The blade of Kanshou shimmered in the darkness and clashed with a clang against the sabre aimed at his neck.
Shirou didn't have time to respond to the attack, as at that moment his right hand, gripping Bakuya tightly, surged upwards, deflecting the thrust of the short sword. The opportunity had already passed, but he moved forward anyway, cutting through… merely a shadow, a pitiful fragment of a cloak.
The blades continued to clash with their characteristic metallic ringing, sending a flurry of sparks that barely dispelled the dimness of the dungeon.
A strike. The blade of Kanshou scraped sharply, leaving a deep gash on one of the assassin's swords. The second assassin attempted to silently attack from behind, aiming to slice Shirou from shoulder to groin, but, as if sensing something, he slipped sideways. The assassin spun like a dancer and delivered a powerful blow in a half-turn. Emiya ducked, sidestepped, and then turned, deflecting the thrust of one of his adversaries on the move.
Adroitly twisting away, the young man found himself next to another assassin and, quicker than the assassin could react, he swung his arm sharply. Blood sprayed from the assassins' cut cheek.
However, Shirou had no time to celebrate this small victory, for the next moment he felt a powerful kick to his side, which momentarily knocked him off balance. The assassin seized this opportunity, and the young man could only watch as two short, lightning-fast blades darted toward him like the bite of a snake. Two crimson spots slowly appeared on Emiya's clothing.
- Son of a... - Shirou hissed, clenching the hilts of his weapons painfully.
The blades shot upward, forcing the assassin to retreat and leaving four jagged marks on his leather chest protector, concealed by the characteristic cloak. But he was immediately replaced by his partner, who delivered a low blow that the young man barely blocked; yet the assassin merely used the momentum to slice through the air, leaving a deep cut on Emiya's neck.
Cursing in Italian, which the late Sif had taught him perfectly, Shiro leaped aside. The wound was not fatal, but it left an unpleasant aftertaste.
- Now we'll get serious... - he rasped.
- Now we'll finish this... - one of the "shadows" promised maliciously, approaching him with the sabre at the ready.
Shirou retreated into the darkness, and the assassin merely sliced at air. The killer snorted, slid forward, and attacked again. Once, twice, three times... but each swift thrust was easily blocked by Emiya's paired blades.
A short sword glinted from the side, poised to pierce Shirou's throat, but he, as if expecting this, quickly swung one of his blades, diverting the deadly edge aside. The assassin hesitated, helplessly watching as the young man raised the blade of Kansho above his head.
- You are mine, - Shirou whispered with a triumphant smile.
- Yes, I can agree with you there, - came a mocking voice from behind.
The razor-sharp sabre sliced through the air, and by some unknown miracle, Shirou managed to stop it mere centimeters from his neck.
- Enough! - a voice boomed, cutting through the battle.
The tension in the air disappeared instantly, and all fighters lowered their weapons, finally paying attention to their injuries.
Shirou grimaced, touching the cut on his neck, but immediately dropped his hand upon noticing the owner of that voice approaching him.
- You rely too heavily on your right hand, Rashid, - he said in a stern, cold tone. - Every time you repeat the same movement, which allows an experienced opponent to easily predict your next step. You have paired weapons—use your blades as a single unit.
- It's just more comfortable for me, - Shirou replied indifferently.
- And if an enemy takes your right hand from you, what will you do then? - the assassin inquired ironically.
- Looks like I'd have to learn to use my left.
- Learn now. Trust me, in battle, you won't have such luxury, - he scoffed at that answer. - But I'm not here for that. The Master wants to see you, so tidy yourself up and go. Don't keep him waiting...
- As you say, Dai, - Shirou replied with a slight nod, placing his fist to his chest.
Watching the assassin leave the hall, Emiya couldn't help but smirk inwardly. After all, the advice he had received was from the very warrior whose arm he had cut off during his incursion into Alamut. The fact that he was now sharing such experience could only be seen as irony...
***
Months had passed since he was accepted into the order's ranks. After that memorable conversation, Hassan had not summoned Shirou again, but their dialogue was etched in his memory as if it had happened just yesterday.
Behind him lay a series of successful missions. It wasn't that it significantly elevated his reputation in the eyes of other assassins, but changes had occurred, albeit minor. After all, a person's accomplishments deserve, if not respect, then at least some recognition. And given the nature of his missions…
He found himself once more facing the familiar massive door, guarded by vigilant sentries.
- The Master is waiting for you, - one of them said briefly, then knocked and opened the door without awaiting a response.
Shiro nodded slightly and stepped inside, after which the door slammed shut behind him.
Hassan sat at his table, reviewing the scrolls laid out before him. As before, he seemed not to notice Shirou's arrival. However, Emiya himself did not rush to start a conversation, feeling quite calm about it, over time, it had begun to seem to him that this was a common characteristic among those higher up in the order: making subordinates humbly wait until their superiors deemed them worthy of attention.
- ...or maybe I'm just 'special', - a thought flitted through his mind.
- I suppose you're wondering why I summoned you? - Hassan's low, raspy voice cut through the silence, bringing him back to reality.
- As I understand it, you have a mission for me? - Shirou ventured cautiously.
The elder set the scrolls aside, then stood up and leisurely approached the window, observing the raging blizzard outside.
- A few days ago, I sent a team to the city of Tikrit to assassinate its emir. Following the death of Sultan Melik-Shah, chaos erupted in the Seljuk state, and now his sons are tearing the country apart. The emir of Tikrit has officially not supported any of them, and we decided that his death would create a necessary power vacuum, allowing us to take the city under our control; however...
- No one returned?
- Correct.
- Doesn't that just mean they simply failed?
- In another situation, I would think the same, but those I sent after the emir were not mere Fidai. They were experienced assassins, who had proven their worth and skill time and again. What troubles me is not their possible failure, but their absolute silence. Even if they had failed, I would have known about it. But instead, they simply vanished...
- And my goal is to find them? - Shirou asked, following the train of thought of his lord.
- No, - Hassan replied curtly, finally turning to him. - Your task remains the same — the emir Al-Bakr must die, and you will carry out that sentence. The methods and means of execution I leave to your discretion... I am only interested in the result.
- And what about those you sent earlier? - Emiya asked uncertainly.
- It doesn't matter. Everyone here knows that the next minute… every breath could be the last. If this group has failed, that is their personal fault, and they must face the consequences of their failure. Everything else is in the hands of Allah. However… - the elder's tone softened slightly. - If you are so concerned about the fate of your brothers... should the opportunity arise, you may try to shed light on what happened. But! — his voice regained steel — This must not in any way come at the expense of my orders. First the emir, everything else is secondary. I will not tolerate failure or excuses. Even if you all return without a scratch but without Al-Bakr's head, I will replace it with your own! Am I clear, Rashid?
- More than clear, - Shirou replied, struggling to suppress a tremor.
- Excellent... I have been watching your accomplishments and have remained pleased, so I will accept nothing less than complete and unconditional success from you... - With these words, the fire in his eyes flared, as if peering into Shirou's very soul. - I placed my trust in you, Rashid. Prove that it was not in vain... go.
The blue flames dimmed slightly, and Hassan turned away, signaling that the audience was over.
- Your will is to be done by my hands, - Shirou replied, bowing, and left his chamber.
***
Leaving the Old Man, Shirou navigated the labyrinthine corridors and staircases until he climbed onto the fortress wall, seeking a moment to collect himself.
- Now this is what I call jumping from the frying pan into the fire! - he thought whimsically, wrapping himself in his cloak.
To his immense fortune, the blizzard had begun to die down, which meant he would soon be setting out. Only a few hours remained before preparations, time he wanted to spend alone with his thoughts.
- Charming… one more suicidal mission after another! Now I have to kill a man whom an entire squad could not handle. And according to his words, it's not just some rookies... and I have to do it solo! Sounds like pure madness...
A gust of icy wind made him shiver, but at the same time helped to calm his thoughts.
- Although... my very presence here already fits that description, - he thought with a sigh. - And that's why my entire life is steeped in the motto 'move forward or die'?
Shirou felt that the cloak had stopped protecting him from the cold, so he headed back to the fortress, finishing his thoughts as he walked.
- Alright, if I set aside the complaints... it's not like I have much choice. I'll have to play by the local rules — there's no other way. Just like there's no sense in burying myself before my time; I'll sort everything out on the spot. After all, this emir is just a man, so he can be killed...
***
The next village appeared before him rather quickly. Evening was approaching, and for a traveler trudging through the desert, it was like heavenly manna, heralding upcoming rest and a hearty dinner.
But… over the past few days, this was far from the first settlement Shiro had encountered, yet he hadn't lingered in any of them.
And for some reason, his intuition suggested that this case wouldn't be much different from the previous ones.
Entering the suspiciously quiet village, Emiya dismounted and tied his horse near the well as he strolled through the deserted, seemingly abandoned streets. Peeking into some of the houses only amplified the eerie impression he was under.
— Nothing at all, - the young man concluded with a sigh. - It's like I'm in one of those horror movies that Ferro loved so much.
…A week had passed since his departure from Alamut, and as he approached Tikrit, the area began to seem suspiciously desolate. Not that it was a densely populated region, but out of the three villages he had encountered, all had been deserted.
It was hardly surprising during times of turmoil; rather the opposite—such "landscapes" were more than commonplace. Even in the modern world, people continued to flee from war and other misfortunes, leaving almost everything behind to save their lives.
Yet in the picture he had been facing over the last couple of days, there existed a certain… flaw. Shirou had seen it both while independently surveying the abandoned villages and through familiars that scoured around. And everywhere, the scene was chillingly the same: abandoned homes, remnants of items left inside; no signs of attack, disease, or anything else that could have caused people to flee into the unknown...
No. It felt as if everyone had simply left peacefully...
Emiya couldn't be called superstitious, but this, to put it mildly, "strange" start to his mission didn't inspire much optimism. Furthermore, the same intuition that had saved his life more than once constantly whispered that it would be better to leave this obscure place as soon as possible.
Shirou couldn't shake the thought that something unseen had been watching him ever since he visited that first abandoned village. Even his horse, raised in Alamut and accustomed to the oppressive atmosphere of the fortress, shared his unease, increasingly displaying restlessness and a desire to leave as quickly as possible.
— - I have no idea what awaits me at the end of the road... - Shirou mumbled, jumping into the saddle and wrapping himself tighter in his cloak, - but I feel it won't be anything good...
***
After another two days, Emiya entered the city gates of Tikrit with some relief. It wasn't that the bad feeling had disappeared along the way, but at least he had reached his destination and encountered living people there, which was already something of a progress.
At first glance, the city didn't seem particularly special; at least, Shiro didn't see anything that stood out. Except for the fact that there were far more people here than one might expect from such a town, but considering the current situation in the country, that was perfectly normal — people were simply trying to escape to where it was safe. In theory, the inhabitants of those villages could have blended into this colorful crowd, but for some reason, Emiya felt that it wasn't so simple...
- Well, let's set that aside for now... - the young man thought, trying to focus on more important matters.
His target was the local emir — the most powerful man in the city, whom even a well-organized group had failed to kill, and whose fate still remained a mystery. Hassan's order was more than clear, and it wasn't that Shiro cared much for the fate of the brothers who openly despised him, but something told Emiya that unlocking this mystery could help him in his main task. After all, if those Assassins were indeed professionals, even a morsel of information regarding their failure could prove useful.
— Alright, I'll tackle problems as they come... - Shirou muttered as he dismounted.
What he wanted most now was to satisfy his hunger and finally get some decent rest. Of course, given his previous lifestyle, he often ended up sleeping in the open field or in far less pleasant conditions, but Emiya always tried to avoid such scenarios. In his opinion, there was not a single drop of the romance that filmmakers loved to attribute to such engagements.
Leading his horse, the young man pushed through the crowded streets until he finally reached the inn where he planned to recuperate. However, as he approached, he noticed a large crowd gathered, which made his chest tighten with anxiety. Not that it was unexpected, but the last thing Shiro wanted to do was search for another place to spend the night.
However, the owner of the establishment was also reluctant to welcome a huge crowd that could bring more losses than profits, so at the entrance, Emiya found a couple of bouncers who prevented any riffraff from entering. Initially, he was also categorized as such, but... it took just a bribe for each of them, and their attitude instantly became warm and welcoming.
Inside, the crowd was hardly smaller than that outside—the owner was in for an unprecedented profit. Carefully navigating through the rows, Shiro approached the counter where the proprietor was busy taking orders, barking at the servants who, in his view, were slacking off.
After muttering another curse, he turned to Emiya and gruffly asked:
— What do you want, drifter?
— - A drink and a place to rest, - Shirou replied coldly, attributing the owner's rudeness to the endless stream of guests.
— People like you aren't welcome here, - the innkeeper replied in the same tone, gesturing with his eyes at Emiya's tattered and dusty clothing that marked him as an outsider.
— Kind sir, if you say something like that again, I might get angry... and we wouldn't want that, would we? - the young man slowly said, suppressing a surge of anger. He had a mission, and to carry it out successfully, he couldn't attract attention.
— Ha... another one. Kid, do you have any idea how many just like you have come here? Do you know how many have tried to threaten me? Believe me, among them were people far more intimidating than...
The innkeeper fell silent, sensing an uncomfortable chill running down his spine. Shirou didn't move, simply looking at him with that icy gaze that instilled fear in his victims, and it produced the desired effect.
— There's nothing left, we're out, - the innkeeper muttered, deflated.
— Well then, find some; I'm in no hurry, - Emiya scoffed, tossing a handful of gold coins onto the counter.
— Alright, let's see what I can do, - the innkeeper nodded, regaining some composure before issuing instructions to a passing maid. - Anything else?
— Food. And don't you dare try to say 'no'...
— Point taken, - the innkeeper muttered despondingly, then, as if to avoid total humiliation, added, - But find a place for yourself.
— I'll manage somehow... - the young man replied, not hiding his amusement, then glanced around the hall and casually inquired, - Are all the people in this city so friendly, or do I really look that much like a drifter bringing problems?
— - Who knows, maybe you really have a face that doesn't inspire confidence... - he began, but couldn't finish the phrase as Shirou's gaze chilled again. - Listen, I don't want any trouble...
— Then just answer my question, and maybe I'll remind you what a 'generous client' means... Emiya taunted, raising a hand with an emerald pinched between his fingers, which made the innkeeper's eyes glisten with greed.
After a moment's hesitation, the man sighed and slowly began his tale:
— Ah... disease. A terrible sickness struck our city several months ago. It reaped lives like a reaper gathering crops. Words can't convey the anguish they suffered before dying... - the innkeeper shuddered involuntarily, as if the memories awakened his fear of the dreadful disease. - The wailing and moaning in the city was so unbearable that one would want to cut off their ears just to avoid hearing it... so don't be surprised that we don't like outsiders. We all lost loved ones, and many went mad from it.
— Of course I've heard rumors, but I didn't think it was that serious... and outwardly, one wouldn't say that a plague recently ravaged this place.
— Yes. And we are all thankful to Emir Al-Bakr for that. Truly, Allah himself sent him to us in these dark times.
— The emir? - the young man asked in surprise. - What did he do?
— He saved us! Day and night, he prayed to Allah without eating or drinking anything, and the Almighty heard his pleas. He imposed penance upon us, thereby freeing us from sin and strengthening our faith! - the innkeeper spoke passionately. All traces of his previous coldness and arrogance were gone, and he now resembled more of a religious fanatic, which piqued Emiya's interest. Meanwhile, the man continued. - We started by cleansing our homes and streets of sin and filth, and the next day all the 'dirt' was buried and forgotten. In the morning, the emir came to us and said, 'You all have worked splendidly to rid our city of sin, and I know how hard this was for you; I know that these were your loved ones… but Allah has sent the plague as punishment for their sins! You are pure, and therefore, you shall live!'… And we believed him. During the plague, the city seemed to fall into a deep sleep, and those words awakened it in an entirely different way. From that day on, the illness disappeared. Only a few sick remained, but they too would soon be back on their feet...
- What a cautionary tale, to say the least, - Shirou mused thoughtfully, carefully placing an emerald before the innkeeper. - Thank you for the story, until we meet again...
With the food already brought, Emiya slowly shuffled between the occupied tables, catching the cold stares of some patrons. It wasn't that he wasn't used to such treatment from strangers, but the hostility in the locals' eyes felt peculiar, almost… otherworldly.
- What a welcoming little town, don't you think? - A quiet voice broke the rhythmic clattering of spoons, directed at Shirou.
Turning around, the assassin saw a man in his forties with a neatly trimmed beard, dressed in worn travel clothes, marking him as much of an outsider as Emia. With a sly glance at the young man, he gestured to the seat in front of him.
- Take a seat, efendi, - he kindly offered. - You won't hear a kind word from the locals here, let alone a warm welcome. I think you've already experienced that for yourself?
- Thank you for the invitation, - Shirou replied, mirroring the politeness as he sat down opposite the man. - From your comments and your appearance, it seems you're not from here either?
- Indeed, - the stranger grimaced as if taking offense to the question. - I'm just a humble trader, stuck in this hole thanks to the Devil himself! I've been here for two weeks with my goods, while my wife and children wait for me at home. Because of this damned plague, the city has closed all its gates — no one is allowed in or out. Believe me, kid, nothing harms trade like epidemics. The only thing missing for total misery is the tax collectors...
- So there really was a plague in the city?"
- I don't know. Although after hearing the locals' tales, I try to stay far away from anyone who even sneezes from dust, - the trader shrugged, breaking a piece of bread. - I should have gone straight to Tiflis, skipping this wretched place.
- Indeed, a truly enchanted city. First epidemics, then murders... - Shirou replied pensively.
- By the way, what brings you here?
- It's easier to find work in a big city for someone like me… but it seems I made this trip for nothing, - Emiya lamented mockingly.
- I see... A mercenary, - the trader scoffed, clearly having his own opinions about that profession, though he didn't voice them. - Yes, efendi, you've clearly chosen the wrong place. The locals sometimes look at each other like wolves, let alone at people of your profession, - the man paused, then leaned forward slightly and added quietly. - Take my advice: leave this city while you still can. To me, it's cursed...
- Oh, come now… sickness and deprivation are not such extraordinary phenomena. Especially in such troubled times, - Shirou remarked skeptically. - People just need a little time: after what they've endured, it's no surprise they look askance even at their neighbors.
- Well, everyone sees what they want to see. Perhaps this town isn't so odd, if you avoid night strolls and don't pry into the locals' business. Still, you've already learned that they won't share anything out of goodwill. I'm not one to shun risk, but I'm not rushing to meet Allah just yet, and I advise you the same, efendi...
- I'll keep that in mind, - Shirou smirked, nodding gratefully at his companion. - Now, shall we change the subject?
***
Soon, night enveloped the city, covering it with a veil of darkness and silence. The inn remained quiet, aside from a few loiterers, an eternal part of any era.
Shirou lay on the mattress in his room, surrounded by complete stillness. For a moment, one might think he'd fallen asleep with his eyes closed, but at that moment, he was far from dreaming.
All the original plans he had laid out during his journey could now be confidently discarded, as they no longer applied to the situation. If at first this mission reeked of something foul, it now stank outright.
This city… Emiya had never considered himself superstitious, but the trader's words stirred up within him that strange feeling he experienced when visiting deserted villages. Yes, despite a certain coldness, the city didn't seem threatening, yet his instincts told him otherwise...
In the past few days, a cascade of unpleasant sensations had not left him. The foremost and most dominant of these was a truly horrible, primal fear. Were it not for the mission, he would have avoided this city and all nearby villages by a long shot.
Despite the clothing and relatively warm, by local standards, night, Emiya found himself shivering intermittently. The memories of the recent dinner offered him not an ounce of optimism. The entire evening, he had been under the weight of many heavy glances, which made him uncomfortable at times, adding to the city's gloomy atmosphere.
The feeling of unavoidable disaster hung over Tikrit like the Sword of Damocles. And, summing up all these facts, Shirou came to the conclusion that something truly strange was happening in this city.
- A city of wonders, damn it, - Emiya snorted loudly, rising and, after pacing around the room, leaned against one of the walls...
…from which immediately came muffled sounds of commotion. At first, the tired young man paid it no mind, but then, recalling what time it was, he succumbed to curiosity and pressed his ear against the wall to listen.
- …uck! That bastard cut my hand! - someone groaned in pain.
- Stop screaming, Garsif; it'll heal before the wedding, - his companion replied mockingly.
- It's easy for you to say, - the first man retorted irritably. - Damn… who would have guessed he had a dagger under his pillow?
- That cautious bastard, don't say a thing... though it's not to say it helped him, - the second voice remarked with a mix of scorn and respect. - God… I can't shake the thought that it would have been simpler if we could just kill them...
- Believe me, you're not alone in that.
For a moment, silence fell behind the wall, as if each was lost in their own unpleasant thoughts.
- Well, words won't help now. Wrap up the wound, and let's carry him, - the unnamed man sighed. - And be careful, I don't want to have to drag you along too.
- What about the second one? You know, the one he was chatting with in the evening? Should we inform them to grab him too?
- No, let him live for now. Something tells me it would be more trouble than it's worth to mess with him… alright, let's go…
For a moment, everything fell silent, and then the soft sound of a closing door was heard. The young man stepped away from the wall, automatically checking his weapons. A vague smile spread across his face:
- Ho-ho… what an interesting twist this is… It seems my companion, as the song goes, 'knew too much…' - Shirou mused, feverishly contemplating the new information. - Indeed, something is seriously amiss with this city, if they're ready to kill a man for a couple of careless words. Perhaps I should take a little 'stroll' to uncover more...
***
Emiya glided silently through the dark alleys, trying to keep a safe distance from the guards hauling the unconscious trader. The streets were deserted, which allowed them to move swiftly and freely through the city, clearly unafraid of drawing unwanted attention.
However, there was another matter that troubled the pursuer even more: while Shiro hadn't had the chance to wander the city and study its layout, it didn't seem like they were dragging their captive to the dungeons or any local equivalent, and if they had simply wanted to kill him, they could have done so back at the inn.
- Where are you taking him? - he muttered in confusion, wrapping himself in his tattered cloak.
After a while, they reached a large warehouse at the edge of the city. Looking around to spot any unnecessary witnesses, one of the guards knocked on the massive gates, which instantly creaked open. A face of another guard peeked out from the darkness, exchanging a few phrases with the newcomers before letting them in.
After waiting a few more minutes for assurance, Shirou slipped out from his hiding place and surveyed the warehouse. It would be foolish and pointless to force his way in — unlike the raid on the slave traders' camp, he had no idea how many enemies were inside or what awaited him there. Moreover, if he raised an alarm, guards from all around the city would come running, and this venture was already too risky. Emiya needed to act more quietly and thoughtfully.
Steeling himself, Shirou made a powerful leap up the wall and grasped the edge of the roof, pulling himself up to the top. There, he found several small windows that he could easily slip through. He noticed there were no bars or locks, which made sense, as even a highly skilled climber couldn't reach this place.
Peeking inside cautiously, Emiya saw only one guard lazily strolling through the warehouse, clearly not expecting unexpected guests. Nimbly leaping onto one of the beams, the young man silently descended and waited until the guard passed him. Once behind him, Shiro seized the guard and pressed the blade to his throat.
- Quiet. Don't do anything foolish... I'm a bit on edge right now, so don't give my hand a reason to twitch, got it? - he whispered into the man's ear, exerting slight pressure on the blade, causing a thin scarlet line to bloom on the guard's neck.
- W-what do you want? - the terrified guard stammered in a trembling voice.
- I know what's going on here, so tell me where the two from the chest and their companion are, and then we'll part ways.
- I y-you don't understand... I-I... I can't... - he stuttered in fear, trying to justify himself, but the pain in his neck stopped him from completing this futile business.
- My friend, you've misunderstood me… I will find them regardless. In which case, you'll be of no use to me, and useless people only have one end... Should I continue? - Shirou said, clearly losing his patience and driving the guard to the brink of confessing.
- T-there! They're there! - the guard nearly shouted, pointing towards a pile of barrels. - They are over there!
- See? That wasn't too hard, was it? - Shirou asked softly, patting him on the shoulder…
…after which he swiftly slit the guard's throat.
- No hard feelings, but I couldn't risk leaving you alive. I hope you have better luck in your next life, - he muttered, indifferent as he watched the guard choke on his own blood.
Leaving the unfortunate man to his final moments, Shiro wiped the blood off his dagger and headed in the direction indicated by his unfortunate witness...
***
Behind the rows of barrels, he discovered a large hatch, wide enough for two people to pass through comfortably. The entrance was, of course, locked, but that was hardly a problem for someone with his talents.
After a minute of fiddling, the hatch swung open, engulfing him in a wave of unnaturally cold air that chilled him to the bone. Shiro shivered, wrapping himself tighter in his cloak, and with a sigh, stepped onto the ladder, its stone steps disappearing into the darkness below.
He tried to move silently, but his footsteps echoed weakly against the walls as if counting each beat of his heart. Naturally, there was no lighting, so he had to rely on his night vision, which regrettably didn't produce immediate results.
The passage continued to descend, leading Emiya to wonder just how deep it was. However, that thought quickly faded into the background, replaced by musings about the recklessness of his actions. If he thought about it... he had stumbled upon this place almost by accident and was now ready to descend into this rabbit hole, risking encountering well-hidden barracks of guards or something worse… sheer madness, if reason had any say. But… his intuition, which he had grown so accustomed to trusting, relentlessly guided him forward, and as it turned out, it was not in vain...
Soon, voices echoed ahead, forcing him to stop involuntarily. Straining to listen, Shirou tried to grasp the conversation, but only indistinct fragments of phrases reached him, refusing to form a coherent picture. Carefully descending a few more steps, he found himself in front of a massive door, the last barrier separating him from the inhabitants of this strange underground lair. Peering through the keyhole and ensuring he wouldn't bump into another guard, Emiya grasped the handle and gently pushed it forward.
As before, he was met with a gust of cold air, but this time it was not he who caused the blood to freeze in his veins...
This place… slaughterhouse would be the best word to describe it. Meat hooks hung everywhere, bearing bags filled with carcasses. Some bags were so worn that body parts were visible through the numerous holes, still dripping with blood. Other corpses simply lay on tables along the walls, scattered haphazardly or piled in heaps near huge cauldrons. On the walls hung flayed skin, stretched over hooks, as if some twisted master was preparing to tan it. In areas where former faces could be made out, Emiya clearly discerned frozen expressions of absolute horror.
But the most horrifying part was far from being the crowning feature of this grotesque display.
In the center of the hall stood something resembling an altar, vaguely resembling a huge cutting board soaked in both dried and fresh human blood. On the altar lay a human body, bleeding from numerous gaping wounds inflicted by something akin to a serrated knife. In this poor soul, Shiro recognized the very merchant with whom he had innocently chatted that evening.
He was surrounded by a group of two dozen individuals of various appearances, among whom were several guards that he recognized. The others ranged from simple townsfolk to quite wealthy individuals, judging by the rings sparkling on their fingers.
- Haha… so this is your 'fresh meat'? I was hoping for something better, - one of them cackled grotesquely, grinning like a lunatic.
- Shut up, Gafir, - one of the guards snapped, a shadow of disgust crossing his face. - At least show some respect!
- What respect are you talking about? Does a lion pity its prey? Have you ever regretted the sheep you slaughtered? - sneered the man standing to the left of him. - If you're too cowardly, just step aside and enjoy the leftovers!
- No… don't tell me that you… - an atrocious realization struck Shirou, making him feel a wave of nausea rise in his throat.
- Enough - dawn is soon. You can argue all you want; we get the most, - interrupted another voice, irritated by their quarrel.
In the light of the few torches, a knife glinted, which moments later plunged into the cooling flesh of the victim, slicing a decent piece of meat from which blood poured. Raising the knife to eye level, one of the men took the piece in hand and… with a growl, sank his teeth into it like a ravenous jackal.
Shirou barely managed to hold back his vomit right there and then. With trembling hands, he clamped his mouth shut as if trying to suppress the waves of nausea that refused to subside.
A whirlwind of various thoughts stormed through the young man's mind, but only one stood out clearly above the rest...
These… these monsters… they were cannibals!
He had seen something like this before. He had witnessed how dozens of ghouls devoured corpses or even still-living people, but… those were vampires, a type of undead that simply couldn't and wouldn't live any other way. But these… they consumed a still-warm corpse and, judging by their laughter and delighted chewing, seemed to enjoy it!
- So… my brothers… were they too…?
Emiya's hands trembled even more, but now the cause of his shaking was not disgust… no… it had transformed into a seething rage, igniting in his chest like the flames of a roaring fire.
- Bastards… - he uttered, as if in a trance, before emerging from the shadows, drawing his blades. - Bastards…
Hearing his voice, the nearest of the cannibals turned to him and screamed in fright:
- Who's there? Hey, there's an outsider!.. —he couldn't finish because at that moment his head was severed from his shoulders and flew to the side.
- To arms, there's an enemy here! exclaimed one of the guards, snapping the others out of their stupor.
The other cannibals immediately grabbed knives, cleavers, daggers, and swords, but all of it proved pointless. Shiro literally crashed into the crowd, delivering blows at a frenzied pace, each swing carving, chopping, and slicing the cannibals to shreds. He didn't even feel the pain from the strikes he endured — his mind clouded in a crimson haze, and only one thought revolved in his head: to kill… to slaughter them all!
Those among them who showed enough sense rushed for the exit in a desperate attempt to save their skins. The rest faced a death akin to that which they had condemned countless innocent people to, the fate of livestock in a slaughterhouse. After a few minutes of carnage, only one of them remained alive, the one who had expressed the most disgust at their revolting act.
— I-I beg you, spare me! – he pleaded in despair, falling to his knees before Emiya. – We… we had to do it, or we would all have died from the disease! If that's the price, what were we supposed to do?!
— Die as humans!!! – Shirou roared, slicing him in two with a single swing.
The body collapsed onto the bloodstained floor, plunging the hall into a suffocating silence.
Emiya did not know how long he stood in that grim silence. His mind was blank, and his body felt paralyzed. For a moment, he even thought that he was actually at an inn, and all of this... this abomination was merely a grotesque joke from Morpheus, casting another nightmare upon him, one he could not wake from…
But the metallic smell of blood, the pain from a few wounds, and the corpses of both the killers and their victims lying everywhere... all of it brought him back to an even more horrifying reality.
— If someone is capable of evil, and has the means to destroy… – he whispered, regaining his composure. – Then those bastards are out of luck… they have no right to live…
He would kill them all… every last one. Anyone even slightly involved: men, women, even children and the elderly… He would kill them all and burn this altar to the ground. Everything else ceased to matter to him… The mission, the lives of his brothers… even his own fate had taken a backseat…
Drawing the rune Ansuz, he ignited the hall and headed towards the exit, not looking back at how the growing flames consumed the remains of the dead, spreading the foul smell of charred flesh…
***
The ascent took him far less time than the descent.
By this point, his face was hidden behind a skull mask, and he gripped his twin blades so tightly that the knuckles turned white. Shirou did not doubt that those who had managed to escape had already raised the alarm and warned their accomplices, which meant he would be met with a lot of them at the exit. However, he was somewhat glad about that now—he wouldn't have to smoke the filth out from every crack.
Having emerged from the storage room, he grimly smiled at the thought when suddenly a quiet whistle reached his heightened senses, causing Emiya to instinctively step aside. Just in time, as a moment later an arrow embedded itself into the wall to his left, followed by another one.
Raising his gaze, Shirou saw archers standing on the roof of the neighboring building, and judging by the sounds of feet pounding all around, they were preparing to welcome him in grand style. This somewhat dampened his righteous anger, making him realize that battling the entire city was not the best idea. He needed to deal with the shooters first and find cover to think of a plan before engaging in mindless slaughter.
Drawing the rune Eiwaz in the air, he created a shield to protect himself from the incoming arrows, followed by the rune Ansuz, which caused the archers to burst into flames from well-oiled torches. Their agonized screams brought him immense pleasure.
But, as it turned out, this maneuver cost him those precious seconds the crowd of pursuers needed to start emerging from the alleys. Shirou cursed under his breath, preparing to strike down the first attackers when, to his utter bewilderment, some of them began to fall one after another. Upon closer inspection, he noticed arrows protruding from their chests, which brought them their demise.
- It seems I managed to find my guardian angel even in this godforsaken hole…
And though the identity of the mysterious helper remained a mystery to him, Emiya didn't reject this gift of fate and quickly tossed a few knives into the crowd, ending the lives of a few more cannibals. Gaining precious moments, he inscribed the rune Ansuz on the ground, creating a wall of fire to ensure his escape.
The maneuver succeeded: the burning barrier halted the crowd of clearly insane cannibals, but that didn't strip them of their survival instincts. The attackers began to scream, searching for other approaches, but that pause was more than enough for Shiro to climb onto the roof of the nearest building and get as far away from the chaos as possible.
Only when the cries of the townspeople began to die down did he allow himself to stop and catch his breath. But fate clearly had other plans for him, as just when he exhaled in relief, an arrow struck the ground beside him, prompting him to instinctively jump back and draw his weapon. But no second shot followed, and lifting his gaze, Emiya saw the figure of the archer.
It was a relatively small girl, dressed in a tight outfit with numerous openings that exposed her dark skin, too dark for these parts. Her hair was dark amethyst, and her face was hidden behind a painfully familiar skull mask. In other words, he was facing his sister from the order.
- Is she… one of those sent by the mentor? – he thought, lowering his weapon, and the girl mirrored his gesture but was in no hurry to speak.
— As I understand it, I should be saying 'thank you for saving me'? – receiving an affirmative nod in response, Shirou continued. – You are one of those sent here by our Mentor, right?
Instead of a reply, he received just another nod.
- Tch… is she mute or something? – the young man thought irritably, but pressed on with his inquiries.
— Are you here alone?
— Why are you here? – she asked quietly, her voice breaking the silence for the first time.
— Well, would you look at that, you can talk after all? – the assassin responded ironically, before explaining tiredly. – I was sent to finish off your work and find out about your fate, but… I think I'll add one more item to this list: 'scorch this hole with searing iron'. I'll repeat myself, are you here alone?
— The others were captured. I couldn't save them alone, and that wasn't my goal, – the girl replied indifferently. – But I believe they are still alive.
— They left them for another feast, didn't they? – Shirou asked with disgust, suspecting the reason behind their potential survival. – Yes, I already managed to figure out the riddle of this cursed city.
— The emir is currently in his palace. I planned to infiltrate it tonight and poison him, but on the way, I heard the noise you caused, – she recounted dryly, then continued with barely discernible notes of accusation. – Now the guards will be reinforced, and I will hardly be able to slip in unnoticed.
— It doesn't matter, we need to free our guys first, – Shirou replied, ignoring her reproach.
— That's not part of my mission or yours, – she objected.
— And I don't care. My task is to kill the emir, and how I do that is strictly my business, – Shirou answered coldly. – Besides, you said yourself that there's been a commotion in the city, which means extra hands wouldn't hurt. However, if you are so adamant about going all the way or dying, then I won't hold you back. You may go and hand your soul to Azrael, but I highly doubt such a dishonorable death would be of any benefit to anyone.
For a moment, the girl was silent. It was clear that Emiya's words had shaken her resolve. But the young man wasn't going to wait for her to weigh the pros and cons of his proposal, as each second of hesitation was pushing him further away from a goal that had already begun to lose its original outline.
— So… – he provocatively asked, turning to her, – ...are you coming?
***
The cells of the local prison were dark, damp, and silent.
Only occasionally would water drip from the ceiling cracks, slowly counting the time of their imprisonment. For the assassins, who had spent quite some time here, this was the only measure of passing time, aside from the occasional visit from the guards.
In another circumstance, they would have broken free long ago, flooding the dungeons with the blood of their enemies, but the shackles that bound them to the walls were sturdy and well-made, rendering all their attempts futile.
For Hanam, who led the captured group, this was akin to… severed limbs. It was the most fitting comparison, for the chains prevented any of them from moving, maximizing their restrictions, as if their jailers fully understood the danger they posed. Well… they weren't far from the truth.
The leader of the team vividly remembered how many lives had to be sacrificed by those damned cannibals to confine them here, and the guards clearly hadn't forgotten that. Knowing the true nature of this city, Hanam understood clearly the terrible and agonizing death that awaited them now.
Partly due to this, after several days of imprisonment, the assassin began to drift into some kind of trance, sometimes falling far out of reality, which seemed horrifically monotonous to him. This happened that night, immediately after the meager dinner served to the local captives. Hanam sank into his thoughts, but an incomprehensible noise coming from somewhere above snapped him back to reality.
The other assassins also perked up, listening to the noise and distinguishing shouts, the clinking of steel, and the pounding of many feet somewhere in the distance. A minute later, guards appeared by their cell, desperately opening the doors to their dungeon.
- Faster! Someone has breached the dungeons, we need to kill all the prisoners before they get here! - shouted one of the guards, already drawing his sword for the swift execution.
Yet, as the guards approached their victims, the prisoners suddenly lunged at them, uncoordinated but determined to fight back with the limited strength they had. Perhaps they had failed their mission and been caught, but the assassins were not going to hand over their lives to the executioners without a fight.
Hanam managed to knock the sword from the attacker's hand with a chain and tried to throw it around the guard's neck, but instead, he only knocked him off balance. His attempt to snap the tormentor's neck ended with the executioner's hands tightening around Hanam's own neck, cutting off his air supply completely. For a moment, he struggled against it, but then darkness began to cloud his vision, and he felt his consciousness fading.
- How foolish...
He had already prepared himself to meet Azrael when suddenly a blade pierced through the guard's head, splattering the assassin's face with crimson blood. The dead man's grip immediately loosened, and Hanam coughed, savoring the stale air of their prison.
- Well... the accommodations are decent, but I doubt you'll want to linger here, - a painfully familiar voice mockingly said.
With a few ringing blows, the chains binding the prisoners were shattered, and they fell to the ground with groans. Hanam nearly collapsed himself, but the hand of his mysterious savior kept him upright.
- How much longer are you planning to shirk your duties?
- That voice... Rashid?! - Hanam murmured in shock, recognizing his rescuer.
- Long time no see, Hanam, - Shirou said, a faint smile behind his mask. - I heard you needed help and arrived as soon as I could...
- Oh you cunning son of a... I'll admit, you're the last person I expected to see here, - Hanam grinned and managed to stand on his own.
- Yeah, they sent us a killer of our own brothers. The master has a very dark sense of humor, - one of the assassins scoffed, stretching his stiff muscles.
- I could just leave you here to wait for a more suitable person, - Shirou replied sarcastically.
The assassin clearly wanted to retort, but Hanam stopped him with an authoritative gesture.
- Be quiet, Karim, and show at least a shred of gratitude, - he rasped, rubbing his sore neck. - Thanks for the rescue, but... Rashid... this city... they...
- I know everything, brother, - Emiya softly interrupted, unexpectedly placing a hand on his shoulder. - And we must put an end to this. Here and now.
- We've already tried, but as you can see, we failed... - Hanam sighed.
- That doesn't matter. Now is not the time for regrets or self-flagellation. We need to kill the emir and destroy this hell once and for all.
- We will help, but even with five of us, it will be…
- No, your help is needed elsewhere. I will deal with the emir myself, - Shirou said firmly, making it clear that he would not accept any objections.
Every assassin in the cell felt the weight of his resolve, so they remained silent. Instead, the third assassin, who had been quiet until now, asked:
- So what do you need from us?
- I want you to do what you do best, - Shirou removed his mask, and his lips twisted into a maniacal grin. - Kill them all...