The vast expanse of the steppe stretched endlessly around Shirou. The stars above seemed impossibly close, their light casting a pale glow over the rolling hills and windswept plains. A faint breeze carried the scent of fire and metal, a reminder of the forge that blazed somewhere just out of sight.
Shirou stood in the middle of the field, his wooden practice sword replaced by a gleaming blade of steel. It felt warm and alive in his grip, as though it pulsed faintly in time with his heartbeat.
The sound of hooves thundered in the distance.
He turned toward the noise, his chest tightening as a group of riders appeared on the horizon. They moved like a tidal wave, their
"Hold your ground," came a familiar voice.
Shirou turned sharply to see Genghis Khan standing a short distance away, his imposing figure framed by the glow of the forge. His cloak billowed in the wind, and his piercing gaze was fixed on Shirou.
"Do not falter," Genghis said, his voice calm but commanding. "Face them."
The riders were closing in now, the earth trembling beneath their charge. Shirou's grip tightened on his sword, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
"What do you mean, 'face them'?!" Shirou shouted. "There's too many!"
Genghis's gaze didn't waver. "The battlefield does not care about your fears," he said. "It will crush you if you hesitate. Now fight!"
Before Shirou could argue, the first rider was upon him. The man's spear came down in a deadly arc, the tip aimed directly at Shirou's chest.
Shirou's body moved on instinct. He stepped to the side, his blade flashing upward to deflect the strike. The impact sent a jolt up his arm, but he held firm, spinning to face the next attacker.
The second rider's sword came at him from the left. Shirou ducked under the swing, his blade lashing out in a counterstrike that sent the rider tumbling from his horse.
The movements felt natural, fluid—like he had done this a thousand times before. Each strike, each step, came without conscious thought, his body reacting to the rhythm of the fight as though guided by an unseen force.
But there were so many.
For every rider Shirou brought down, two more took their place. The clash of steel and the pounding of hooves filled the air, drowning out his thoughts.
"This is impossible!" Shirou shouted, his voice cracking. "I can't do this alone!"
"Silence," Genghis barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "You are not alone. Look around you."
Shirou hesitated, glancing to his side.
There, in the midst of the fray, stood figures he didn't recognize—phantoms of warriors clad in ancient armor, their weapons glinting as they fought alongside him. They moved with purpose and precision, their strikes cutting through the enemy like a scythe through wheat.
"What... who are they?" Shirou asked, his voice trembling.
"They are your resolve made manifest," Genghis said. "The echoes of your will, forged in the fires of your conviction. They are not real, but they fight as you do."
Shirou's chest tightened. The phantom warriors moved with a discipline and skill he couldn't hope to match, their presence both comforting and unsettling.
The battle raged on, the enemy forces seeming endless. Shirou's muscles burned, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to keep up.
"You are faltering," Genghis said sharply. "Why?"
"Because this is insane!" Shirou shouted, deflecting another strike. "I can't keep this up forever!"
"Then die," Genghis said coldly.
The words hit Shirou like a physical blow, his grip on his sword tightening.
"Is that it, then?" Genghis continued, stepping closer. "Will you give up? Will you let the battlefield consume you?"
Shirou gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. "Of course not!" he shouted. "I'm not going to let anyone die because I gave up!"
The forge behind Genghis flared brighter, its flames roaring as though in response to Shirou's words.
"Then fight!" Genghis roared, his voice thundering across the battlefield. "Prove to me that your resolve is more than empty words!"
Shirou's body moved before his mind could catch up. He stepped into the next strike, his blade slicing through the air with a speed and precision that surprised even him.
The phantom warriors around him surged forward, their movements mirroring his own. Together, they pushed back the tide of enemies, their combined efforts breaking the enemy's momentum.
For the first time, Shirou felt the rhythm of the battlefield shift in his favor.
But the battle was far from over.
A new figure appeared on the horizon, their silhouette larger and more imposing than the others. The enemy forces parted as the figure approached, their presence radiating power and menace.
Shirou's breath caught as the figure drew closer. They carried a massive weapon—a jagged blade that seemed to hum with malevolent energy.
"Your final test," Genghis said, his voice quieter now. "Face them."
Shirou's legs felt like lead as the figure advanced. His grip tightened on his sword, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Remember this, boy," Genghis said, his gaze unwavering. "The battlefield does not forgive hesitation. Strike first, or be struck down."
The figure charged, their blade slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Shirou raised his sword to block, the impact sending a shockwave through his body.
He staggered back, his arms trembling, but he didn't fall.
The figure pressed forward, their attacks relentless. Shirou parried and dodged, his movements clumsy but effective.
"Is this all you've got?" Genghis called, his voice cutting through the noise.
Shirou's frustration boiled over. With a shout, he stepped forward, his blade striking out in a desperate counterattack. The edge of his sword caught the figure's weapon, forcing it aside, and Shirou lunged forward, driving his blade into the figure's chest.
The figure froze, their weapon falling from their grasp. For a moment, the battlefield was silent.
And then, the figure dissolved into smoke, their form scattering like ashes in the wind.
Shirou fell to his knees, his chest heaving. The phantom warriors around him vanished, their presence fading as the battlefield returned to stillness.
Genghis stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
"You are beginning to understand," he said.
Shirou looked up at him, his hands trembling. "Understand what?"
"That the forge is not just a place," Genghis said. "It is you. Your will, your strength, your purpose. If you wish to survive, you must embrace it fully."
Shirou woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat. The faint sound of hammering steel echoed in his mind, a reminder of the forge that burned in the depths of his dreams.
He didn't remember the battle, but the ache in his muscles told him it had been real in some way.
Far above, the stars seemed to shine brighter, their light casting faint patterns on the walls of his room.
And somewhere, deep inside, Shirou felt the faint flicker of a fire reigniting.