Fate: Emiya the Host

"You think this alone can defeat me? Too naive, Emiya Shirou!!"

The flashing blades grew ever more ferocious.

The killing intent blossoming in the night surged like a tide.

"In a fight against me, you won't have the slightest chance of victory," So he said, and so he resolved.

Battle!

Battle!

Endless battle!

Endless acceleration!

At last, the air itself began to rip apart with sound.

But red A's pupils shrank, then widened, "Why…"

"Finally noticed, did you?"

Each strike perfectly deflected, the defense growing ever more flawless.

At this moment, even power and speed were approaching endlessly.

"Why haven't your weapons shattered?"

Red A's face revealed shock and incomprehension.

"How could your understanding possibly…"

"What's impossible about it?"

For the first time, a deadlock.

Blade met blade, belief collided with belief.

Through the steel, even their magical circuits pressed infinitely close.

"To put it bluntly, we're the same kind of counterfeit, Heroic Spirit Emiya!"

It wasn't the first time he had seen that scene.

A desolate world, a saint walking toward the end.

Pierced by countless swords, meeting a final, most pathetic, most regretful fate.

But there could be no sympathy, there would be no sympathy. Instead—

"I'll defeat you fair and square!"

—he stepped forward.

"Heroic Spirit, Emiya!"

For the first time, the momentum of battle was reversed.

"Impossible!"

Red A could no longer stay calm, could no longer maintain his expression.

Confused, even enraged, he demanded, "Seeing that kind of scene, didn't you feel regret?"

Strike after strike, approaching lightning.

"Every time, every single time a sword is driven into the earth, countless people die."

"To save something means you must lose something else. Didn't you see that, Emiya Shirou!"

He roared, "Those hands drenched in blood, those corpses scattered across the ground?"

"Of course I saw them, clear as day!"

A dead end, hair gradually turning white, even memories discarded and lost one after another, yet still clinging to a borrowed ideal.

Carrying a twisted heart.

Forward, forward, endlessly forward.

Even if in the end sent to the guillotine, still moving forward.

That is why there's no regret.

"ARCHER!"

Shirou's furious shout.

For the first time, the two broke apart, sprinting wildly to the side.

Identical bows appeared, identical arrows shot forth.

Explosions thundered one after another.

At high speed, arrow met arrow, light collided with light.

Buildings were blasted apart.

The earth cracked open.

Shirou leapt high, drawing his bow.

"I can't save you!"

That, like when he, as a supposed Ally of Justice, once understood a certain truth, realizing what it meant to discard everything, and obtained his answer.

Red A froze, then let out a scornful laugh, "Ridiculous… so naive it makes me want to laugh!"

"Emiya Shirou!", he barked, his burning fury unrestrained, "Since you've already seen clearly. Since you already understand everything, then you should know that at the end of this ideal lies only despair!"

"Whether it's despair or not, you don't get to decide."

Light streaked out, clashing, colliding, in the chaos produced.

At the same instant, both discarded their bows, seized twin blades, and rushed into the exploding fire.

Dancing in the flames, slashing through the blaze.

"What you once believed in, what you once swore could never be wrong, even if coated in lies, even if deemed impossible!"

"Even so, even if that's so, you press forward unshaken, to the end, welcoming the downfall."

"That kind of you… yes, that kind of you, I believe is right! You cannot be wrong, and so you cannot be saved!"

Yes. From beginning to end, Shirou had always understood how difficult it was to stand firm in one's belief.

To carry a single ideal through from start to finish, from top to bottom, just how hard it truly was.

Precisely because of that, instead of saying "cannot be saved," it would be better to say, there's no need to save him at all.

That alone is enough.

Beliefs collided like never before.

Through their weapons, through the roaring magical circuits.

Like the chorus of cicadas in midsummer, not distinguishable, not compatible, dividing them from one another.

BANG!

Both their weapons shattered at once, both staggered back.

Before his body could topple backward, red A straightened, at last raising his hand.

"I see, so that's it!"

"Then see it with your own eyes, Emiya Shirou! See for yourself, once again, that cruel reality!"

He declared, "If you want to acknowledge me recklessly, to believe I was never wrong, then look upon the most obvious truth before you!"

Mana erupted fully beneath his feet.

Air warped, reality shattered.

Flames scorched the borders of that wasteland.

"That is—"

Cu Chulainn, watching, finally had his expression change.

Even Artoria, gazing from afar, whispered, "Shirou…"

"I am the bone of my sword."

"At last!"

Having long awaited, Shirou tore off his coat, now hanging by a single thread, and likewise raised his hand, "My body is made out of swords."

Red A: "Steel is my body, and fire is my blood."

Shirou: "This body is of iron and flame."

"I have created over a thousand blades."

They spoke in unison.

Red A: "Unknown to death, nor known to life."

Shirou: "Through countless battlefields undefeated. Not even once fleeing, Not even once being understood."

"He was always alone, intoxicated with victory on the hill of swords."

Red A: "Have withstood pain to create many weapons. Yet, those hands will never hold anything."

Shirou: "Thus, this life has no meaning."

Red A: "So, as I pray—"

Shirou: "This body—"

"—UNLIMITED BLADE WORKS!"

"—WAS CERTAINLY MADE OUT OF SWORDS!"

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