Fate/Second Magus Killer

— Ancestors, you say? Something like your aristocracy? — Shirou inquired thoughtfully, retrieving his weapon from a spatial pocket.

— In a way. They are a group of high-ranking vampires who stand at the top of the food chain in our beautiful society, — Kaleid confirmed with a hint of irony. — Once, there were twenty-seven of them, the first who served the True Ancestors and later fled from them.

— And you are one of them, aren't you? The third of the Ancestors?

— That's right, though there's one nuance. While it's considered that there are still twenty-seven of us, in reality, a good half of the list is currently vacant: some have been sealed by the Church or mages, others were simply killed, and no successors have been found to take their place. But I didn't start this tale for some sudden enlightenment.

— Let me guess, you're hinting that I should stay away from them? — Emiya smirked, inquiring. — Then you're clearly not following your own advice very well.

— I hold the opinion that we should all stay away from each other. Monsters like us and bruts like you… are unlikely to last more than ten minutes in society without a compelling reason. But you haven't quite grasped my hint... — the expression on Zeltretch's face became extremely serious, causing the assassin to lose all desire to joke. — In theory, with the right preparation, skills, circumstances, and, of course, luck, you have a decent chance of killing some of us. The truth is… there are those whose encounters I strongly advise avoiding.

— And those would be?..

— The first ten on our list. These positions are filled by monsters so formidable that even an entire battalion of mages and executioners would struggle to defeat them. Most of them have roamed the underworld for over five centuries, rendering modern magic utterly useless against them. And there are some who have trodden this earth since the times when gods could walk freely among men… The mage killer involuntarily shuddered at the thought of just how dangerous these beings could be, especially if even the usually calm and ironic Kaleid spoke of them with a touch of caution. This said a lot.

— And who are they?

— The Crimson Moon, the Six Sisters, ORT, Millenium, Rizo-Vaal Strout, Ainesh, Finn-Blood Swelten, Nrvnskr Chaos, and finally… Altrouge Brunestud, also known as the Black Princess...

— And you are one of them… — Shirou replied hoarsely, digesting this information.

He could think anything he wanted about Zeltretch, but his status alone, along with what Emia had witnessed over the past months, made it clear that facing him in real combat would be no laughing matter...

— I am one of them, but as I said, even among this ten, there are those who are entirely out of this world, like Brunstad or the Spider... — At the mention of the latter, the mage's voice noticeably quavered. — So keep in mind that even with your eyes, fighting them is pure suicide.

— And if I do encounter them?

— Then you may have only two options: either run as fast as you can, hoping they find something more interesting to occupy themselves with than chasing you…

— Or?..

— Or... — Zeltretch looked into Emiya's eyes for the first time during their conversation, and the assassin involuntarily recoiled, seeing an otherworldly fire deep within the vampire's gaze — …you should pray for a quick death...

***

From the embrace of forgetfulness, he was pulled back by the familiar and caring shackles of pain...

Frankly speaking, Shirou had already almost forgotten the last time he woke up like a normal person — not exhausted and wounded from endless training and battles. At times, he was even visited by the sweet thought that it would be better if he didn't awaken, finding the long-awaited peace…

However, training with Hassan, if it hadn't robbed him of the sense of pain, at least dulled it significantly. The elder wouldn't let him stand up unless the assassin was on the brink of death, accepting no excuses for his weakness.

It was also worth noting that the pain didn't envelop his entire body as it usually did, but only a few areas: his neck, palms, and all the other points that the vampire's blade had hit. Naturally, there were others, but his mind diligently ignored them, categorizing them as familiar and harmless.

When he finally came to his senses, his senses slowly returned as well. His eyes were the first to react, as a faint light broke through his closed eyelids. Judging by the light, the night must have passed, or perhaps an entire day, but Shirou was in no hurry to check, because, first, even the slightest movement still caused pain, and second, his returning hearing carefully brought him fragments of a conversation that had ceased blending with the endless noise of blood in his temples. The voices were vaguely familiar, but he couldn't immediately place them, so he didn't dare reveal his awakening.

— …kill him. I don't understand why you are so interested in him, my lady, — the voice of the vampire swordsman rang out particularly clearly.

— I've already told you, Strout, he will be far more useful to us alive than as a corpse, — the girl responded with an unapologetic tone.

— Honestly, Rizo, this is precisely what they say about people like you: seven troubles — one answer! You just want to cut somebody's head off, — the third Apostle threw back mockingly.

— Your opinion wasn't asked, Swelten, — Strout snapped irritably.

— Of course, of course, as soon as I need your permission, I'll certainly turn to you, — Finn-Blood continued in the same oleaginous voice, but a moment later, his tone became extremely serious again. — And still, our iron woodsman raised a perfectly logical question, my lady… if this man is so important, wouldn't it be simpler to just turn him right away? If he really managed to survive a fight with you, then he should survive the transformation without much trouble.

The answer to them was an irritated sigh.

— Ha… I'll repeat once more, in case the two of you can't grasp this. Alive and intact, he will be far more useful than as a ghoul. And I need him unrestricted in his capabilities when I require it... not to mention… — she hesitated but continued with the same firm and confident tone a moment later.

— I have no desire to encounter the Angel of Death, who would clearly not appreciate the fact of one of his students being turned. And believe me, I will not anger him for anything in the world...

Their conversation gradually shifted to another topic, but Shiro's mind carefully drowned out the voices, focusing on processing the new information, and there was much to think about!

Strout and Swelten... at first, these names simply seemed familiar, but only now could he recall why they evoked disturbing associations. Rizo-Vaal Strout and Finn-Blood Swelten — the Black and White Knights, the sixth and seventh numbers of the Ancestors of the Dead Apostles. And if it truly was them, then the identity of "my lady" was no longer a mystery...

Altrouge Brunestud, the Black Princess and the ninth number on the list.

If Shiro hadn't been pretending to be unconscious, the foulest expressions and curses he had learned in his short life would have escaped his lips.

He had thought before that fortune had a rather peculiar sense of humor when it came to him, but this situation took it to the absolute. What were the chances of encountering not one, not two, but three Ancestors just passing through a backwoods village in the middle of nowhere? In this light, the fact that he had survived was far more astonishing than his defeat. Fortunately for him, Bryunstad was already quite exhausted from the battle, so he had managed to press her into a corner... had these two not shown up, he could have even claimed a rather impressive victory! Even Zeltretch would have been impressed.

However, mentally hanging the skin of an unscathed bear on the wall was quite foolish, especially at a moment when that bear could still scalp you at any second.

— You know, you fight much better than you pretend to, — whispered the "bear" right into Emiya's ear, startling him out of his stupor.

Suddenly opening his eyes, he found himself face to face with the one he had barely spared from decapitation yesterday. She was so close that Shirou could easily feel her breath, carrying a slightly bitter scent of blood. Her crimson, bottomless eyes studied him with an unmistakable mix of thirst and interest, as if he were some unknown creature that had found itself in the hands of a greedy scientist eager for discoveries.

And while he had seen plenty of her during the fight, now, in this calmer environment, Emia was finally able to appreciate her appearance in more detail.

To his slight embarrassment, the assassin admitted that she was beautiful. It would be foolish to dispute this fact, especially now when there was no trace of yesterday's battle left on her. Her skin, white and smooth as marble, bore no cuts or ash, and her long, dark hair flowed freely over her shoulders, having been put in order after the long fight. Several strands escaped the overall dark cascade and brushed against his skin, but he didn't pay attention, fully focused on her eyes. 

Two crimson mirrors of the soul gazed at him in a way that one could truly drown in them… The murderer even had to shake himself, pondering whether these were his actual impressions or the influence of some mystical eyes.

Struggling to avert his gaze, he realized that the sun had already begun to slowly dip towards the horizon, meaning he had lain unconscious for almost a day. Tilting his head slightly, he also discovered that he had not been left lying on the street, but had been carefully moved to the charred remains of one of the houses. However, such care was compensated by the reason for which his palms continued to throb fiercely… 

…for his hands were simply pinned to the floor by his own blades.

— Am I dead? — he rasped, trying to move his arm, but it didn't budge. — Because if this is what Hell looks like, I'm disappointed…

— You're joking, right? I've been told that if people joke on the brink of death, it means they will live, so you won't be too upset if you stay like this a little longer, — the vampire remarked with a venomous smile as she stood up. — After all, we have much to discuss.

— And what conversation could a vampire have with a human, Black Princess? — Shirou replied with irony, defiantly looking her in the eyes. — Or should I call you… Altrouge Brunestud?

Honestly, behaving this way was nearly suicidal, but… he certainly wouldn't beg her for mercy — if he were destined to die, he would do so with dignity.

The gamble paid off — there was not a trace of anger on the girl's face; rather, she was clearly not expecting that the assassin knew her true identity. This fact threw her off balance for a brief moment.

— Well, would you look at that, is the Angel of Death teaching her students even this? I'm flattered… — she drawled with a smirk, leaning in closer over Shiro. — All the more curious, who exactly are you?

— The Scourge of God, — Emiya introduced himself without a hint of doubt.

— "The Scourge of God"? — Rouge giggled before leaning closer to his ear and whispering coldly. — Be careful, fool. I have seen the Scourge of God, the real one, not a jester pinned to the floor by his own weapon. She would have clearly found you… disappointing…

— If that's the case, why am I still alive?

— It sounds like you're upset about my decision.

— Maybe. At least I wouldn't have to listen to you and look at the sour faces of your…

He didn't get to finish his sentence before a sharp flash of pain pierced his neck. It was caused by the vampire's claw, which traced a crimson line along the edge of his throat.

— I will warn you only once, human. Do you think that joking and acting out here means you're strong? On the contrary… it only means you're foolish and shortsighted. Don't take my indulgence as weakness. My mercy could vanish when I get thoroughly tired of listening to the annoying cacophony that you consider wit. So… either you show prudence, or Swelten will have to speak with you…

— And trust me, we will have so much fun! At least… until you die and become fodder for the desert's wildlife, — the knight confirmed bloodthirstily, licking his razor-sharp teeth for effect, causing Shiro to involuntarily shudder.

— So what do you say, "The Scourge of God"? Will you be a good boy and start speaking like a human, or will you continue to behave disrespectfully and eventually squeal like a pig?

For a brief moment, Shirou felt a sharp urge to tell them to go to hell and spit in the vampire's face, but the instinct for self-preservation won out. No matter how disgusting it was to admit, there was truly no point in showing bravado anymore. Even in a perfect scenario, his chances of surviving a fight with three Progenitors were zero, and now…

"Live today to fight tomorrow."

Yes, he would have his chance to remind them of this humiliation later; for now, he would have to swallow his pride and comply… well, it wasn't the first time.

— What do you want? — he asked, suppressing his emotions.

— Well, would you look at that, it turns out you can speak like a human? — Altrouge said with a smile, but her next sentence carried not a hint of cheerfulness. — Let's get to the point. Who are you?

— A human.

— Well, you know, the insane and the madman are also human; could you be a bit more precise? — asked Finn, who had approached.

— Shut up, Swelten, you're interrupting, — the princess snapped at him, after which the knight raised his hands in a calming gesture and returned to his place. Following him with her eyes, Altruj turned back to Shiro. — Not a bad start, but I'll rephrase my question… tell me your name.

— Rashid.

— Is that so? You don't look like an Arab or Persian, you know, — Altrouge scoffed. — However, I don't sense any lies in your words. Are you a student of the Angel of Death?

— If you're talking about Hassan ibn Sabbah, then yes.

— "Hassan"? Ah yes, it seems he calls himself that now, — she said with a hint of doubt, then continued. — What was that sword? It's clearly a demonic toy, seeing as it managed to wound me and shed so much blood.

— Dainsleif.

— Where did you get it?! — Strout barked suddenly, who had been silent until now.

— A trophy. Is that really so important?

— No, not particularly, — Altrouge said convincingly, throwing a warning glance at her knight. — What's far more important is where you got Kaula-Dharma from?

— …What? — Shirou asked after a brief pause.

— Don't tell me you don't know. It's difficult not to notice, — she said with a hint of threat in her tone. — You made a contract with someone. Someone truly powerful…

— "Contract"?..

Emiya stared at the displeased vampire in confusion for a few moments, pondering her words, after which his eyes widened in sudden realization. 

— So that's what it was…

— I think I understand what you mean. Can you… remove it?

This time it was her turn to look at Shiro in confusion, after which Ruj's bright laughter broke the silence.

— Well, what a question you're asking; you must really be something. What part of your brain were you using when you made such an agreement?

— I see, so you can't… so much for the Princess of Contracts, — he couldn't help but throw a little jab, but, as with the last time, it didn't affect the girl in the slightest.

— Even if I wanted to, and I certainly do not… there are certain matters that I wouldn't even dare to delve into voluntarily, — she stated without a smile. — I don't know who you made the agreement with and under what conditions, but until you fulfill your promise, you can forget about freedom. Such oaths could not be broken even by human gods back in their day, and I am not exaggerating. This is ancient and powerful magic, far older than I am… so you are correct, I cannot, nor will anyone in this world be able to. If that upsets you, you should have thought twice before agreeing.

— It was a matter of life and death.

— Then let that be your consolation, — the girl replied with a malicious smile. — Although, I must admit, this fact is a bit disheartening. You see… I'm a bit possessive.

— Excuse me?..

— Ah… so you haven't felt it yet? — Altruj formed a terrifying smile, sending a nasty chill down Emiya's spine. — What if… like this?

In the next moment, his heart was pierced by a sharp flash of pain that literally darkened his vision. The pain was so unbearable that he barely held back a scream from deep within his chest. It felt as though with each heartbeat, hundreds of invisible spikes were driven deeper into him. A familiar metallic taste filled his mouth, implying that the effect was not an illusion but something very real.

This lasted only a few painfully long seconds, and then the pain disappeared as abruptly as it had begun, as if it had been swept away by an invisible hand. However, while the sensation faded, the taste of blood remained unchanged.

— You… what did you… do to me?! — Shirou rasped, choking on blood as he glared at her with hatred.

His mystical eyes instinctively flared, causing Altrouge to cautiously recoil from him. Not so much out of real fear, but rather due to unpleasant memories. This did not go unnoticed by the two knights, who unconsciously moved closer, ready to tear him apart at the first hint of a threat. But contrary to their expectations, the girl raised her hand, signaling that everything was under control and that they could relax.

— So this is what they look like when you see them up close, — she spoke with undisguised interest in her voice. As if admiring, the girl breathed in subtly and explained.

— What you just experienced was merely a small demonstration of what will happen to you should you refuse my generous offer…

— What are you even saying…

— I'm not going to beat around the bush; we've already wasted a lot of time admiring your sleeping face... see for yourself, — with these words, she slashed his clothing around the heart area and slightly nodded towards the exposed skin.

Struggling to lift his head, Shirou was horrified to see crimson symbols tattooed on his chest near his heart, the design vaguely resembling a rose. Focusing his vision, he realized that they weren't just symbols but inscriptions in a completely unfamiliar language, likely a dead one, as he had encountered nothing like it in his travels. Looking at them, Emiya involuntarily recalled the Command Seals that, according to Zelretch and Kiritsugu, were used in the Holy Grail War.

This association allowed him to instantly piece everything together…

— You made a contract with me?!

— Exactly, — the vampire replied, clearly amused by his outrage. — And before you ask… an oral agreement is not necessary for its establishment. One simple gesture of a hand to sign is enough. Even if that hand is moved by someone else.

— You little bitch! — Shirou growled, attempting to jerk himself up, but once again, he failed.

— Now, now, I'd advise you to choose your words more carefully; after all, your heart now belongs to me... literally, — Altrouge said with a venomous smile, not the slightest bit intimidated by his anger. — Besides, in this way, I saved your life, so you could at least say thank you!

— Go to hell…

— Rudeness doesn't suit you. As long as this rose entwines your heart, its thorns will always be sharp, reminding you of our agreement, so I suggest you stop cursing and start getting used to this Damocles sword hanging over you. Don't worry, I am extremely fair, so when you fulfill your part of the contract, the rose will also disappear.

— And I'm supposed to believe that? — Shirou inquired with barely concealed irony.

— Listen. If I needed you as a perpetual slave, we wouldn't even be having this conversation right now. Moreover… — she noticeably became more serious, — I have, you know, a bit of professional pride. If I don't keep my word, who will strike deals with me?

— A complete idiot.

— How self-critical.

— Only from your perspective. After all, only you know all the conditions and hidden pitfalls of these deals.

— Perhaps, but that's the harsh reality, — Altrouge noted with a shrug, before turning to her knights. — I will contact you soon so we can start, and... well, you know, get to know each other better?

— Go screw yourself! — Emiya shot back, completely missing the irony.

— Mind your language, human, — Stroud warned cautiously. — Lady's patience is far from limitless...

— Let him spew his poison for his pleasure, Rizo, — the vampire waved her hand dismissively. — I'm not narrow-minded enough to take offense at the words of some worm. Especially when he's already hooked...

— We'll see how long that lasts...

— Yes... we'll see, — Altrouge agreed enigmatically, then signaled her knights.

In the next moment, a strange mist enveloped his entire field of vision, making it impossible for Shiro to see anything beyond a couple of meters. It happened so suddenly that there was no doubt about its magical origin. The mist thickened, and then there was a splashing sound, as if something had fallen into water, followed by an oppressive silence.

So… they were gone.

Shiro waited a couple of minutes for reassurance, but not sensing the presence of any vampires, he confirmed that indeed no one remained around.

And only after that, the area filled with sounds of curses in a dozen languages…

***

— Lucky as a drowned rat… — Shirou hissed, feeling a dull pain in his palms that were healing rapidly after being pierced by his own blades.

Fate had proven to be quite the witch, and upon witnessing his dire situation, decided to play another unpleasant card against him. It seems the saying is true: if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

And there was really no other way to describe it, as the chance of accidentally encountering Altrouge Brunestud, the very princess of the Dead Apostles, was close to zero. What could she possibly be doing in this godforsaken village? Who had unleashed a horde of ghouls on her? Just a continuous stream of unanswered questions, as usual…

And the most unpleasant part was that now he was on her hook…

Shirou had forgotten when he last felt such disappointment and that unsettling feeling of helplessness. This contract… had he really managed to get himself into such a mess? Being indebted to a vampire… he couldn't imagine a more dismal fate.

The only thing that brought him some comfort in this situation was that Emiya was needed alive. Although it remained unclear why Altrouge had initiated this game, it was evident that his services were essential to her. So much so that she didn't even dare to turn him, entering into a relationship that was frankly dangerous for herself.

Speaking of that… Shiro'us first thought after being freed was a desire to rid himself immediately of that abomination on his chest and sever their connection, but he had to abandon that idea.

Yes… in theory, he could use his mystic eyes to simply cut the binding contract, but…

First, it was obvious that this process would require precision crafting, which Emiya frankly could not guarantee while performing such an operation on himself. And second, the conditions of their contract remained a huge mystery: the assassin honestly doubted that a vampire who had lived for so long had not foreseen such a move on his part. After all, he could despise her and her kind, but Altrouge was hardly called the Princess of Contracts if she were a naive fool.

Summarizing these thoughts, Shiro was forced to come to a very grim conclusion:

— It looks like… for some time I'll have to play by her rules… damn it… — he muttered irritably under his breath.

Well, for now, that was the least of his problems…

***

Fortunately for him, the horse remained exactly where he left her. It was nice to see that after a day, she had not only stayed put but was also ready to continue the journey. As he swung himself into the saddle, Shirou mentally noted to buy her some better oats in the nearest town...

And apparently, he had exhausted his quota for incidents, because the rest of the journey to Alamut went by without any special adventures. Of course, hardly anything could compare to that encounter, but Emiya honestly didn't want to run into new troubles. It was only when the walls of the familiar citadel came into view that he allowed himself a sigh of relief.

Upon entering the inner courtyard, Shiro witnessed a rather unusual bustle for this place: assassins darted across the walls and corridors, gathering in small groups and animatedly discussing something. Even the crows living in the fortress took to the air every minute, disappearing beyond the horizon, only to be replaced by others, indicating an active exchange of messages. 

— I suppose this is related to the urgent summons from the mentor, — Shirou thought as he maneuvered between the bustling assassins. — And judging by the crowd, I'm not the only one...

— I see you've finally returned, Rashid, — a familiar voice called out to him.

Emiya turned and saw Hanam walking toward him with a measured stride.

— As you can see, — he replied with a slight snort, tilting his head in greeting.

Since that meat grinder in Tikrit, a rather… strange relationship had developed between them, which was hard to label as brotherly or even friendly, but the old animosity had certainly faded away. Perhaps this is what relationships looked like for those bound by a horrid and dreadful secret accessible only to them.

— You're quite timely, give it a day or two and you would have had to learn the news after the fact, — the assassin remarked, gesturing for him to enter the fortress.

— What news? Maybe you can at least explain to me what's going on around here? — Shirou asked as he entered the familiar corridors. — It seems like the lord has summoned all of us for a war.

— I don't know, Rashid! — Hanam replied, a hint of irritation in his voice, before adding more calmly. — Besides, not many people know. No one reports to me, and my assumptions are unlikely to interest you. I was only instructed to meet you upon your arrival and deliver a message from the mentor.

— Is this related to the Latins heading from the west? — Shirou asked, his voice lowering.

— Perhaps. At least, I think it's the most plausible scenario, — Hanam answered as he stepped aside for a few brothers heading his way. — I'm sure you'll find out everything soon enough.

— Because you came in "time"?

— Yes. The mentor informed us that today is the last day of waiting, and after sunset, everyone who arrived at the fortress by his order must report to him. So had you arrived a day later, the meeting would already have taken place.

— The meeting… — Shirou voiced with skepticism.

While the structure of the brotherhood suggested that some decisions could be made through discussions and meetings (though this mainly pertained to the fate of those who couldn't simply be killed), the full authority and final word always rested with Hassan. Therefore, hearing that the Elder decided to gather a semblance of a council with many significant figures of the brotherhood… was tantamount to confirming that the matter at hand was indeed serious.

— Well… let's see…

***

In the time leading up to the meeting, Shirou chose to rest.

After all, he hadn't had a proper moment to breathe since he left the city and encountered the vampires. Given the importance of the upcoming event, he needed to make the most of the limited time he had...

However, saying that was clearly easier than doing. His mind buzzed like a hive of angry bees, filled with thoughts ranging from the events of that night's rendezvous to the anticipation of today's meeting. And while the first topic didn't add much to his stream of thoughts, the latter remained intriguing.

Shirou was certain that the topic of discussion would center around the approaching Crusaders from Western Europe. Even though he hadn't spent a day in school, that didn't mean his understanding of history was nil. Quite the opposite—during his free time away from tasks, he passionately studied past events, and after Kiritsugu's stories about the Holy Grail War, his interest became even more alive.

From what he knew, the First Crusade was set to be a challenging yet extremely successful endeavor. The Catholics would manage to reclaim Jerusalem from the Saracens, while simultaneously establishing several kingdoms in the Holy Land that would endure for nearly two centuries, despite their disunity and constant pressure from Muslims.

In this case, the meeting would likely focus on the Assassins' response to the emergence of a new power in the Middle East. After all, the Seljuk Empire, which controlled these lands, was openly hostile toward the brotherhood, and the Fatimids in Egypt had no particular fondness for them either...

So it was quite possible that Hassan would decide to openly or subtly support the Crusaders in order to weaken a more powerful enemy and distract them from the Assassins' activities. His intuition suggested that Shiro, whether he liked it or not, would be drawn into this matter. The Elder of the Mountain had a way of thrusting him into the very center of events, and the recent task hinted the same...

But… he was missing something. A strange anxiety, stemming from some vague sensation, stubbornly tried to grab his attention. As if something far greater than politics and faith lurked beneath the surface. Hassan's tasks increasingly resembled lessons preparing him for something, urging him to step up not just as a skilled killer and warrior.

And the forthcoming events were unlikely to be an exception...

***

Time until sunset flew by unnoticed.

In the end, Shirou managed to rest for only a couple of hours, and that was with great difficulty. He could only hope that after the meeting, he wouldn't immediately have to set out on another suicidal mission.

Having tidied himself up and fastening Dainsleif to his belt, Emiya left his room and wandered through the corridors of the castle, discreetly glancing at the faces of the passing assassins, trying to find Hanam among them. Not that he needed a conversation; he just wanted to share, even a little, the worries gnawing at his mind.

The sword in its sheath barely trembled, as if sensing the course of his thoughts and anticipating imminent bloodshed, which involuntarily made Emiya pause again to consider the danger of this blade. Was it worth using it at all? The demonic essence of this weapon was evident and almost palpable, yet Shirou had never noticed any particular influence from it. At least, the desire to commit genocide had never arisen within him.

Although he preferred those paired blades, one of Hassan's rules mandated the obligatory change of weapon and the use of nearly every type: paired blades, one-handed swords, two-handed swords, spears, daggers, and so on.

In theory, it made sense since one could never be sure that their preferred weapon would be at hand the next time, making such versatility extremely useful. However, on one hand, the necessary weapon was almost always at his disposal thanks to the arsenal in the imaginary sector, and on the other, he maintained the belief that it was better to be a master of one thing than a jack of all trades.

But Hassan's rules were not the kind to be violated, so now he was trying to wield one-handed swords, and the choice of the cursed blade stemmed from simple efficiency considerations... although he couldn't help but notice that periodically, his hand unconsciously tightened around the hilt of the sword in some dark anticipation.

This definitely warranted further contemplation...

Upon reaching Hassan's quarters, Shiro cast a fleeting glance at the guards, who silently opened the doors for him, letting him inside. The room already held several dozen attendees who were conversing softly among themselves. Catching snippets of phrases, the assassin couldn't help but feel pleased to discover that his comrades shared the same train of thought he had: the Elder clearly wanted to discuss the brotherhood's role in the struggle against the Saracens and Crusaders.

However, his moment of satisfaction was short-lived, as his arrival attracted unwarranted attention.

— I see the mentor invited you too? — remarked one of the dai, the very one whose hand he had once severed. — I can't say I'm surprised.

— And I can't say the same, — his companion grimly noted, throwing a heavy glance at Emiya. — What is this butcher doing here?

— I was summoned, — Shirou replied short and indifferent, trying to move past.

However, the dissatisfied assassin barred his way, looming ominously.

— I can't believe the mentor continues to allow you to defile these halls with your presence...

— Enough, Imrahil, — a voice from the other side of the hall cut across him. — The mentor made his decision long ago. You can hate him all you want, but that won't change reality or bring Mustafa back to life.

— He is right, brother, — the one-handed dai spoke soothingly. — This matter is settled, even if some may think otherwise.

— Ah… so that's it. One of those brats was your brother? — Shirou asked mockingly.

It seems that one of the assassins who perished before his meeting with Hassan was the brother of this Imrahil, something he couldn't forget despite the Elder's will. Under normal circumstances, he would have ignored it, but the familiar thirst for blood at the back of his mind began to slowly creep to the forefront, demanding an outlet. He hadn't devoted so much time to the brotherhood for someone to dare confront him about past deeds.

— If the pain of separation is so unbearable for you… perhaps I should help you reunite in the afterlife?

— You!.. — Imrahil ground his teeth, lowering his hand to his belt.

Noticing this movement, Emiya swiftly drew Dainsleif from its sheath, the blade stopping mere millimeters from the assassin's throat. The hall instantly filled with an unrestrained bloodlust that would have made even seasoned killers flinch. Even Imrahil involuntarily recoiled, staring into Shiro's eyes, which blazed with a devilish fire.

— Enough, Rashid, put away your weapon… — the Dai intoned menacingly, drawing his saber from its sheath.

— What are you unhappy about, brother? — Emiya asked with a horrifically innocent tone. — I merely saw the suffering of our comrade and offered my hand to help… — his lips curled into a grotesque smile. — Am I… not merciful?

— Wretched jackal, do you think I fear you?! — Imrahil growled defiantly, drawing his sword and aiming it at his opponent.

However, this didn't grant him any particular advantage, as before he could react, Shirou disarmed the assassin in a flash, pressing Dainsleif to his heart.

— Not afraid? Then why do I hear your fingers trembling? — Shirou continued with the same chilling casualness, pressing the blade against Imrahil's chest. — Wouldn't you be glad to find peace and reunite with your brother? Are you not eager for the end of your earthly journey? If eternal life in paradise awaits us on the other side, why do you fear death?..

— Rashid!..

— Or perhaps… deep down, you actually don't believe in any of this? — Shirou scoffed, ignoring the cries.

— Enough! — the Dai shouted angrily, and in that instant, those present surrounded Emiya, aiming their blades at him.

Before the situation could escalate to a breaking point, a heavy, steel-clad hand landed on Shiro's shoulder, pulling him from his trance like a bucket of ice water. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees, and azure flames blazed in the braziers around them, casting cold hues all around.

— Stop it. Right now, — the icy tone of the Master made him immediately lower his sword.

— I apologize, Master, — Emiya said, sheepishly sheathing his blade, displeasing the last. 

— If you cannot let go of the past, you will have no future. Neither in this life nor the next, — Hassan continued coldly, casting a glance at Imrahil. — Next time, you will have the opportunity to see this for yourself.

— Forgive me, Master… — Imrahil replied quietly, lowering his head.

Without acknowledging him, Hassan walked between the respectfully parting assassins and disappeared into the shadows.

— I hoped to intercept you on your way, — Hanam, who had approached Shirou, said softly. — I hoped to avoid something like this.

— It would have happened sooner or later, — Shirou murmured as he regained his composure, tightening his grip on the sword hilt. — If not today, then tomorrow…

— With such outbursts, you're only turning them against yourself…

— Turning them? — Shirou shot an irritated look at Hanam, his eyes flashing dangerously. — I've spilled so much blood, gone through fire and demons, done everything my Master expected of me, and they still want more? If that's not enough, I don't care — let them seek fulfillment in the Abyss, because that's exactly where they will go if they don't change their attitude. I have nothing to apologize for and nothing to prove to them!

— Nothing to prove, — Hanam replied in a calming tone, placing a hand on his shoulder. — Still, just be more cautious, brother.

This small gesture had no less effect than Hassan's icy voice. Emiya was genuinely surprised, for it was the first time in this era someone had sincerely called him that. But his composure quickly regained control, and the surprise was quickly replaced by a mask of indifference.

— Thank you, — he could only say.

***

After a few more moments, the doors of the room slammed shut for the last time, plunging the hall into dimness and solemn silence. During this time, the remaining invited guests had arrived, doubling the number of those gathered compared to when Shirou entered. Nearly all of them stood in a semicircle around a massive map of the eastern Mediterranean, with only a few assassins standing by it, clearly preparing for a presentation. Contrary to expectations, Hassan stood a little apart, studying everyone present with an eagle's gaze.

— So… — began one of the dais, drawing the attention of the gathered. — I believe that most of you have, in one way or another, received the latest news, but just in case, I will reiterate… — he paused theatrically, — an army of Latins, calling themselves crusaders, is advancing from the west. Emperor Alexios Komnenos has appealed to the Pope for help in the fight against the Seljuks. In response, the Pope has announced the start of a crusade aimed at liberating the Holy Land, or more specifically… — he abruptly pointed to a spot on the map, — Jerusalem.

— The Emperor of the Romans has called for help from the Franks?… What desperation must he be in? — one of the assassins snorted mockingly, prompting a wave of similar derisive laughter.

— It's evident that it's not just him who is desperate since the Holy Seat did not refuse assistance, — the dais continued, ignoring the laughter.

— I've seen those crusaders in the markets of Antioch, — another assassin joined the conversation. — If that's all the Latins can muster, may Allah preserve their unholy souls!

— You've only seen the dregs, like peasant rabble, adventurers, and religious fanatics, — Shirou scoffed, drawing everyone's attention. — "Who's nobody here is a horseman there!" God himself wishes for this expedition, so it cannot fail. And for their desperate struggle, God will even forgive all their sins and debts. God himself told them so! — he spoke with venom in his voice, inciting another wave of laughter. — But the problem is that these were the first, desperate beggars. Soon an army of armed and trained knights and nobles will follow from all corners of Europe. Clad in armor, warriors and hordes of mercenaries… hardly a matter for jest.

— As our… brother has said, — the speaker resumed, emphasizing his disdain for Shirou with his tone. — The main forces of the crusaders are still moving into Judea, and estimates put their number at thirty to forty thousand warriors, supplied with everything they need by the Romans.

— You're suggesting they have every chance of success with their venture? — asked a one-armed dai skeptically.

— Considering the disunity of the Seljuks, the Fatimids to the south, and the general mood of the populace?… I would say the chances are more than real, — Emiya noted wisely.

As a person from the future, he knew very well that this crusade would be the most successful in their history. But he also understood the assassins' doubts, because if he were a man of this era, the dubiousness of such an undertaking would be obvious. Relying on his knowledge, Shirou could confidently say that the First Crusade succeeded against all odds. Of course, he should not forget that this could very well be an alternative reality where the course of history flowed differently, so he could not assert anything with certainty.

What concerned him more was why he was even here. He had just recently risen in rank and was unlikely to qualify as an experienced or significant figure to participate in such gatherings. Not to mention his reputation, which was still quite questionable. So why did Hassan want to see him today? Because Shiro was his student? Or was he trying to show his trust after so many trials?

The more Shirou pondered this question, the less optimism remained in his assumptions…

The discussion continued for a while longer: some assassins shared their information, others asked questions, clarifying all the details. But the main question remained unresolved — should the brotherhood intervene at all? There were plenty of reasons to dislike both sides of the conflict, but the desire to extend even an invisible hand of help was completely absent. Opinions on this matter were roughly evenly divided...

Hassan, who had been silent until now, allowing everyone to voice their opinions, finally stepped forward, instantly cutting off all discussions.

— Your opinions carry a grain of truth, but you simply do not realize the scale and significance of what is happening… — his words rang out with cold steel. — A chain of events has already been set in motion. It will lead to a realignment of powers and affect the destinies of hundreds of thousands, and we are no exception. Many forces have already begun moving, and we cannot remain indifferent to what is occurring. Therefore, we must choose the side that will bring the greatest benefit to our cause. At the very heart of this chaos, alliances will be born, and the seeds of discord will be sown.

The assembled crowd hung on every word he spoke, and even Shirou couldn't help but feel captivated by his speech. In such moments, it became clear how this man had managed to take an entire city and form an army of followers without a fight, merely through words. Hassan definitely knew how to present familiar things from the right angle and touch the delicate strings of the human heart with his words. Shirou found himself involuntarily wondering — could he inspire those who had been through hundreds of battles and beaten down by life and fate, like assassins? Probably not…

Lost in his thoughts, the assassin barely noticed that the Elder had been watching him intently for some time, as if assessing him and internally making a decision. When Shirou finally noticed and locked eyes with the azure flame in the leader of the assassins' gaze, it was as if something clicked in his mind, as if he had just received an unwelcome answer to a no less unpleasant question.

— Rashid… — he broke the heavy silence, addressing him. — Perhaps, you could provide more compelling arguments?..

Shirou mentally cursed. His most unpleasant assumption had come true. The last mission, the invitation to the council, and now this… Hassan clearly wanted him to take a more active role in the life of the brotherhood, not just as a skilled killer, but as something more. And yet, Shirou had shown more than once today that he possessed a good understanding of the situation! However, it was foolish to hope that the Elder even for a moment doubted his abilities, considering all he had been through.

The eyes of the assassins were focused on him, which left him no choice. Hassan was not one to take lightly the opinions of his subordinates, and he could be formidable when angry… Shiro knew that from experience.

Obediently stepping up by the map, the assassin surveyed those gathered, then closed his eyes for a moment and began to speak:

— If the crusade is successful, it's likely that a series of crusader states will emerge in the Middle East, which will serve as an excellent buffer between us and our enemies. Given the reasons for the conflict, they will become a thorn in the side of the Saracens, which will certainly divert their attention from us and our cause. The Seljuks and Fatimids will be too busy squabbling among themselves and with the Christians to focus on us… — he paused slightly, noticing several nods of understanding before continuing. — Furthermore, as the mentor said, war will bring chaos to these lands and create opportunities for us to seize. People will lose their homes, loved ones, even the very meaning of their existence. And where will this lead everyone? Amidst the widespread destruction, our order will become a symbol of order and stability. We will be able to offer them a new purpose in life rooted in our ideals and faith. Understanding the insignificance of their former rulers, suffering from deprivations, they will reach for the power that can protect them and give hope for a better future. Our preachers will sow the seeds of faith amidst the cynicism and despair, transforming us from mere elusive assassins and bogeymen for children into builders of a new future. And when that time comes, people will flock to us from all corners of the Holy Land, ready to give their lives for something greater than they could ever imagine… 

To Shirou's pleasant surprise, no one tried to interrupt him, challenge his words, or at least voice healthy criticism. It seemed his words had at least prompted them to think, even if they weren't as captivated as they were by the mentor's rhetoric. Casting a brief glance at Hassan, Shirou caught a flicker of approval in his gaze, but that shadow disappeared a moment later. He remained the same unyielding figure, silently urging him to continue.

— You've expressed quite a sensible thought, but there's one problem… — one of the assassins spoke with a hint of respect. — As far as I know, the crusaders and the emperor have made a pact to return all captured lands to the Romans… 

— We all know that's utter nonsense… — Shirou interrupted him dismissively. — I can hardly believe that the crusaders, whose blood will spill in Judea, would just hand over what they've conquered. If the Romans had sent their troops to help them, such an outcome might be possible, but under the current circumstances, only a madman would hand such important lands to a temporary ally who could become an enemy the next day.

— I agree with Rashid on this matter, — supported him the one-armed dai. — Furthermore, even if they break their word, the emperor will be powerless to act. If he had the troops to seize those lands, he wouldn't plead with Rome for assistance.

— Moreover, if we extend a hand of assistance to the crusaders, it will inadvertently lull their vigilance and create a semblance of trust. Given their inevitable conflicts with the Saracens, we could resolve certain issues through them, which is true concerning us as well. I am confident that when the euphoria of victory wears off, they will recognize the precariousness of their position and see the benefits of our cooperation, — Shirou continued, thanking the dai with a glance. — We'll be able to utilize their resources and troops where our own actions are limited, and any possible manipulations or intrigues on their part can be nipped in the bud. Maintaining the illusion of cooperation will allow us to carefully monitor their actions, ready to seize any misstep. Step by step, we will strengthen our position and influence not only among the crusaders but also with other forces in the region. As the mentor said, a sea of opportunities opens before us, and it would be foolish not to try to ride this current and steer it in the right direction.

Once again scanning the crowd and locking eyes with Hassan, he took a discreet breath and concluded:

— At least, that's how I see it.

For a moment, silence hung in the hall, broken only by the hushed whispers of discussion. Apparently, Shiro's speech had made a far greater impression on the gathering than he had expected. At the very least, the fact that they were discussing it indicated that his thoughts had not been dismissed. Although he was unsure whether it was his speech or the fact that Hassan had already tacitly outlined their future course that had contributed to this effect.

— Well said, Rashid, — the Elder finally spoke, rising before those gathered. — My decision is this: we will extend our hand to the Christians and assist them in achieving their goals, which will ultimately benefit us as well. An alliance with this force could give a new boost to the development of our brotherhood, but… — Hassan paused, and his eyes flashed with warning, — We must not forget our own interests and goals. Our cooperation with the crusaders must not lead us to abandon our ideals. Every step we take must be carefully considered and planned, taking into account both immediate benefits and long-term consequences, — with these words, he glanced back at Shirou. — Our actions must remain subtle yet clear, like a river's flow winding through the landscape. In the end, only time will tell how right our decision was and what fruits this course will bear for us. We stand on the brink of a new era that could change the course of history, and it is crucial that we do not miss this opportunity.

If anyone still had doubts by this point, they clearly chose to keep them to themselves. And it was unlikely to matter now. The Elder from the Mountain had spoken, and everything else was irrelevant.

— And now that the decision has been made… — Hassan's gaze became even more piercing, and Shirou felt a cold prickling in his chest. — Rashid!

Obeying the unspoken command, Shirou stepped forward and knelt, mentally praying that what was happening was not what he thought it was.

— During your training, you have proven yourself worthy. You have not shied away from challenges thrown at you and have contributed significantly to our common cause. Facing Death, you did not falter, seeing the depth of human depravity, and did not succumb to its ravenous jaws. Looking back, you can take pride in having retained your humanity despite the temptations and trials that assailed your soul. You embraced your mission not as a burden, but as a calling, allowing the inner flame to burn brighter when many might have given up… but remember this: even the bravest warriors need to contemplate their path. Do not let your weaknesses overshadow your achievements. May every doubt become a lesson, for it is within these lessons that the path to your true calling lies… — a soft whistle sounded and Shiro felt the cool metal touch his skin. — And although you still have much growth ahead and your training is not complete, I believe you are fit to undertake this sacred task. Rise, then, and be the blade of the Almighty and the shield for your brothers and sisters! Spare neither gold nor blood nor iron! Gather around you those who yearn for change and are ready to fight for our ideals. Be their leader, their inspiration, their steady hand in the storm of doubts. Every step you take must be purposeful, and every choice wise. Do not shy away from difficulties, for it is precisely these that temper the spirit and strengthen it. Look your enemies in the eye and know that they are fighting not only against you but against everything you represent. Swear loyalty to your cause, and do not for a moment waver in your righteousness. And may your soul shine brightly, dispelling the darkness of what is to come.

Here it is... Shirou couldn't help but let out a bitter smirk. What he had feared had come to pass — Hassan hadn't just decided to involve him in this task but had also placed him at the forefront of the impending events! He had made him the leader of those who, even after all this time, still did not consider him their equal. The Elder from the Mountain had always enjoyed testing him, but this was an entirely different level.

— Master, forgive my audacity, but... is this really wise? Rashid has only recently been promoted, not to mention that he simply lacks the requisite experience due to his youth... — one of the dai attempted to object.

— No one denies his accomplishments and skills, but he has never shown any leadership qualities! — another supported him.

Shirou merely scoffed. He didn't particularly enjoy hearing criticism directed at him, but this time he even welcomed it. The prospect of leadership had never intrigued him, and had circumstances been different, he might have escaped this fate. But the problem was that Hassan had already made his decision, and no arguments could change that.

— I'm sure there are many more suitable candidates for... — one of the dai began to say, but was immediately interrupted by Hanam.

— The Mentor has already spoken, and it is disrespectful on your part to challenge him — he declared bluntly. — Besides, who are these "suitable candidates"? Are you hinting at yourself?

— Watch your tongue, brother! — the dai retorted just as bluntly. — You're forgetting yourself!..

— Enough! — Hassan declared ominously, causing the flames in the room to flare up, making everyone jump nervously. — I have already made my decision. Now... if no one has any more substantial arguments, I declare the meeting adjourned, — the azure flames in his eyes scanned those present, but not a single assassin dared to object. — Communicate my decision to the others and relay it to our people. Everyone must be ready to act and support our brothers. Failure and defeat are not options! Your loyalty to our cause will be the key to our success. We cannot afford to make mistakes. Spread this message — the time has truly come, and we will do everything to overcome the obstacles in our way.

Once it became clear that the meeting had concluded, the assassins began to leave the hall, discussing the new state of affairs as they went. Shirou wanted to blend into the crowd, but Hassan cast a fleeting glance at him, pinning him to the spot.

A minute later, the hall was empty, and the doors slammed shut, leaving Emia alone with the Elder.

— I see his influence is making itself felt again... — he said meaningfully as he approached the window and beckoned Shiro to join him with a gesture. — I thought you had learned to keep your curse in check.

— It's unlikely there's any truly effective way to keep it, as you put it, in check, — the assassin shook his head.

— You carry a cursed blade with you, which certainly doesn't seem like an attempt to control the problem. Had I arrived a minute later, would you have been able to restrain its thirst?

— Is it really important to ponder what did not happen? — Emiya sighed with irritation but felt Hassan's piercing gaze and eventually responded. — No, I would hardly have killed him, although I admit there was a moment when I lost my composure.

— Is that so?

— What annoys me is that after so many months, I still have to prove something to someone, — Emia stated candidly, resting his hand on the hilt. — If they dislike my presence so much, they should just ignore it... — he took a breath to calm himself and looked at his mentor, — But you wanted to talk about something else, didn't you?

Hassan was silent for a time, watching the night sky outside before turning back to him.

— Why do you think I chose you?

— Presumably, you want to teach me another lesson?

— Partially... — the Elder nodded. — You undoubtedly have talent. Despite all the trials you've been through, you have remained true to your principles and ideals, even when the temptation to betray them was overwhelming. Yes, you still make mistakes and refuse to see certain flaws in your views, but these mistakes help you grow. They remind you that the path to greatness is not free from trials, but it is in those trials that true strength is forged. And within you burns the fire of the desire to become better, leaving mistakes behind to move forward, believing in the righteousness of your actions. All of this makes me believe that you have the potential for great deeds...

— Thank you, of course, but I think you are flattering me too much. Not to mention that my brothers hardly share your perspective.

— Does that diminish the value of my opinion in any way? I prefer to tell the truth, even when it is sometimes harsh and uncomfortable. Sincerity is a rarity, a treasure for few in our world, — Hassan retorted sharply. — As you have already said, this is a lesson for you. A test of whether you can lead others and show them that you are something greater. People are watching you, and their gazes are full of expectation. They want to see if you can break the chains of misconceptions that bind their minds and hearts. By leading, you not only burden yourself with responsibility but also gain the power to change the course of events. Let every step you take be marked by determination. Allow your voice to be louder than those who dwell in doubt and fear. Show them that even in darkness, light can be found, just as we do. And when your path comes to an end, you will realize that every moment of trial has become part of your true self, turning your life into something majestic and meaningful...

Shirou found himself at a loss for words.

— Of course, there is another reason... far less superficial, — Hassan suddenly added, his tone growing even darker and more serious. — As I have already said, the gears of the mechanism of history are in motion, and the crusaders and Saracens are by no means the only force that will turn its gaze to these lands. There are others, much more dangerous...

— "Other forces"?.. — Shiro frowned. — Like... then?

— Among them... — his companion nodded. — Shadows that have emerged from the depths of antiquity, which until now have remained hidden from the eyes of mere mortals. Forgotten even by the witnesses of past years, they are awakening once more, and their thirst for power knows no bounds. Unaware that they have disturbed invisible strings, the crusaders and Saracens are becoming pawns in a game whose scale exceeds their comprehension. In this destructive dance of swords and blood, the true masters of fate weave their treacherous webs, waiting for the moment when their will will bring the known world to ruin or possibly give birth to a new order. How many will be able to see this behind the veil of ordinary war?

— So that's it... — Shirou said grimly. — You need me because I have the chance to challenge them. Because once I already faced true horror in reality and survived.

— Yes, and this will also be your trial. A time of chaos and change is not a reason for despair but an opportunity for growth. It is under these conditions that the true powers of spirit are revealed. As we carve a path to victory, we encounter challenges that forge us, laying the groundwork for future triumphs. Every step, every difficult moment becomes a staircase on the way to enlightenment... — with these words, Hassan turned to Shirou, his eyes shimmering with fire. — Succeed, and then we can move on to the final stage of your training...

— I will not let you down, — Shirou stated, bowing his head, then straightened up and headed for the exit.

— Rashid... — Hassan's chilling tone made him freeze in place.

— Yes? — he asked somewhat nervously, surprised by the sudden change in his mentor's voice.

— Do you have nothing else to tell me? — the Elder clarified, looking at him with a piercing gaze, as if seeing even the most hidden depths of his soul.

His heart clenched unpleasantly again, and Emia barely restrained himself from clutching his chest. A part of him already suspected that Hassan knew about his contract with Altruj, but... he felt this was hardly the right time for candor. Moreover, predicting the Elder's reaction was practically impossible...

— No, — Emiya replied as firmly as he could, trying not to meet his mentor's eyes. — Nothing... important.

— Is that so?.. — judging by his tone, the Elder did not believe his words for a second, but for some reason chose not to pursue the topic. — Well then, you may go...

Shirou exhaled almost audibly, relieved that he had managed to postpone this uncomfortable conversation. He already had enough problems without adding new variables.

However, just as he was standing at the door, he paused for a second, recalling one detail mentioned by his mentor.

— If I am permitted to know... what exactly awaits me at the end of my training?

Hassan surveyed him with a long, cold gaze, lingering on the heart bound by vampiric chains, before quietly but with a note of grim solemnity replying:

— The Destined Death....