The firelit chaos of Fuyuki consumed the senses—smoke curling through the air, ash falling like snow, and the unending clash of steel. Maki Zenin had faced death in many forms, but nothing quite compared to the singularity's suffocating aura. Each step felt heavier, the weight of this world pressing down like a silent challenge.
Standing beside her was the white-haired man, who cut through the beasts with surgical precision. His swords flashed in arcs of silver and black, striking with speed that made Maki's spear thrusts seem clumsy in comparison.
"Not bad," the man said, slashing through a hulking chimera. "But if you keep letting your anger drive you, you'll end up as monster bait."
"Don't tell me how to fight!" Maki snapped, parrying a clawed strike from a shadowy wolf before spearing it through the skull.
The man raised an eyebrow. "Suit yourself. Just don't slow me down."
Maki ignored him, her focus narrowing as she pushed back the encroaching horde. Her spear moved faster, her strikes finding critical points with brutal efficiency. The battle was a blur of motion, blood, and flame.
When the last beast fell, dissolving into black mist, Maki leaned on her spear, her breath ragged.
"That was… new," she muttered.
The man, who didn't seem the least bit winded, gave her a once-over. "You've got potential, but you're raw. No finesse, no strategy—just raw instinct. It's impressive you're still alive."
Maki glared at him. "Who are you to judge me?"
He sheathed his swords with a casual flourish. "Call me Archer. Not my real name, but it'll do."
"Archer? What kind of name is that?"
"The kind that doesn't matter," he said with a smirk. "What does matter is getting out of this hellhole alive. And for that, we're going to need more than brute force."
As they moved through the ruined city, Maki kept her guard up. Archer seemed capable enough, but she wasn't about to trust someone who materialized out of nowhere.
"Why are you even here?" she asked after a while.
Archer glanced at her. "I could ask you the same thing. You're clearly not from this world. Not entirely."
Maki's grip tightened on her spear. "I don't owe you any answers."
"Fair enough," Archer said, unbothered. "But you're in over your head. Fuyuki isn't a place for amateurs. This singularity is a nexus of chaos, a war of ideals and power. And it's not just monsters you need to worry about."
"What do you mean?"
Archer's expression darkened. "The true threats here are the Servants—legendary figures summoned to fight in the Holy Grail War. Each one wields power far beyond what you've faced so far. If you cross paths with one unprepared, you won't survive."
Maki bristled at the warning. "I've fought monsters my whole life. I can handle some glorified ghosts."
Archer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You really don't get it, do you?"
Before Maki could retort, a cold voice cut through the air.
"She will learn soon enough."
Both turned to see a figure stepping out of the shadows. The newcomer was a woman with violet eyes that glowed like amethysts in the firelight. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she carried a spear that radiated menace. Her presence was suffocating, commanding the very air around her.
"Scathach," Maki whispered, her voice barely audible.
The Queen of the Land of Shadows stepped closer, her gaze fixed on Maki. "You've done well to survive this long," she said. "But your journey is just beginning."
Archer stiffened, clearly recognizing the woman. "You. What are you doing here?"
Scathach didn't answer him. Instead, she addressed Maki. "You've proven your resolve, but your strength is still insufficient. If you wish to grow, you must cast aside the fear that binds you and embrace the shadows within."
"What shadows?" Maki asked, her voice steady despite the pressure of Scathach's presence.
Scathach stepped closer, her eyes piercing through Maki's defences. "You've carried doubt since the moment you arrived in this world. Doubt in your purpose, your strength, your place. That doubt will kill you if you let it."
Maki clenched her fists. "And what if I don't care about this world? What if all I want is to go back to the life I lost?"
Scathach's gaze softened, if only slightly. "Then you will remain a slave to the past. To walk forward is to embrace what lies ahead, not what you've left behind."
The words hung heavy in the air, their weight undeniable. Maki looked away, the firelight reflecting in her green eyes.
"You want me to forget everything?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"Not forget," Scathach corrected. "But let go."
Maki's chest tightened. Letting go meant accepting this life—this world—as her own. It meant abandoning the hope of returning to her sister, to the people she'd fought so hard to protect.
But Scathach's words resonated with her in a way she couldn't ignore.
"What do I have to do?" Maki asked finally.
Scathach's lips curved into a faint smile. "Take my hand."
Maki hesitated, her gaze flicking to Archer, who was watching the exchange warily.
"Don't look at me," Archer said. "You're the one who has to decide."
Taking a deep breath, Maki reached out and clasped Scathach's hand.
The moment their hands touched, a surge of energy coursed through Maki's body, sharp and overwhelming. Images flashed through her mind—ancient battles, endless fields of shadow, the faces of warriors long gone.
When the vision faded, she found herself standing in a void, Scathach before her.
"This is the beginning of your true training," Scathach said. Her voice echoed through the emptiness. "If you wish to survive in this world, you must learn to wield the power of shadows. And I will teach you."
Maki nodded, her resolve hardening.
"Then let's get started."