he didn't have much choice. His body was reaching its limit, and he needed a place to rest, even if only for a short while.
With careful steps, he made his way toward the house, each movement calculated and deliberate. The forest might have let him live this long, but he knew better than to let his guard down.
Whatever awaited him inside that lodge, it was better than the uncertainty of the forest behind him.
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Emiya kept his eyes fixed on the distant house, each step bringing him closer while the forest's grip began to loosen. The trees thinned out, their twisted forms receding. The forest, strange as it was, the sight of the small, unassuming house was odd enough in and of itself, its weathered walls and flickering light a stark contrast to the dark, tangled foliage surrounding him.
The forest had been unnerving, with its heavy silence and the faint pulse of energy beneath the ground. Even now, he felt its presence, a distant awareness of the land itself. Whatever this place was, it was most certainly alive.
His boots crunched softly against the uneven ground as he approached the door. Emiya hesitated for a moment, scanning the area for any signs of movement. There was nothing, but caution remained etched in his demeanor. He pushed the door open, its hinges creaking softly.
Inside, the house was modest, with a single lantern casting a warm glow in the dim space. The smell of aged wood mixed with something earthy, inviting yet unsettling. It was quiet—too quiet—aside from the flickering flame. Emiya stepped fully into the room, his instincts alert. The lack of dust suggested someone lived here, but the absence of any sound made it feel more like a trap than a refuge.
'Focus,' he reminded himself, shaking off the unease. 'Information is the top priority.'
The room contained a table and several shelves, each cluttered with various objects that seemed to belong to someone well-versed in magic. His gaze swept over the shelves, noting a few tomes that caught his attention. They didn't look too extraordinary, yet the titles hinted at useful information—devil magic, demonic energy manipulation, and a book on the 72 Lesser Keys of Solomon.
'Interesting… something to ponder for later. For now, though…'
As he approached the shelves, the soft rustle of pages turned caught his attention. He stopped, still, a sharp awareness settling in his bones. Nothing happened. After a brief pause, he pushed the thought aside and continued his examination.
One shelf in particular held a handful of worn books, their spines faded but legible. Titles such as "Fundamentals of Devil Magic" and "Basic Teleportation Techniques" piqued his interest. A hint of a plan formed in his mind. If he could master even the simplest of spells, he might regain some control over his situation.
"Nothing overly complicated," he mused, reaching for a book with a frayed edge. "Basic knowledge will do for now."
He opened the book carefully, the pages crackling softly in the silence. The text inside was straightforward, outlining various spells and their applications. 'So in this world, magic is formed from three things: imagination, intent, and knowledge.' So, if he was reading this correctly, all he needed was to 'imagine' his spell, use his 'intent' to actualize it into reality, and have the 'knowledge' to form the mana into the basis and shape of the spell. The teleportation spell was detailed with clear instructions—nothing too advanced, but enough to provide a starting point.
'Simple, yet effective,' he thought, making a mental note of the incantation and the necessary gestures. A spell like this could allow him to traverse the forest more freely, perhaps even escape if needed.
He continued to skim through the other books, finding snippets of information that felt almost mundane—a guide to elemental manipulation, an introduction to summoning contracts, even a small book on an introduction of Ancient Gods and Pantheons. The knowledge was basic, but it was enough to reinforce the idea that: one, he could navigate this world; and two, there were most definitely other forms of life, going by the way this past hour had gone, and the discoveries he had made. 'Magic, demonic energy, devil magic… Gods...'
As he read, a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught his attention. The feeling of being watched had returned, more intense this time. He glanced around, noticing the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to flicker and sway, almost as if they were alive. At the corner of his mind, he could feel a faint trace of another being's presence, something that felt familiar, and… divine…
"Interesting," he murmured, closing the book and setting it back on the shelf. "I'm not alone here after all."
His mind processed the information as he considered the implications. The forest had clearly been alive, and now he had stumbled into a place filled with knowledge. Whether it was a sanctuary or a trap remained to be seen, but he had no intention of remaining passive.
Emiya took a deep breath, centering himself. The quiet resolve within him hardened as he prepared for whatever lay ahead. He would gather what he could from this place, absorb the knowledge, and remain vigilant. He would not let uncertainty dictate his actions. If he was truly free from Alaya's clutches… then he would make sure not to get caught once more.
With the teleportation spell firmly in his mind, he stepped back from the shelves and surveyed the small library one last time, looking for any pieces of knowledge he may have left untouched, before turning away, his tattered red cloak moving along with him.
"Time to move forward," he said quietly, glancing toward the door. There were still questions to answer, and he wouldn't find them waiting around in the shadows. Whatever was out there, he would confront it head-on.
With that thought guiding him, he exited the small library, and then left through the front door of the cottage, ready to face whatever the forest—and this new world—had in store for him.
'Watch over me, Rin…'
He took a step out the door, and into the light.
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Wassup! Thank you all for reading another chapter brought to you by yours truly
(bows as the audience claps loudly)
Haha! Yes, thank you, thank you… Haaaaaaah, I'm so tired T-T
I feel so deprived of the wonderful thing known as sleep, and yet I must continue to soldier onward, because I have work to finish!
(I procrastinated on my homework, and now I'm pulling a second all-nighter in a row to finish it… Imma Die T-T)
(Imma drown in coffee… though coffee is the most holy thing in this world, the amount I drank in the past 28 hours… whew, y'all would be dead by now)
…
Welp!
Regardless, Thank you all for reading, and I'll see you all next time!
And yes! In this story, I ship Archer and Rin because IT's CANON AND IT'S THE BEST SHIP!!!!
To those of you who don't agree, SUCK IT! This is MY story, and I'll write as I please, you uncultured nerds! ^w^
So now…
GOODNIGHT! I bid you all, ADIEU!
(bows, curtains close, and my head gets trapped in between the curtains)
ACK!
DAMNIT, ZELRETCH! I KNOW THIS IS YOUR FAULT, YOU FUCKING TROLL!!
*hears snickers in the background*
GET OVER HERE!!
*Crash!*
…
- Screen goes black, and the chapter actually ends here, so stop reading, nerds - -w-
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