Emiya Residence
As I stared into Artoria's eyes—those piercing emeralds brimming with unrelenting fury—I didn't dare move. Her grip around my throat was like steel. Not the ceremonial kind a knight might wear, but the kind that shatters bone with lethal intent.
I knew without a doubt: if I so much as twitched, she would snap my neck like a twig.
Then came Kiritsugu's voice—flat, devoid of warmth.
"Why are you here? And know this… if you lie, we will know."
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but her grip made even that nearly impossible. My heart pounded like a war drum. My mind raced through a thousand outcomes, and every single one ended the same way.
Unless...
"I propose a contract," I rasped, my voice thin from lack of air. "A Geas. The terms are simple: I will not lie to either of you… and in exchange, neither you nor your allies will try to kill me."
Kiritsugu didn't flinch. His eyes, dark and unreadable, stared through me like cold iron.
"Why should we agree?" he asked, almost lazily. "Your life is already in our hands. Even if you die here, I can call in a few favors. Extract what we need from your corpse."
Artoria's grip tightened. My vision tunneled. Black dots danced at the edges of my sight.
Seconds. That's all I had left.
So I played my final card.
"Your son," I choked out.
The effect was immediate.
Her hand twitched—just barely—but enough. Enough to shift the pressure. Enough to let me breathe.
Almost.
My vision swam. My chest screamed for oxygen. I didn't know how much time I had, but I forced the words out anyway, each one scraped from the edge of death.
"I know… how to save him."
Silence.
For one eternal moment, the room held its breath. Even the air itself dared not move.
Then, slowly, her grip loosened—not out of mercy, but out of something colder. Curiosity. Caution. Calculation.
I dropped to the floor, coughing violently, clutching my chest as I gasped for breath. Each inhale was a blade to the lungs—but pain meant I was still alive.
Artoria stepped back, her presence still suffocating. Her sword hand twitched. She was far from at ease.
Kiritsugu leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on me. His face betrayed no emotion—only that same soulless, assassin calm.
"You'd better explain," he said, voice low but edged with steel. "Now."
I wiped the sweat from my brow, forcing myself upright. My throat ached. My ribs throbbed. But I met their eyes.
"I will," I said hoarsely. "But first, you need to understand—I'm not your enemy. I didn't come to stop Shirou's path. I came to preserve it. To protect him… from what's coming."
Artoria's eyes narrowed. Kiritsugu didn't blink.
"What do you mean by 'save him'?" he asked.
I took a deep breath, forcing calm into my voice.
"I know what Shirou becomes… after you use Avalon to save him. I know the kind of man he turns into. I've seen his futures."
I looked directly at Artoria.
"You've seen it too—that version of him who kills without mercy, who lives only to protect others, even if it means erasing himself."
Then I turned to Kiritsugu.
"You wanted to give him a better dream than yours. Instead, you gave him your curse."
Another silence followed. Thicker now. Heavier.
Kiritsugu leaned back. For the first time, a flicker of expression crossed his face. A subtle shift—recognition.
"Looks like I just got one answer," he muttered. "You're not from this world… Outsider."
---
Fuyuki Church
Inside the dimly lit chapel, Gilgamesh sat upon a weathered wooden bench. One leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed—but his presence anything but.
His golden eyes burned—not with interest, but disdain.
The outsider.
An insect who dared to walk among kings. A being who twisted fate with words and cloaked himself in riddles, as though understanding truth gave him dominion.
An offense beyond tolerance.
Gilgamesh's expression soured. Today, it wasn't the modern world that disgusted him—it was that existence. That pretentious interloper who dared speak of salvation and destiny. One who had earned Artoria's attention and defiled it with self-righteous delusions.
A mongrel, meddling in the affairs of legends.
He rose to his feet. His boots echoed against the chapel's stone floor like distant thunder.
"Kirei," he said, voice smooth and regal, but laced with contempt.
From the shadows, the priest's voice answered, calm as ever.
"And where will the King of Heroes go?"
Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes toward the doors.
"To remove a weed that has grown too bold in sacred soil."
He didn't wait for a reply.
The church doors opened as if the world itself remembered who walked among its mortals.
And in the silence that followed, Kirei could only think one thing:
Someone has offended him… deeply.
---
Back at the Emiya Residence
"Outsider."
The word rolled off Kiritsugu's tongue like a blade drawn in warning.
I froze.
"Don't look so surprised," he continued, cold and sharp. "We know you're not from this world."
A chill ran down my spine.
Before I could speak, Artoria stepped forward, her eyes like ice.
"I've dealt with your kind before," she said, voice heavy with authority and old scars. "When I ruled, creatures like you tried to manipulate me. Tried to change history. All of them failed."
She stepped closer, her presence pressing down like divine judgment.
"Some of them," she continued, "I had tortured personally. Merlin looked into their minds, saw the truth. We dealt with them accordingly—even in the Grail War."
Her words were not just a warning. They were a sentence.
I could only whisper: "Who?"
"Your eyes," she said coldly. "They betray everything. You think you hide it well—but I see it. The way you speak. The way your gaze flickers when cornered. Most of all, your knowledge."
Her voice twisted, poisoned by revulsion.
"You all come bearing the same lies. 'Chosen by destiny.' 'Savior of mankind.' 'Bearer of some divine truth.' Always the same delusion—that you are the be-all, end-all of everything."
She stepped forward again, hatred radiating like heat from a forge.
"But I know what you really are. Leeches. You crawl from fractured worlds, bleed into timelines you don't belong to, never caring what lives you distort. You use your knowledge to play god."
I didn't flinch. I couldn't. The Geas was already binding me—if I tried to lie, even for a moment, it would kill me.
So I told the truth.
"I didn't come here to save the world," I said, voice clear. "I came here because I didn't want to die."
Silence.
"I needed to get stronger. Strong enough to survive without always looking over my shoulder. If you've dealt with others like me before, then you already know—we carry something called a System. A power unique to us. It grants us growth, skills… potential."
They exchanged a glance—tense, but not shocked.
"My System is different. It doesn't give me power directly. It allows me to teach. The stronger my students become, the more strength I gain in return. That's why I came here."
I turned to Kiritsugu.
"I chose Shirou because, aside from you, he has no deep ties to the Moonlit World. No ancient bloodlines. No contracts with spirits. He's a blank slate. A raw soul. And that makes him… perfect."
Another silence. A colder one.
In Artoria's eyes, a flicker of pain. In Kiritsugu's, something grim. A burden remembered.
"So," Artoria said slowly, her voice low and dangerous. "You came here… for Shirou. Tell me—why shouldn't I kill you where you stand?"
I let the silence stretch.
Then I answered, calm and sure.
"Because you love him. And if you know what I know… you don't want him to become the Counter Guardian."
Their eyes wavered—just slightly. Hesitation. Doubt. Memory.
It was enough.
I stepped forward—not threatening, but resolute.
"I know how to give him a better life. One that stays true to who he is. Without erasing the events that shape him. Without robbing him of his humanity."
Another pause.
Then I said the words I'd been holding back:
"I can help him become more than just a blade. I can help him become a hero—without becoming a weapon."