Fate Broken Dream

[Dunno.]

Chapter 1: A horrible dream.

The story begins with a boy, no older than twelve, stumbling into a world filled with nothing but decay, where death was a mere inconvenience to those that roamed the deary streets of Yharnam, a city known for its medical advances around the practice of blood ministration.

The boy awoke with a silent gasp, laying within the sterile walls of a clinic. There, he met a peculiar creature, its body was adorned with unruly fur smudged in patches of red, carrying the heavy stench of putrefaction. Terrified, the child ran as far as his little legs could, but was unable to escape the monster. With a single leap, the thing caught up and swiped using its elongated limb, knocking him to the ground. In one swift motion, the monster cracked its jaws wide open, revealing a maze of jagged teeth, and masticated the child's cranium with a bone-crushing snap.

Instead of dying, however, he awoke once more, unscathed. This time, he was inside a mysterious space beyond the reach of those who could lay harm upon him—the Hunter's Dream. Above, past the muted clouds, hung a pale moon, its radiance nothing short of entrancing. It remained unmoving, observing the entire dimension like a watchful eye. Further away, the boy found a path leading up to a towering gothic structure and allowed curiosity get the better of him. Inside, he met his first teacher, Gerhman—the First Hunter—who taught him most of what needed to know.

Later, after gaining the ability to perceive things one normally couldn't, he encountered a motherly porcelain-puppet with a head of lustrous silver hair, powered by the arcane—the Doll, whom showered him with much needed care and affection. Getting comfortable with the Doll's presence, the boy told her of his ambition, which was to become a Hero of Justice in memory of his late father. She donned a tender smile, encouraging him to follow his dreams… only to be betrayed by those very same aspirations as he went on to free Yharnam from the horrors that plagued it. He wished to save those he could, but failed no matter what; every choice, every decision he made, without fail, led to the demise of those he tried to protect, resulting in the young man's mind to steadily collapse, endlessly taunted by his failures.

Many years after his arrival into this world of nightmares, he lied on a field of muted lillies that gently swayed in the wind, surrounded by countless headstones which neatly populated the edge of the flowerbed. To the side, the colding carcass of a Great One - the source of all his suffering - lay motionless, dead. And with its death came the end of this everlasting night of terrors. The young man barked out a mirthless laugh, the echo of his voice reverberated across the Hunter's Dream before fading into silence. The Last Hunter closed his eyes shut, his expression peaceful as he prepared to take his final breath.

"Farewell, Good Hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world," the Doll's voice, filled with warmth and solace, reached the young man's ears right before his senses ceased to function.

Within the bustling city of Fuyuki, Japan, a young boy—Shirou Emiya—sat motionless on a chair, his head craned high as he gazed into the starless night sky, his expression detatched with eyes pitiless as the sun. The pale moon was bright and the winds were calm, sending a light breeze throughout the bed of pale flowers that surrounded him, causing his red hair to sway.

He used to dream of a world filled with nothing but death and nightmarish abominations beyong Man's comprehension, but not anymore. He was free, unshackled, yet remained burdened by his experience. He wanted to cry out, apologize to those he had failed, yet not a single tear was shed. He locked away the traits of what made him human, becoming nothing more than a shell of his former self.

An older individual, a woman by the name of Taiga Fujimura, entered the garden, staring at Shirou's figure with a look of sorrow. He used to be a cheerful young lad, always trying his best to bring a smile to the lips of those around him… until a week ago, that is. She could not help but recall his abrupt change and the likely cause of it—his adoptive father's death. Since the passing of Kiritsugu Emiya, Shirou was never the same; he became eerily quiet, his mannerisms shifted greatly from an optimistic young man to a cold blue-blooded persona.

Fearing for the boy's mental state, she took him to multiple hospitals, but her efforts to help Shirou was for naught. The doctors could not revert his personality to how it was in the past, attributing this sudden change to shock, and advised her to leave it be lest it gets worse. Powerless to do anything, Taiga could do nothing but hope for the best.

---

I sat on a chair next to a table, my back straight, an air of gentleness mixed with thorns surrounding my form. My piercing gray eyes studied the open book in my hand. A little over a month had elapsed since my escape from that horrible dream, yet the nightmares persisted even to this day. I reached forward, picking up a teacup from the desk, and took a sip, soothing my nerves.

Gently placing the cup down, I returned my full attention to the book. Each facet of my movements was unnecessarily refined, a byproduct of my tenure under Castle Cainhurst. Before her untimely demise at the hands of Alfred, an executioner of the Holy Church, I had served Annalise, Queen of the Vilebloods, as her one and only servant at Castle Cainhurst. Throughout my time there, she had taught me a myriad of things: how to play various instruments, how to dance, and most importantly, she broke down my modern way of thinking and ingrained various habits into my bones, molding me into a fully-fledged noble.

Being the only sane-minded person there, the duty of cleaning her enormous abode fell onto my lone shoulders. Removing filth from what was essentially an abandoned manor was, perhaps, one of the hardest things I had done that didn't involve drawing blood. But I persevered and eventually managed to restore Castle Cainhurst's beauty. Its grand halls and intricate tapestries shone once more, a testament to my dedication.

Turning my head to the side, I saw a young woman enter the scene, her eyes twinkling with wonder as it scanned the scenery before her. Taiga Fujimura opened her mouth, speaking, "You know, Shirou, I can't help but feel amazed no matter how many times I see this place."

"Thank you, I placed great care into maintaining this place. You're welcome to come and relax here anytime," I replied, head slightly tilted in greeting. I then asked, "Do you require anything of me, Taiga?"

"Well, not me. My gramps said he wanted your help with his motorcycle or something," she revealed. Her grandfather, Raiga Fujimura, often requested my expertise in tuning mechanical components, so it wasn't odd for the man to seek my assistance every now and then.

"I see. I'll be joining you in a moment," I responded positively and snapped the book shut, setting it on the table. This caught the woman's interest, prompting her to ask what I was reading. Caressing the book's cover, I answered, "It's something I picked up some time ago. It tells the story of the world's destruction caused by the gods' inability to let go of the past. Written by an author that goes by Marvelous Chester."

"Huh, never heard of it. Sounds interesting, though," she comments. Taiga wasn't really the type to read novels, preferring to watch movies and shows instead.

"Indeed it is," I uttered. My mind suddenly blurred as the memories of my time in Castle Cainhurst, where I obtained the book, resurfaced. While it was a grueling challenge to cleanse an entire mansion of tarnish all on my own, it was much better than slaughtering beasts without rest. It was a temporary reprieve from the haunting images and relentless nightmares.

"You know… you should smile like that more often," Taiga's voice reached my ears, pulling my out of my reverie.

Taiga rarely ever saw Shirou show any kind of emotion for the past couple of years, so seeing him do so, albeit unconsciously, made her smile as well. But she knew it wouldn't last, like always. She then turned her back before the emotion on his face vanished, returning inside the Emiya home, leaving the young man abandoned.

'What did she say?' my thoughts stirred. I raised my hand, feeling the corners of my mouth to verify Taiga's statement. It was as she said—a smile had captured my lips. As if it had never appeared in the first place, my curled lips thinned into a fine line as a mask of impassiveness covered my face.

Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of a intricately crafted headstone resting by the end of the courtyard. The sun peeked through muted clouds, casting bright rays onto the monument, revealing the name etched on its surface—Kiritsugu Emiya.

"My deepest apologies, Father. I have failed to uphold my promise," I eked out, my voice barely above a whisper. I had promised to inherit his dream: to be a Hero of Justice that will save everyone in front of them, but I had failed in the end.

Standing still, my mind wandered once more. To this day, I remained clueless as to how I even ended up in that cruel world, as I had not a strand of connection to it. But one thing was clear—it was real. The pain and agony I experienced told me so. At first, I refused to acknowledge it, hoping it was just some bad dream. Oh, how foolish I was.

Under the guiding hands of Gerhman, I took up arms, fully assimilating into the role of a Hunter. I slaughtered the monsters that stalked the streets, believing I was purging the world of evil. At the start, my fighting skills were, to say the least, abysmal, it took but a single starved dog to send me to the nearest Lamp. I was just young boy with zero knowledge of combat, after all. However, with time and mentorship from numerous different people, I grew adept at utilizing a vast array of weaponry, gaining much needed skills to survive for longer durations.

Soon, I stumbled upon the grim truth of what I was hunting: they were not mindless beasts who indiscriminately killed, but helpless victims of powers beyond their control. After uncovering this truth, I confronted Gerhman. He affirmed my findings, revealing that every monster I'd felled with my own two hands was once human, afflicted by a bloodborne disease—the Beast Scourge—that transformed them into what they had become. I desperately sought a way to reverse the transformation, to save those unfortunate souls. Surely, there was some cure? But the people had already tried everything in their power and ended up empty-handed.

There was no helping them now. Only by killing them could they be granted the peace they deserved. The reality that I had been killing people all this time caused the contents of my stomach to heave. The weight of my sins bore down on me, and I vomited as the horror of my actions sank in.

Snapped out of my trance, my breaths turned haggard before quickly returning to normal. Lowering my head in shame, I turned and walked away in complete silence. I was undeserving of happiness—I was a monster. I slew those who obstructed my path forward, be it beasts, other Hunters who've succumbed to bloodlust, or Great Ones—the very gods who ruled over the world. Dozens, hundreds, thousands; I have perished in ways no sane person could even start to imagine, all for a chance of ending this dreadful nightmare.

The echoes of my footsteps were the only sound in the area, a haunting reminder of the lives I had taken and the humanity I had lost.

END.​

Author's notes: A short snippet I made out of boredom. I don't know if I'll continue it, though.

 

[trashtaker]

PLS PLS PLS PLS
keep creating more chapters author.
The last fate x bloodborne I read was a crackfic and is discontinued
I wanted to read more fics like this but most of them doesn't live up to it

 

[Lord of the First Flame]

So if he killed the Great one at the end does thus mean that this Shirou ascended into a Great one?

 

[Monsterboy]

You know, Sakura is probably actually perfect for this Shirou. Similar themes going on, both having been broken horribly by their experiences. Hell, she even has Angry Mango to mirror Shirou's blood.

 

[Godfire]

Was this AI assisted? The cold machine words says so. I propose editing the initial parts. There's a lot more of show than tell in the present moment. The words are.... To deep to read normally, which makes them awkward.

Nevertheless, Awesome Piece. I've never really watched/Played Bloodborne. But this is exciting. I wonder .... What will Shiro's Origin/Element be? Will they be changed? Then, what about his... Legend? Will it be crystalized? Will he gain NP?

Watched!

 

[Dunno.]

What's the name of that crack-fic? I need more Bloodborne x Fate crossovers like this.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 2: Hero.

Once morning came, I sprung up from my bed and prepared breakfast. It was a simple dish but I savoured each second of it. Food in Yharnam wasn't the greatest; you'd be lucky to even find a string of edible meat. Because of this, Hunters had forgone eating entirely and sustained themselves using a Blood Vial's healing properties. Many Hunters forgot what food even tasted like. In fact, the most they probably swallowed was their own blood from injuries they've accumulated. Much like everyone else, I too followed the trend and started to forget what eating felt like.

It was truly a breathtaking experience to consume edible food once again after many years. After eating, I donned a simple set of garb suitable for my twelve-year-old self and grabbed a small bag filled with school supplies, then went outside.

Stepping beyond the confines of my home, I was immediately greeted by activity, a complete contrast to the city of blood ministration—Yharnam. Life within such a horrid place, be it animal or greenery, was either dead and rotting or alive yet withering, awaiting its inevitable death. What my eyes currently perceived, however, was none of that. Birds flew through the clear skies in flocks, chirping as they went, unlike the carrion crows that crawled within the grim alleyways of central Yharnam, shrieking ferociously at whoever was nearby.

Closing the door behind me, my feet took me to the sidewalk beside a wide, empty road. Humans, untouched by the Scourge of Beasts, walked around in groups or solo, carrying an array of items while engaging in casual banter. It was refreshing. Unlike the desolate streets I was used to seeing, people of all shapes and sizes walked towards their destinations without the worry of monsters lurking around every corner.

The sun's bright glare landed on my motionless form, yet instead of shirking away from the heat, I basked in it with curiosity. Most areas in Yharnam were either bathed in an eternal afternoon glow or were in a constant state of twilight, never once having contact with the sun. It was nice getting much needed sunlight.

In the distance, children chased one another in a park, playing with toys their parents had gifted them, while the guardians watched from a distance, chuckling to themselves as they observed the rambunctious bunch. In this world, children were allowed to wander without fear of losing their families overnight, and parents could stay by their side without fear of the dark.

I resumed my stride, taking my time to admire the scenery while mentally comparing it to Yharnam. Well, it might be a little unfair to place a withering land way past its prime beside a fresh and thriving one like this one. This vibrant world felt like a true dream, it was a wonderful sight I could never get tired of.

Turning a corner, my eyes darted to-and-fro to cement every twist and turn I took in my mind. Unlike this place, Yharnam was enourmous; filled with intertwining roads, confusing alley ways, and underground rat-infested tunnels. If one weren't attentive enough, they'd be lost within its labyrinthine streets before they even know it, much like how I did at the start of my journey. One wrong turn and you'd end up somewhere completely different, or worse—die.

Soon enough, I arrive at my destination. The chatter of children flooded the surroundings, their voices blending into a mix of laughter and excitement as they funnel towards the open gate in the middle. It was a normal school you would find just about anywhere.

An image of Byrgenwerth's winding halls and towering shelves flashed in my head, threatening to carve a frown on my lips. Most of the educational bodies I had come across in the dream were dedicated to advancing research into several unscrupulous branches of knowledge, so it was nice seeing a school focused on teaching the next generation instead of using them as test subjects.

Breathing out, I wove through the bustling crowd and entered the structure, eventually arriving in my assigned classroom without further issue. The students' cheerful voices bounced throughout the room as they engaged in small talks with one another.

As much I wanted to fit in, I found no common ground between them and me. Though physically a small child, my frame of mind had long surpassed my vessel. It was a curious phenomenon; before my return into the waking world, my body was that of an adult, having spent many years in the dream. But when I woke up inside the Emiya manor, I was once again back in the body of my twelve-year-old self yet a chunk of my strength remained, compressed into this small body.

Moments later, the teacher walked into the scene and told everyone to return to their seats, staring today's lessons. The minutes went by, eventually stretching into hours. Before I knew it, the bell went off, its sharp rings signifying the end of school hours. Standing, I packed my stuff and emerged outside, my steps poised and silent as the wind.

However, upon passing the public park on the way home, my gait came to a screeching halt as a cold chill crawled up my back. It was a familiar sensation—a creeping feel that made the ends of my hair stand. Catapulted into a heightened state of alertness, my head instinctively snapped to the left where I sensed the disturbance, my eyes reflecting a dangerous glint. Instead of finding a beast or monster as I feared, however, I caught sight of two individuals by a bench.

A boy with curled blue hair stood before a young girl with a head of lilac locks. The latter sat on the seat, head dipped low as the former shouted waves of insults at her. She kept her mouth sealed, her stature demure, letting the rain of harsh comments cascade down upon her without retaliating against it.

This went on for a while, until the boy ran out of words to throw out. After the unjust lambasting, the bluenette turned around and walked away without saying anything else. The girl, with her head still down, stood up and silently followed the after him with a slight limp in her step, indicating some sort of injury.

"Hm," I let out a soft hum. Was it my instincts playing tricks on me, perhaps? No. Having a good hunch was something Hunters develop over the years, dismissing such feeling, no matter how miniscule, would most likely lead to something horrific. So what was it that drew my attention to that pair specifically?

Mayhaps it was just my drive to save someone in trouble flaring up? While not as much, it still occasionally appeared in varying degrees. Then, the young girl's face popped up in my head, causing the corners of my lips to curve downward. It was a familiar look—it belonged to someone who was lost, deprived of something that made them what they are.

Gathering my thoughts, I turned heels and began trailing the duo in pure silence, keeping myself hidden from view. It wasn't difficult to vault over a child's senses, so my activity went without a hitch. They emerged from the crowded streets and crested over a small hill, eventually arriving in front of a mansion that reeked of age.

Nearing the gates, the smell of decay suddenly slammed full force into my nose. Halting my movements, I gazed at the looming abode. The disgusting scent reminded me of Old Yharnam, a place that was torched down by the Holy Church to supress the spread of the beast scourge that they themselves proliferated. My suspicions about this place increased by many folds.

Breaking off from the pair, I started exploring the whole residence while quelling my presence to find the source of this abominable feel. Upon entering, my senses immediately detected an abnormal amount of worms infesting every nook and cranny there was. No… they were not ordinary grubs but something else entirely, though I could not put my finger on it.

After making quick rounds, I found nothing abnormal happening within any of the chambers, leaving the basement as the only space left that I've yet to check. On my way down, however, I encountered the blue-haired young man from earlier, wearing an annoyed look. He was about to enter a room, presumably his, but I stopped him in his tracks.

With my sudden appearance, his eyes widened in panic. His mouth briskly dropped, about to release a startled scream, but my hand shot forward and took hold of his face, preventing any kind of noise from escaping his mouth. Raising both hands, he clawed my arm in a vain attempt to free himself.

Without saying a word, I strengthened my grip on his head, resulting in a muffled, fleshy pop to echo across the room. His limbs lost their vigour, going eerily limp. The gore of the boy's shattered cranium painted the surroundings, filling the air with the smell of death. Blood splattered all over my person, taining my pristine clothes red, but it did not bother me one bit. Being coated in ichor, whether yours or not, is to be expected when out on hunts.

Was this child deserve of such end? Perhaps not, but the cruelty he'd imposed upon others felt all too natural, and I could tell that his mind was clouded with unbending pride judging from his earlier remarks at the park. Had he been given more time to develop, such combination of traits would spawn a man of immense cruelty and selfish personality. It was better to remove such individual now than allow them to roam the city any further.

Unceremoniously dropping the fresh carcass, I resumed my march deeper into this wicked home. I made my way down a lengthy flight of stone stairs and was greeted by disturbing sight. Below the mansion was a large pit filled to the brim with bloated worms violating the same purple-haired girl from earlier—breaching and emerging from her insides like clockwork, causing unimaginable pain to her as she lied bare in the center of it all.

Witnessing this horrendous act taking place, my vision was briefly tinted red in anger before regaining my calm. I was better than this, one should never let emotions control their actions in any situation. I trained my gaze at the shady figure standing to the side—it was a bald man with a hunched back, the creases on his face indicative of his age. He wore a plain set of robes, a walking stick in his grasp, and was surrounded by a revolting air that elicited unconditional hatred with just a glance.

Quietly making my way to his flank, I reeled my arm back before rocketing it forward with force. My hand easily pierced through his flesh and ribcage with a squelch, skewering his heart and poking out the other end in the blink of an eye.

Pulling my limb back, I flicked my hand out of reflex to rid it of blood, to my surprise, however, not a trace of liquid had covered my arm. Instead of falling to the ground as I expected, the individual quickly turned around and palmed his gaping chest, glaring daggers at me.

"You… the barriers are still intact, so how did you get in here?" the man demanded, his voice lowering into a dangerous octave. His familiars should've been watching the entire house, and how did this child even slip past his wards when they weren't broken or tampered with?

My eyes narrowed as a congregation of bugs scuttled over to him and steadily mended the hole in his chest. Only now did I realize that he wasn't fully human. It seems my physique wasn't the only thing that was diminished, but my insight as well. Nonetheless, this revelation won't make a difference. Without pause, my thoughts pieced together a plan, 'It seems I need something that could kill this… thing in one fell swoop.'

Refusing to answer his question, I pulled my conciousness inward, inducing myself in a state of hypnosis to reach the space lying dormant within me. Following this, a veil of fog begun to coalesce within my hand, shaping itself into a familiar weathered scythe—the Burial Blade, Gerhman's weapon of choice.

During my stay in the Hunter's Dream, a peculiar skill of mine awakened while under the First Hunter's tutelage—an entire dimension was discovered within my soul. Realizing this, he hypothesized that this inner world of mine was the reason I got pulled into Yharnam, though he wasn't entirely sure. One thing he did determine was that this space inside me was not only capable of storing and dispensing any bladed weapon I've come across, giving me a near-infinite supply of armaments at a cost of mana, or arcane energy as Gerhman called it, but it also allowed me to glean into each weapon's past and emulate its user's techniques to a frightening degree.

Brandishing the Burial Blade, I glared at the individual before me. Seeing my stance, the old man clicked his tongue and stated, "Are children nowadays allowed to barge into an old man's home uninvited and assault them or are magi brats getting bolder? What do you hope to accomplish by breaking into my workshop, boy?"

Instead of responding verbally, I charged forward without an ounce of hesitation. The floor shattered underneath the force of my stomps, sending shards of stone flying in all directions.

Reacting swiftly, the old man waved his hand, summoning a wall of vile worms that quickly formed, intending to swallow me whole. With a flurry, the aged scythe danced through the air, a whirlwind of death that struck everything around me. The living partition was dismantled into unrecognizable chunks in a heartbeat, catching the mastermind behind it by surprise. He could not have possibly expected a 'child' like myself to possess such power.

Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in attention, I gripped my weapon firmly and delved into its memories to employ the art of Quickening—a lost technique only the First Hunters had learned. My body produced a small haze before abruptly bursting into a cloud of fog that propagated across the space. In an instant, I crossed the distance between us and manifested before the despicable crook.

The old man remained still, paralyzed by the sight before him. The child's form began to contort and twist into unholy proportions, shaping itself into a being that defied description—a vision so grotesque that mere words could drive a person insane. As if it had never existed, the vision vanished suddenly, yet its effects on him remained.

Rotating my upper body, I held the scythe high above my head and executed a swift diagonal slash, halving the old man in one clean stroke. He did not let out so much as a scream or a whimper; his body simply fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

Despite knowing he had the ability to reform himself, not a shred of worry appeared on my face. He would not rise again—ever. The Burial Blade's unique ability would ensure that. It was an odd but incredibly useful trait; once registered inside my inner dimension, weapons with enough history would gain some form of ability, a manifestation of their chronicles. In this case, the Burial Blade was capable of permanently destroying one's essence, embodying Gerhman's wish to free those who came after him, never to awaken to another harrowing nightmare.

Along with his demise, the worms around me, including the ones that made up his physical body, ceased their movements before fading into motes of particles a moment later. Just like that, the battle reached its conclusion. No flair—nothing. This was not a fight between two equals, but a predator hunting its prey. I could've ended this sooner by using a more powerful tool in my arsenal, but utilizing more than this was wholly unnecessary.

Turning, I stepped into the pit, now free from those vile grubs, leaving the girl's body untouched in the middle. She continued to lay there peacefully, doing nothing despite the changes around her. Had it not been for the slow rise and fall of her chest, I would have mistaken her for a corpse.

"Young one, let me free you from this evil," I stated, my voice carrying a heaviness that belied my appearance.

I stood before her unmoving self, looking at the girl's open eyes that stared into nothingness. With a heave, I lifted the scythe high and whispered a soft prayer before swinging it down at tremendous speed towards her neck, intending to end her life in one clean motion. Its keen edge connected with her soft skin, drawing blood—a single drop of blood.

My arms turned rigid, halting the Burial Blade in place right next to her delicate flesh. Her expression never changed from that of acceptance, as if the untold agony she was subjected to moments prior was but a normal procedure in life. Seeing this, I hesitated.

"No… no, no, no..." I repeated like a broken record. Stepping back, the scythe in my hand vanished with a puff of smoke. I fell to my knees in defeat and slowly collected my wits, then spoke to myself, "What am I doing? This is no Dream... Yharnam is long gone. Why… why?"

The room around me seemed to blur as my mind raced. The girl's unflinching gaze weighed heavily on me, a silent plea for release or salvation. The echoes of my failures rang in my ears, a cacophony of guilt and doubt. I had grown comfortable killing people as a way to save them—to rid them of their suffering. There was no need for that anymore. Killing wasn't always the solution. There was nothing in this world that warranted such a response; no blood scourge infecting the common man, threatening the safety of the people. And unlike then, I now had the tools and equipment to save someone.

"I… I can save you. Yes… I can, right?" I sputtered out, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands trembled as I reached for her, determination and desperation mingling within me.

---

From within Sakura Matou's—the young girl—soul, a being of pure enmity compressed itself into a small point, trying its best to remain undetected by the creature in human skin watching its host. It wriggled in utter fear, retreating as far as it could in a desperate attempt to stay hidden. Its efforts weren't for naught; Shirou Emiya was too preoccupied at the moment, giving the being time to shield itself from view.

As Sakura's consciousness returned, the first thing her senses picked up were the soft pings of a chime, a soothing melody that seemed to cleanse the air of lingering dread. Her eyes creaked open to find the face of a young man with red hair her age, his hands firmly wrapped around hers as if afraid they would disappear the moment he let go. Sensing her stir from her slumber, a stream of tears began to flow from the boy's eyes, caused by a surge of emotions.

"Yes… yes! You're alive! Thank you! Th-thank… you..." he spoke words of gratitude again and again, voice trembling, his smile as bright as the stars. At long last, after uncountable failures, the Good Hunter had successfully saved someone. His resolve solidified as a new purpose began to take shape in his heart.

To her ears, his words became incoherent ramblings as he drifted off into his speech. She didn't understand—why was he thanking her? Her mind gradually began to lose focus, yet the image of his smiling face remained at the forefront of her mind. His happiness seemed so genuine, so… pure. Sakura's gaze drifted to the young man's eyes, filled with an unwavering resolve and a depth of compassion she had never seen before.

The warmth of his grip, the sincerity in his voice—it was all so foreign to her. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a glimmer of hope flickered within her. Before she lost consciousness again, a single thought flashed through her mind.

Could she ever be that happy?

END.​

 

[trashtaker]

The crack-fic in question Fic

 

[trashtaker]

Archer finding a disturbance in the force and looking around UBW.

Sakura hiding there just looking at Archer

 

[Spelloyal]

Holy shit, this fic is incredible! I have no words to describe how incredible this was, especially the end of chapter 2.

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

TFTC. Watched.

 

[TukTuk]

What's the name of that crack-fic? I need more Bloodborne x Fate crossovers like this.

Click to shrink...

I think the fanfic your looking for is A Blade Borne to Kill by Jackie Avocado.

 

[crashdash]

I definitely like this more than Jackie Avacado's crossover mostly because it was a crack fic. Hope to see the next chapter soon.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 3: Guiding moonlight.

On a night that felt like any other, Shirou Emiya continued his duty as a Hunter, cleansing the streets of beasts. During his hunt, he stumbled into a different realm—a space designed to house those who had succumbed to bloodlust, offering them an eternal resting place. However, the realm was no refuge. It was a hellscape, known as the Hunter's Nightmare, a place of eternal torment for those bound by the hunt's curse, forced to kill and rise again in an endless loop of bloodshed.

In this twisted domain, Shirou encountered one of his most perplexing foes—Ludwig, the Accursed. This was no ordinary beast, but the first Hunter enlisted by the Church after the dissolution of Gehrman's workshop. A grotesque fusion of man and horse, Ludwig's flayed body was riddled with countless eyes and teeth, exuding an aura of pure madness.

The battle was long and grueling, marked by Shirou's repeated deaths. Yet, like always, he eventually brought Ludwig down. But as he caught his breath, the monstrosity began to stir, dragging itself back up.

"Aah, you were at my side all along," the beast intoned, its voice heavy with yearning. Shirou stood frozen, unable to look away as the monstrosity before him conjured a blade of shimmering emerald light. "My true mentor... My guiding moonlight..."

For the first time in a while, Shirou was shocked, his legs rooted to the ground as if bound by the weight of the moment. He'd long accepted the eldritch abominations that populated this world... but this was different. Slowly, Ludwig turned to face the young Hunter, his grip firm on the radiant sword. The grotesque hunch in his back straightened, and the malevolent aura that had surrounded him dissipated, replaced by a presence of noble and almost divine grace.

They stood locked in a silent exchange, one radiating unyielding determination, the other gripped by stunned disbelief. This was no longer a clash between a wayward soul and a frenzied beast—it had transformed into a duel of wills, a confrontation between two beings who had lived and fought fiercely for their ideals, only to find themselves swallowed by despair at the bitter end.

Even after granting Ludwig the mercy he so deeply deserved, Shirou remained lost in thought. How had the man—despite being tainted by the Scourge and trapped in an eternal nightmare—managed to reclaim his humanity, even if only for a fleeting moment? Though short, it allowed Ludwig to fall not like a slaughtered beast, but as a proud warrior.

It offered Shirou a fragile glimmer of hope, a whisper of possibility that redemption was not entirely out of reach. But as he descended deeper into the realm, the spark of hope faded, drowned by the endless cycle of blood and darkness. Perhaps it was nothing more than than a string of coincidences, he convinced himself.

Now, however, clarity began to take root. Ludwig's awakening had not come from chance. It had come from something—a keystone that bound him to his humanity. For Ludwig, it was the Holy Blade, a symbol of purpose and valour that banished his fears of the dark. And for Shirou... he had found it. It had taken a long, long time, but he knew it to be true.

"Hey, Shirou, dinner's ready! Are you planning to stare at the sky all day?" Taiga's voice cut through Shirou's reverie, pulling him back to reality.

"I'll be there shortly," Shirou replied, dragging his gaze down from the endless expanse above.

Stepping inside the house, he was greeted by the sight of a young girl his age carefully setting dishes on the dining table. There she was, his guiding moonlight—Sakura Matou. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he watched her, a rare moment of peace washing over him.

Their fateful encounter in that wretched pit had been a turning point in Shirou's life. The clash between his childhood ideals and the bloodstained path he had walked in Yharnam had fractured his sense of self. Yet Sakura's presence had become an anchor, grounding him and reminding him of the humanity he thought he'd lost.

Raiga Fujimura, Taiga's grandfather, willingly offered to take her in after Shirou brought her to his home. The old man, to Shirou's surprise, asked no questions and graciously heeded the boy's heartfelt pleas. Unbeknownst to the boy, the relief and peace Shirou displayed reminded Raiga of Kiritsugu when he first brought Shirou in as his adopted child. Thanks to Raiga's kindness, she, along with Shirou, would soon be under Taiga's custody in the near future.

"Ah, finally!" Taiga exclaimed, plopping down with her usual exuberance and snatching up a pair of chopsticks. "You have no idea how much I've been waiting for this, Sakura-chan!"

"M-me?" Sakura stammered, startled by the sudden outburst. "What do you mean?"

As it was her first time preparing a full meal, she had been nervous, afraid her cooking wouldn't meet Shirou or Taiga's expectations. Thankfully, Taiga's next words eased her worries.

"Well, Shirou hasn't made anything new in ages," Taiga said, pointing her chopsticks accusingly at him as he entered the room. "It's been nothing but meat, eggs, and the same thing over and over again!"

Lowering himself to the floor, Shirou replied calmly, "There's nothing wrong with it, Taiga."

"Sure, it's always delicious," Taiga conceded with a nod. "But you need variety! What about vegetables? You used to include them to keep things balanced. You always preached about that!"

"I did?" Shirou asked, a faint frown crossing his face. "It's been a long time since I've worked with vegetables. I'll give it a try tomorrow, but don't expect much. My skills may be a bit... rusty."

During his time in Yharnam, Shirou's everyday skills had fallen by the wayside, rendered irrelevant in the face of survival, sometimes even debilitating. Fresh ingredients were almost unheard of in that cursed city, and vegetables were an outright rarity. It was only thanks to muscle memory that he could still prepare edible food at all—meals that didn't resemble the charred disasters Kiritsugu usually made.

"Shirou used to make other dishes?" Sakura asked, her curiosity piqued. She had assumed his culinary repertoire was limited to the simple meals she'd seen him make so far.

Her stay at the Emiya household had only been a week, but it was long enough for her to learn about Shirou's kind and thoughtful nature. Yet, something about him felt weighed down, haunted. Taiga had mentioned that Kiritsugu's recent passing might be the cause, but Sakura couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper, darker, lurked beneath the surface. Something she was hoping to uncover and help with however she could.

"Oh, yeah!" Taiga chimed in, her energy undiminished. "I keep telling him he should open a restaurant when he grows up, but he always says no. I bet he'd put every other place in the city out of business!"

"Maybe," Shirou muttered, drawing Taiga's full attention. "If everything turns out all right, I might consider it. Running a small shop... sounds rather peaceful."

At the moment, he'd yet to consider his future. He has yet to fully lower his guard, prepared to brandish his blades at a moment's notice. If things remain the same as of now, maybe settling down, running a family business wouldn't be that bad of an idea.

"Yes, I've done it! My persistence has finally paid off!" Taiga declared, throwing her arms into the air as though she'd achieved some monumental victory. "Sakura-chan, make sure to remind him about this promise every now and then, okay?"

"Uh... okay?" Sakura replied hesitantly, unsure how to respond to Taiga's enthusiasm.

"I never made any promise," Shirou interjected, swiftly cutting through Taiga's jubilation. "I merely said I would consider the idea. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Geh!" Taiga flailed dramatically, clutching her chest as though struck by a mortal blow. "At least you're thinking about it! I'll count that as a win!"

"A peculiar thing to consider a victory," Shirou remarked with a faint shrug. "But suit yourself, I suppose."

Watching their antics, Sakura couldn't help but smile, an act she'd been doing rather frequently in recent times. The scars from her time under Zouken still haunted her mind, but Shirou's presence brought her a sense of safety and warmth. If he ever decided to start a business, she would support him with all her heart.

And so, the night passed peacefully for the Emiya household. Shirou felt a sense of accomplishment; after enduring the horrors of the dream, he believed he deserved a brief respite, didn't he? Yet, deep within, a part of him remained vigilant, waiting for the day when something or someone would try to shatter his hard-won peace.

---

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Fuyuki City, a figure emerged from the shadows of the forest, her light-coloured hair shimmering under the moonlight. She carried a pale umbrella and wore a gothic ensemble that complemented her unnervingly serene demeanor.

"Hm," she murmured, her sharp gaze scanning the city below. "Did that old worm finally kick the bucket?"

This was not her first time coming here. The woman had attempted to enter Fuyuki during the last Holy Grail War, drawn by her interest in the Grail's mechanisms. However, Zouken Matou had thwarted her interference, his protections proving too formidable to breach. Since then, she had watched the city from afar, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Her patience had bore fruit as just a few days ago, something peculiar had captured her attention. The intricate wards Zouken had erected to bar her entry had vanished overnight. Initially wary of a trap, she conducted a thorough investigation but found nothing suspicious. Now, standing at the edge of the city, she confirmed her suspicions—the barriers were truly gone, and Zouken Matou's oppressive presence all over the city had disappeared alongside it.

She couldn't fathom how or why it happened. The Holy Church had remained silent, doing God knows what, and no other Magi family seemed to have moved against Fuyuki. A being like Zouken—one of the creators of the Heaven's Feel ritual—would not simply vanish without reason. Still, she couldn't deny she liked this development. With his absence, the city was hers to explore. Stepping forward, a wide, confident smile spread across her face as she entered Fuyuki.

Not long after she left, the sound of rustling leaves echoed through the forest. Emerging from the trees were two figures. One was a tall man clad in the vestments of a priest, a golden cross hanging around his neck. Beside him was a young woman with twin-tails, dressed casually but carrying herself with an air of authority.

"Hey, Kirei," the girl began, irritation lacing her tone. "Why are we even here? I was in the middle of my studies. I have my own schedule, you know. You can't just call me whenever you feel like it."

"Rin," Kirei Kotomine replied, "as the Second Owner of Fuyuki, it is your duty to monitor your territory. You never know who might be trespassing without permission."

"Yeah, yeah. Not like anyone's interested in this place anyways," Rin waved dismissively. "But you didn't answer my question. Why are we here."

"The Bounded Field nearby has been disturbed. Someone, or something, has tampered with it," Kirei explained.

"Really?" Rin raised her hand, extending her senses toward the invisible barrier that shielded the area. After a moment, she frowned. "I don't feel anything off, though?"

"It's subtle but present," Kirei assured. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Perhaps you're right; I should have left you to your studies. You have your own schedule, after all."

Rin's eye twitched at his veiled jab, but she refused to rise to the bait. Instead, she focused on the barrier, her concentration intensifying as she searched for the disturbance. She was never the one to back down from a challenge, especially if it involved her duties as the overseer of Fuyuki.

While Rin worked to find the problem, Kirei turned his gaze toward the distant city, memories of the Fourth Holy Grail War surfacing unbidden. It had been a tiring conflict, but one that gave him a path he had lacked for much of his life. And he had Kiritsugu Emiya to thank for that. His recollection was interrupted by Rin's triumphant exclamation.

"Aha! Found it!" she said, pointing out the flaw she'd uncovered. As Kirei had indicated, it was minuscule enough to slip past her senses but undeniably there.

"Good. Now fix it," he instructed simply. "I'll scout the city to see if anyone suspicious is lingering around."

Without waiting for her response, Kirei strode off toward Fuyuki, leaving a disgruntled Rin Tohsaka behind to handle the disturbance on her own. He wasn't worried about leaving her alone, he'd personally taught Rin in close combat, after all. However, even after searching for a while, he found nothing worthy of note.

The evening went on undisturbed, but a storm was silently brewing within the walls of Fuyuki city.

END.

 

[TukTuk]

LETS GOOOO UR BACK

 

[vtkun]

thanks for the chapter

 

[crashdash]

Nice chapter. Glad that Shirou has Sakura to anchor him.

 

[AvariceSins]

Looking forward to more!!!

 

[Maxem]

Тhanks for chapter

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 4: Unrest.

Amidst the shadowed streets of Fuyuki, a group of five dressed in dark, uniform garments slipped quietly into an unassuming building. The light inside flickered to life, illuminating the golden crosses that hung from each of their necks.

These were not ordinary priests, they were Executors, agents of the Vatican trained to combat the darkness. Assassins in holy cloth, tasked with destroying inhuman threats to preserve mankind's blissful ignorance.

As they gathered in silence, an older man with streaks of gray in his hair emerged from a side room. Sensing his arrival, the group immediately bowed in reverence.

"Ian, have you uncovered anything?" the elder asked.

"Yes, Father," Ian, the leader of the unit, replied with a nod. "We detected signs of a Dead Apostle in the southern district. Tracing its presence led us to a warehouse. We believe it's using the structure as a nest."

"Have you purged it yet?"

"Not yet, Father." Ian shook his head. "We're still awaiting permission from the Second Owner to conduct our business."

"Mages and their petty power-plays. Do they not understand the urgency of this matter?" The Father clicked his tongue in irritation. "We don't have time for these games. Take your weapons and eliminate the creature tonight."

Ian hesitated. "With respect, Father, we're here under official orders. The Church cannot act openly within a magus' domain without consent."

"The Tohsaka family will understand once they realize the threat we face," the Father snapped. "Do not fear reprisal. Shine the Lord's light upon this wretched place."

"As you will." Ian bowed his head then turned to his men, voice steady with resolve. "Arm yourselves, brothers. Tonight, we hunt."

The reason for the Executioner's presence here was because their Japanese branch had detected movement of not just one, but four separate Dead Apostles within Fuyuki in a short span of time.

Dead Apostles, more commonly known as vampires, are humans who've transformed either through magical rituals or by being turned by another vampire. On the latter case, though, the result is a lesser, corrupted version of the original creature in most cases. Weaker in power, but no-less alarming.

The Holy Church had no idea why they were gathering, but they weren't about to take any chances. To both the Church and the wider mage community, Dead Apostles were seen as blights, monstrous aberrations that had to be eradicated swiftly to prevent further chaos and corruption from spreading.

Equipped with the necessary tools to combat evil, the Executors offered a silent prayer to their Lord before departing for the warehouse they had scouted earlier.

At first glance, the building appeared unremarkable, just another forgotten structure in the city's outskirts. But upon closer inspection, they detected a faint Bounded Field cloaking the area, veiling whatever's within from the outside world.

Trained for such encounters, Ian retrieved a consecrated cross from beneath his robe. Whispering a short prayer, he pressed it against the air. The barrier shimmered in protest before parting, forming a breach just wide enough for them to slip through.

Without hesitation, the agents of the Church stepped inside and were immediately assaulted by the stench of rotting flesh. Yet, none of them flinched. Such foulness was expected. Wherever a Dead Apostle made its lair, corpses were never far behind.

With a flick of their wrists, each Executor produced a short blade wreathed in holy power, their eyes narrowing with deadly focus. They had come for one purpose only—to eliminate their target swiftly and without mercy.

Moving like shadows, they advanced through the decrepit warehouse. The building groaned with age, its walls sagging under years of neglect. Eventually, they found themselves inside without resistance.

Scattered across the floor were more than a dozen corpses, tossed aside like refuse. And at the far end of the corridor, a man sat in eerie stillness, completely unfazed by the carnage surrounding him. He raised his gaze lazily, observing the newcomers with mild curiosity. A shaft of moonlight poured through a broken window above, illuminating his features.

He was sharply dressed, far too well for the setting. His unruly white hair framed a pale face, and his eyes glowed a haunting crimson. Unmistakably, this person was the Dead Apostle they were looking for.

No words were exchanged as the Executors burst into action, moving as one. In perfect synchrony, they surrounded the target, blades slashing from every angle, a killing net designed to leave no room for escape.

But just as steel met flesh, a blinding sphere of light exploded from the man's body, forcing them to recoil. When their vision cleared, they found themselves somewhere else entirely.

The warehouse was gone, and in its place stood a forest of dead trees, skeletal limbs clawing at a night sky crowned by a full moon. The air was thick with the scent of old blood. A sticky, ankle-deep pool of crimson surrounded them, dragging at their steps. One man tried to move, but his feet wouldn't budge.

Ian, ever the veteran, recognized the shift immediately.

"This is... a Reality Marble." His voice was hoarse as he spoke, barely more than a breath. "It wasn't a regular vampire, but an Ancestor. Damn it..."

His words hit the group like thunder. The blades in their hands suddenly felt too light. Their muscles, once coiled with resolve, slackened with dread. One by one, realization dawned in their eyes.

They had walked into a trap, one from which only few ever returned.

Dead Apostle Ancestors—though few in number, with the Holy Church having sealed nearly half over the centuries—were far more dangerous than their lesser kin. These were undying beings, wielding powers that only a handful across the world could hope to match.

Among them, some even possessed a Reality Marble, the physical manifestation of one's soul that overwrites a portion of the world itself. It was not simply a place, but a reflection of the caster's very essence, their traumas, desires, and madness painted across the fabric of existence.

Within this personal domain, they were akin to gods, bending reality to their will with terrifying ease.

Ian and his fellow Executors were warriors of faith, sharpened by trials and fire, but even they knew that this was a battle they could not win. Not here, not within this soul-born illusion that had become reality.

Had they been armed with one of the Church's Holy Relics, perhaps they could have resisted, if only briefly. But no such divine artifact was in their possession now.

All they could do was stand amidst the blood-soaked mire and wait... for the end they could no longer prevent.

"My, my," the Ancestor's voice cut through the silence, snapping the group from their daze. "Here I am, being a gracious host to my uninvited guests, and yet... not a hint of courtesy in return."

"Your kind deserves no such respect, creature," Ian retorted, his voice steady. He may not have the strength to match this monster, but he would not let his spirit falter.

"I'm wounded," the elder vampire said with a low, amused chuckle. "No need to brandish your little blades, I promise your deaths will be quick."

"Why are your kind gathering in Fuyuki, vampire?" Ian asked, firm and unyielding.

The Ancestor raised a brow, intrigued. "A question? From you?" A smirk tugged at his lips. "You're hardly in a position to demand answers."

"Humour me," Ian pressed. "If nothing else, grant me the dignity of dying with some understanding."

"Oho!" The albino chuckled, his crimson eyes gleaming. "A bold one. I rather like you."

With a lazy gesture, he conjured a throne from the coagulating blood around them, its form rising like a nightmare from the earth. Reclining upon it, the vampire regarded the Executors like a sovereign addressing insects.

"No reason," he said at last. "This city became a prime hunting ground after its previous occupant vanished to who knows where. A shame, really, I would've loved to claim it first. Less competition. Alas, a wretched witch has already claimed the largest share."

"Previous occupant? You mean there was another Dead Apostle here before?" Ian asked.

"Not quite... but close enough." The Ancestor waved a hand dismissively.

"What?" Ian frowned, confused by the answer.

"That's all you get, I'm afraid. Consider it a gift before I send you off. And for your boldness... I'll save you for last."

The vampire raised a hand, and the blood inside Ian's comrades twisted violently, rupturing from their bodies in a grotesque eruption before they could even react. Their lifeless corpses collapsed with wet, hideous thuds, vanishing into the crimson pool now thickening at their feet.

Yet Ian remained standing, drenched in the blood of his brethren, unable to move even an inch like a statue.

"You sick bastard," he growled, his expression contorted in fury.

"Please," the vampire scoffed, resting his cheek against a pale knuckle. "Be more original with your insults, will you?"

Just as the Dead Apostle prepared to reduce Ian to a crimson stain like the others, he suddenly froze.

Something deep within him stirred, a primal instinct wrenching itself to the surface. A chill crawled down his spine, a dread older than memory gripping his unbeating heart.

His eyes quickly swept across the landscape in search of the cause for his unease.

The dead trees still stood, skeletal and unmoving. The sea of blood rippled gently, undisturbed. The air was silent, too silent.

And yet... none of it explained the crushing weight now pressing down upon his soul.

Then, his gaze was pulled upward, almost against his will, to the sky above.

The moon was there... until it wasn't. He blinked, and the silvery orb twisted, reshaped itself into something alien.

Now looming above was no celestial body, but an immense white-and-red sphere—an eye. Not a metaphorical one, but a grotesque, living thing. Its surface churned like molten wax, veins pulsating with an unnatural, bioluminescent glow. It was enormous, swallowing the sky in its dreadful gaze.

As the master of the realm, the Dead Apostle reached out with his will, seeking to unravel the foreign presence that had manifested above. But for all his centuries of unholy wisdom, he was still a creature bound by the limits of his nature, granted only the faintest glimmer of insight.

He could not comprehend it. Could not perceive its truth. Could not even acknowledge the horror that stared down at him.

And so, his body reacted in his place, violently rejecting the glimpse of something beyond his existence. A raw, animal scream tore from his throat, and tears of blood streamed from his eyes as he collapsed, gasping for breath.

The Reality Marble trembled. The blood-soaked ground quivered and split, and the dead trees groaned under invisible pressure. The entire realm, tied to the will of its creator, mirrored the unraveling of his mind.

Not even his unnatural vitality could shield him. His regenerative power only served to prolong the torment, keeping him tethered to suffering that surpassed death.

And then, at last, he grew still. The Dead Apostle Ancestor, once feared across the wider world, lay motionless, colder than the grave.

With a sudden burst of blinding light, the Reality Marble collapsed.

Ian, untouched and unaware of what had truly transpired, found himself standing once again within the ruined warehouse. Alone, and most importantly, alive.

Then, a voice shattered his thoughts. "You."

Ian spun, sword drawn in a heartbeat, ready to strike, only to freeze.

A child with crimson hair stood beside the corpse of the Dead Apostle Ancestor as if the scene meant nothing to him, his amber eyes staring straight through Ian.

"What is this?" the boy questioned.

Ian didn't answer. His instincts screamed, louder than ever. This child—no, this thing wasn't normal. Couldn't be. There were no visible magical signatures, no signs of magecraft or vampirism, yet every nerve in his body recoiled in warning.

"I'll ask again. What is this?" The child gestured toward the vampire's corpse.

Ian swallowed, his lips dry. "A... a Dead Apostle Ancestor."

"What is a Dead Apostle Ancestor?" The boy tilted his head, unfamiliar with the terminology.

Ian hesitated, but the weight in the air was becoming unbearable, as if forcing an answer out of him.

"They're... monsters," he said, voice low. "Vampires. Cursed things that drain one's life and infect others through blood, turning them into more of their kind."

"Blood?" That one word seemed to trigger something within the boy.

The atmosphere thickened instantly, pressing against Ian's chest like an anvil. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath.

Panic clawed at his lungs. The boy hadn't moved, but something had... shifted.

"Y-yes," Ian croaked.

"Tell me, priest... are there more of them here?" His voice didn't rise, but it felt as if the world was closing in on Ian.

"Yes..." he wheezed. "In Fuyuki, we found four... or rather, three normal Dead Apostles and an Ancestor. But we've yet to confirm if they've increased their numbers as of yet."

The boy was silent, his thoughts unknown to the priest. For a long moment, the only sound was Ian's ragged breathing.

He knew not of the being before him, but every second felt more dangerous than the last, like a volcano on the brink of erupting.

"What are the odds that these things will start killing?" the boy asked.

"It is all but certain that a massacre will happen when one, let alone more, appears in a large human settlement," Ian said through gritted teeth.

Then, to Ian's confoundment, the boy laughed. It wasn't joyous. No. It was low and hollow, like something inside him had cracked. It was a laugh born of despair.

"Beasts crawling through the city again..." His eyes darkened, misting over.

Something in his voice shifted. Not rage, not sorrow, but recognition. As if he'd seen this before, lived through it. And now, it was happening all over again.

The air suddenly turned to lead, causing Ian's limbs to lock up. His vision swam, and at last, his body gave out. With a dull thud, he collapsed, unconscious, left in the presence of a child who was no child at all.

Unmoved by the priest's fall, the boy turned away, his eyes swirling with a quiet, simmering lust for slaughter.

Then, his steps faltered at the threshold, as though he'd struck an invisible wall. The suffocating weight in the air lifted, if only slightly, as a familiar face surfaced in his mind, steadying the storm inside him.

No... he couldn't lose himself now. He had sworn to leave that part of him behind, to never let the past poison the life he'd finally begun to build.

But the Dead Apostles couldn't be ignored. He would see this through, just as he always had, and end the threat before it could take root, before another nightmare was allowed to awaken.

The boy lingered for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Then, without a word, he resumed his stride and departed, his footsteps echoing across the bloodstained floor before fading into silence.

END.

 

[Maxem]

Тhanks for the chapter

 

[crashdash]

Glad to see this update hope to see the next one soon.

 

[GreaterGazebo]

ITS ALIVE
TFTC
Good to see this back

 

[vtkun]

thanks for the chapter

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 5: Mystery.

Rin Tohsaka was having a typical, uneventful week: attending school, maintaining her pristine image, and poring over the notes her late father had left behind.

That was, until a group of priests showed up unannounced on her doorstep.

Apparently, they had sent her a formal letter a day ago, but she never received it. Not due to any postal mishap, of course. No, she knew exactly where it had gone: straight to her so-called guardian, Kirei Kotomine.

When she tried to contact him for answers, she was met with silence. Call after call went unanswered, every letter she sent was ignored. The damned priest had completely vanished off the face of the earth. Or at least, that's how it felt.

She was frustrated. Mad, even.

Kirei had been entrusted with a single responsibility, to watch over and guide the Tohsaka heir. But instead of mentoring her like any proper tutor would, he squandered the family's legacy, pouring their wealth into one absurd 'charitable' cause after another until most of their fortune had evaporated.

He taught her the bare minimum and left her be for the most part. At first, Rin didn't mind, less interference meant more time to focus on her own studies. But even that small mercy was too much to ask for.

Sometimes, Rin genuinely considered wringing his neck. Maybe then, she'd finally be doing the world, and herself, a favour by sending that priest straight to God.

She had planned to confront that damned priest at his chapel personally, but the sudden arrival of agents from the Holy Church took precedence.

After a few minutes of tense waiting, a gentle knock echoed through the manor. Rin opened the door to find three priests. Two young, one older, and clearly in charge. She remained wary, but not afraid.

The other agents were a bit taken aback by Rin's youthful appearance, but wisely kept their thoughts to themselves. Even though Rin's age was barely half theirs, the priests knew better than to disrespect a magus in their home.

Leading them into the sitting room, Rin took the couch across from them, her expression composed but unreadable.

"So," she began, crossing one leg over the other, "to what do I owe the honour, Father...?"

"I go by Chael," the eldest priest replied evenly. "And I won't waste your time and go straight to the point. On behalf of the Holy Church, we request authorization to mobilize our operatives within Fuyuki."

Rin's eyes narrowed. "And why, exactly, would I agree to that?"

Magi and the Church weren't exactly friends. If anything, they were long-standing rivals forced into a strained ceasefire, united only by the necessity of keeping the supernatural world hidden from mundane eyes.

A sudden movement of troops within a magus' territory could easily be seen as provocation, if not an outright declaration of hostility. But Rin wasn't about to start a hissy fit without knowing all the details first.

"We have reasons to believe that not only are there multiple Dead Apostles currently hiding somewhere in the city, but also an Ancestor."

Her stomach dropped, but her expression remained carefully neutral. Staying quiet, she allowed him to continue.

"Last night, one of our squads engaged one which turned out to be an Ancestor with a Reality Marble. All members were killed, save for one survivor."

"A Dead Apostle Ancestor," Rin said slowly, her face darkening. "How sure are you that such a thing is inside my city?"

"Near certain." Chael then let out a sigh. "However, we've yet to determine their identity due to a complication."

Rin blinked. "Aren't there only... what, twenty-something of them? And we only have a handful of recorded instances of Reality Marbles being used in the past. Yet you still can't figure out which one it was?"

"Twenty-seven," Chael corrected. "But that's not the issue. The problem is that the Ancestor's corpse vanished before we could secure it. We've no clue as to why or how it disappeared, but we suspect it to be the work of the slayer."

"Corpse?" Her eyes widened. "Wait, you're telling me... an Ancestor, with a Reality Marble, died?"

"Yes," Chael affirmed with slow nod.

"By who, and how? I don't remember any signs of a battle last night."

"We're asking ourselves the same questions," Chael replied grimly. "The only survivor was present when the Ancestor died, but... every time he tries to recall the killer's image, he suffers violent seizures and unbearable migraines, muttering sentences impossible to decipher. We've exhausted every method we have to find out what's happening to him. But so far, nothing works."

There was a survivor, as stated by Chael, but Rin thought that person lived due to the Ancestor's whims, not because the vampire was killed.

Killing a Dead Apostle Ancestor wasn't something that could be done quietly. It would've taken overwhelming force and time, neither of which would go unnoticed in a city like Fuyuki. At a bare minimum, extensive property damage was to be expected when clashing with such a monster.

Rin pressed her lips into a thin line, a finger tapping against her arm, her thoughts whirling. For an Ancestor to be killed in such a quiet manner, whoever did so must've been as strong, if not stronger. And she did not like the sound of that one bit.

"That's... troubling," she muttered. "Fine. Until the threat is dealt with, the Holy Church is permitted to establish whatever you need to contain or eliminate the Dead Apostles within Fuyuki."

Rin had no problems with the Church, but had no desire to let them linger in her territory any longer than necessary.

The Church was notorious for its rigid doctrine, but when it came to hunting Dead Apostles, no one had a better track record. They were brutal, effective, and relentless. If something that dangerous had truly infiltrated her territory, she'd rather let the professionals handle the work.

"However," she added, "I want a list of every operative you bring into this city. Unless the information is absolutely classified, there are to be no exceptions."

Of course, she wouldn't remain idle. Rin Tohsaka had never been the type to sit back and watch events unfold from the sidelines, especially not in her own city. By using the network of Bounded Fields the Tohsaka Family had set up across the city, she would keep an eye out for any magical disturbances or foreign presences.

Chael gave a nod. "That we can work with. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Tohsaka."

Having concluded their short meeting, the priests left without wasting another second and began their preparations, as did the Second Owner of Fuyuki.

---

As the sun dipped below Fuyuki's skyline, casting the city in a warm orange glow, Shirou Emiya stepped off the school grounds and began the familiar walk home to the Emiya estate.

Along the way, he couldn't help but notice the subtle but undeniable shift in the city's atmosphere. Church priests were scattered across the streets, some in conversation, others simply observing the crowd.

In a country where Christianity held little sway compared to its Western counterparts, such a visible influx was more than unusual. Even the locals had begun to whisper, puzzled by the sudden surge of foreign clergy. Still, no one dared question them openly. Their business was their own, and the public was content to let it remain that way.

His eyes narrowed slightly. His history with religious zealots left little room for optimism. A part of him wanted to drive them out entirely, but Shirou kept those thoughts buried deep.

He would not judge the Holy Church of this world by the bloody lens of that nightmare. The Healing Church he had once encountered in that cursed place were a... despicable bunch.

Instead of caring for the unfortunate, the ones they've sheltered were pushed to a life built on falsehood, which inevitably end in tragedy.

They were nothing more than monsters wearing the faces of men, twisting faith into madness, harvesting lives in pursuit of ascension, and unleashing the Beast Scourge through arrogance and sacrilege.

And so, he took it upon himself to rid these snakes in the hopes of making the world a tiny bit better. It had taken quite some time and effort, for their influence ran deep. But, as always, a true Hunter never loses sight of their prey.

Here, however, he had yet to see such corruption. No madness driven by the insatiable want to understand what cannot be understood. No rot festering beneath gilded robes as far as he could see. So long as the Holy Church remained faithful to its purpose, he would let them be.

It'd be a toilsome endeavor to deal with the infestation plaguing the city with so many eyes around, but it wouldn't make a difference. He'll do it one way or another.

Breaking sight of the Church's members, Shirou continued on his way.

A few minutes later, he arrived home. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the familiar, comforting voices of Taiga and Sakura. They were already there, chatting idly over tea.

Hearing Shirou's entry, both girls turned to greet him with warm smiles. He set down his bag and joined them.

"Hey, Shirou," Taiga said, perking up, "Isn't summer vacation starting soon?"

He glanced at the wall calendar, showing the month of July, just a week before Summer vacation starts.

"So it would seem," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you have any plans for the break?"

"None that come to mind," he said with a shrug. "But I'm guessing you do?"

"Of course!" she beamed. "I was thinking we could go abroad and travel a little!"

"What brought this on?" He raised an eyebrow. Taiga was never one to travel vast distances, preferring to remain in the comfort of familiar surroundings.

"I heard from Gramps that Kiri had a house in Germany. I thought it might be nice to go there for a bit. You know, change of scenery and all that," Taiga replied.

"My father had a house in Germany?" Shirou echoed. "Are you sure my father owns that property?"

"Oh, yeah." Taiga made an OK sign with her hand. "Gramps has the keys and stuff. Kiri apparently left it to him before... you know," her voice trailed off.

"Hmm." The boy nods.

It was surprising, but not odd. Before being bedridden by his sickness, Kiritsugu traveled rather frequently to Europe under the pretext of business trips, sometimes disappearing for months at a time. Shirou, young and naive at the time, never asked for details, so he remained oblivious to the trips' true purpose.

"Then I don't mind." He looked at the purple-haired girl to the side. "But what about Sakura? Would you want to come along?"

"Umm," Sakura's eyes flickered between them. "Can I?"

Before Shirou could answer, Taiga leaned in dramatically, throwing her arms around young girl. "Of course you can, Sakura-chan. Don't be shy!"

Sakura smiled softly. "Then... I'd love to."

Taiga grinned like the cat who caught the canary. Her little plan unfolding just as she'd hoped.

In truth, this wasn't just a spontaneous suggestion. Taiga had long worried for Shirou. Ever since Kiritsugu's death, the boy's days had become quiet, almost hollow. He carry himself as if burdened by seomthing, never once complaining, but never truly living either.

But then Sakura came along. Since then, Taiga had caught glimpses of something she hadn't seen in quite a bit. Genuine emotion flickering across Shirou's face. The smallest smile, a relaxed sigh, warmth in his voice. All of it thanks to the quiet girl who had become part of their little home.

And Sakura... she seemed happier too. Once shy and soft-spoken to the point of silence, the girl had begun to bloom. She was less likely to hesitate, and no longer shrank with every word. In this space, this quiet sanctuary they had built, she had found comfort and a place to be herself.

So, Taiga had made it her personal mission to give them space to grow closer. A trip to Europe should do the trick! And she was also curious about the house Kiritsugu bought in Germany, maybe she could even figure out why he went there so much.

Meanwhile, Shirou glanced at the calendar again. A small part of him looked forward to the prospect of a vacation. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had one.

---

Within the cold walls of the Fuyuki police station, a man sat at his desk, his eyes scanning document after document with a weary expression.

A knock echoed through the room, followed by the creak of the front door opening. Another officer stepped in, a yellow folder clutched in his hand.

"Detective Mizuo," he called out, "we've got another case."

"Another one?" Mizuo muttered, voice low and tired.

"Yep." The folder landed with a soft thud on his desk. "Still no leads?"

"Not a single one," Mizuo said with a shake of his head. "Nothing."

For the past several days, a string of bizarre incidents had gripped Fuyuki. Buildings collapsing into dust without any warning or structural cause. People disappearing into thin air, only to reappear days later with no memory of what had happened. Pools of blood discovered in alleys and parks. Yet there were no bodies, no witnesses, and no matching DNA.

At first, they wrote them off as isolated events—freak accidents, missing persons cases, maybe a cruel prank. But after a full week of similar reports stacking up? They could no longer pretend it wasn't connected.

Whispers among the locals blamed the supernatural. Ghosts, spirits, curses. And if Mizuo was being honest, part of him was starting to believe it. Nothing else made sense.

Despite every effort, patrols, interviews, forensic sweeps, the truth remained elusive. Mizuo, the lead investigator, had run every theory dry. And yet the incidents kept happening, slipping through their fingers like smoke.

"Why the hell am I even on this case?" Mizuo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What the fuck are those old geezers upstairs doing? I swear, if they keep ignoring this shit, I'm setting myself on fire."

The complaints from the public had been piling up, loud and urgent. But his superiors? They swept it all under the rug like it was nothing. Mizuo couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, like someone up top wanted this whole thing buried.

Still, as much as he wanted to storm into his boss's office and raise hell, he wasn't quite ready to throw his career away just yet.

He gave the fresh batch of documents a quick scan... only to shut the folder with a snap and mutter a sharp curse.

Something in him twisted. A knot of frustration and exhaustion that had been growing for days now. He was done... at least for tonight.

"Ugh..." He stood with a groan. "Hey, Yamada. You wanna get something to eat?"

"Sure," his colleague replied, voice flat, robotic from the same wear and tear.

As the two men left the office, neither of them noticed the presence that lingered behind.

A young woman sat atop Mizuo's desk, legs swinging lazily back and forth. She wore a pale, flowing gown that shimmered faintly in the dim light, and a black parasol rested across her lap like a cradle.

"Interesting," she murmured, her eyes flicking over the files beneath her.

She had been watching for some time now, trying to unravel the mystery, but something was in the way. A presence... ancient and otherworldly. And yet... not unnatural. It felt as familiar and constant as gravity itself.

The Dead Apostles appearing throughout Fuyuki, she expected that. But their sudden, unexplainable deaths? That had taken her by surprise. It wasn't random, that much was true. Someone, or something, was hunting them with brutal, surgical precision.

She had a hunch it was something far more sinister than a few overzealous Executors. Her instincts, honed over the years, had never failed her. And they told her that whatever stalked the streets now wasn't just hunting vampires. It was studying them. Culling them one by one.

Her first suspects were the Executors swarming Fuyuki, but from what she'd gathered, they were just as clueless. And they never left a corpse behind, they'd torch the body without hesitation.

Since no one had claimed the kill, she did. Slipping under the Church's nose, she took the remains for herself. But even after countless tests and examinations, she couldn't find an answer.

The wounds weren't fatal by any conventional measure. Bullet holes, shallow punctures, and broken bones, injuries a vampire could shrug off. And yet... they died, as if their brains simply shut off.

With a measured exhale, she slid off the desk and made her way out of the room. Her parasol tapped lightly against the floor with each step.

Despite her striking appearance, like a princess from a dream or a painting, not a single soul gave her a second glance as she passed.

As she stepped out of the building, her gaze was instinctively drawn to the night sky. Her pace slowed, then came to a complete halt.

Above the drifting clouds, the moon hung in quiet majesty, casting its pale light over the city. Something about it stirred her, a sensation long buried, almost forgotten. It felt... familiar.

She narrowed her eyes. For a fleeting moment, the moon's glow shifted, tinted faintly red, like a distant wound reopening, before fading back to its usual silver hue.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She had come to Fuyuki on a whim, curious about the cryptic advice of an old acquaintance, one who rarely stirred from his tower, let alone offered guidance. She hadn't expected much.

But now... perhaps this visit wouldn't be a waste of time after all.

"Interesting, indeed. Wouldn't you think so?" She pulled her gaze downward, finding a brightly coloured furry creature following her steps.

END.

Edit:
I didn't realize the chapter was cut off. It should be fixed now.

 

[Soyvolon]

Hurrah! Another glorious chapter!

I have no idea who that is at the end, but then again I barely know the wider Fate series in the first place!

 

[TukTuk]

Hurrah! Another glorious chapter!

I have no idea who that is at the end, but then again I barely know the wider Fate series in the first place!

Click to shrink...

Might be Altrouge since she would most likely find out that a true ancestor died, and would be curious how.

 

[GreaterGazebo]

Tftc, good stuff

 

[Maxem]

Тhanks for the chapter

 

[ReignHopeless]

Altrouge? I infer this mostly from other works that mention her having interest in fuyuki holy grail war. Would also explain this character's apparent competency and connection with the moon.