- Sand, sand... just damn sand... - Shirou grumbled, shielding his face from the blazing sun.
It didn't take long for him to remember why he detested deserts so much. Although Emiya lived in Tunisia and had visited the Middle East several times, it was an entirely different experience. Their home was on an island, while his targets preferred to hide in small towns or battle zones, rather than the scorching sea of sand where the very air seemed to melt and burn his lungs with every breath.
Shirou found it hard to imagine how some peoples had lived in such conditions for centuries, if not millennia—living, not just surviving. Such resilience evoked an undeniable respect…
The journey proceeded in almost complete silence, interrupted only by rare gusts of wind and the grunts of camels (which offered no pleasure in riding). New attempts to extract even a grain of extra information from Kadar met an insurmountable wall of fear and lamentations. Even the threat of prolonged, torturous interrogations frightened him far less than the individual Shiro was desperate to learn about.
- And still... who is this Old Man of the Mountain, if just his name evokes such mad terror? I imagine even if a demon appeared before him, he would be less afraid... - Emiya thought, trying to piece together at least a coherent picture.
However, this endeavor was fruitless—there was simply too little information, and he didn't want to delve into meaningless theories. After all, he would soon find all the answers to his questions. His intuition, which he had always trusted, assured him of that fact…
***
Two days later.
The city of Shahrek.
Shirou struggled to open his eyes and slowly rose from a pile of soft pillows. His body was sluggish, and his mind was clouded. Even attempting to stretch, he couldn't shake off the fatigue and only slumped back down.
- Damned acclimatization... - Emiya sighed, rubbing his temples.
The caravan driver hadn't lied; he had indeed brought Shirou to the nearest city, called Shahrek. Upon arrival, Emiya's last doubts evaporated.
That damned vampire had sent him to the past!
And just when Shirou had started to think that the marshal would no longer surprise him…
But this was a city… a medieval city, for crying out loud!
Which meant he was stuck alone in another time and most likely in another world as well. Without information, hints, or resources (at least upon his arrival)…
The realization of this clenched Emia's fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
- You will pay for this, Zeltrech... - he rasped, literally burning that promise into his memory.
However, vengeance was vengeance, but it did not solve the problems he faced. It was quite fortunate that language did not become yet another barrier for him. Yes, the dialect was different from what he was used to, but not to the point where Shirou couldn't communicate, and as a foreigner, minor mistakes were forgivable.
First things first, he needed to assess the situation and acquire some money. Of course, he already had some, but the more he had, the more opportunities would open up for him. This rule held true in any era.
Upon arriving in the city, Shirou didn't immediately release Kadar; instead, he asked him for assistance in this challenging task in exchange for extra payment. To Emiya's surprise, Kadar didn't hesitate and quickly agreed. The caravan driver was quite amenable, as long as it did not concern Alamut or the Old Man of the Mountain. However, he refused the reward, stating that "greed is the worst enemy of peace."
After leaving the camels at a caravanserai, they first headed to a familiar Jewish money changer to convert the valuables into coin. The portly man with a gray beard clearly was used to calmly examining the goods brought to him, but when he saw the items in question, he couldn't hold back his astonishment. Of course, judging by his face, he had some suspicions about how such wealth had come into the hands of such a nondescript foreigner, yet whether it was his familiarity with dealing with the unscrupulous or plain greed that drove him, he didn't ask unnecessary questions but simply counted out the coins, already considering how to resell it all for a higher price…
Next on the agenda was to acquire clothing more suitable for this time and climate. Naturally, Shirou had clothing taken from one of the corpses, but… not that he was squeamish or superstitious, it just seemed a bit too much even for him.
Before long, they found themselves at the city market. The abrupt change in environment even caused Shirou a bit of dissonance. The dusty and dark room of the money changer was replaced by the deafening noise of a vast market. The din was incredible: merchants beckoned customers, haggled with them, and bickered hoarsely over buyers, repeating the process over and over. The air was infused with the vibrant scent of spices, which pleasantly swirled his head after the exhausting journey through the desert.
After pushing through the buzzing crowd, as lively as a bee swarm, they reached a clothing vendor, and thus began the long and tiring process of selection, trying on garments, and haggling (the last mostly handled by Kadar, as Emiya saw no need for it). Ultimately, a couple of hours later, they left the market with several sets of everyday and travel clothing.
Finally, Kadar took him to an inn where merchants and travelers stopped. The local version of a hotel was a two-story building centered around an open courtyard with a well. The first floor consisted of storage areas and animal pens, while the second housed guest rooms. There was also a bathhouse and a teahouse. Not five stars, of course, but by local standards, it was practically a palace…
It was here that their paths diverged. For the caravan driver, it was now time to tackle his problems regarding the unexpected wealth dropped into his lap and a dozen new camels that still needed to find buyers. By the end of the day, he regarded Emia as a godsend from Allah, as if the massacre in the oasis had never taken place.
Shirou sincerely thanked him, politely reminding him as they parted that Kadar should forget everything that had happened over the last couple of days, and hinted that it was best they not meet again.
- However, it's you who should strive for that, - Emiya added as he watched the caravan driver go.
***
Another day passed since their farewell, which Shirou spent on… sleeping.
Yes, the abrupt change in climate has taken its toll, forcing the body to take time to adapt, especially since the last few days have been full of surprises. So, taking advantage of the local bathhouse, Emiya only found the strength to reach his room before collapsing into sleep.
The sun was already setting, which meant he had slept for nearly a full day — a rare occurrence for him. His stomach aptly reminded him of its presence, prompting Shiro to decide that his first priority was to get something to eat, and only then would he think about his next steps.
- Well, everything in order, - he told himself. - First, some clothes...
Surprisingly, the local attire turned out to be quite comfortable and practical. It consisted of a shirt, over which was worn a loose white kaftan with long sleeves that needed to be belted, as well as baggy trousers. On his head, he wrapped a kufiya, a type of scarf to protect his head from the sun. Overall, this clothing was very spacious and perfectly suited for life in desert regions.
After making himself presentable, Emiya headed straight to the local teahouse. It was easy to deduce the origin of the name, considering that the main drink served there was green tea, since alcohol was considered taboo among Muslims.
However, that didn't mean there wasn't anything else to indulge in besides tea. Grilled lamb, beef, pilaf, various types of bread, flatbreads, sweets, cold drinks... all of it was a delight to the weary traveler, who had stopped here after a long journey.
Having ordered lamb kebabs, dates, and sherbet, Shirou found a vacant topchak and sat down to have dinner, leisurely contemplating his next moves.
- It's clear that asking direct questions here would be pointless, - he thought, savoring the juicy meat. - Judging by Kadar's behavior, this Old Man is quite a infamous figure, especially since even ordinary caravaners seem to be well-informed about him. Moreover, such inquiries could attract unwanted attention, which I need to avoid right now. If he is that feared, there are surely those who wouldn't appreciate my interest... Ha... it seems my only option is to head to this city and start digging there. I should talk to the owner — travelers often stop by here, maybe someone is headed that way or knows someone who can help me reach Alamut... Mmm... it's settled, that's what I'll do...
A hearty dinner and a newfound sense of purpose lifted his spirit. But it was quickly overshadowed by a nasty premonition. His intuition hinted that now was not the time to relax.
After paying, Shirou slowly made his way to his room, but with each step, his anxiety grew. Recalling the events of the evening, the young man remembered how the innkeeper had glanced at him strangely from time to time. Initially, he attributed it to his foreign appearance, but now it took on a different shade... with an imperceptible motion, Emiya drew a stiletto and concealed the weapon in his sleeve. He was certain that he would need it...
Upon entering the room, he first took a look around. Everything was in its place, yet the premonition only intensified. Taking a couple of cautious steps, Shiro heard the door quietly close behind him.
- You know, for such a professional killer... you're not that hard to find... - a creaky voice with notes of mockery reached him. - Well, here we are.
Slowly, without making any sudden movements, Emiya turned, finally laying eyes on the owner of the voice.
It was a short man, shrouded from head to toe in a dark cloak, with a stark white skull mask covering his face.
- Hm... so this is what you look like up close, ha... - the visitor snorted. - Not impressive.
But Shiro paid no attention to his words. He already understood perfectly why this unknown individual had come here.
- You're silent? Interesting, no question of 'who are you?', no fear, no bravado... others in your position would either be pleading for mercy or making pitiful attempts to bargain for their lives, heh-heh-heh... - a disgusting, rasping laugh escaped the assassin's lips. - But you're different: you're quiet, listening, pondering, looking at me with that icy gaze... I wonder how many people have left this world looking into those eyes?
Emiya was intently examining the contours of the speaker's body, trying to gauge his stature and devise a fighting strategy to swiftly deal with the uninvited guest. But credit where it's due: the cloak effectively concealed his body, as well as the weapon he carried.
- I've observed you a bit, - he continued, unfazed by the silence of his companion, as if he enjoyed conversing with his prey before the execution. - Nice inn, beautiful clothing, tasty food... you seem to be enjoying life, unlike poor Jubair. As they say: 'Where there is a table full of feasts, there lies a grave'...
For just a moment, mild surprise crossed Shirou's face, which did not escape the assassin's gaze.
- Oh, really? I can't believe you'd kill someone without bothering to know their name, - the face beneath the mask twisted into a smirk. - Forgive me, boy, but you don't look like a highwayman.
- Forgive me, but he screamed so much that it utterly quenched my desire to converse with him, - Emiya replied in kind.
- Well, well, so you can talk after all? But don't misunderstand, I'm not judging, - for emphasis, the assassin made a dismissive gesture as if brushing off false accusations. - To kill that fat pig along with all his guards, and to do it alone? I'd even shake your hand, but... - At this point, all humor vanished from his voice, - You see, that's created a problem of another sort...
- I killed your target and saved you the trouble. As for a reward, I make no claims, - Emiya shrugged, even though he already knew his words wouldn't change the guest's intentions.
- As I said, nothing personal, kid. But that maggot was my target, and he was supposed to die at the right place and time... the fate of that sodomite was meant to serve as a lesson to others. But by chance, you've interfered with our plans. I don't know if Allah is testing me or if Shaitan and his minions are playing with me, but the facts are that I can't return empty-handed. What was taken by the blade must be returned by the blade... understand?
- Yes, more than enough, - the young man replied, smirking.
For a moment, silence hung in the room, broken only by sounds coming from beyond the door. The two killers stood and stared at each other, as if the prevailing silence held some mystical symbolism.
Suddenly, Shirou sprang from his place, instantly closing the distance between them, ready to plunge the stiletto into the man's throat. But before he could do so, the assassin's hand shot out from beneath his cloak as if throwing something. Instinctively, Emiya dodged, but in the same moment, a cloud of some powdery substance struck his face, and a searing pain hit his right eye.
- Pepper?! He threw pepper at me?! - The shock left the young man momentarily stunned.
However, from one perspective, this overly simple maneuver proved highly effective. Had he not dodged the immediate attack, he would have undoubtedly been blinded… completely, as one eye was already compromised — tearing up incessantly and responding with unbearable pain to every movement.
But there was no time for thoughts, as the assassin's knife was already dangerously close to his throat.
Time Alter: Double Accel!
The acceleration took effect, allowing Emiya to evade the fatal blow in the nick of time. Seizing the opportunity, he grabbed the assassin by the wrist, and then delivered a strike with his reinforced fist to the elbow joint. A crack of bones was heard, followed by a muffled cry of pain.
Releasing the acceleration, Shirou whipped out another knife from his Void, intending to finish what he had started, but a blind spot played a cruel trick on him. Because of it, he missed a new attack that ended with a flash of pain in his right leg, where the assassin's knife was now lodged.
- Even in a situation like this, he twisted and landed a blow on me? - Emiya thought with a mix of anger and admiration.
However, this attack resembled more of a death throe, as the opponent was unable to defend against the descending knife that loomed over him like a guillotine.
- Checkmate, - the young man commented ironically.
- Here I would disagree with you... - the assassin replied with a vile chuckle.
Then he twisted, and the blade of the knife plunged into his broken arm.
- What the hell?! - Shirou nearly shouted, unable to believe what he saw.
- We fear not Death, for we walk in Her shadow, - the assassin muttered as if it were a mantra.
- Oh, really… - hissed Emiya, gritting his teeth, and pulled the knife from his thigh. - Then go and embrace her!
The reinforced knife sped toward the assassin. He attempted to block it with his weapon, but to his surprise, the force of the throw was so great that the blade was simply knocked from his hands. The brief moment of hesitation sealed the assassin's fate...
The blade pierced through him, showering everything around in bright crimson splatters. The assassin tried to deliver a death blow, but the blade slid sideways, slicing his heart in two. The killer fell to his knees, froze in that pose for a moment, and then collapsed face-first.
- No mortal man under the sun, no powers that be, no chains that bind shall constrain Him...
He approached the wall and, leaning against it with his back, slowly sank to the floor, pressing against the wound on his thigh, which throbbed with increasing pain as the adrenaline drained from his blood. Nonetheless, this was a minor inconvenience compared to how his fight with Siph had ended. It was just a matter of waiting a little longer before the spiritual healing would take effect.
Shirou allowed himself a relieved exhale, trying to bring his mind, still heated from the fierce battle, into some semblance of order.
- That was close... damn it... I've been in this world for only three days and already someone's tried to turn me into kebab twice! But if the first time could be chalked up to coincidence, this time… no, he came for my head on purpose, and he knew I was in that oasis, which means… Kadar, you son of a bitch…- Emiya cursed, realizing that besides the caravan driver, there was no one else to whom he could tell what had happened.
His first thought was to find him and illustrate the cost of broken promises, but Emiya immediately dismissed it. Considering how Kadar trembled at the mere mention of Alamut and the Old Man, he would hardly find the courage to stay silent. And what would be the point? Even if he found him, what then? Would he send him to the other world too? Shirou had certainly slain many people, but that didn't mean it brought him any pleasure.
- Still… it's unfortunate that I couldn't get him to talk, though he probably wouldn't have revealed much, but… - the young man continued. - Another thread to this mysterious figure has been cut… or better yet, sliced, heh heh…
Yet, as it often happens, the insight came to him when he least expected it. A small, insignificant detail flickered back to Shiro. A straw he could grasp, and whether it would help him swim to shore, he would soon find out.
— But first… — he turned his head toward the cooling body, thinking that the killer could still be useful to him in this state…
***
Night had finally fallen over the city, draping everything in its dark shroud. People vanished from the streets, and if it weren't for the guards and a few loiterers, one might think that the population of Shahrak had completely perished.
The inn where the earlier events had unfolded was also affected by this rule. Soon, all the guests vacated the teahouse and dispersed to their rooms.
The owner, a portly older man with a bushy mustache, left the servants to handle the cleaning before heading down to the storeroom, hardly noticing the shadow that flitted behind him.
Consumed by the inventory count, he didn't hear the door of the storeroom quietly click shut.
— Life hangs by a thread, and you think about profit? — a sardonic voice echoed in the room, reverberating off the walls.
It sounded so unexpected that the owner jumped in surprise. Slowly, his face paling progressively, he turned to see the figure cloaked in dark robes, barely pulled from the shadows by the dim light of the torches...
He didn't have time to utter a sound before the stranger was right in front of him, delivering a powerful blow to his stomach that literally bent the owner in half. The first punch was followed by a second, to the face, causing the innkeeper to collapse to the floor.
Spitting out blood and knocked-out teeth, he raised his head to see the figure of a young man of Eastern appearance looming over him, and he turned pale with fear.
An ominous silence hung between them, disrupted by Emiya as he drew a sword from beneath his cloak, the blade immediately resting at the owner's throat.
— M-m, how curious, — Shirou said with a smile that seemed to chill the air by several degrees. — Why, dear sir, do you take such treatment for granted? Anyone in your place would have been outraged, calling for help and whatnot… yet you sit there, meekly awaiting something. Is your conscience unclean?
— P-please, efendi, I didn't…
— Shut up, — Shirou cut him off immediately, pressing the blade against his skin. — Do I look like someone who doesn't give a damn about your excuses?! You should have thought about that when you brought that wretch upon me! Now you're going to tell me everything I want to know…
— Please, they'll kill me…
But Emiya didn't let him finish and kicked him hard in the gut, then again, and again…
Usually, Shirou kept his composure, but right now, his nerves simply gave out. The events of the past days had thrown him off balance. In these three days, someone had already tried to kill him twice, and he hadn't come a step closer to his goal!!!
Having finished beating him, he leaned down, grabbed the innkeeper by the scruff, and pressed the sword against his throat, drawing a thin trickle of blood.
— And now listen here, you fat, pig-like faggot… — he hissed through gritted teeth with undisguised malice. — They are not here right now, but I am! And in my room lies the corpse of one of those you fear to death! Now think carefully and answer: who should be feared more, them or me?!
Fear had brought the innkeeper to the brink of hysteria. It was clear that a serious battle raged within his soul. The fear of the assassins he dreaded more than demons fought against the fear of the killer standing before him. It's just that the latter had a compelling argument: the corpse of one of those he so feared. Plus, the sword pressed to his throat certainly helped establish authority.
— Don't you dare hold a moment of silence for me, you piece of shit! — Emiya yelled, clearly unwilling to give him time to think.
— I... I... I—I will tell everything, just d-don't kill me… — gathering his remaining will, the owner finally croaked.
— Well there you go, see, it's not that hard! — Shirou said with a satisfied smile as he pulled the sword from his neck. — Now start talking, preferably about who the hell it was that tried to kill me.
— H-hashi… hashishin, — the innkeeper barely managed to utter.
— What? What kind of answer is that?
— I-swear I'm telling the truth! They call themselves hashishin…
- Somewhere, I have heard this name before… but I can't remember where… — Shirou tried to jog his memory, but nothing would come to mind, prompting him to mentally repeat the vaguely familiar word. — Hashishin… hashishin… Assassin?..
— Assassins?
— Y-yes, — the innkeeper nodded fervently. — They have many names, but the essence is the same. They are killers, cruel and devoid of fear and mercy.
— I see you guys are more afraid of these folks than death itself, — Shiro said with a mocking snort. — To me, they don't seem that special…
— What did you expect? — the owner whimpered, almost offended. — I'm just a simple man, not a warrior! Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life guessing how torturous my end will be?
— Off-topic, — Shirou cut him off. — Tell me everything you know about them.
— Alas, I doubt I can tell you what you want to know, — he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. — A couple of years ago, no one had really heard of them until rumors started spreading about a fortress city in the mountains to the north. They say their leader came to this city, and the townspeople opened the gates for him, greeting him as if he were a prophet descended from the heavens…
— The Old Man from the Mountain…
— Yes, that's what they call him. It is said that his true name is unknown to anyone living today…
— And then what? You mean to say everyone fears him simply because he showed interest in some godforsaken city?
— Please… that was only the beginning… soon preachers began to appear in the surrounding towns and villages, spreading his teachings and words. They said that in his city there are no rich or poor; everyone is equal, and everyone is judged according to their deeds…
— And what, did anyone actually believe in this nonsense? — Emiya was almost ready to laugh at how strange it sounded.
— You know people, — the innkeeper smiled wearily. — A hard life, no hope for a bright future… they grab at any straw. Better to risk everything once than to live such a life.
— Well, look at you, a wise man, — Shirou said with a smirk. — Go on…
— Well, as you can imagine, this news didn't sit well with everyone. Especially with the vizier Nizam al-Mulk. They say he was personally acquainted with the Elder and declared that he was no prophet, but an ordinary charlatan. Nizam was preparing to march with an army on Alamut to publicly execute the Old Man, but…
— …his glorious biography came to an end right then and there?
— Yes. One of the His most devoted disciples killed him… right during the evening prayer, and then, heralding his master's name, slit his own throat, — the innkeeper finished quietly.
— "We shall not fear Death, for we walk in Her shadow"... — Shirou remembered the assassin's phrase.
- After that... the killings did not cease. Everyone who opposed the Him, in one way or another, was murdered unless they renounced their beliefs. It didn't matter how wealthy or prestigious these people were; his wrath reached them all. They say his followers fear not death; no, they embrace it! They are convinced that their loyalty will be rewarded in the next life, so there is no fear in their hearts. I don't know what you did to deserve their wrath, effendi, but they will come for you again; they always collect their dreadful due... Gha-a-a! – his words were interrupted yet again by a sharp blade slicing into his skin.
— Are you going to teach me how to live?! – Emiya snapped irritably at him.
— I-I apologize! – he gasped, pressing his hand against the wound. – I-I told you everything I know... N-now I can...
— Huh? What are you talking about? – Shiro asked with feigned astonishment. – I don't recall promising to let you go...
— B-but...
— Did you think that if you told me everything, you could buy your life back? Don't make me laugh. You let that scumbag attack me in your own establishment. And I'm more than sure this isn't the first time you've cooperated with them... And let's skip the justifications because they won't change your involvement in these murders. The blood of those people is also on your hands, – a bloodthirsty smile played on Shirou's lips. – "What is taken by the blade must be returned by the same," isn't that what he said? So be it.
— I-I beseech you, effendi... – the innkeeper stumbled back in horror, but he soon found himself pressed against the wall.
— Requiscat in pace, – Shirou uttered before plunging his sword into the man's throat.
After the hotel owner took his last breath, Emiya retrieved from his Memory Storage the dagger that the assassin had attempted to kill him with and placed it on the chest of the slain man.
— In Sicily, there's a tradition: those who violate the "Cosa Nostra" code of honor are killed with luparas. Upon seeing the cause of death, no one asks questions because people understand who the victim crossed. I don't know if these guys have such a tradition, but I think leaving a little bloody trace wouldn't hurt...
***
A few days later.
Alamut.
A cool breeze blew into his face, trying to snatch the hood from his head. The sky was covered with leaden clouds, making the air become increasingly colder. He climbed higher, already seeing the walls of the citadel above him.
His goal was closer than ever.
To be fair, the city had long been left behind, and the fortress he was heading to was two kilometers higher. That was where the infamous assassins were based.
The city itself, to Shirou's genuine surprise, was not remarkable and did not differ much from Shahrak (aside from size and population, of course). Even the people seemed somewhat... ordinary? As if fearsome killers, whom everyone around feared more than the devil, did not live right next door. Or... could that be the reason for their calmness?
— Still, that concerns me the least right now, – Emiya muttered as he wrapped himself in his travel cloak.
However... as he approached the fortress, he began to feel a strange, oppressive sensation. As if with every step, his life was shortening, and the moment he reached his goal, it would end.
- Get a grip! – Shirou mentally scolded himself.
— No mortal man under the sun, no powers that be, no chains that bind shall constrain Him
for... – he muttered as if reciting some prayer. – He dwells in the nether; a soul from the grave is He...
It was amusing, but those words dispelled the oppressive atmosphere and gave him a little confidence, even though he was far from superstitious...
At last, Shirou completed his ascent and stood before the citadel gates, where guards awaited him.
— Halt, – one of them said in a deep voice, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. – Outsiders are not welcome here.
— If I encounter them, I will make sure to inform them, – Emiya replied with a completely serious expression...
...after which he instantly felt a cold blade at his throat.
— Last warning, – the guard reiterated without a hint of doubt. – Take another step, and it will be your last.
- It seems violence is unavoidable… again. However, perhaps this time it's for the best. These guys are unlikely to understand anything but the language of strength…
Time Alter: Double Accelerate!
With superhuman speed, he dodged the blade that was about to slice his throat, and then Shiro found a sword in his hands, which he thrust into the guard's chest without further ado.
The acceleration faded, and Emiya quickly turned to parry the blow from the second guard with his stiletto. The steel clashed loudly, sparking as their blades met. Again and again, their weapons crossed, but it wouldn't be fair to say that the young man was in dire straits. The real issue was that Shiro wasn't really used to open combat. He was an assassin, not a fencer.
From within came the distant sound of commotion, indicating that their scuffle had attracted attention, and reinforcements were already on their way to assist the guard.
- Well, let them come because...
— …I'll chop you all like sausage! – he spat venomously at the guard.
Determined to end this rat's brawl, Emiya pulled out a couple of throwing knives from his Void and hurled them at the assassin. To his surprise, the killer managed to deflect one with his sword, but the second struck him in the shoulder, allowing Shirou to close the distance and swiftly sever his head with a quick strike.
The body collapsed, blood staining the snow beneath it.
Emiya allowed himself a relieved exhale, but the silence lasted only briefly, as new enemies began to emerge from the gates, and they clearly were not pleased with the sight of the corpses.
— Come on, jackals, – he hissed, raising his bloodied blade. – There's plenty of me to go around...
***
Hanaam hurried towards the gates of the citadel alongside the dai and two dozen fidains. A few minutes earlier, they had been informed of the intrusion: an unknown assailant had engaged the guards and killed both sentinels.
Hanaam was born and raised in Alamut, even before the Mentor arrived. Two years ago, he joined the brotherhood and had since risen to the rank of rafik. Hanaam had seen much: blood had stained his hands more than once, and he had long lost count of the corpses he left behind, but he had never witnessed such audacity...
- Do we know anything about him? - the dai asked one of the assassins.
- Only that he is alone, - the assassin replied tersely.
- Not much, though it's not crucial. I think he will tell us everything else himself... if he can survive until then.
A few minutes later, they reached the gates of the citadel to see for themselves the one who was foolish or mad enough to dare such an act.
What lay before them left the dai and the others in a mild shock. On the ground were ten corpses, which had recently belonged to the fortress guards. The snow around them was stained red with spilled blood...
The perpetrator of this massacre was a dark-haired young man of Eastern appearance, covered in the blood of those he had slain. He stared dispassionately off to the side, as if oblivious to the approaching reinforcements.
- He's... younger than me, - Hanaam murmured in astonishment.
As if hearing those words, the young man turned his head and fixed a pair of ruby eyes on the newcomers, observing them with a discerning gaze.
- And this is it? Is this all I deserve? - he asked absently. - How many more of your brothers must I kill to get his attention?
The assassins drew their weapons from their sheaths, ready to attack him, but the dai raised his hand, stopping them.
- Don't interfere. You would only waste your lives, - he said sternly. - I will handle this myself.
- But... - Hanaam tried to protest, but caught himself in time, arguing with elders was not his way.
- Inform the Mentor, at once, - the dai added, moving forward.
- So now you are my opponent? - Emiya asked him.
- Indeed, - the assassin nodded. - I don't know who you are or why you bring death to our sanctuary... but you have come a long way towards your demise.
- I do not fear Death, for I walk in the shadow of it... - Shirou said with a hint of irony, raising his sword.
Though their faces were hidden by masks, he was willing to bet that surprise flickered across them once again.
- I see... - the dai said thoughtfully. - But that only gives me one more reason to kill you.
Without further words, they rushed towards each other, raising their swords to strike. In a second, they clashed with a clang. But before their blades could separate, the dai swiftly kicked Shirou in the stomach, knocking him off balance, which the assassin seized upon to prepare to behead Emiya. To his surprise, however, the young man managed to evade the blade that whizzed overhead, while directing his sword toward the dai's throat. The assassin parried the blow, causing the blade to miss, only slightly tearing the cloak, after which Shiro received a powerful strike to the solar plexus.
The sound of steel clashing and the dull thuds of their blows were the only things breaking the heavy silence around them. It seemed as if even the raging wind in the mountains had suddenly quieted, as if the entire world had shrunk to the size of a small arena where two outstanding warriors fought to the death.
But nothing lasts forever, and the initiative began to slowly slip from Shirou's grasp. The lack of experience in open combat and the struggle against the guard started to show, manifesting as wounds inflicted on him by the dai. Moreover, it became evident that forever relying on instinct, speed, and mere blind luck was tantamount to signing his own death warrant. He needed to finish this quickly; otherwise, only defeat and a long, painful death awaited him.
- Now or never! - he mentally screamed.
Time Alter: Square Accel!
Time slowed once more, giving him precious seconds of advantage. Shirou understood that the backlash would be monstrous, but that was a price he was willing to pay for victory.
The dai's sword slowly advanced toward him, but as it turned out, for the last time...
...because with an unimaginable speed beyond that of an ordinary person, Emiya dodged the attack and severed the assassin's arm at the elbow.
A barely contained scream of pain escaped the dai's lips. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his arm, biting down on his lips to the point of drawing blood, attempting to remain conscious.
All who had been mere spectators until then unsheathed their weapons and surged forward...
Hovering over the wounded man, Emiya raised his blade, prepared to dispatch the dai just as he had done with his previous opponents, but...
...he was halted by a voice that rang out through the chaos. A single authoritative word that cut through the sounds of battle and brought everything to a standstill.
Enough.
Shirou froze and slowly raised his head towards the voice.
A figure clad in armor, draped in a black cloak like a shroud, stood a few meters away from him. He did not shout that word. In fact, he barely raised his voice. All it took for this man was the absolute authority in his tone.
The effects of the acceleration crashed down upon Emiya, causing excruciating pain, but at that moment, he paid no heed to it. His entire focus was on the figure standing before him.
Shirou was not easily frightened; he had lost all his fear long ago in the fire in Fuyuki. He was used to others fearing him. But the figure before him sent shivers through his body, and the young man clearly understood that the cause of it was neither the cold nor the pain.
- So it's you who has caused all this commotion? - he asked in a deep, rough voice, almost otherworldly. But it was not quite a question. More like a weary reproach directed at a child who had pulled an adult away from important matters.
- So you are the Old Man of the Mountain, - Shirou muttered, scrutinizing the leader of the assassins.
- Who are you? Why have you come here? Why are you taking the lives of my men? - The Old Man spoke slowly, emphasizing each question, and for some reason, the young man had no thought of deceiving him.
- I wanted to meet you, - Emiya replied as confidently as he could. -I have been told that only you possess what I need.
- Hmm... and what was worth this journey, spilling so much blood? - for a moment, Shirou thought he sensed interest in the assassin's voice rather than malice. - What is it that you desire so much that you were not afraid to take so many lives to achieve it?
- Death... I want to know Death.
- ...Is that all?
- Yes.
A long, heavy silence fell between them. The Old Man's eyes scrutinized him keenly, as if probing his very soul.
- You are afraid... - he broke the silence, as if finding the answer to his question. - But not of me...
- He is not human... I don't know why, but I'm absolutely certain he is not an ordinary mortal... - Shirou thought, feeling an involuntary tremor before this being.
- So you want to understand what Death is? - the Old Man asked, drawing a long two-handed sword from its sheath. - Nothing simpler...
Before Emiya could fathom it, the assassin leader appeared before him, delivering a horizontal strike with his sword. At the last moment, the young man managed to block the attack, but...
...the blow shattered his sword into fragments and sent him tumbling a couple of meters away.
- Are you joking?! He shattered a weapon reinforced with mana?! - Shirou was in shock over what had happened. - This was clearly not magic; it must be the sword itself. I guess it's best not to get hit...
- What's wrong? Why do you look so confused? - the Old Man asked as he approached him. - My men described you as almost a Shaitan in the flesh. But all I see before me is a puppy that confuses its baby teeth for fangs...
- If that's the case... then I'll just break him! - Emiya resolved, activating the Eyes of Death.
- Ha... So that's it? Interesting... - The first hint of open curiosity came into the assassin's voice. - Perhaps this is even fated.
In Shirou's hands were a sword and a stiletto, which he intended to slice the lines on his opponent's blade. Even a single hit could be considered victory. Given his state, he could not count on more.
- Let's go... - he whispered, preparing for another charge.
Time Alter: Double Accelerate!
Feeling the acceleration, Emiya surged towards his opponent, but the Old Man did not stand still and launched a counterattack.
Yet, just a few steps before their collision, the young man felt pain and weakness throughout his body. Everything went dark before his eyes, his body felt heavy, and the effects of the acceleration faded. At that moment, the leader of the assassins was upon him, delivering a devastating blow.
Like last time, Emiya's weapon was shattered, and the Old Man's blade glided across the young man's chest.
Shirou fell face-first into the snow, devoid of the strength to rise.
- Lift him, - the Old Man commanded his subordinates, and they immediately obeyed his will.
Emiya was lifted by his arms and held firmly, preventing him from collapsing back. His head hung helplessly down.
— Lift your head when I speak to you.
He struggled to raise his gaze, looking straight into the eyes of the one holding his life in his hands.
— Even now, I see denial in your eyes. What is it? Blind faith or pride?
But his question remained unanswered.
— Even when Azrael has already raised his sword over you... you refuse to accept defeat, - the Elder continued. - Only a fool or a brave man would deny the obvious.
Emiya did not respond again and felt more than saw the iron grip tightening around his throat.
— Find humility in your heart, child, - the Elder's voice carried a hint of anger. - Or I will rip it out of you with my bare hands!
— …ay… – Shirou managed to force out. – Hell… no way… Admit defeat? Surrender? That's… not my way… and I refuse to… accept such an outcome…
— Then you leave me no choice… - the Elder said disappointedly, taking the dagger handed to him…
…and then he thrust it forcefully into Emiya's chest.
— Peace be upon you, child…
That was the last thing he heard before plunging into darkness…