The final fireworks had just burst over the city, fading into crackling embers as the festival drew to a close. The streets, once vibrant with music, laughter, and stalls lined with glowing lanterns, had begun to quiet down. The scent of roasted meats and sweet dumplings still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the cold night breeze that swept through the cobbled lanes.
Shirou stood outside Amelia's house, hands in his pockets, his expression still holding traces of the carefree grin he'd worn throughout the festivities. The warm light from her porch lantern framed Amelia's figure as she waved him goodbye with a tired but contented smile.
"See you then," she said softly.
"See you too," he replied, his voice calm.
She turned and stepped inside, the door closing with a gentle click behind her. As soon as the sound faded, Shirou's smile vanished.
He turned on his heel and began walking down the empty street, the shadows growing deeper with each step. When he reached a narrow alleyway, his pace slowed, then stopped altogether. A faint shimmer of white sparks coiled around his body like smoke, and within seconds, his black combat cloak materialised over him, wrapping him in a mantle of intent.
He closed his eyes, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
"You know," he said aloud to the empty alley, "if this alley is supposed to be your grand hideout, then you really need to pick a better one."
From the darkness, five hooded figures emerged like wraiths, each one masked and dressed in worn travel cloaks. Their faces were obscured, but the glint of blades in their hands caught the moonlight.
"Don't worry about hiding," one of them replied, voice low and amused. "You won't be alive to tell anyone anyway."
Shirou's eyes narrowed, crimson sparks dancing around his palm as he summoned his blade. With a flash, Ashbringer materialised in his hand, the crimson blade pulsing with embers.
"Let's do this," he said, his voice now cold and sharp. "I was getting bored anyway."
"You can scream if you want," another figure sneered. "We've installed sound-deafening crystals around this area. No one will hear a thing."
"Good," Shirou muttered, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.
Then they lunged.
Five blades came at him from all sides in perfect coordination, enhanced by a sudden burst of Shadow Step—an advanced movement technique that left afterimages trailing in their wake. To any normal fighter, it would have looked like a blur of death.
But Shirou wasn't normal.
A surge of lightning exploded from his feet as he kicked off the ground. His body blurred as he dodged left, narrowly slipping between two incoming slashes. He caught one attacker by the arm mid-strike and, with a twist of his hips, hurled him into another with bone-crunching force.
"Ashbringer—Inferno Surge!"
He swung his blade forward. Flames twisted around it before erupting into a spiral blast that engulfed the two crashing figures. Their cloaks caught fire, their screams muffled by the soundproofing enchantments. They thrashed on the ground, one rolling away while the other lay motionless.
Another assailant emerged behind him. Shirou turned too late. A dagger slashed across his upper arm,leaving a shallow cut.
He hissed, his muscles tensing from the sting. His cloak hissed where the blade had nicked it, but he didn't falter. Instead, he pivoted, letting momentum carry his counterattack. Ashbringer lashed out in a wide arc, colliding with the attacker's weapon. The sheer force sent the hooded figure flying backward.
The remaining attackers activated Shadow Step again, vanishing from his sight.
One reappeared above him, daggers descending. The other two emerged to flank him.
"Persistent," Shirou muttered.
This time, he didn't just evade—he retaliated. Lightning surged from his boots as he launched himself upward, colliding mid-air with the descending attacker. Ashbringer tore through the enemy's dagger like paper, the force sending the body slamming into the alley wall with a sickening crunch.
The other two moved in—but Shirou blinked out of their reach, appearing behind them in an instant.
"Too slow."
He drove his knee into one attacker's spine and smashed the hilt of his blade into the other's ribs. The sound of bones cracking echoed through the alley, and both collapsed.
But one more shadow loomed. Another enemy came in fast from behind, swinging his blade in a horizontal arc.
Shirou turned.
The sword bit deep into his chest, tearing through cloth and skin. Blood sprayed in the air.
He staggered back, gripping his knife tightly before falling onto the ground.
"One down," he said, panting. "Four left."
A mechanical ding echoed in his head.
[You have defeated the enemy.]
Ignoring the notification, he summoned Emberfang, his secondary weapon. Without a word, he hurled the blazing dagger at one of the groaning bodies on the ground. It struck the heart with perfect accuracy.
[You have defeated the enemy.]
Then the remaining three figures activated a different skill.
Phantom Mirage.
In an instant, the alley was filled with enemies. The three multiplied into fifteen, forming a semi-circle around him. They moved with the same speed and precision—perfect copies.
But Shirou didn't flinch.
"Ashbringer—Phoenix Burst!"
Flames erupted in a tidal wave from his sword, sweeping through the narrow passage like a living creature. The clones jumped to avoid it, but several were caught mid-leap. Their bodies ignited before vanishing into smoke.
Before the smoke cleared, Shirou charged. He became a blur of motion, striking one clone, then another, until finally, his blade sank into the abdomen of a real opponent.
The figure coughed and crumpled.
From behind the fading illusions, a voice rang out.
"He's stronger than the report said."
"Well, I didn't make the damn report," another spat.
"Ellen, you idiot. I'm going to kill you when we get back."
"If we get back," muttered a third.
The leader shot a glare at his comrade. "Really?"
Then, louder, he called out: "Ellen! Come out."
From the deeper shadows of the alley, a trembling figure stepped forward. He was smaller than the others, younger too. A nervous wreck. He held a dagger in shaking hands, his eyes wide with panic.
Shirou turned to face them, his gaze steady despite the blood stain on his chest.
"Is this all of you?" he asked, voice calm but dangerous. "If so, can we continue?"
The leader's expression twisted into a smirk. "So confident, aren't you? Let's see if you can keep that smile for long."
The four remaining assailants spread out, preparing for the final charge.
And then, all four moved.