Bab 22: These Ceaseless Changing Times - 2
November 29th, 2135. World: Niðavellir. Location: Tomme Fjell – The Starting Town of Vetur Ljós
In Norse mythology, Niðavellir, or Svartalfheim as it was sometimes called, was the realm of the dwarves and the lesser-known home of the dark elves. In YGGDRASIL, it was known as the 'realm-hub of commerce' by the Players. Many Players would shop in the realm's largest city, Nidavellir, to trade their coins and sell their discarded gear. The realm has the highest chance of spawning Legendary grade items in the market and a few Divine grade items in certain tournaments as well.
The realm catered to Players with support classes such as the ubiquitous [Smith] class, the underused [Chef] class, the niche [Merchant] class, and many other non-offensive classes and roles. It was considered the home realm of supporters, similar to how the playable world of Midgard was recognized as the ultimate haven for Humanoid Players.
Niðavellir was characterized by its vast and rugged mountain ranges, which seemed to stretch on endlessly. The rocky plateaus were so brittle they appeared to shatter at the slightest touch, while the deep valleys left permanent marks on the land. However, the most notable feature of the expansive realm was its evergreen forests, which extended as far as the eye could see. A boundless sea of green stretched across the realm.
Many starting towns and cities that Players could visit and rest at were typically located in wide-open areas, with swathes of grassland surrounding the landmark. One such location was the Grassland of Tomme Fjell, a beginner area with a city right in the center of it all. The town in question was named Vetur Ljós.
Since it was a beginning area, any Player regardless of their level, was allowed entry. It was a commercial town, a place where adventurers would gather to do business of any kind. The main hub of the town was the massive bazaar-like encampment in the main square.
Numerous tents and stands were erected, with both NPCs and Players milling about. Some were chatting and negotiating, while others were inspecting items or browsing for what they needed. The air was filled with voices and shouts as hundreds of Players advertised their goods and services, talked and bargained, and engaged in various activities.
Watching from the side, a cloaked figure took a step forward, weaving through the masses. His name was invisible over his avatar. Normally, such a thing would've aroused suspicion from any would-be passerby at an attempt to hide their identity. However, he managed to avoid that entirely.
Light on his feet and as silent as a mouse, he gracefully traversed through the bustling bazaar, leaving everyone around him none the wiser. With so many Players packed closely together, there was a small sense of clustered chaos. Even if someone did happen to spot him, he would be gone in less than a second, disappearing into the sea of Players, their gamertags used as camouflage to hide his invisible own. Thus, it wasn't too hard for him to slip by everyone.
Soon, he arrived at a rather nondescript tent, and without wasting a second, he entered it. On the inside, it appeared more spacious than it did on the outside.
Walking up to the receptionist's desk, one manned by an NPC, he opened his menu and pulled out a quest log. The NPC read it and then offered him passage. Walking past the desk, he walked down a hallway with numerous doors lining the walls. He eventually stopped at the one he was looking for and entered.
Upon entering the room, it became clear that it was a spacious area, albeit cluttered with an efficient system of organization that was difficult to decipher. The items within the room varied greatly, from tall bookshelves that were fully stocked with books and scrolls, to a small weapon rack that was securely fastened to one of the walls. In the center of the room, a delicate glass table was positioned and was accompanied by two comfortable couches, which were surrounded by stacks of paper and chests. At the end of the room was a desk filled with an array of knick-knacks came into view, and behind it, a Player sat in a large, plush seat that almost appeared like a throne.
Roman – Lvl: 100
The Player was dressed in an unblemished, all-white suit with peculiar embellishments affixed to it. On his head rested a vibrant top hat, adorned with a sizable, rainbow-colored plume attached to one side. He was a humanoid Player, that much was certain, lacking any distinct traits that would classify him as either a Demi-human or Heteromorphic. His countenance resembled that of a Pierrot, white with makeup and colorful markings, such as a solitary tear beneath one eye and a perpetual smirk adorning his avatar's face. Lastly, he gripped a cane tightly within one hand, even as he remained seated.
"Hohohoh~ Back already? I was sure it would have taken you a while." Roman spoke, his voice light and flamboyant. "But then again, I had no doubt you would have completed it."
The cloaked figure chose not to respond outright. His eyes roamed around the room, focusing on the corner of the room filled with shadows. Almost as if on the lookout for any sign of danger or treachery.
"It's just you and me. You should know your secret is safe with me, ol' Player Killer."
A smiling, winking face emoticon popped up over Roman.
Walking forward, he drew back the hood to reveal a pair of striking silver and golden eyes and a mop of silver hair. It was none other than Shirou. The item in question was a gacha item courtesy of his friends. It was known as the [Unwanted Cloak] and it served to hide one's name from any undesired spies or seekers. A very useful item to have for someone like Shirou, considering his reputation.
Shirou's eyes narrowed slightly at that particular moniker.
In the realm of MMO-RPGs, it was a common occurrence for a Player who had achieved a certain level of notoriety to develop a reputation of sorts, often characterized by a title or a name that was either used to show respect or in a derogatory manner.
For Shirou, his early days in YGGDRASIL as the [Heteromorphic Savior] were not easily forgotten. As time passed, his reputation grew, and he became even more renowned, from his Nine's Own Goal days to his Ainz Ooal Gown era. Shirou never ceased to protect innocent Players and would go after PKers who unjustly attacked others, regardless of whether they were Humanoid Players, Demi-humans, or other Heteromorphs. However, his actions also made him a fair share of enemies, which led to personal attacks and ambushes. Despite this, he managed to repel the attackers and sometimes even escaped with the assistance of others. Regrettably, his actions only served to fuel the hatred of certain Players who expressed their disdain for him on various online forums.
During his lifetime, he was feared as the second coming of the Magus Killer, following in the footsteps of Kiritsugu. He built a reputation for himself by eliminating countless amoral and cunning magus. He also took on highly dangerous missions and jobs that involved entering war zones and emerging victorious. In YGGDRASIL, he was recognized as a Player of exceptional skill and ability. He had a fearsome reputation for targeting Humanoid Players and defeating them.
All of this earned Shirou a fair number of epithets and monikers during his tenure within YGGDRASIL. Mostly those of scornful contempt.
[The Merciless Edge].
[Crimes against Humanity].
[Heteromorphic Lover].
Of course, the one most immediately thought of when discussing him and the one that stuck the most would have to be [The Player Killer]. How apropos.
"If I didn't know any better, I would say you don't trust me. How long have we been working together?" Roman deposited.
"That's because I fully don't." Shirou bluntly stated.
"Ack! Your lack of trust truly wounds me so, my friend." Said Roman, dramatically clutching his chest and leaning back in his chair. A teary-eyed emoticon popped up.
Shirou internally rolled his eyes over the merchant's theatrics.
"Enough of this, Roman-san. I've completed the quest and would like to be compensated." He politely but straightforwardly said to him.
With a wave, he opened his menu with practice ease and dropped a bunch of items onto his desk. The pile consists of raw materials, scales and hides, even organs, and an assortment of goods.
Roman eyed the pile before looking at Shirou, all the while clapping his hands.
"Splendid work as always! I do hope you don't mind if I make sure everything is in order. Not that I don't think it is or that I'm doubting you, Emiya-san, but it doesn't hurt to always double-check."
Shirou jerked his head, giving him the go-ahead as he stood there with his arms crossed while Roman sorted through the pile.
Running and maintaining a guild base was no easy venture. The larger and greater the guild base, the higher the cost of maintenance would be. And for Ainz Ooal Gown, which operated from an expansive, multi-floor dungeon guild base with numerous NPCs attached, the cost to maintain it all was nearly astronomical.
It was imperative for the Nazarick guild to maintain a well-stocked coffer to keep their base thriving and to be prepared for unforeseen circumstances. Hence, it was the duty of everyone to always deposit a percentage of their gold or items into the guild's treasury. Gold held little worth for the magus, and he would always deposit any that was on his person. In fact, he had taken on the self-appointed responsibility of procuring gold and resources whenever possible, in order to alleviate the burden on his fellow guild members. This had been his practice for the past several years, and he had become quite adept at it.
The most profitable venture was that of quests. Quests could be found literally anywhere, from posts in cities and towns to quests given by NPCs or even hidden quests discovered in the overworld. Players could even lobby their quests for other Players to take on, and so forth.
That was how Shirou first met Roman some years ago. He had come across one of his quests on his own, and despite its difficult status, the reward for completing it was very enticing. This was an equally risky venture for Shirou, as with his reputation, there would be no shortage of Players who would seek to screw him over. Thankfully, Roman was among the percentage that cared little for his reputation and only cared about whether the faker could accomplish the difficult task or not.
The two maintained a strict business relationship. An 'I scratch your back, you scratch my back' kind of situation.
Roman would supply personal quests for certain items or materials, most of which were difficult and out of the way, and as such, weren't picked up often by other Players while also keeping quiet about his presence. In return, Shirou would take up the more laborious quests that Roman truly desired and complete them in a timely fashion for a large sum of gold and other rewards.
Despite working with him for a few years, he never once fully trusted the merchant, even after all this time. At times, the cane wielder was shown to be very avaricious. It wouldn't surprise the faker if one day he decided to sell Shirou out. For the moment, however, the dandy-looking Player knew better than to ruin a good thing that was going for him.
"It seems everything is in order. I can truly depend on you, Emiya-san!" Roman cheerfully exclaimed as he put everything in his inventory.
A celebratory ding echoed in his head, signaling that Shirou had completed the quest. Floating at the corner of his eye was a window that detailed his reward. The gold was immediately deposited into his inventory. The faker dismissed the screen and was about to leave until Roman spoke up once more.
"Say, Emiya-san, is there any reason for this change in behavior?" The pierrot asked abruptly.
With his back facing the white-suited Player, Shirou gave him a cursory glance.
"Usually, you would only come to me for a quest about two to four times a month. Yet, in the last few days, you've completed a dozen of them. Nearly back-to-back, I might add. Now, I'm not one that would look a gift horse in the mouth, but even I can't help but find this a bit peculiar." Said Roman, leaning forward on his desk.
Shirou offered no answer, coolly regarding Roman with a quiet stare before responding.
"What is it to you?" He returned, his voice calm and level.
"Call it a harmless curiosity." The merchant shrugged, unphased by the Player Killer's tone.
"...I had some time on my hands." He simply gave. Shirou turned away and began walking towards the door, concluding the conversation.
"Do be careful not to be seen out there. I would hate for my favorite client to be discovered. Especially with all the hullabaloo going on." Said Roman, giving one last regard.
Upon hearing this, Shirou halted, his hand resting on the doorknob. What he had just said roused a question that had been on the magus's mind for a while now, ever since he arrived in the virtual realm.
"Roman-san." Shirou called out, turning back towards the man.
"Hmmm, yes?" Roman cocked his head, which was resting on his hand propped up against his desk.
"What's been going on recently? Is there an event or something in Niðavellir that's attracting Players here?" Shirou questioned.
Initially, it went unnoticed by him, but as time passed, the he noticed a marked rise in the level of Player engagement and numbers in the overworld. This was not restricted to the towns and hub regions, but it was also evident in the wilderness, surpassing what he had observed previously and typically. At the time, Shirou attributed it to minor, incidental explanations, perhaps an event or something similar. He figured that the numbers would dwindle quickly enough.
However, the last three days hardly saw a decrease in Player activity and presence. If anything, it was increasing. It wasn't just Vetur Ljós, but every other landmark and nearby area, anywhere that Players could gather, would be overflowing with people.
This sharp increase in Player activity meant Shirou had to be extra careful when traversing through the town, even more so when playing and hunting on his own.
"You truly do not know?" Roman asked, genuinely surprised. "Considering your reputation, I would think you would frequent the online forums and everything. Well, if you truly wish to know, it'll cost you a little."
Without another word, he turned around and opened the door. Roman's voice called out to him at the very last second.
"Wait! I was just kidding, Emiya-san. My goodness, it was just a joke!"
Shirou leveled a deadpan stare at the clown's blatant attempt to extort him. After a few seconds of silence, Roman cleared his throat and began explaining the source of the increase in Player presence within Niðavellir.
Around a month ago, a certain piece of information made waves across the YGGDRASIL forums. It involved a party roaming across the wilderness of Niðavellir, where they encountered what they described as a random NPC Boss while wandering in an unexplored area within the overworld. The party was then abducted and forced into an alternate space that served as an impromptu dungeon. They were then forced to fight the boss in order to escape.
Naturally, being the first one to have ever encountered such a foe, the party was caught off guard and was woefully ill-prepared. The party was trounced, and to add insult to injury, they couldn't even travel back to the spot where they died to retrieve their precious dropped items.
Irritated and annoyed, they went to the forums to argue and complain about the unfairness of it all. The member's claims were met with staunch criticism, as no other Players believed them. The idea of a roaming dungeon and boss was beyond absurd. Many called them out as fakes and trolls. That was until another party of Players encountered the same roaming boss while duking it out with a rival clan. They meet with the same fate as the previous group. From there, sporadic updates and information on the roaming boss continued circulating.
Such a concept was an outlier when compared to YGGDRASIL's standard dungeon and boss raid formats. It was learned early on that the boss wouldn't appear at the same place twice. From little that was gleamed and speculated, the boss teleported all across the playable virtual world of Niðavellir.
When taking into consideration that approximately only 9% of the vast expanse of Niðavellir has been explored and discovered by Players, locating the boss within the virtual hub world was a daunting task. The NPC could be lurking anywhere within the virtual hub world, including uncharted territories, making it nearly impossible to track down. This meant that Players had to rely on luck and chance encounters to come face-to-face with the elusive roaming boss.
Despite the challenges, the rumor of such a unique boss spread like wildfire, attracting Players like sharks that catch the scent of blood. It was a challenge that many were eager to take on. The realm of the dwarves saw a significant influx of Players seeking to encounter the boss, defeat it, and claim the lost loot from the Players who had previously fallen victim to it. Additionally, the much-coveted loot drops from this unique boss further added to the allure of the challenge, thus explaining the bustling activity within the realm of Niðavellir as of late.
Hearing all of this only garnered a passing interest from the projection user. However, it was the description of the boss that drew his complete attention. A boss draped in purple, known to fly and teleport around and shoot magical lasers - yeah, that sounded very familiar to Shirou.
"Do you happen to know its name?" Shirou spoke up, catching Roman's attention.
"My, my! Are you interested in joining the little hunt, Emiya-san?"
"No. Just call it professional curiosity."
Roman couldn't help raising a brow at the honesty of that statement and the large lack of greed or ambition he had learned to detect from his hired help. That instinct had saved him from being scammed far too many times to doubt its accuracy, making him all the more curious about his intentions.
"If the forums are believed, the boss's name is Caster. Just Caster, strangely enough. You would think that they would have some elaborate title to match the novelty of the boss, but nope! ~Sigh~" Roman let out a dramatic sigh. "Makes you wonder if the shitty devs are losing their theatrical touch."
Roman's rant went mostly unheard, its recipient busy contemplating the significance of this particular piece of information.
"How confident are you in the validity of this information, Roman-san?"
"I learned of this through my usual channels and in addition to my own research. I can't say for anything else, but I can say with confidence that what I've shared with you is 100% true."
Another pause of silence. After a moment or two, Shirou nodded and shelved it for later, once he wasn't in dubiously neutral territory.
"Thank you for sharing this with me. It's a pleasure doing business, Roman-san. Farewell."
With that, Shirou walked out the door, leaving Roman alone once again. The pierrot leaned back into his chair, his fingers drumming against his desk. He was contemplative over the magus's odd behavior. To appear interested but also not be at the same time. He couldn't quite figure out where the Player Killer fell. Roman quickly gave up. Despite the oddity of it all, he truly didn't care about the matter. Instead, his mind drifted to all the possible profit that he could garner with the delivered items and materials, greed brushing any speculation aside.
As for Shirou, he donned his cloak once more and stepped out of the tent. He didn't stop for a second once outside, weaving through the traffic of Players in his way, and left the bazaar with nary a trace. Once outside of the town, he traveled in a random direction, heading deeper into the vast and untamed wilderness of the overworld. He took great care to remain hidden from view, both from the hostile mobs and other Players. He allowed himself a moment of tranquility, caught in the rhythm of traveling incognito.
For nearly ten minutes, he journeyed forth, unnoticed and unaimed. Eventually, he came across a small creek, his pace slowing down as he decided to stop there.
Shirou opened his menu and rummaged through his inventory, eventually retrieving a scroll. He tossed it into the air, and it unfurled before promptly burning away. An invisible pulse rippled out around him, traveling far and wide across the area. He waited, watching until it told him that there were no Players within a half-kilometer radius of himself. Although there were a few mobs in the vicinity, they were far enough away that they posed no threat to him.
Observing that there were no imminent dangers lurking nearby, Shirou allowed himself to relax for the time being. He walked forward and knelt down beside the stream of water. Dismissing his cloak, he scooped a handful of water from the stream and splashed it across his face. Shirou repeated this a couple more times, enjoying the cool sensation against his skin.
He looked at the pristine stream, his reflection as clear as day, staring back at him. A face so similar to his own and yet different all the same.
After the raid on The Tomb of Nazarick, he finally felt comfortable with experimenting and altering his attire to try and get away from looking completely identical to his Counter-Guardian self. If Shirou was being honest, it was tiring to see Archer's reflection every day, and the faker wanted to change that. It was high time the virtual magus came into his own style and look.
Although most of his armor and clothes remained the same, some pieces were modified. Specifically, his iconic crimson coat was transformed into a shroud that covered his left side and arm. Dark markings lined the length of the shroud on his arm, leaving his black and silver bodysuit more visible. He also created a black and crimson armor piece that extended from his shoulder to his forearm, forming a vambrace. This was connected to a small pauldron on his right shoulder that had a unique design. The plates that made up the armor were slim, allowing for flexibility while still providing sufficient protection despite its seemingly thin appearance.
What remained of his crimson coat was repurposed into a slimmer mantle that covered his chest with a hood that could be pulled up to help obscure his face. These, in addition to ten rings adorning his fingers and a pendant with a deep crimson triangular-shaped gem that hung from his neck, all made full use of all of the YGGDRASIL attire slots.
Every item was carefully crafted and skillfully forged using the finest materials. They were also enchanted with powerful effects and buffs, each designed with a specific purpose in mind. Some were created to compensate for his weaknesses, while others were meant to enhance his strengths. All of these items were intended to give him an advantage over his opponents, whether he was fighting against mobs or other Players.
The last, and perhaps most inconspicuous, change was his hair. His hair relaxed, no longer maintaining its usual spikiness. One reminiscent of his younger self's hairstyle, granting him a much softer appearance. To his disappointment, he couldn't change its color. So instead of his natural autumn red, Shirou had to settle for suave and slick silver hair for the foreseeable future.
Overall, Shirou was satisfied with his new look. It was both aesthetically pleasing while maintaining its core features, allowing for freedom of movement and proper defense and offense capabilities.
It was one he was happy to call his own.
However, it was just his appearance that changed.
Under the glaring, clear sky, Shirou allowed himself a quiet moment to relax among the canopy of the forest. The melodic sound of the stream combined with the soft noises of the forest provided a soothing atmosphere. He looked around before choosing a spot to sit down with his back against a tree, its leaves hanging over him and casting a cool shadow for him to bask in.
While on the outside he may appear at ease, the same couldn't be said for his thoughts. His mind worked tirelessly, unraveling and examining the facts and what they could mean for the future and contemplating what they had once meant in the past.
It has been nearly four years since his last encounter with a Servant Boss, of whom was Assassin. In that time, he had searched and searched for the remaining Servants, only to come up empty-handed. Now, he learned that Caster dwelled somewhere within Niðavellir.
Such news should have brought long-awaited anticipation or even exhilaration.
Yet, Shirou couldn't bring himself to care about it one bit.
He reminisced about the days gone by, when Berserker had been defeated, and the subsequent discovery that the other Servants were also present in YGGDRASIL. Every moment he could, he would invest in the search for the remaining Class Cards. Looking back, finding Lancer, Rider, and Assassin had been an incredibly lucky break, somehow encountering the Servant bosses so soon after the first and in a relatively short time frame of one another as well.
Perhaps that was what made him devote months of passionate tracking to the others. He was drunk on the adrenaline of finding four of the seven Class Cards in such a relatively short amount of time, especially considering that they were also classified as World Items. He believed himself to be the one to find them all. It was rather foolish to think his good luck would continue forever and that the trail wouldn't run cold.
He persisted in his search with unwavering dedication, spending countless hours in pursuit of the remaining Servant bosses. His all-consuming obsession raised the concerns of his friends in those early days, ultimately leading to an intervention by his guildmates. It took several heated debates and persuasions before he relented.
So, he had been forced to put down the cause by the guild, mentioning it as unhealthy, and by himself, realizing he had fallen into the sunken cost fallacy of relentlessly chasing after them.
Although he had once been vigilant in keeping up with rumors about the Servants, his interest had waned over time. The intense desire to track down the Servant Bosses and acquire the Class Cards had long since been extinguished. Instead, he had found happiness in spending time with Ainz Ooal Gown. As a result, the recent significant development had gone completely under his radar.
Now, he was faced with a new conundrum.
What did he do about the new information?
It had been a long time since Shirou had had so much time on his hands that he truly didn't know what to do with it. In the past, when Ainz Ooal Gown had daily meetings and group sessions, his time to indulge in individual activities dwindled fast. His loneliness was replaced by the joy and passion of playing with his friends.
The only time Shirou was fully alone was when everyone would log off for that day, only to see one another once more the very next day. This went on for years. But of late, with his friend's playtime growing sparser, Shirou's schedule grew empty for the foreseeable future.
With a surplus of free time, Shirou found himself unsure of what to do. He couldn't simply lounge around the base and sleep all day; the boredom would drive him mad. Even now, the magus found that idle hands and minds weren't suited for someone like him. And so, Shirou slowly fell back into his usual habits due to his comrade's absences. That, and to distract himself from the situation as a whole.
Thus, the faker took up the self-imposed task of exploring the virtual worlds for the remaining Servant bosses once more. All the while combating PKers on his travels and interspersed with taking on quests and missions for the guild.
Shirou had once again picked up the mantle that gained him so much infamy in his early days.
The Player Killer once again stalked the nine worlds.
In the very beginning, he used the free extra time afforded to do whatever he wished, simply to keep himself distracted. But as the weeks and eventually months dragged on, as his friends were spending less and less time online and, by extension, Shirou, he was left with more and more time alone.
His attempts to distract and occupy his time grew sober and monotonous. He picked up on it early on, how his action had a noticeable lack of zeal to them. Shirou still carried on, but his daily actions have turned into just going through the motions with no drive or passion behind them.
It all felt hollow.
There was something fundamentally missing in all of this.
It didn't take him long before he came to realize what was missing. It was his friends, Ainz Ooal Gown.
In the past, Shirou rarely played by himself, always tagging along in groups or parties. He couldn't quite remember the last time he truly played all by himself, not since the very early days when he was first transported within YGGDRASIL, and yet, lately, that was all that was happening.
It was true what they say—everything was more fun with friends.
Every day was a delight when he was with Ainz Ooal Gown. They would venture out into the unknown world, seeking quests and adventures. They discovered dungeons and fought intense battles against terrifying bosses and other Players. The playful exchanges between them were cherished moments. Every experience, whether significant or not, filled him with a deep sense of purpose.
It was because he was doing it all with them. To share in the experience of it all.
But alone, he had no one. Only himself.
It all begged the question: What was the purpose of playing if there was no one for him to play with?
He searched far and wide, traveling across the nine different worlds and exploring unseen lands. Yet, no matter how breathtaking or incredible the scenery was, it failed to arouse any sense of awe or wonder from the virtual magus.
For what good was it to witness mesmerizing landscapes that he had never seen before across the vast open world or unravel hidden mysteries in isolation? He longed for someone to share and echo his excitement and speculation regarding the potential dangers or thrills that could lie ahead.
He explored dungeons, fought high-level mobs, conquered bosses, and completed challenging quests single-handedly. However, no matter how arduous the battle or how impossible the situation, it failed to evoke any fervor or quiver in his heart when he emerged victorious.
What was the point of overcoming grueling challenges and seemingly insurmountable odds if there was no one to revel in the same feeling of triumphing over adversity? He craved the joy of sharing the moment with a companion, relishing in what they had experienced, and rejoicing together in the sheer exhilaration of victory.
Not even the likes of combating injustice and rampant PKing whenever he came across it and saving Players from being harassed managed to stir within him what was once there.
It all failed to stroke any passion within him aside from a sense of apathy. For every party or group he helped and saved, a dozen more could be happening anywhere else within the overworld.
Shirou had sought out a means to occupy himself from the steadily growing reality of the situation, yet it has only highlighted what was truly wrong.
To some and many, Shirou's situation was an ideal one. To be able to play YGGDRASIL effectively all day every day. To not worry about such menial concerns as work or responsibilities in general and to be able to engross oneself in the virtual world. A world unrestricted, allowing for practically limitless freedom. He knew many who would give anything to have it.
But that was all a lie.
The peaceful atmosphere that had seemed almost picturesque a second ago soured as an oppressive air fell across the clearing.
With a grimace adorning his face, seemingly etched into stone with how unmoving it was, Shirou tried to dispel that particular line of thought to little avail.
At that moment, he caught something moving out of the corner of his eyes. It was a butterfly, colorful and bright, flapping its wing nimbly through the air. He watched the butterfly flutter around him. Shirou raised a hand to it, and in turn, the butterfly flapped towards him before landing at the tips of his fingers.
He gently moved his hand closer, inspecting the butterfly without trying to spook it. Thankfully, it was content to rest on his fingertips. Shirou watched it, his eyes fixed on the winged insect's small form.
Such a scene should've brought a smile to his face. Yet, such a sight only brought a sense of pensiveness.
For it only served to reinforce what he already knew.
It was a particular line of thought he rarely indulged in and actively avoided, one that only led to somber conclusions. But rarely have they ever been banished from his subconscious. After all, everywhere the projection user looks, he's reminded of one irrevocable fact.
He was trapped in a fake world. With fake trees, fake rivers, fake animals, and fake people. It was all artificial. While the emotions and actions taken by the player base were ultimately purposeful, it didn't change that they lacked consequences.
After all, that was what this land he inhabited amounted to.
Shirou came to realize something. YGGDRASIL, despite its wonderful vastness and near-infinite potential, was a prison. A prison without borders or walls, forged from millions of lines of code and decorated with a kaleidoscope of grandeur, but nevertheless a prison.
It was a playground for the weary and the intrigued, where consequences were nonexistent and freedom was unlimited. In this land of wonder, was there really a need for a hero? One who saved and fought for the sake of others? Where death meant naught but lost experience and equipment?
He has the freedom to live a carefree life, with an insane amount of possibilities, but it was devoid of consequences, making it ultimately pointless.
It was said that the human mind craved stimulus because the psyche was fragile. If an individual had too much time on their hands, they would start to ponder it all. Not only their actions but also their very own existence. People require distractions in their lives, or else the mind will wander on constantly and be besieged by doubt and anxiety. Eventually, they would question their own inevitability. From there, it was an ever-downward spiral.
Born from that moment of loneliness, Shirou self-reflected and asked himself a question. What did it all mean?
He was like a hound, relentlessly chasing after its tail, yet what would happen once he caught it?
What would happen if he gathered all the Class Cards? To Shirou, they represent an important piece of his past, but to everyone else, they're simply World Items - beyond rare and valuable, but at the end of the day, fugitive. Even now, their true usage eludes his understanding. Shirou realized that the purpose of chasing after the Class Cards was for his sake and his alone.
What purpose did saving Players from PKers mean if the act itself would continue unabated somewhere else? No matter how many PKers he stopped, no matter how many Players he saved, it did little to correct the clashing relationship between the Humanoid Player community and that of the Demi-human and Heteromorph communities. So long as the game itself allows Players to do this, even indirectly encouraging it, there will never be an end to it all.
Like putting a bandage over a grievous wound. His methods were half-measures.
In his moment of loneliness, he came to realize something. It came slowly but surely for Shirou, akin to the grogginess associated with waking from a pleasant dream.
Or perhaps deep down, within the pit of his soul, he has always known this, but no longer can he turn away from the irrevocable truth that he faces.
It was a fatalistic thought, knowing and coming to grips with it. And with all the time afforded to him, he could never escape it. Not when everything he saw served as a reminder of that fact.
Everything he had done within this virtual world. It was nothing more than a footnote, a small blip in history.
A man was defined by his actions and the motives that gave him a purpose in life. So what was Shirou's motive now?
Once upon a time, it was the pursuit of a smile, one so happy and pure, that it had saved its owner. To help and save anyone and everyone he could.
Like a true hero.
Now?
He wasn't quite certain anymore.
Shirou remembered being melancholic as it dawned on him, leaving him inconsolable for a few days as the full reality of it all settled in on him, the day's blurring into one as he tried to consolidate his thoughts and emotions. He even locked himself in his room on the 9th Floor on a particular day when there was no one online.
It was one stark revelation after the next. The ineluctable departure of his cherished companions of Ainz Ooal Gown, the frugalness that was his existence within this virtual prison, and the perpetual fate that was his futility that would come when he would be alone once more. They all weighed heavily on his shoulders. Each felt like a massive boulder, bearing down on him, forced to carry the weight like that of the great titan Atlas, holding up the sky. An all but insurmountable endeavor.
It was overwhelming. Even for someone like him.
Humans derive worth and meaning from their actions. And it's only when one finds their life at its lowest that their decisions reflect upon their truest essence.
The greater the pressure, the deeper the revelation, and the truer the response.
For Pressure forces a Response.
Response in turn shows Judgement.
Judgement reveals their innate Value.
Lastly, Value shows Character—the truest essence of an individual.
When Shirou finally emerged from his isolation, he had made his decision.
He had resigned himself to what was to come. But not just yet.
For there was still much work to be done.
Perhaps his existence had no further meaning within this virtual cage that was known as YGGDRASIL, but it was his actions so long ago, whether they were pointless or not, that led him to Momonga. And from that one choice, he met so many wonderful people that he was proud to call them his friends.
Their future was far from set in stone like his, and as their friend, he had a duty to uphold. In his final hours and until his last, he would continue, while also preparing and fortifying his heart for the inevitability.
And thus began his endeavor to help them.
A choice was made to sacrifice the present for the future.
In the end, it all came full circle.
All of this began as more and more of Ainz Ooal Gown's time was slowly taken up, the years passed by, and their playtime was reduced due to outside circumstances. All as Shirou watched on.
In their absence, Shirou was left with more and more free time. Time that he was unsure of and knew little to do all by his lonesome. And with it came a sense of solidarity.
Left with seemingly all the time in the world, his mind wandered. First of the present, then came to reminisce on the past before ruminating on the future. In an attempt to distract himself and ground his fleeting thoughts, he fell back into old habits and sought to wander YGGDRASIL by himself. Only for his actions to accelerate the downward spiral.
Uncertainty gripped him as he watched helplessly as his friends continued with their daily lives. The forlornness choked his heart, and the pain continued for weeks and then months. His thoughts were occupied by dimmer and dimmer notions, exacerbated by the virtual prison that held him. He was burdened with the knowledge that they'd all leave him someday.
He was powerless to stop it, and even more, he was utterly helpless outside of YGGDRASIL, unable to offer anything to their daily lives besides a momentary respite. Alone, where would that lead him? Back to where he started in the beginning. With no one but himself. The weight mounted and mounted until it all came crashing down, and he reached an existential question and a conclusion. One that he had no answer for and one that only bred further despair.
The question of what his existence was and amounted to, combined with the weight that one day it would only be him left, left an immeasurable abyss within him. From that despair came desperation and a search for meaning. He sought an answer for a goal that he was robbed of. Something. Anything.
And after countless hours of self-reflection, he had found it. Not in himself or his future, but in Ainz Ooal Gown. His comrades, his cherished friend, and, dare he admit it, his family. They, who reminded him to laugh and enjoy life again. They, who brought light to his world and helped fill in the yawning void from those years ago.
They had become his reason for being, and now it was his turn to do right for them as they had done for him.
In turn, this laid the foundation for his beliefs and fueled his actions. Ainz Ooal Gown, they all had their lives ahead of them. Some more than others, admittedly, and while he couldn't magically whisk away all their troubles and make all their lives better, he would help them reach their potential or, at the very least, push them in the right direction. He had all the time in the world, so he might as well use it.
All the while cherishing the moments he had left with them to lessen the blow when they do leave.
But in doing so, Shirou would directly and/or indirectly be responsible for them spending more time away from YGGDRASIL and, by extension, him. Thus, expediting the matter and shortening what potentially little time he had left with him, which bred further melancholy.
And on it went, each feeding into the next, creating a self-perpetuating, paradoxical loop. One that will continually spiral downward until there was nothing left but him.
The Fake Player was fully aware that his actions were confoundingly contradictory. He strove to enjoy what little time he may have left with his cherished friends while wishing for these wonderful times to continue. Yet, by his actions and admissions, he was actively shortening that precious resource.
For behind his altruistic motives belies an equally selfish rationale for it. Having seen these events transpire similarly once before, this time, Shirou sought to take the initiative. To prepare for the coming future. To lessen the inevitable that was to come.
It was in the hope that he would be able to prepare his heart and steel himself for the inevitable day to come with the assurance that they would have a better future. One without him in it. The virtual magus would take solace in that, however small or insignificant it was. It did little to diminish the gnawing guilt that ate at him day in and day out. However, he'll continue towards that goal, for that was all he could do.
A selfless goal mired by selfish desires.
In the end, he was trapped.
Damned if he did, and damned if he did not.
All the contradictory thoughts and dissonance boiled just underneath the surface, tearing away at him.
Want conflicted with desire. It all ate away at him like a festering disease.
Even if it were all to come to pass, whether or not he'd buckle under the weight of loneliness was an entirely different matter. But then again, how many years did he spend alone, wallowing in his desolation back on earth? It would be nothing new.
Shirou couldn't help but let out a bitter, mocking chuckle aimed at himself. He was in such a sorry state that it was nothing short of pathetic. Just how long did it take Archer before he could no longer bear the weight he carried on his shoulders, after countless battles and atrocities? Centuries at the very least, yet here he was... Fatalistic and all in but a fraction of his time.
Were Rin or Saber here right now, they would no doubt be beyond disappointed in him, seeing just how far he's fallen.
How maddening that even after spending days ignoring these thoughts, they returned the moment he relaxed.
How cruel the mind can be when it's left to wander.
"Was this what you felt, Kiritsugu?" Shirou wondered aloud, thinking of his adoptive father.
He knew that in the beginning, his father was hired by the Einzbern for the 4th Holy Grail War. It was this event that led him to meet Irisviel. In the beginning, he regarded her as nothing more than the Vessel for the Grail and a liability. Yet, over time, the homunculus managed to break down the cold walls he erected over his heart and worm her way into his soul, and the two fell in love.
She showed him a miracle, that he was more than just a killer—an empty husk. Irisviel believed he was worthy of being loved and giving it. Illya was clear proof of that.
Love and a family were both things he never sought but couldn't live without after discovering it.
However, their love was destined for tragedy from the very beginning.
No matter how the Grail War could've ended, Irisviel would've died one way or another. Such was her fate as the Vessel of the Grail and a homunculus of the Einzbern family.
Shirou always wondered if his adoptive father knew the true depths of what he was stepping into. And would he have made the choices he'd made had he known the consequences that would come from them from the very start?
To discover true happiness, only to be burdened with the foreknowledge that it was never meant to be.
Forced to acknowledge and come to grips with the reality that there was absolutely nothing he could hope to do to change her fate or save her. In one form or another, he would be responsible for her death.
Sacrificing one ideal for the sake of another...
It was enough to break an already broken man.
Was that not why his father shared a sexual relationship with his assistant, Maiya, despite loving Irisviel with all his being? For it served as a rehearsal for when the moment of truth came. Because allowing his wife to sacrifice herself to complete the Grail was a betrayal of her love, no matter the reasoning or the cause, and so when it came time, it was necessary that Kiritsugu did not hesitate.
And so he used whatever excuse he could, no matter how flimsy or weak-willed it may be, as justification for his actions.
A twisted and self-centered rationale.
It was the curse of being an Emiya, to sacrifice one thing for another.
Like father, like son. A dark part of him whispered.
A hand was brought up, clutching his face, his dichromatic eyes gleaming through the gaps, glazed but resolute.
Even if he wavered, he would not stop now. He couldn't. Not after all that was said and done. Not after he made his decision. He would see it all to an end, one way or another.
Shirou, he'll keep moving forward as he always has.
Until it was done.
…Never once yielding, Never once victorious…
How little things have changed...
'I hope everyone is doing alright right now. Hopefully better than me.' Shirou briefly mused, his thoughts retreating to his treasured friends. A part of him recognized it as an attempt to drive away the downright depressing thoughts. A routine that has been coming around with increasing regularity.
He didn't know how long he spent under the tree as he languished within his head.
With a sigh, Shirou stood up and gazed across the riverbed he occupied. The water seemed murkier, the sun dimmer, and the air heavier.
He shook his head.
The Fake Player had already spent long enough resting and mulling over foregone conclusions. If he had to dwell on the fruitlessness of it all any longer, there was no doubt he would go mad. Rather, Shirou could perhaps use that time more productively. Maybe he could see about tracking another quest? Even with his recent marathon, it was better safe than sorry when it came to guild upkeep.
Shirou briefly entertained the idea of trying his hand at tracking down Caster, despite the impracticality of one person searching for it alone and the minuscule chances of him coming across her.
It was at that moment, while brooding on what action to take next, that the decision was made for him.
His ear twitched, catching the sound of something at a fraction of a second before the air cracked with the sound of thunder, followed by an ear-splitting whistle.
Instinct propelled him forward as he tucked and rolled as the shot narrowly hit its mark.
'Sniper!' He quickly realized.
Shirou immediately took off as another shot rang out, hitting just where he was. He ran into the forest, hoping to use the thick foliage as cover while weaving through the surroundings as shots continued to beset him.
He clicked his tongue, chastising himself for having gotten lost in thought once again. It was just his luck that a party or group of PKers had managed to catch him ill-prepared.
Before he continued any further, from the corner of his vision, he caught a glint of steel. Without warning, a heavily armored warrior emerged from the dense thicket of bushes, brandishing an enormous battle axe.
"Gotcha! [Devastating Sweep]!" The Player roared, swinging his axe.
"Trace on!"
Prana expanded forth as he projected Touch Me's shield, Earthen Recover. Streaks of [Reinforcement] quickly covered his body and shield.
He braced himself as the tremendous force of the attack managed to send him flying back a fair distance. Using the momentum, he righted himself and retaliated.
"[Trace Bullet]!"
Prana poured from his hands with a flourish. Several weapons were traced and fired towards the axe wielder.
His shots flew, finding their mark, and detonating upon impact. A cloud of dust was kicked up.
Shirou managed to land squarely on his feet as the dust settled, revealing a transparent dome with cracks that had shielded the Player from harm. Standing next to the armored warrior was a new Player, a mage, who had not been there before. Shirou prepared a second volley, only to be blindsided as two more Players suddenly appeared, one on each side.
One of the Players was a woman dressed in a futuristic ballerina-like dress with bladed skates. She dashed forward with her leg raised high, her skates lighting up with the activation of a skill as she descended upon her opponent.
On the other side was a Player with a tribal mask who wore an open-chested fur jacket. His weapon of choice was a bladed gauntlet, which gleamed with crimson blades upon the activation of his skill as his fist blurred.
"[Crescendo Axel]!"
"[Mach Knuckle]!"
"Trace on!"
As the attacks came his way, Shirou sprang into action, projecting Kanshou and twisting on his heel to intercept them. He raised Earthen Recover in time to block the punch. Even though he succeeded in stopping the attack, the sheer force behind the blow made his arm vibrate, and small cracks began to appear on his shield. At the same time, he used Kanshou to parry the dancer's axe kick from taking his head. Although he successfully redirected the attack, the attack left a painful gash down his shoulder.
Gritting his teeth, Shirou forced the two Players back to create some separation between himself and his attackers. Suddenly, a sound he recognized all too well pierced his ears, causing him to instinctively raise his protective shield just in the nick of time to block the bullet aimed directly at him. The impact of the bullet was so strong that it caused an explosion, sending Shirou hurtling backward and causing his projection to disintegrate into a shower of sparkling motes of light. He hit the unyielding ground with a resounding thud, tumbling uncontrollably.
The magus rolled back to his feet, crouching and coughing harshly. The impact of the attack hit him squarely in the chest, knocking his breath away. A quick glimpse at his health bar showed it taking him down in the low green.
He heard the heavy-footed charge as the PKers rushed him all at once. Prana pooled and poured forth from his hand, and with a wide flourish, a host of projected weapons appeared in the air. He fired them at the same time the mage erected another barrier spell. His artillery struck the barrier and the surrounding area, kicking up dirt and debris. The PKers charged unimpeded, confident in their abilities and believing his attack was simply to hinder them while he retreated.
To the astonishment of everyone, Shirou emerged from the thick smoke, catching them off guard. Despite being outnumbered and outgunned, any rational and sane Player would have chosen to retreat. However, they underestimated his tenacity, as he charged headfirst instead.
With little time to react, he was already in their guard, wielding Kanshou and Bakuya in hand, and several projected weapons trailing behind him. He struck mercilessly, landing several slashes before they could even defend themselves, and ran through them without halting. In a split second, he willed his lagging projections to detonate, causing an explosive blast that left the PKers hurt and stunned. Shirou left them in his wake as he ran back the way he came.
Another shot rang out, and Shirou was again dodging the high-speed bullet as it whizzed past him and blasted through a nearby tree. He deftly maneuvered and weaved his way through the sea of trees, using the natural cover to mask his movements and shield himself from view. Shirou trained his ears, attempting to pinpoint the sniper's general location as more shots echoed through the air, piercing through the serene atmosphere of the forest.
His main concern was the sniper, who was undoubtedly keeping an eye on the area from a vantage point somewhere. If they were going to fight, he needed to deal with him first and foremost. He, of all people, knew that nothing was more dangerous than a ranged fighter with free reign and line of sight of the battlefield.
He came upon the edge of the woodlands. There were cliffside ridges that surrounded and looked down on the forest from where they were. A perfect location for a vantage point for someone like a sniper.
Arcs of prana poured and condensed around his arm, forming an oddly shaped gauntlet with a steel-hooked claw at the end. Simultaneously, the magus traced several dozen weapons around him. He aimed the hookshot at one of the sturdy rocky cliffs, firing the zipline and snagging onto the side. The line became taut as he reeled it in, and in seconds, he sling-shot himself into the air using the momentum.
At the same time, he fired his projections into the sky, soaring higher than he before arcing back and descending onto the earth.
His projections rained down, bombarding the sides of the cliffs. Explosions rocked the area as his eyes watched for any signs of movement, like a hawk flying through the skies, gazing down upon any fleeing morsel or prey. Shirou caught something, a shimmer of movement. Then he saw it, a glint of metal pointing directly at him.
A shot rang out as his Mind's Eye already allowed him to act, moving his head before even the sound of the bullet being discharged broke through the air. He avoided the headshot by a hair's breadth.
"There you are. [Trace bullet]!" Launching a volley of traced weapons, he heard a cry ring out.
From the smoke, he spied the downed sniper. The Player appeared to be wearing some cloak that distorted the light around him, hiding him like a chameleon blending into his surroundings.
His grapple hook fired again, reeling him in sharp and fast. Kanshou reappeared in his hand as he descended upon the sniper with the grace of a swooping bird of prey. Just as he reached the downed Player, the black blade ready to take his head, a flash of light appeared next to him. It was another Player. The newcomer touched the sniper, and then they disappeared in another flash of light at the very last second.
Shirou skidded as he whiffed his attack, cutting through only the air.
The magus clicked his tongue. It seemed they had a second magic caster hiding in the wings for support and one that was capable of teleportation. This presented a dangerous combination, as that meant the sniper was able to reposition however many times he wanted, keeping him at a distance and pushing their advantage.
"[Widened Maximize Magic: Greater Lightning Storm]!" A voice roared.
Dark clouds began to form, darkening the sky as lightning crackled. Shirou poured more prana into his legs, [Reinforcement] lighting up as he jumped off the edge without any hesitation. Furious bolts of lightning descended onto the land, the air hissing with every strike.
"Activate: [Mana Barrier]!" One of the rings glowed, and a small magic circle appeared over the azure gemstone. A brilliant barrier formed around him, protecting him as a few stray bolts struck.
However, it wasn't quite enough, as his HP dropped to the high yellow. His body tingled from the electricity.
With a less-than-graceful landing, Shirou landed on his feet. However, he was given no reprieve as the other PKers rushed forward, relentless in their pursuit and attack.
His eyes narrowed. He was certain that he got at least one of them in the chain explosion from before. Which meant the mage must've used a high-tier resurrection spell then. With that information, his eyes scoured, trying to find the support mage. He needed to be dealt with immediately.
A short exchange took place as Shirou kept to the defensive, parrying and blocking the attacks sent his way. His attempts to put some distance between them proved difficult as the trio of PKers surrounded him, relentless in their assaults.
"[Trace Bu-"
His words were cut short and replaced with a pained cry as a successful shot struck the back of his shoulder. Reeling from the attack, the masked player rushed to capitalize on the opening. Shirou mounted a last-second counterattack, blowing him away, only for the armored Player to appear from his peripheral. He'd used his companion as a meatshield and distraction to close the distance.
Too late, Shirou was left open as the axe wielder capitalized on this and landed a skill on him, sending him tumbling back against the ground.
He heard the roars of the PKers rushing towards him while he was down, ready to finish the job. Shirou matched theirs with a battle cry of his own as he slammed his hand against the ground. Prana poured forth from his hand and into the dirt.
Weapons shot forth from the earth, towering blades jutting from the ground to skewer them. The PKers barely managed to stop just in time and avoided being impaled by them, their sharpened steel cutting only skin deep into their digital flesh. However, they performed their duties. They had bought Shirou a second, and that was all the time he needed. The projected weapons glowed and detonated, producing a massive explosion that sent the PKers lurching backward and kicked up a large cloud of debris and dust.
Using it as a smokescreen, he managed to dash past their notice and withdraw further into the forest while they were dazed. Another shot rang out, and the sniper fired blindly into the smoke in hopes of hitting him. With practiced speed, he operated his menu seamlessly, selecting the perfect contingency items for such a situation. Producing two scrolls, he immediately used two of them. They were [Perfect Unknowable] and [Anti-Information Magic Wall].
Shirou's form shimmered before becoming completely invisible. Without pausing, he sprinted deeper into the dense forest. The clamor of his foes grew fainter and fainter. When he was sure he was far enough away and hidden, he took a moment to catch his breath. From his inventory, he retrieved some potions and consumables to restore his health and buff him for good measure.
Wiping his mouth after drinking a potion, the Player Killer contemplated his next course of action.
The most prudent course of action was to simply retreat. He had several [Gate] scrolls in his inventory for quick getaways, and considering they were using [Teleportation] and the like, that ruled out anti-teleportation measures such as [Dimensional Lock] being in place. Not unless they did so via a silent casting sometime later, in which case Shirou could simply choose to retreat completely on foot.
They had caught him unaware, and no doubt they banked on killing him when he was unprepared. They missed their shot. If he left now, it was doubtful they'd continue a successful chase after him. As for Shirou, the faker had no interest in humoring a fight that he had little to no stakes in and nothing to gain from participating. What better way to get back at them than to deny their quarry entirely?
Shirou grabbed a [Gate] scroll from his inventory, but before he used it, he paused, and a thought occurred to him.
While the group had managed to ambush him in his absentminded state, Shirou was certain that they lacked the skill to bring him low. They were coordinated team, but he'd fought worse. Leaving would be easy, but he'd leave behind a team of no doubt frustrated PKers who'd likely turn towards the weaker Players for stress relief. They would harass others in revenge to vent their frustration and resentment. And considering the state of Niðavellir was in at the moment, Players and parties were abundant all around.
He'd encountered it plenty of times before. The pettiness of people never failed to astound him when he saw some go to such despicable lengths. Unneeded cruelty and violence for the sake of amusement.
His hand tightened around the scroll, indecision waging within him. If he were to leave, another group might suffer. On the other hand, a voice argued that it wasn't his concern. A few death and loss gear was hardly something to make a big deal out of. Yet, he couldn't find it within himself to completely dismiss such a notion. No matter what he'd been through.
Shirou remained hidden, far out of sight, and used the dense foliage to his advantage even while invisible. As he gathered his thoughts on what to do next, he could hear the faint voices of his pursuers calling out to him, scattered and distant.
"Come out and face us like a man! Or is the great Player Killer nothing more than a coward?!"
"You see just how fast he ran away when he saw us? I almost thought we got the wrong guy with him running away with his tail between his legs. Just like a scared little bitch!"
"Bwak Bwak Bwaaak! Chicken, chicken. Bwak Bwak Bwaaak."
He heard them mock and jeer, but their insults washed over him, rolling off of him like rain dripping upon an umbrella.
He wouldn't fall for their weak and easy insults. He had been subjected to much worse from far more threatening individuals in the past. Any casual Player would be inflamed by such blatant antagonization, with their wounded pride driving them to make rash decisions, and no doubt what the PKers were banking on. However, such attempts wouldn't work on him. He could tell the party was not as experienced when it came to hunting down Players as compared to some of the more dangerous PKers he encountered in the past, judging by their performances. Their audacious taunting, carried out so openly and without concern for the danger he still posed, reeked of arrogance. They were either fueled by misplaced confidence in their chances against him, given that he was outnumbered and on the perceived back leg, or they were simply ignorant of the risks they were taking.
Ultimately, he decided he wouldn't back out because what was a minor annoyance to himself would be the death of many others.
Shirou's mind raced, formulating a counter-offensive as he analyzed the information he managed to garner about the PKers during their brief skirmish.
'I could try hit-and-run tactics, get some distance and cover while luring them away. That's, of course, not counting the sniper repositioning himself and keeping a beat on me. The others seem quite strong and coordinated as well. Maybe I can scare them off, pick them off one by one, and make them reconsider fighting me? Keeping it completely close quarter to stop the sniper from attacking for fear of friendly fire would be an option. Hmmm, the obvious choice would be the mage of the group. Take out their support and any chance of a resurrection spell. However, there's still that other mage with the sniper. The axe wielder looked quite tanky, so I should probably focus on the other two…'
In moments like these, he wished his friends were here with him. With them by his side, there was no doubt in his mind who would emerge victorious at the end.
With Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama, he could leave his avian friend to deal with the sniper, drawing the Player's attention. He had confidence in his junior's skill and marksmanship. This would also divert the attention of the second mage, allowing Bukubukuchagama and Shirou to focus on the remaining four PKers. With the dependable pink slime by his side, there would be little for Shirou to worry about, leaving her to tank all the attention while he methodically eliminated each PKer one by one.
If Nishikienrai were present, Shirou could take on the role of bait, allowing the assassin to pick off the sniper first with little trouble, and the rest would fall prey to his assassinations while the magus kept them occupied. Alternatively, should Warrior Takemikazuchi, Bellriver, or Herohero be at his side, they would easily hold their own and turn the fight around against the fighters while he dealt with the mage or sniper of the party. He would prevent any reinforcement or ranged support on the part of the enemy while providing his own ranged support.
Heck, Touch Me alone could take on the four PKers by himself and win with little trouble while Shirou ran interference and kept the sniper's attention on him to allow the World Champion to battle it out. Ulbert would no doubt try and blow them all to smithereens, going with brute force and employing his most powerful spells to wipe them all out in one go, leaving the magus to finish off any stragglers.
Momonga would offer to employ a more cautious approach, using his spells to summon hordes of disposable mobs and summons to create buffers between them and the PKers. This would give him time to gain some distance and rain down upon them a bombardment of Broken Noble Phantasms while the undead sorcerer kept them distracted and pinned down.
Shirou could all too easily imagine and hear the insults that Peroroncino and Ulbert would hurl at them just before killing them and having the last vindictive laugh. Tabula or Yamaiko would no doubt try to keep the more rowdy members under control, but would join in by having a few choice words themselves. Not even the normally soft-spoken Momonga could resist a bit of trash-talking. And then—
'Focus!' He caught himself, reeling in his wandering thoughts under control. Now wasn't the time to be daydreaming and being bogged down on what-ifs.
'They're not here... It's just me…' He reminded himself.
Having lost himself in thought, he could hear their voices getting louder and louder, the crunching footsteps drawing closer and closer all around him. Tension slowly mounted as Shirou needed to make a decision, and quickly.
However, a new voice disturbed the volatile tension before it could ignite into conflict.
"Another pack of lost souls, I see... No matter, I shall deal with all those that dare threaten my peace."
"What?" He heard one of the PKers uttered loudly.
"Shit, don't tell me we're being third-party or something?!" The female Player squeaked.
Shirou was also experiencing a similar state. His eyes grew wider, and his body became rigid with tense shoulders, although for a slightly different cause.
That voice just now. That silky yet sinister voice. There was no doubt about it.
He glanced out from where he was hidden, catching a glimpse of the PKers huddling up with their backs to one another and weapons drawn.
He could sense the panic and unease rolling off the party. Despite their frantic efforts to identify the supposed third party, they failed to even catch a glimpse of the elusive foe. Their heads swiveled back and forth, searching for any sign of the source of the mysterious, silky voice. A flash of purple drew all eyes towards the center of the area.
There, levitating high in the air, was a figure shrouded in a long, flowing cloak of black and regal purple hues. A peek through the slightly parted folds of the cloak revealed an equally magnificent purple dress underneath. Much of her body and face were hidden by her attire, with her hood hiding everything but her lower face. Clutched in their hands was a lengthy metallic staff. With her unique appearance and level, everyone realized that she was an NPC.
Caster Lvl – Lvl: 150
Upon seeing the once familiar Servant, the image of her in the past was superimposed with her in the present, as memories of the past flooded his mind.
'If Caster is here, then that means... I need to…!'
Before Shirou could finish his train of thought or any of the PKers could take action against the boss, a purple, intricate magic circle materialized beneath him. It wasn't just him alone, as identical magic circles appeared under PKer's party. In a blinding flash of purple, they disappeared. The only one left behind was the bewildered sniper, who, being far enough from the rest of the party, was spared from the mysterious occurrence but witnessed everything that had transpired.
[—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—]
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone