FBBH 56 (Patreon)

As some of you speculated the name Nero was making double duty in the references front and if you need to know which of the other references were remeber to check Umu and Devil Trigger wherever you wish.

Fate/Bonds Beyond Humanity

…..

56-  Values and Principles

…..

The waiting room they were escorted into was comfortable enough, Sairaorg swearing by Lakmia’s hospitality while she interrogated her man. Shirou’s foot, still in his disguise as Nero, was practically trying to open a hole on the floor. He wanted to be there when the man talked, he wanted to know who was the devil who killed a child.

Perhaps he could get things moving if he revealed his identity but having some anonymity could be useful in the future and too many people were looking at Xenovia with wonder for him to be comfortable revealing himself.

Azazel’s warning had been right on the money, since Rias had used his invention to bring prosperity he ended up becoming famous by default. It would be funny seeing Xenovia struggle to deflect questions if those questions weren’t about him, his present works and if she could deliver a message.

More than one devil, some of the arena’s staff, tried to get a word in to schedule a meeting of some sort.

To her credit Xenovia acted perfectly in her position, keeping her distance and keeping her replies short but obviously negative. Every time anyone asked her anything she imitated a politician and claimed ‘No comment’ something Shirou was happy to praise her for.

And she was happy for the praise, more so than with the trail of cakes Lakmia had delivered to the waiting room as an apology and to occupy them while she waited.

Only Kushia had touched them so far. “It is rather rude if we don’t eat.” The Queen suggested as she was on her third one.

Her King chuckled and picked one. “She is right. Even if you are frustrated, Lakmia can’t be blamed for her subordinates’ mistakes.”

“Sorry but I am not hungry.” Too much was on his mind.

Xenovia looked at the cakes and shook her head as well, slowly looking at Shirou. “Nero, what exactly have you seen in that sword?”

Neither suspected anyone was listening to their talk but Shirou nodded in appreciation. “A tall devil killing a kid.” He replied calmly, the image forever recorded in his Reality Marble. Not the only horror there but the freshest one. “It was this week.”

“Are you sure?” Sairaorg didn’t take a bite yet, his face furious. “Because that is the kind of taboo you don’t break in the Underworld. To us children are practically sacred.”

Without revealing his condition Shirou couldn't explain how he knew the murder was fact. “I am very good with swords.” Yet he threw a meaningful look, hoping the Heir of Bael could get the meaning behind his words.

Sairaorg caught enough to take a hard bite of his food and relax in his seat, an extremely comfortable chair. His Queen was sitting on a couch by herself even if it had room for one more person while Shirou and Xenovia shared a couch for four, the blue haired swordswoman close to the magus.

Her eyes never left him as the magus stopped moving and folded his arms as he also tried to relax. Despite being underground the magic in the area made it feel like there was a small breeze on the room. The temperature was perfect and it was big enough to host a small party if the owner wished.

It was still a cell, an elegant cell that didn’t make clear they weren’t prisoners but unless Shirou revealed his identity he certainly was. Sairaorg was an heir, his Queen shared his protection and Xenovia was considered important. As far Lakmia knew Nero was just a human prancing around with Azazel’s blessing

Once again old hatreds were running deep but Shirou wasn’t really worried about having to reveal his real identity. The truth was on the sword and the man already was broken by the mess he made by starting a fight. At that point even his own comrades were upset, his boss most of all.

Because the Matron couldn't deny the fact, not with hundreds of witnesses, that her security detail had failed and one was caught with something really illegal. Especially if devils saw children as really sacred, just that would be enough to warrant the real authorities to come knocking if Lakmia treated things poorly.

So Shirou was confident the woman was going to show up sooner or later but he wished it to be sooner. “Every minute that passes the trail gets colder.”

“You said it was this week, right? Can you tell exactly the day?” Kuisha tried to get the ball rolling aiming to calm the Mage down.

A grunt escaped the magus and his mind turned to the sword in his Reality Marble. “The sword was made by a man called Fiton eight days ago, polished and transported in a box a short distance.” Its history had no trace of teleportation until it was bought. “It was put up for sale but I can’t tell you where. All I could see after was it moving between a couple of people and their appearances but no names.” His eyes turned murderous and so he put up his hood. “Before that a kid was stabbed. Tears, confusion, despair. Wrong place, wrong time, dead.”

Sairaorg broke the plate in his hand. “I see…” Then he turned to the door and hit it loud enough that it began to crack. “If the Matron doesn’t show up in 10 minutes, I am leaving with my guests.”

Honestly he wanted to leave sooner but Saraorg knew Lakmia personally and didn’t believe she was holding them for no reason. That was just how much he was willing to wait.

“How many days?” Asked Xenovia, hand firmly in Durandal and ready to deliver some Justice.

“Four.” Shirou’s voice was cold. “That is why we need to know where he bought it. After the sword was cleaned it was moved somewhere and that devil bought it. I can ‘hear’ the negotiation, the price and how happy he was for having a sword like Lucifer’s Knight’s.”

Cold leads, extremely weak regardless of his skills but Shirou was going to chase them until he couldn’t anymore. Besides, he had other leads as the down time gave him the chance of checking the other swords made by the same man. He didn’t have everything he needed but many of them shared more than their smith.

It didn’t take long for Lakmia to arrive, the redhead woman strode inside the room two minutes after Sairaorg ultimatum with 8 bodyguards and a pushcart with at least 20 swords on them.

Every single one of them was a sword Shirou had made and Fiton had copied; same number of strikes, same techniques with the metal, different weapons for the most part but still just extras of the same swords for the magus’ Reality Marble.

“It appears a lot of my subordinates have been bad boys.” The woman sounded annoyed and glared at Shirou with heat. She was starting to hate hoods. “Still with someone like Sairaorg around I would expect you to approach the owner of the establishment before starting a mess.”

“I just had one question. He started the fight.”

“Hmm, as expected of the subordinate of that man. He truly needed someone to compete with the Mage of Swords, didn’t he?” She smoked her pipe before turning to Sairaorg. “But your new friend is right. I just expect that if you bring more around, you tell them how things work in the Underworld.”

Old acquaintances or not, the Heir of Bael wasn’t in the mood for games. “So the criminal talked?”

Lakmia shook her head in disappointment. “You hardly should call someone a criminal for a minor infraction. The man didn’t kill anyone, just bought a sword he shouldn't have.”

“Still a crime, especially with a weapon that needed sanction from the Gremory, your Clan.”

“Right you are and I have 20 men who benefited from the same deal.” She waved to the swords. “Tell me, Nero…” The name rolled off her tongue with interest. “Can you tell me if any of these weapons shed more blood?”

“Lakmia, do you have a suspect?” Kuisha stood up with a hard look in her eyes.

“I need more information before throwing accusations.” She smoked some more before continuing. “But perhaps it won’t make any difference since I suspect an already known criminal.”

Xenovia was starting to grow restless with that conversation. “And this Fiton? Nero said he was the smith.”

Already the Matron was giving the knight her full attention. “Hardly the brains of the operation. Just the hands and the maker of this fabulous works of art.” She petted the blades with a sigh. “A former Gremory smith, he was in charge of repairing weapons, the Mage of Swords’ creations. As you can see, he learned how to replicate them to perfection.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” Shirou interrupted with a pensive look. Not that any could see, he just looked annoyed under the hood. “Can I approach?” With his Reality Marble he already knew the answer to the woman’s question.

But he needed to sell the identity of Nero. “You may.” Lakmia took a step back as he took a step forward.

Shirou made a show of letting his circuits visible for a moment as he touched some of the weapons. “Not all of them killed innocent and only that one killed a child.“ All things he already knew during his chase even if some of these swords were new. “But this one killed an unarmed woman, some unarmed men who looked young and this one killed an older looking one.” With devils it was impossible to tell the ages.

Still there was a pattern and Lakmia let out a sigh of frustration. “Are you like the Mage of Swords? Can you see the man who did the deeds?”

There were many men in reality but a pattern emerged with a particular one who enjoyed the killings a little too much. He was already the target, the killer of a child.

Having that many swords used by the same man helped, Shirou had no idea of his fighting style but he had a clear picture. “Black haired, tall, no scars, and an after shaving beard. He has a head over Sairaorg but not much muscle.” His Reality Marble gave him more to work with. “Pointy chin and a malicious grin, he likes killing and was having fun keeping the swords in his victims while watching their deaths. After that he ordered the weapons to be cleaned and sold. Even the ones others used.”

“A nice way of getting rid of evidence, join it with the merchandise.” Lakmia hummed in appreciation.

That only made Xenovia angry. “You know something.”

“Of course I do and I will direct the information to my Clan tomorrow.” The woman said with a calm expression but a pointed look towards Sairaorg.

“Where did he buy the sword?” Shirou cut to what he wanted to know.

Which made the Matron a little upset and her guards placed their hands in their swords. “This is a devil matter, boy. The Gremory will deal with Fiton and his cohorts.”

“Assuming you can find him this time.” Sairaorg interrupted and the woman frowned. “That was what you were doing over the last half an hour, you sent your men to where the sword was bought and found nothing. Tsk.” The Bael Heir folded his arms. “Did you bother to inform the police? Or are you going to try and solve it yourself?”

Lakmia glared back at the man. “It is already late and if my men can’t find anything, no one will.”

“Don’t underestimate me. Nobody else hunts like I hunt.” Shirou didn’t know if his growl was from the character he was playing or himself. “I have a hound that can find anyone.” All he knew was that his words were true.

“You are underestimating their boundary fields, anti-scrying spells and even the lengths they will take to hide, magician.”

“Just give us the information, Matron. All you can.” Sairaorg offered, diplomatically.

Both the woman and magus stood there for a moment until the woman let out a happy smile. “Very well but only for a price.”

“Name it.” The Heir of Bael saw it as his duty to see this to the end.

“It is not for you to pay, Little Lion.” Lakmia’s eyes moved to Xenovia. “But from her King to pay for.”

“I have-” Before finishing the statement the former Exorcist remembered her vows. “You speak of my Master, the Mage of Swords.” Her eyes remained firm on the devil, refusing to even glance in Shirou's direction.

“Indeed I do. But isn’t a King a better title for someone so close to the Gremory? My niece did give him a Lord’s spurs, if he wished to be a King in the Human Realm it must not be that hard.”

“Things are different there these days.” Xenovia didn’t want to say much, not with Shirou there keeping his silence. Still she needed to pretend he wasn’t. “And what can my Master do for you?”

“What else can one ask from the Mage of Swords other than a sword?” Lakmia’s smile was breathtaking, almost like a young woman speaking of her dearest love. “I wish for a blade, the best blade, made for me. Promise me that and I shall tell you all you want.”

“Deal.” Shirou didn’t give anyone else a chance to reply. It was an easy request.

While ‘Nero’ earned a glare, Xenovia took it as a signal. “I shall speak with him and do my best to convince him to forge you one.” Lakmia’s rage vanished and she looked full of joy. “But no promises.”

“A request is all I can ask and can’t wait to receive him for the measurements.” Her smile was lustful but didn’t last long. “From the method and description of the devil I can only guess he is the one called Macabro.” She smoked a little before one of her men presented an ashtray. “A known arms dealer and a piece of work, obviously cruel. The child was probably the son of his competition, the women and men you saw? Either them or their Pieces? He is known to kill whole households if they aren’t parts of the Pillars.”

“How has he not been dealt with until now if he likes killing so much?” Shirou’s tone was cold.

“Because finding him is basically impossible.” Kuisha replied as her King’s expression was one of resignation. “The Gremory territory is surrounded by mountains and forests, plenty of places to hide or where he could lift a couple of boundary fields to remind undetected.” The Abbadon woman’s eyes were full of frustration. “Living outside can be dangerous, even exploring the surroundings of Runeas may have you stumbling on a nest of giant vipers if you aren’t careful.”

“But finding him isn’t impossible.” The Mage only sounded more determined. He turned to Lakmia who was looking at him with a conflicted expression. “Anything else you can give us?”

The Gremory paused before replying. “Arms dealing is a lucrative business because getting a decent weapon is harder than most people think. You need to register it even if you buy it from another blacksmith.” She let out a puff of smoke. “But Fiton is going around the whole thing by selling copies of the Mage of Swords’ works on the cheap. They are both a symbol of status and trust from the Gremory and can even be used to earn yourself a job.”

“Why are you telling us all this?” He was expecting the location if anything else.

"Fufufu, not as perceptive, bounty hunter?” Shirou didn’t bother to correct her. “That means Fiton is the goose who lays golden eggs, a fast track title to get a precious sword and elevate one’s status.”

“In other words, find the smith and you may find the criminal.” Sairaorg couldn’t disagree with the approach.

Then the Matron pointed to the swords beside her. “And if you have such a great hound, here are plenty of samples of the man’s smell.”

‘Too little too late. These weapons are useless as they are. None of the criminals used it for long enough for them to be relevant.’ Yet Shirou’s wasn’t bothered by it.

Neither showed any expression whatsoever which perturbed the woman a little. “Of course these are illegal goods so I can give some of them to you before turning over the rest. Sairaorg can give the Gremory a guarantee-”

“Not necessary.” It was clear the devil had nothing else to give so Shirou turned to his friends. “I am going to go hunt, you guys can go back to the Vault if you want.” With that he ignored Lakmia and her guards and began to make his way out.

Much to everyone else’s shock. “Wait, Nero!” Xenovia quickly rushed out, also completely ignoring everyone else.

Sairaorg and Kuisha began to leave as well but were in no rush, stopping besides Lakmia. “Thanks for the assistance.” The heir began with a small smile. “And it was nice to see you again.”

“You as well, Little Lion. If you want, we can schedule a match for you to partake in the future.” The woman offered with a grin. “Heir or not, I dare anyone to complain.”

“Unfortunately my lord has his responsibilities.” Kuisha refrained from saying further.

Which made Lakmia frown a little. “Perhaps in a disguise then? Not it would fool anyone since Sairaorg is considerably famous but with a good enough mask he could join the fighting.” The Heir of Bael blinked and turned to her. “Something with some fur for his nickname?”

If it wasn’t for the situation, Sairaorg was sure he was going to fall on his knees laughing out loud. “Still greedy as always, Matron.” He began to rush away, Kuisha just behind.

“Huff, don’t blame a girl for trying.” Yet her eyes were conflicted as she glared at the swords still in the room. “And things were going so well.” She needed to make some calls.

A few seconds later the devils of Bael found their new acquaintances waiting by the elevator with the security guard missing. Neither of them was a devil so couldn’t even open the door, a problem Shirou became painfully aware of only when they were already there.

They had no choice but to wait for their companions to return or for some devil to go up and ask for a ride.

Unfortunately for Shirou his impatience wouldn’t be rewarded, the elevator Sairaorg had shown them was a special entrance for fighters and staff, none of which were going to leave any time soon because of the events of the day.

Most were too busy on damage control, evaluating the situation, taking care of the spectators or reassuring the fighters that the ‘show must go on’ or any other thing to keep the events going.

Because of all that Shirou and Xenovia were left waiting until the Heir of Bael arrived, the former Exorcist remained silent but her eyes fixed on the Mage’s back as he stood there impatiently.

Sairaorg didn’t need to say anything nor bothered to ask, he just opened the door and the four of them stepped inside. “What is the plan?” Asked his Queen in his place.

“Find this Macabro and either throw him in a hole for the rest of his life or just throw him in a hole.” Shirou replied calmly and clearly.

The Bael Heir nodded. “Considering his crimes, the death penalty isn’t that far off. But that isn’t what Kuisha means.” The doors opened and they stepped outside, Shirou marching ahead in a particular direction. “How do we find him?”

Which was a problem that the magus didn’t have a real answer to. “Someone here must know about him or the place of transaction at the very least.” Shirou knew that was weak but shook his head and kept going. Everyone was right behind. “Doesn’t matter the price or the location, we just need to find it.”

“Maybe the Matron could have helped us.” Kuisha suggested.

But the magus shook his head again. “She is looking over herself first and I don’t have time nor the interest of making any more swords for her. One is already going to be more than enough.” He looked ahead and tried to find the direction of a shady bar or some kind of joint where he could get information. “All we need to do is find a place where Macabro has been and if we are lucky we can go from there.”

Both devils present looked at each other, silently agreeing that wasn’t the best plan. “Master, what is wrong?” Xenovia beat them to the punch with a question they didn’t think to ask. ”Are you mad because they copied your swords?”

Shirou paused and looked back at the blue haired girl, their eyes met for a few seconds and he began to chuckle. “No, I am not mad because of that. I am a Faker, a Gradation Air specialist, getting angry about people copying my work would be the worst kind of hypocrisy.”

“But just today you admitted you are a hypocrite.” Xenovia saw a small smile at the joke and did the same in kind before placing a hand on his arm. “You are upset… Is it because they used your swords for something evil?”

“Yes.” It came out calmly with an even tone. “I don’t mind people copying my work, that is how Humanity learned and grew after all, copying from nature, copying from each other, improving and leaving more for the next one to do the same.” Muramasa shone on his Reality Marble and he was glad for not using its knowledge on the blades sold in the Underworld. “But in this case… it just…” He paused before turning to look at Xenovia. “Ever heard of the Nobel Prize?”

“Kinda… it is a prize for science or peace or something?” Xenovia never cared for any of that stuff.

The devils saw Shirou chuckle with endearment as he placed a hand on Xenovia’s head. “It is a creation of a scientist, Alfred Nobel, who used his fortune to try and spread those ideas to more people.” His tone was of respect but his face was of stone. “Do you want to know what invention allowed him to create such an enterprise? Dynamite.”

“What is dynamite?” Sairaorg couldn't help but ask, reminding Shirou they were not alone.

The temporary blond turned to the tall man. “Short story, a bomb that was supposed to open tunnels. I wonder if he knew what purpose his invention would have. Then again perhaps he just thought people would respect his creation and not use it for evil.” He chuckled again, bitterly this time. “I am mad, mad because something that I created, even if not that thing specifically, took the lives of innocent people. I am angry because someone that I, Rias and the Gremory trusted, sold our secrets and allowed criminals to do evil deeds. I am upset that the blood is in my hands and how much more blood must be there because those are not all swords that a skilled smith could have made, especially if he taught my skills to someone else.”

Lives were taken already and nothing he could do to change that Shirou’s fury remained. He wanted Justice even if he had to do it with his own hands, the guilty either in chains or on the ground.

Yet he did his best to remain calm, to think rationally. For the most part he was failing. ‘My swords aren’t just for killing.’

His hand was grasped by someone and snapping back to reality he saw Xenovia bring it to her face. “It is fine to be mad and finer still to do something about that rage. Something that will balance the scales and stop evil.” Her tone was gentle, firm and caring all at once. It lacked any doubt or concern. “So let's do this, Master, let's see Justice done if no one else can do it. Let's protect those in need and punish those wicked to taint your works.” She sounded like an old fashioned knight taking a quest. “Remain calm and lead us, tell me what you need and my sword will see it delivered.”

Xenovia’s eyes were shining in such a way that Shirou began to think he was seeing a flame so pure and filled with determination that it would take more than the whole ocean of Earth to try and put it down.

There was devotion there, sure, something Shirou never found himself comfortable with receiving, but there was a tenderness and sympathy that he couldn’t miss.

Xenovia Quarta cared for him and that made Shirou’s heart grow lighter as showing sadness to her suddenly became something painful. “Thank you.” He offered her his most honest smile.

“She is right though, tell us what you need so we can find those cowards.” Sairaorg wanted to break some bones and his Queen wasn’t far behind. “You are a Mage, right? Is that why you need a location, for some sort of spell?” If so he was willing to go back and grind Lakmia until she gave him the devil who bought the sword.

Once again he was reminded it wasn’t just him and Xenovia but she kept his hand on her face. “Blood or mana.” Shirou started, getting to the point. “Maybe there is not in that area from Macabro but if I have blood or mana… my ‘hound’ can find anyone in a range.”

“How big is the range?”

“Bigger than this city.” At least that was what Shirou estimated.

Sairaorg began to scratch his chin before turning to Kuisha. “You think they are registered?”

“Fiton certainly is since he worked for the Gremory.” The blonde woman pondered a little before nodding with certainty. “From their profiles I doubt either of them is old enough to have been around when the Goetia Road was built and unless one of them was born during the Civil War there are just too many benefits for them to not be registered.”

“Then we know where to get a sample of their mana.” The heir smiled and turned to the others. “Don’t know what kind of dog you have that can track mana but we just need to call it in since you two are guests of Gremory.”

“Call it in?” Xenovia sounded curious before Shirou shook his head.

“I would prefer to not bother others with this. Is that really necessary?” Because he knew Zeoticus would end up hearing about this anyway and he wanted to get at least Macabro himself.

The pureblood devils looked at each other before Sairaorg laughed. “I suppose that is your pride talking? As expected from the man who faced the White Dragon Emperor.” His laugh diminished into a chuckle. “Say, what about a spar after this?”

“My lord…” Kuisha shook her head before they got sidetracked. “Unfortunately we do need to call someone since we need to go to the City Hall to get a sample of mana.” Her expression turned serious. “Since it is used for identification, all samples of mana are carefully monitored and guarded. Only the Pillars or someone of extreme importance can collect or allow a single speck of it leaving the premises.”

“Hmm… Where is the closest phone booth? Do you guys have those?” Because Shirou had an idea. When he didn’t get a reply he shrugged. “The police station will be good too, I hope.”

…

“Hai! Hai! Hai! Hai! Hai!” Kiba kept his waist steady as he kept swinging with Sword Birth’s newest blade Heavier Sword, created under his mentor’s orders for his own training. “Hai! Hai! Hai! Hai! Hai!”

Rias’ Knight was used to this sort of exercise, he had done it pretty much everyday when he was younger and just became a devil. As a swordsman it was an obvious exercise to just keep swinging his weapon until he got used to the weight and grew accustomed to the necessary forms.

Which was why he didn’t understand why he was swinging a sword three times heavier than any other he had already made. “Sensei, shouldn't we move onto the next exercise?”

Sitting in her office with a plate of dango to her side, Okita Souji lowered some of the reports she was reading. “Hm?”

“I already did it over a thousand times and this sword is too heavy for me to fight.” Kiba elaborated, never stopping his swings.

“Because your arms are weak.” Souji returned to the report.

“But our main weapon is speed, Sensei, speed!” Protested the younger blond, not wishing to mention that his teacher was weaker than him.

At least physically, he had no illusions that in a fight she would destroy him so fast that it would be a waste of five seconds.

“Well, true but it was Azazel’s recommendation.” From her desk, small enough that allowed for her to sit on her knees and work, she pulled out a piece of paper. “‘Super Special Balance Break Training’: Step one, ‘developing of muscles to improve mana and expand capabilities’.” She lowered the paper again to look at her disciple. “And your reserves are still bad.”

“But they are better than before!” Honestly Kiba was surprised that he didn’t stop swinging the heaviest sword he ever used during the conversation. His arms felt like they were about to fall down. “And I never had problems with teleportation or anything like that.”

“Hey, this is the best training! Not only are you getting better at using a heavier sword, just in case your Balance Break gives you that, but you are training your form.” Okita crossed her arms and nodded to herself in a wise fashion. “Two rabbits, one stone.”

While he was extremely grateful to his teacher, Kiba’s arms were begging for release. “Can’t we try something else? I don’t think my heart is going to give me a giant sword or anything like that.” Doubt colored Souji’s face so he pushed further. “And maybe my reserves are going to be fine? We can’t know until I have my Balance Break!”

“Azazel says here for me to use my judgment… maybe we should move to the next one?” Souji’s head went left and right until she smiled. “Ha, fine, let's check step two.”

“You didn’t even look at step two yet?”

“Ummm.” The former Shinsengumi’s tongue was out as she tilted her head. “Says here for you to meditate and try to come up with new types of swords by combining elements if possible. Maybe that is your Balance Break?” She checked the other steps and shrugged. “The third one is split in two; one if you get your Balance Break and the other if you don’t. Not really that different either.” She mumbled the last part before putting the paper away and biting her dango. “Hmmm, never mind! You finish this set today and we can practice the combination thing tomorrow.”

“But I-”

An old fashioned phone on Souji’s desk began to ring and Lucifer’s Knight was quick to answer. “Moshi, moshi, Souji speaking.” … “Oh, hey. How are you going Fromfir-san? Haven’t seen you since Sirzechs-dono’s charity contest a few months back. How is the wife?” … “Great! Happy to know you guys are still trying. Say, me and the others were talking about going to the theater this weekend.” … “Vacta already called you and you in? Awesome! I am training my pupil again so I will take him with us. It will be his first day of rest.”

Then a long silence stretched with a few hums of understanding and curiosity in between as Souji heard what her friend had to say with a nod of her head here and there even if Fromfir couldn't see.

Kiba found it amusing how his teacher’s eyes grew wide out of nowhere. “Who is asking what?!” Another volley of words had the Japanese women sighing. “Okay, okay. They used Bael's authority for the request and… is there a redhead with them?” … “Not a Gremory- Why is the- The guy with the huge sword, ask his name.” She paused until there was a reply. Then she began to mumble. “Why keep a disguise all the time for a request- No, you aren’t supposed to ask that.”

‘That is definitive now, Shirou is doing something and trying to remain incognito.’ Kiba chuckled, earning a look from his mentor that had him accelerating his swings. “He just doesn’t like bothering people, Sensei.”

“Things would be easier if he did because apparently he has a way to track one of the most wanted from Gremory territory.” … “His word is good, give him permission. If he succeeds then we finally have something that can go around certain boundary fields, if he fails then nothing is lost.” … “Yes he is trustworthy. He is actually the Mage of Swords in disguise.”

Okita had to get the phone away from her ear at the shocked exclamation coming from the Commander from Runeas police force. The Knight started to feel bad when she began to hear how all around the office people started to speak in awe. Didn’t take long to figure out that Shirou’s disguise was to avoid exactly that.

And Kiba was laughing  which earned him an annoyed look from Souji as both realized her mistake.

“Just give them the permission discreetly so nobody else knows who he is.” … “No, don’t harass him, don’t bother him! He wants his privacy and so help you my boss if I heard that you didn’t leave him alone.” A malicious aura began to escape Okita as the spirits began to stir.

A devil dressed in pants and a shirt, contrasted to Kiba who was like Souji in a kimono, stepped inside. “Something wrong, Commissioner?” He asked politely and suddenly the ghosts disappeared.

“Depends. Do I need to send someone to Runeas for an inspection… three weeks in a roll, every day? I can do it myself if you want.” That would be too much and not give the officers of the city time to slack off or even relax a little on the work. The reply had her beaming. “So there is nothing wrong at all. Offer Shirou- sorry, Nero, my apologies and the threat stays; if I hear a whisper of his identity leaving your precinct I will not let go off your foot for weeks. A whisper!” She placed the phone back on its place as hard as she could. It made some noise. “That will show them.”

“Was that really necessary, Commissioner?” He was trying to be as respectable as possible with his superior officer.

Mostly because he was mostly likely the one who will have to do most of those inspections and they could be a pain in the man’s opinion.

Still Souji didn’t notice the other devil’s apprehension. “Of course! I need to cover for my mistake and Shirou is a VIP. If he wants to have a secret identity he can do that. It is probably easier walking around like a tourist, right?”

Kiba and the other devil traded looks before the older man replied. “As you say, Commissioner.” He walked out and Souji’s focus returned to her pupil.

“Right, Kiba! Another thousand strikes!” The younger Knight balked and tears were starting to gather in his eyes. “After that we are going to do the meditation part.”

Sweet relief poured on Kiba’s veins, enough to make a pie of just sugar. “Yes, Sensei!”

…

With Okita Souji’s credentials there was no need to reveal his secret to anyone else so Shirou felt a great deal of relief.

It would be more if the officers escorting them to guarantee the ‘security of the package’ didn’t look at him like a rockstar or asked for swords but Sairaorg kept them away by telling stories.

The Heir of Bael didn’t earn his position with just strength, he was a great conversationalist and dropped subtle hints that Shirou shouldn’t be the center of attention. Instead they were to consider him a hired gun, a bounty hunter of a sort that had the means to track down a known criminal.

The City Hall was one of the few buildings with just one visible entrance; the front door. It also held some teleportation circles to specific places but compared to the official towers with that purpose the crowds were smaller and not just because it was the middle of the day.

Simply put everything on that building belonged to the government and worked towards it, most people preferred to avoid the lines and procedures like the ones the City Hall was geared towards.

It was a tower completely made of obsidian and had one of the strongest boundary fields Shirou had ever felt. His nose had a burning sensation from the moment he stepped inside and it was like hot coal was shoved on it. Shirou still kept his composure and let his friend do the talking for the most part.

Once they got the memo the two officers acted professionally and delivered the proper documents to some secretary in the building who looked at them in shock. Taking a sample of mana for direct identification was rare. Since they had boundary fields to take care of that function basically it never happened.

There was some commotion to get things done and they had to call Sirzechs for permission which made Shirou want to rip his hood away as the Magician of Gremory he wouldn’t have to deal with the red tape but he was already too deep.

It didn’t even take long but the Mage was still bothered that so many people were bothered. Then again he didn’t complain either as two glass containers with bright flames, one a type of a darker shade of red and the other a muddy green, were presented to them.

“Is this all of their mana?” A curious Xenovia asked as the secretary, a homely looking lady named Bired, smiled and gently held one of the glasses in her hands.

“Not at all, miss. These flasks are made with a special material that takes the signature of mana from a source and turns another devil’s mana into it.” She injected her own mana in the glass and while it shone a little there was no change. Then Bired held her hand and made a bright pink magic circle. “As you can see, my mana color is different. Other notable differences are the signs it emits and vibrations. Lord Beelzebub wrote a paper on how our mana changes from person to person and mine says that I am a positive individual.”

Bired offered Xenovia one of the glasses and gave the other to Sairaorg. “Thank you for your time.” The blue haired knight lowered her head in respect.

Quickly the woman waved her hand in panic. “No need to thank me, miss. You are a member of the Gremory. Part of the Mage of Swords’ retinue. Helping each other to make the Underworld a safer place is an honor.” Xenovia smiled as Shirou hid his face. Bired turned to Sairaorg and lowered her own head. “It was also an honor to meet the future Lord Bael.”

“Who knows that will be for real this time. Maybe Zekram will finally retire?” Sairaorg remarked in good humor and the woman let out a small snort before covering her mouth. He extended his arm with a grateful smile and kissed her hand. “Thank you for all your help, ms Bired.”

“Miss, my Lord. I am still single.” The woman offered with a salacious smile but the man just shook her hand and began to step out.

His face lost any amusement as he turned to Shirou who was studying the flask Xenovia’s hand. “Are you sure these will do?”

“Yes, if he is on range.” Silently he requested the glass and his knight quickly offered it. An Analysis later he had all the information he needed about it. “I think Rin would love to have one of those for her experiments. Any idea where I can buy one?”

“You can ask Azazel while we go get your dog. I have no doubt Ajuka will part with some.”

Shirou chuckled a little. “You think I was speaking of a real dog?”

“A sacred gear then?” Kuisha asked next and the Mage shook his head.

“First let's find somewhere more private.” Despite his words Shirou began to walk out of the building, much to the devils confusion. Xenovia already had an idea what he was going to do so followed his lead and everyone followed behind.

As the City Hall was in the center of Runeas there were a good number of devils around even with the ‘sun’ so the magus picked a random direction and began to walk between buildings.

Flying could make things harder as what he wanted was a place out of view and how the streets of Runeas were built it did take him some time to find somewhere isolated thanks to the closed stores around them.

Still he found cover necessary. “Gather around and don’t let anyone see us.” Shirou ordered and at that point the devils were too curious to disagree. They formed a circle as the Mage gave the flask back to his knight. “Trace on.”

Circuits aflame began to generate the outline of a sword and nowhere as fast as Shirou was used to make them. With so many devils around he was trying to keep the output of power to a minimum to avoid having to answer questions. It wasn’t easy especially since he was calling for a Noble Phantasm.

Kuisha almost retreated when she felt the blade’s presence and Sairaorg began to laugh as the image of a hunting dog did appear on his mind. “So it is true. You can create Noble Phantasms.”

“I can sure fake them.” Hrunting revealed itself with all of his glory but thankfully without making too great of an announcement. Nobody came in to check out so Shirou let out a sigh of relief. ‘Then again this disguise is more trouble than it is worth.’ He shook his head and looked at his friends. “So who do we go after first?”

“Forgive me for asking, Lord Emiya,” Kuisha interrupted as respectfully as she could, “but isn't that the same blade as Lucifer’s Pawn?”

A little wince escaped at the sudden tone shift because the devil stopped seeing him as the person she spent an ‘afternoon’ with and was now only looking at the Mage of Swords. Still was obviously visible as the woman herself recoiled and lowered her head in apology.

“It is fine.” He said quickly. “Treat me as anyone else. Never wanted fame anyway.”

“Great deeds make one famous, Master.” A groan was all the reply she got.

Sairaorg laughed at the comment. “Indeed they do, Xenovia.” He turned back to Shirou with a curious gaze. “But tell us, Shirou, is this the same weapon? Down to the smallest detail?”

“Pretty much. The whole thing is complicated and a magician never reveals his secrets.” The heir nodded in understanding before magus decided to ask something else. “Did no one know that Beowulf’s sword can track through mana? Never mind, probably nobody bothered to check. Admitally this is my first time using Hrunting for this.” If he didn’t know any better Shirou would think the sword was shaking from excitement. “I will send a message later, for now there is work to be done.”

“Truly Noble Phantasms are remarkable. And all it needs is a ‘scent’?” Because the Heir of Bael wasn’t going to let that go, his curiosity wouldn't allow it. “Does it always need a sample or something else?”

“Actually I am also curious, Master.” Xenovia remembered Hrunting being used against Freed and Vali and in both fights the weapon was applied differently.

While they were in a hurry Shirou saw no problem in a short explanation. “Hrunting is a hound, it obviously needs a ‘scent’. But the definition of ‘scent’ is pretty open to a Noble Phantasm. ‘Target’ would be the better word.” He pointed to his own eyes. “The most basic form of tracking is through my eyes; whoever I consider a target is going to be pursued while they are in my field of vision.” He pointed to the flasks. “The other form uses what I told you all before; mana or blood. Just a single drop and it will be able to track anyone for a rather large distance.” Everyone glanced at the sword. “Then again, the last time anyone used its ability to its full capacity was the original Beowulf and he never bothered to measure how far it can go.”

Of course the King of Savagery was also monstrously fast so Shirou would need time to establish his speed first, something he never bothered to do as it wasn’t necessary for his training. All he could estimate from Hrunting’s memories was 'as far as a city less than a country’.

“Well, then I believe we should go after Macabro first.” Suggested Sairaorg as Kuisha offered her flask. “We know little about Fiton, he may be just the smith or ‘the golden goose’ as we were discussing earlier.” Explained the heir while rubbing his chin.

Nobody could disagree with the merit of his suggestion since that man was guilty of the worst crime.

With no objection, Shirou turned to the Queen. “Open it.”

“Wait a minute, Master. Must we forget your secret identity?” Xenovia asked and everybody paused. “If anyone sees you with Hrunting, they may suspect you are the Mage of Swords.”

“... Good point, Xenovia. Here.”

“Huh? Are you sure?”

Shirou offered her a warm smile. “Of course, you are my knight, after all. I can trust you with it.” Hrunting changed hands as Shirou took the flask and Xenovia stood there, admiring her new sword. “Now once it finds a direction, it will begin to pull rather hard so don’t be afraid of using a little Ki to keep it under control.”

“Anything else I need to know, Master?” By the shine on her eyes she just wanted to use the sword already. Everyone around chuckled and the redhead shook his head, prompting Xenovia to look at Kuisha. “Ready whenever you are.”

The Queen turned to the Mage with mirth in her eyes. “Do I just open it?”

“Close to Hrunting’s tip if you please… Actually, would anyone mind if we broke it?” His reply was the Queen slamming the flask on the blade.

They watched for a few moments, each one with a different expectation about what would happen until the sword began to change colors and Shirou took a step back. Sairaorg and Kuisha took the hint and moved away as Xenovia held the sword with both hands firmly.

When Hruntring turned completely red the former Exorcist began to feel a tug as the sword began to move her arm in a direction. She blinked before smiling and turning to the Mage. “I think waaaaaah!”

The woman began to panic as the sword began to drag her and the very rocks which made the sidewalk. “Don’t fight it, Xenovia.” Shirou began to walk beside her as she found her footing. “That is it, let Hrunting find its prey. He is in its range so the sword will take us straight to him.”

“Fly if you have to.” Sairaorg suggested while keeping pace.

Xenovia jumped from the ground and transformed her cape again, allowing Hrunting to take her wherever it wanted to go.

The moment her feet left the ground it was like the Noble Phantasm let out of the leash.

In the blink of an eye the bluehead was moving faster than a car. Even Shirou was caught a little by surprise but that didn’t last long as he began to run after his friend with the other two in tow.

From her part the blue haired maiden could do nothing but hold the blade as it began to accelerate further. To her relief the sword never went too far from the ground but that soon turned to horror as she saw a crowd of devils in its path. By how it was pulling her, she had no hopes of dodging.

So Xenovia did the next best thing. “GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!!!” She shouted with everything she had and some managed to dodge or fly up. But others didn’t.

Already she could see a group that was frozen in shock at the sight of her and prepared to stop Hrunting by any means necessary. However the sword did something completely unexpected and simply went around the spectators. It kept moving between anyone that wasn’t its target without flaw.

Except that Xenovia was along for the ride. “Sorry! Excuse me! Ow! I am sorry! Gremory business! My apologies!” And unfortunately she ended up colliding with quite a few people.

Vases were broken and the pavement was damaged as she fought the sword for control. If she didn’t know any better the bluehead would claim Hrunting was worse than Durandal.

‘It never acted like that with Master!’ Her feet landed as she began to pull, refusing to let Hrunting do whatever it wanted any further. It began to push harder and Xenovia felt her mana being drained. ‘It is using me as fuel? Is it connected to me?’ She realized something could be done.

Her body began to glow as Xenovia pulled with all her strength to stop the sword from escaping from her grasp. Everybody was watching the girl fight with the sword as it kept trying to break free.

“Xenovia!” Her friends had arrived but she shook her head.

“I can handle this!” Ki exploded from her body as her Light began to compete with the ‘sun’. Xenovia glared at the weapon and began to pull back harder.  ‘You are like Durandal but different! You don’t recognize me as your owner!’ Gritting her teeth, she then sent a wave of mana and Ki throughout the weapon.

Suddenly the sword stopped struggling and the blue haired woman seemed to relax. Her arm was still being tugged in a direction but that wasn’t important as Shirou approached clearly worried.

“Give it here-”

“It is fine, Nero.” She gave him a beautiful smile. “This one is easier to control than Durandal. Just needed to show who is the boss.”

“So it is all okay now?” Sairaorg asked as some devils watched them with care. “Because we kinda broke some stuff. Any idea why this happened?”

“I let my guard down.” Xenovia recognized with a frown. Turning to those watching she bowed even as her arm stayed back pointing towards where the sword wanted to go. “I am sorry!”

Realizing that Hrunting was a little more temperamental than he expected, Shirou winced. “I will pay for everything.” Fortunately he still had some gold coins left.

But the rest of the journey was calmer even if Xenovia couldn’t lower her arm. Hrunting would fight back all the way even if the sword didn’t try to pull as hard anymore.

That coincided more with the memory of Hrunting on his Reality Marble which made Shirou realize that since it was his sword it wouldn’t just obey Xenovia unless she proved herself like the original Beowulf did; through strength.

Now it was acting more like an obedient dog and just showing directions even if with some urgency. “If we end up getting to the outskirts of the town we may have to stop and gather supplies.”

“Why do you say that, Sairaorg?” Xenovia asked, still guided by the weapon.

“Because there is a chance our quarry is hiding in the mountains or in the woods and that place is considerably dangerous.” A frown made its way to the King’s face. “If he is too far away we may never find him or be too tired if he is well hidden.”

“Perhaps I should go ahead and rent some griffins?” Kuisha offered in agreement with her King. “Should I go ahead and also secure supplies?”

“That probably won’t be necessary.” Shirou remarked with confidence. “Criminals like Macabro like money and wouldn't go too far away from places to spend it.” With a boundary field restricting teleportation that meant they would have to fly and that had its own risks. “Besides, transport wouldn't be easy either. Anyone who sees a bunch of thugs carrying boxes of weapons into town will know that something is wrong in an instant.”

“The guards and patrols around Runeas wouldn't let that slide either.” Sairaorg acknowledged.

“So it doesn’t also depend on what building he is going to be in?” Xenovia asked as they took another turn as Hrunting guided them around a tower. Some devils still looked their way but no one bothered them. “They will also see us coming from a mile away.”

“Depends…” This time it was Kuisha who replied. “If they are doing something illegal, obviously they won’t be anywhere we can see from outside.”

“Then again, they must have spotters.” Sairaorg chuckled. “But it's not like people think too much about four people just walking around the street.”

“Following a sword of all things.” Shirou pointed out. “Perhaps they will find that odd?”

“But certainly not dangerous.”

“We still should call for reinforcements.” The Queen observed carefully. A part of her knew it was pointless. “Some may escape if we are careless.”

“Then let's not be careless.” Xenovia suggested as she kept marching ahead. “Besides, not like Hrunting is going to give us a good place to just look. Or will it?” The blade offered no reply.

Walking around town was obviously slower than flying but it was safer than the alternative.

The fact that they remained on ground level also implied that their target was in a similar situation or else Hrunting would have pulled Xenovia to the skies and not bothered with dodging people.

What concerned Sairaorg was that they weren’t leaving the city area as they kept going forward for a couple of blocks until they took another turn. “Is Macabro moving?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he is just deeper in the city.” Shirou suggested and the heir replied with a grimace. “What is wrong?”

“That were are on one of the more busy streets of Runeas right now.” The Bael King informed much to the magus and knight’s surprise. “It may not look like it but it is quite late so less people are out. For them to run an operation around here would be too daring.”

"More like ballsy. But didn’t Master say something like that? That they would want to be in a place where they can sell and buy a lot?”

Shirou agreed with Xenovia. “Don’t worry. Maybe Hrunting is just taking a shortcut.”

Five minutes later they arrived at a building right in the middle of the street, the biggest one of the bunch and not a tower like the majority around town. “You were saying?” Sairaorg remarked without any bitterness.

Shirou still felt a little bad. “Sorry I opened my mouth.”

“A furniture store?” Xenovia asked as Hrunting touched the wall and was kicked back by a boundary field which made the devils look at it with interest. “Isn’t this a bit too ballsy even for criminals?”

“Not really. A furniture store is actually a great disguise.” Shirou commented while scratching his chin. “Furniture certainly makes it easier to explain bigger boxes and gives them a lot of extra space to store their illegal goods.” He turned to the devils of Bael with a raised eyebrow. “Any thoughts?”

“Hrunting should have touched the wall.” The King of Bael said bluntly.

It was his Queen who elaborated. “What my lord means to say is that most boundary fields work inside the stores to protect the place while not being invasive.” She touched the wall and felt a small shell of mana blocking her hand from really reaching it. It was almost unnoticeable and she could only tell it was there thanks to Hrunting. “See? I can’t touch it either.”

“An unusual boundary field isn’t cause for alarm but…” Sairaorg watched Hrunting, noticing how it was starting to fight Xenovia again. “I think I will trust the Noble Phantasm on this. What is the plan?”

The blue haired woman let some of her Ki escape and the sword stopped pulling. “What are you talking about? We go in and kick their asses.”

The trio looked at each other with wonder and mirth.

…

Macabro had a huge smile on his face, one showing all his teeth. “I love my work.” Mostly he loved the money as he and some of his more loyal men sorted the gold for bribes and their allies. “Gosh how I love it.” The others laughed at their boss’ attitude.

Compared with every devil present Macabro was two or more heads taller even if he didn’t have much muscle. He was lean but not athletic, the build of a true office worker that took care of himself without time to do much. But that was just appearances, for him to look non threatening.

Many of his business partners knew the man was as ruthless as they come and had no trouble getting his hands dirty. Macabro enjoyed it even, especially when it was killing someone who was damaging the business or trying to ruin things for him.

Born and raised on Runeas he was someone who saw the fortune of the city and once dreamed about ruling it, even proclaiming in his youth he would marry a Gremory. Those dreams were long gone as his hundreds of years tempered his ambition as the man realized he was too weak to be a player on the big arenas.

So the black haired man did some jobs and got the opportunity to join a little but lucrative operation. The work? Killing some devils who were bothering a big shot devil at the time.

The first kill can be the hardest to many, including devils. It wasn’t strange for someone to hesitate or try to find another solution.

Macabro didn’t just kill the person, he developed a taste for the thing and a bloodthirst that could be compared to any tyrant or killer that ever walked on Earth. Left and right he piled bodies until he managed to build a nest of his own, a profitable business that could give him the life he wanted.

By far he wasn’t the biggest fish but he had connections good enough that he could operate in the center of the Gremory capital with impunity, average devil none the wiser he was right under their nose.

“Looks like we have another profitable day folks!” Macabro announced as they crunched the numbers. His men smiled as the new swords had sold well. “To the suckers!!” He declared with a glass held high.

“““““To the suckers!!!”””””

Inside their office they celebrated a little before his men began to leave, opening the door and breaking the boundary field to let the loud noise of their factory in.

For their base was a steel factory that worked around the clock on the production of the material; plenty of minerals were acquired from Gremory’s lands through bribes and theft but to be refined they needed their own place.

All around the area devils worked with their magic to process more metal at an accelerated rate. It would still lose against modern technology but in the Underworld that was fast enough. Their smith’s workshop was already receiving a new batch and Macabro approached the man guarding the door to make sure his ‘golden goose’ wouldn't be interrupted.

“Did the bastard eat?” The younger devil, not even a century old, jumped in surprise.

“No boss. He has been hammering that work of his away the whole day. Said it was almost done.” The man sounded excited. “More money for us but he is going to croak no doubt.”

“No, that isn’t for sale.” Macabro revealed while scratching his growing beard. It wasn’t a proper one yet but it was getting there. “That is his payment.”

“Huh? What do you mean boss?”

“You a newbie?” Macabro laughed as the man suddenly began to shake. His reputation always gave him the most amusing sights. “Bastard doesn’t like making the Mage’s swords, and wants to work on his own. For some metal he made us a lot of blades.” He pointed to a box where dozens of swords are ready for transport. “A lot of lucertes, hehehe.”

Sure that contract wasn’t the only source of their income as they had been selling weapons even before that but Fiton’s skills boosted their profits by a huge margin. Just the idea of having one of the Mage of Sword’s works had people jumping to buy them and he was happy to deliver.

Of course Fiton couldn’t just produce everything by himself so Macabro had other smiths making replicas of the swords with some instructions but none of the real skill or technique necessary to make perfect copies.

The fact that most weapons that the average devil would buy had flaws that would have the swords breaking sooner than their superior counterparts, even the legal ones. Not on purpose, it was always a matter of the metal and skill as smithing wasn’t a work that many devils had and the Gremory snatched the best ones.

Macabro planned to use it to his advantage by selling more swords even when his clients showed up to complain as Fiton didn’t work on all of them. Only in the best for their best clients and they all knew it. The average punk couldn’t buy the real works so they would have no choice but come back to buy more or have to explain their swords were fakes.

Not like they could ask the official Gremory’s smiths to fix it for them, which meant a steady source of profit from those Macabro dubbed ‘the suckers’.

There was just no choice for them, once they announced they had a sword like that, there was no going back without losing face or worse. And of course if they just lost a blade made by the ‘Mage of Swords’ people would ask questions or demand an explanation. That was how tight the control of the official ones were.

Just the thought of people begging for him for more swords made the man salivate. “Such a profitable business.”

“Boss?” The smaller devil called for Macabro which snapped him off his fantasy, running his mood.

“Don’t interrupt when I’m thinking, newbie.” An orange magic circle appeared on his hands, its potency considerable and soon a bright flame shoved on the devil’s face. All watched as the man stopped short from frying the younger one’s face. “This is your only warning.”

Macabro retracted his magic and began to walk away as the devil’s back hit the wall and he began to slide to the ground close to have a panic attack.

Every other devil in the area saw their boss smile as a shiver ran down their spines, exactly what the career criminal wanted. Reminding his subordinates the trail of bodies he piled up to reach his position was his third favorite pastime, a close winner to his killing of upstarts. He didn’t like killing his subordinates either, considering it a waste of money.

But the faces of fear and uncertainty were his drug and one Macabro learned he couldn’t live without.

Suddenly everybody stopped working as a loud noise was heard on the top floor.

That should be impossible with their boundary field but then the devils in charge of it revealed themselves. As their boundary field was an illegal one they couldn’t use the Goetia Road so they ran it during all the hours the ‘official’ store was closed.

Still their faces were of panic and not exhaustion. “Somebody found us!”

Certainly an event never happened in their operation, pretty much every criminal knew what that meant. “Any leads from the attackers?” Macabro demanded to know, suspecting one of his men betrayed him. “How many?”

“We don’t know! It already-” Before the devil could finish the rooftop of their factory began to shake as loud sounds similar to explosions kept ringing above everyone’s heads.

For the moment all activity seemed to cease as everyone looked up, some nervous and others fearful as the noise kept growing louder and louder. Some noticed how the area around them began to shake and began to fear a spell of some sort. Others already had magic circles ready as the event put everyone on some sort of edge.

Tremors weren’t something common in Runeas, never had been, so even if not everyone heard about the breach nobody would doubt they were being invaded by the occurrence alone.

The roof began to crack as the noise grew even louder, getting closer to their position. “We are over 30 kilometers below the ground. Whoever is doing this is a monster.” Someone said in fear as he realized something terrible for them.

Someone was digging a tunnel straight to their factory and they would soon arrive faster than anyone should be capable of. Such a level of power was intimidating to say the least and everybody either prepared a magic circle, grabbed a sword or both as they got ready to fight for their lives.

Because the list of people capable of that was really short. “It is a Maou!!”

“A Maou?!” “It can’t be!!” “Lucifer is coming?” “Lucifer?!” “He comes to demand the Gremory due!!”

Panic had already spread to the point people were trying to push each other to escape but not all.

Plenty of them were career criminals and had had a stake or another in the business, enough to die for it. Macabro was the ringleader of their operation and ordered his lieutenants to control everyone as the roof began to crack.

It finally gave away and dozens of devils tried to hold back the rocks and protect their investment.

A desperate attempt that could be only called useless as the hole wasn’t created by excavation but from a person punching solid rock until they reached the factory underground.

So there was a lot of stone falling on those men and while some were able to see the danger and dodge most of them ended up crushed. “Maybe we should have tried to find a proper entrance.” Shirou pointed out as he noticed the puddles of blood spreading and the limbs trying to escape the rocks.

“What are you talking about, Nero? This was the best way to get here and get our point across.” Sairaorg commented as he began to clean his hands. “Building a factory beneath the ground is obviously unsafe and against the law. They were just punished for their recklessness.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Xenovia held Hrunting firmer than before, feeling how the blade was trying to escape almost desperately. “These are just scum who kill children. They should be grateful we didn’t just blow them up.”

“But-”

Before Shirou could finish his protest, Xenovia gave him a pensive look. “Aren’t you still upset about what they did with the swords? Why care about them?”

Sairaorg spoke next with a calm expression. “They still can surrender. I think just a few didn’t run when the roof came down.”

Instead of replying the magus began to massage the bridge of his nose when he felt someone place their hand on his back. Kuisha offered him a gentle smile to show he understood his struggle as more than once her King had ignored normal convention and just did as he pleased.

It was something they usually found endearing about the people they cared about and Shirou instantly sympathized with the devil as she was in the subordinate role so the heir’s rampages were more uncontrollable while he could usually hold his knight back.

“FIRE!!!!” Macabro didn’t hesitate to order, not bothering or caring by who the invaders were. He just knew they had to die.

Almost a hundred devils acted as a unit and poured their power in just as many magic circles. None hesitated, all going for the kill.

With so many attacks coming from all sides both Shirou and Xenovia prepared their swords for a hasty defense while Sairaorg just folded his arms, not showing the slightest concern. That was because his Queen had begun to move the moment they arrived, her mana flowing from body.

A black magic circle appeared from a single instant, lasting less than a wave of Kuisha’s hand. In its place several dozen Holes, distortions of Space, were formed and absorbed every single shot flying in their direction. Those Holes had a gravitational pull of their own and even the attacks that tried going up or down fell prey to them.

Soon every attack had been neutralized before the woman snapped her fingers and those same Holes, each still carrying the attacks they had captured, appeared all around the factory.

Explosions followed next, some fatal and others not as the spells of the criminals had been completely turned against them. Even if some realized what was going on it was too late as the attack was pretty much instantaneous.

Shirou and Xenovia watched the event with some wonder as the fight had begun and ended in less than a second. “Good work, Kuisha. Your aim was perfect.” Praised Sairaorg with a thumbs up. “Pity there are so few.” He noticed his new friends’ shock and smiled. “That is the Power of Abbadon. If the Luciferge are those who control Space for movement, Kuisha controls Space distort, shaping it into traps for the enemy, the Power of Hole. And I am happy to say Kuisha was extremely good with it. Perhaps a bit too good as she left almost nobody for us.”

“Don’t be upset my lord, I kept the energy mostly away from them.” The blonde said with a small grin. “Those who died did so because they couldn’t block their own power.”

“That ability… It is Abbadon’s Hole!” One of the devils who managed to block his own attack shouted in fear.

Another devil who lost his arm cried “What is an Abbadon doing here? This is Gremory territory. No fair!” He desperately tried to close the wound but nobody moved to help him.

Until Sairaorg snapped. “Listen closely! You all stand accused of committing crimes against the Gremory! Against the Pillars!” Besides whimpers and moans of pain, everyone stayed silently. “Surrender now and you shall be judged fairly! Every life is precious to us devils and you can recover! Join society again after paying your debt!” With that he was making clear killing wasn’t his intention.

Which wasn’t a good thing for Macabro and his cabal. “Don’t listen to this brat! He is lying! Do you believe after all we did the Gremory will just forgive us?!” He was nursing a small wound to his forearm but that was the only damage he took.

His words had an effect though, at least for a second until another devil spoke. “A black haired man with a noble disposition… followed by an Abbadon Queen…” Dropping to his knees the man who had a wound on his leg lowered his head and asked, “Are you Sairaorg Bael?!”

The rejected Heir of Bael who fought to recover his crow was known in pretty much every level of the Underworld, especially on Gremory territory. Many of the men there were also present during his run on the Underground Arena even if they never met him in person.

During the days he lived in Runeas, Sairaorg built a reputation of being just but also of being strong. Suddenly the belief that someone could break over several kilometers of rock with their bare hands was believable. Suddenly the person invading their illegal factory was one of the Heirs of the Pillars.

And if that was true there was no victory.

“Correct.” The admission had pretty much every criminal stuck in a state of shock. Looking around the heir knew that wouldn't do. “Help the wounded and be patient. If you do so all of you will get your fair hearing. While you broke the laws of the Underworld, none of you deserve the death penalty. Therefore it isn’t too late.” He tried to look disarming and welcoming, succeeding in reassuring many of the most desperate. Just a young man speaking honestly, even if it was a lie. “So please, lower your weapons, focus your magic in staying alive and everything is going to be fine.”

At least for most of them, those who did as ordered and began to help themselves almost immediately after hearing such a guarantee. That was the best way of separating the small criminals from the bigger ones for the latter had nothing to gain by surrendering.

Those who committed atrocities and knew exactly what the government could do to extract a confession, just the signing of a contract listening to the most horrible crimes with a line where it said they didn’t do it, and would be dead the moment they were captured.

Some already had sheets and sheets of crimes that would earn them death nonetheless and Macabro knew he was one of them. A reputation like his reached the high up’s ears and he needed to escape.

Even with most of his men surrendering, he still had plays to make. “HE IS LYING!!!!” The accusation echoed the mostly silent factory, the younger devils looking at him in fear. “He is lying!! The Gremory are only good to their subordinates and ruthless with everyone else!! Didn’t you hear what the heiress did to the Phenex?!! They are going to eat us alive!!!”

Exaggerations for the sake of his survival but since the man played his hand, Shirou played his. “Xenovia, let Hrunting go.”

Immediately the woman did as ordered and the sword let out a pulse before moving around her body and flying towards its target.

It was slow compared to when he was an arrow but still fast enough that when Macabro noted the blade it was too late. It had sunk in his shoulder just above the chest, almost taking his heart.

Many were terrified as they didn’t know what happened as it was like suddenly a sword had stabbed their leader even if the woman holding it barely moved. The man himself glared at the weapon which had stopped shaking before pulling it out. It disappeared in his hands before he spoke up again.

“See!! They want to kill us-”

“Just you!” Shirou declared loudly, jumping from the pile of rocks to land in some blood. “Macabro, right? No family name?” His hand went for the sword on his back and Red Burst was revealed once again. “Doesn’t matter. Nobody is going to mourn a child killer anyway.”

Even if Shirou wasn’t letting any power out his demeanor was of someone who shouldn't be messed with and Macabro knew that the man came from his head. Quickly he took an EM he had on his person, making the hooded eyes glow in rage as he used the scalpel to fix his wounds and prepare to fight for his life.

“Did your smith make that too or did you actually buy it?” Shirou asked without a care as his voice showed only apathy. The fury was behind a wall to not get in the way during the fight. “Either way, I suppose this makes things fair.” Slowly he marched, ready to deliver his judgment.

“Kill him!!” Nobody obeyed. “What are you waiting for?! Abbadon can’t protect him at that distance!” But those were criminals and most of them didn’t kill unless necessary.

They also knew they could be forgiven for past offenses, maybe forced to build a city on unexplored territory if things came to that, not having committed any crime the Underworld would see as taboo.

Not like Macabro who was starting to feel the rope on his neck as even his lieutenants stepped away from him. Sure they killed unarmed men and women alike and stole plenty which they shouldn't but risking their lives on the frontier after a harsh rehabilitation was better than certain death.

It didn’t matter who Shirou was or his rage, Sairaorg Bael promised them their lives if they surrendered and so they would.

“Neh, Nero. Can I have this one?” Shirou suddenly stopped as the Heir of Bael made his request. “You got to fight in the arena early, let me have this guy.” Contrary from his jovial tone, his eyes looked murderous. “I promise to leave him alive for you later if you want.”

“Wait, I barely got to fight in the arena. The second I joined, everyone just ran away.” Xenovai complained.

“But you fought and my lord hadn’t done so yet today.” Seeing how defeated their enemies were, Kuisha didn’t look concerned in the slightest. Not with her ability and the fact that none of those devils could be classified above Middle Class, none of them came even close to being able to challenge her Power. “I must extend my lord’s request, Nero.”

“Huh, maybe there was a misunderstanding. I am not planning to kill him.” By his tone, most devils believed him. It was utterly apathetic. “What I am going to do is make him suffer until the time of his death comes after whatever the Underworld has as due process.” He wanted the man to suffer until the last moment.

Death would be too fast.

If the law said Macabro would be punished Shirou would be sure to deliver him to the proper authorities after he vented a little. Sure the man could make things to himself easier or harder if he surrendered.

But everybody knew Macabro wouldn't do it and Sairaorg realized Shirou needed this. “Very well. Get out of the way for the fighters!” The criminals didn’t hesitate in obeying the noble.

Macabro glared at the hooded magus, planning to kill him but not knowing what came after. “Haha! I get nothing by killing a brat like you.” His eyes turned to Sairaorg. “On the other hand if I kill the most promising Bael’s heir in History, my name will at least be remembered.”

“I am the one who found your base.” Everything went quiet as black eyes full of malice turned to Shirou with an ominous glow. “Is that reason enough for you to kill me?” Because he wanted a struggle.

By the expression of murderous rage written all over Macabro’s face he would get one as a huge magic circle appeared in front of him and the man threw his arms on it. “DIE!!!!!”

A huge blast of mana was unleashed but Shirou wasn’t impressed. His grip on Red Buster grew firmer as he took a swing and cut the blast in two.

It kept going until it hit some barrels behind the Mage as his eyes remained on the devil who attacked him. Shirou’s eyes were their natural color and all the devil saw were two golden flames watching him, judging him. With how the hood was covering his face the magus looked more like a devil than any devil Macabro had ever met.

The man couldn’t stop himself from taking a step back which actually made Shirou more angry. “That was it?” His tone was something between apathetic and disappointed. “After all you did, all the lives you took, that is the best you can do?” There was no longer any hatred in his heart nor joy or pity. “Pathetic.”

Instead of growing angry or replying at the insult, Macabro gathered mana and created another magic circle, a gray one that looked a little unstable. Red Buster was ready to cut through anything except what actually came from it. Because something nobody expected to happen was the circle to explode in Macabro’s face.

Or that a cloud of smoke would be formed from it.

“Nobody moves!!” Sairaorg saw the plot quickly as some devils were already standing up to try to run. "Damned!" He raced left as Kuisha created a Hole to get rid of the smoke.

“I got this side!” Xenovia drew Durandal and her Light intimidated many of the devills into submission. Some even thought she was an angel and tried to attack but her blade cut their circles and with a spin she sent them all to the walls. “They are escaping through the hole.” From the corner of her eye she saw some devils flying.

But Sairaorg had already returned from his first attack, holding a devil by their jacket as he focused his Ki on his fist. With a single punch every devil in the air was blown away from their entrance as a mighty wind followed the Heir of Bael’s attack. Some tried to resist but he threw his capture before kicking another down.

Macabro was also flying but in another direction, getting on the second floor he rushed on a hallway where the cargo lift would be. He was sure most of his men tried to run to the elevator so most of the invaders' focus had to be there.

The devil was almost right but committed a single mistake; he was someone’s prey and the hunter never lost his scent.

When Macabro arrived at the lift he quickly created a magic circle to open the door. His hand was just about to touch the door when a dagger pinned his hand on the wall. Macabro screamed in pain and rage as Shirou revealed himself, face still hidden but eyes still glowing.

“So all you can do is run? What is wrong? Harder when somebody actually can fight back?” With Red Buster by his side the Mage marched slowly through the huge hallway as the screams echoed around the area.

The devil’s fear grew but so did his fury at the callousness of the man before him. “You motherfucker-” Ripping his hand from the wall with the dagger still in it, he took it off to use the blood on his hand and blade to create dozens of magic circles. Blood red magic began to flow as the dagger helped him conduct it. “Die!!!”

A rain of red blacks began to hit Shirou, all of them exploding on impact as more followed their trail and generating more explosions. Soon the Mage’s form was hidden but that didn’t matter to Macabro who kept a hand steady to keep the magic circles going and used the other to unlock the door.

When it finally opened Macabro grinned in triumph just before Shirou’s shadow came from above with his sword above his head.

The man didn’t even notice the Mage, only really understanding how close he was from dying when Red Buster cut part of the lift and he turned to see the blazing eyes close to his face.

Plenty of things scared Macabro at that point like the fact that Shirou didn’t have a single scratch on him after the barrage or his sudden appearance when the criminal was certain he had the swordsman pinned back.

All of that had the man jumping away in fear, only a second later noticing that he went up farther away from his escape route. Gripping the dagger he pointed out that the magus as the doors of the lift closed down but didn’t attack. Instead his hand went for his EM again which only made the Mage more mad.

“Weak.” The word stopped the man for a moment but he quickly healed himself as the dagger created another magic circle for him. Not that Shirou cared as the door tried to close in his weapon and opened again. “Red Buster!" An explosion of flames left the sword and started to consume the lift.

Macabro watched as his escape route began to melt away and break apart as the fire from the sword spread almost uncontrollably. His eyes didn’t leave the lift even as the flaming sword allowed the doors to finally close and the fire to spread freely inside of it. Clearly it was unusable but that was the least of his problems.

“I can beat you with a kitchen knife.” Shirou joked somewhat maliciously as his disdain for the man made itself clear. “Is that all you have to show after killing so many? Was that because none of them could lift a finger? Or maybe because you can only have the guts to fight when the other person is already beaten to an inch of their life?”

“Shut up!” Regardless of his words Macabro stepped back in fear, wondering how he knew so much about his past.

The Mage followed him with a step forward and no further, the flames dancing on his blade. “What is wrong? That is how you did it, wasn’t it? Had those who could fight beaten, then tested the edge of your blades because ‘quality control’? Am I wrong?” The devil retreated and the magus chased, always keeping the same distance. “You never gave them a chance and just did so for your sick amusement. You disgust me.”

That was the center of Shirou’s emotions for the man; an utter loathing and disgust that couldn’t be called hatred. He couldn't muster any hatred for Macabro because the man’s actions only made him sick and revolted. It was like he wasn’t looking at a person but at a grotesque thing.

A thing which forced a disgust so great it went beyond hatred. Some of it was born from the fact the creature used his creations to inflict harm.

But that was irrelevant because the creature would do so with any other weapon anyway and, considering the kind of monster that he was, Macabro certainly did much worse things in his life even before he started selling copies of Shirou’s work.

“You are just trash, the worst kind of trash.” Taking a swing with Red Buster, Shirou watched some of the wall burn before the flames left the blade. “And I will make sure that you pay for everything you did.”

There would be no negotiations or mercy, Macabro would live in pain and die in pain for all of it he inflicted on the innocent.

But Macabro didn’t reach where he was in life by just giving up. “Fuck you!!” His magic circle changed to gray and he broke it with the dagger, creating another smokescreen.

…

His work was the only thing he had left in his life.

“My swords are better. I am going to surpass him. My swords are better. I am going to surpass him.”

Already he had given up on friends, on loved ones or his future. The strikes of his hammer were all the man had left as his creation was almost complete.

“My swords are better. I am going to surpass him. My swords are better. I am going to surpass him.”

It had been almost complete for days now, weeks, months. In reality the man had been working on the same blade again and again but never finishing it no matter how much metal he threw on it.

“My swords are better. I am going to surpass him. My swords are better. I am going to surpass him.”

Already that sword had broken hundreds of times and reforged hundreds of times, the idea of his ultimate creation consuming the man as he only paused to eat once in a while or to make others swords he didn’t want to make.

“My swords are better. I am going to surpass him. My swords are better. I am going to surpass him.”

For the works his employers wanted were from the man the devil learned to hate, a smith that the Gremory Clan found and suddenly he saw all his work grow irrelevant. He wasn’t working on his weapons anymore, only the man’s.

“My swords are better. I am going to surpass him. My swords are better. I am going to surpass him.”

So blind was on his pursuit that the blade in his hand had already broken and been rebuilt again as he kept hyper focused on making it the ultimate blade. Failure stopped existing, the sword just wasn’t done.

“My swords are better. I am going to surpass him. My swords are better. I am going to surpass him.”

The mantra repeated with each strike of the hammer as the noise from the factory behind his door was ignored. He heard it, he could hear everything after the screams subsided and the silence began to reign. Someone was shouting orders like usual and he would keep working until more steel or requests arrived like aways.

“My swords are better. I am going to surpass him. My swords are better. I am going to surpass-” Then he heard something different, a sound every swordsmith was extremely familiar with; a blade cutting something.

So hyper aware he was that instantly the man knew it couldn’t be one of his words.

Standing up he dragged his sword and hammer, his naked feet bleeding from the metal all around his mess of a workshop. From time to time the organization he worked for sent someone to clean it up but the man didn’t care. His focus was on the strange sword on his territory.

Slowly he opened the door and gazed at Macabro falling from a wall that had been cut into pieces, the psychopath's back falling on a pile of steel and he slowly started to get up. From the wall’s opening its obvious creator jumped off with a huge weapon that was unlike any other the man had seen.

Except it was like some of the works he knew, works that he was forced to study and replicated a thousand times over.

His eyes filled with hatred as he recognized the work of the Mage of Swords and he slammed the door in fury, nobody noticing he had ever opened it. “Another one?” His voice was breaking from thirst, almost a croak. “Another one?!” But it began to grow harsher with rage. “Another one!!!”

Were it not for the criminals’ fear outside they would have already revealed who was behind the door to the Heir of Bael. Were it not for the constant sounds of violence and pain, someone else would have noticed the strikes of a hammer of the blind fury which consumed the man.

But nobody did and his rage grew. “ANOTHER ONE!!!!” He was lost in his mind as the idea that his hated enemy had finished another masterpiece while he couldn’t finish one was too much.

If he wasn’t already insane, madness would have consumed him at that moment.

However every semblance of the man he once was had already been discarded with the goal of surpassing his hated enemy, an enemy who didn’t even know he existed but the emotion stayed and the man’s soul began to channel it on the weapon on his hand.

The man realized what was missing and a grin of mania grew in his lips. “Finally.”

This time his sword would be completed.

…

Shirou watched Macabro slowly get up as everyone else gave them some space. “You couldn’t even fight back.”

“Shut up!” Escaping was futile.

“What? Are you going to try the smokescreen again? Do you have anywhere else to run? Perhaps the elevator in that direction?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Nobody was going to help him, nobody was going to save him.

“How does it feel to be the one under someone’s boot now? Ah, my mistake. I haven’t beaten you to an inch of your life before the fight started.” A snarky grin revealed itself. “If we can call this a ‘fight’. How did you call that to your victims? Just a ‘fun time’ was it?”

His men had abandoned him and even the noble present made no move to restrain the swordsman whose fury burned hotter than his own flames. They were something that made Macabro worry even if the sword showed no indication it could create such fire. The memory of the lift burning was forever engraved in his mind.

But the weapon itself could also be useful if it was that powerful. The weapons dealer hoped he could use it to kill the Heir and his Queen, a hope born from seeing such a powerful weapon. Then the man looked around and came to his senses as Durandal’s bright aura couldn't be ignored.

No, Macabro finally realized he was a dead man and no sword could save him.

However his hunter insisted on doing the job alone and the devil would take that opportunity. “I will gouge your eyes out.” He said with a grin as he licked his lips, his killer’s instinct taking hold.

Finally there would be no running anymore, exactly what Shirou wanted. “If you can get close, that is.”

“Hah! Don’t think just because you know a thing or two that you have me pegged.” Mana began to flow around Macabro and Kuisha’s eyes grew wide.

‘That power is above the Middle Class. He is at the bottom of the High Class at least.’

Macabro began to channel mana on the dagger that Shirou so generously donated. “I have been surviving on Runeas for centuries. There were many who thought they could take me but none could!” He stated proudly. “I survived the Civil War, the new government and I am always on top.”

Shirou chuckled. “Just because nobody paid attention to a rat running around the sewers.” He offered a casual shrug. “But now you have mine.”

A wordless scream left Macabro’s lips as he threw his blood around while moving the dagger in a circular pattern. A huge magic circle began to be formed but the blood began to evaporate and join it, the color of the circle changing between red and orange as it pulsed brightly.

“Get ready to die you brat!! After this, nobody is going to ever forget the name Macabro ever AGAIN!!!” His power pulsed and pulsed as the devil used more of his blood as fuel.

Those behind Shirou dragged themselves away from the blast zone as they hoped against hope to avoid whatever their leader had planned.

What they didn’t realize was that Macabro wasn’t letting anyone escape. “You think you're some hot shit, don't you? Probably another noble brat who thinks he is better than everyone!” There was no reply as Shirou allowed the man to send more and more blood into the magic circle. If things keep going he would die of blood loss. “Fuck that and fuck you! I am the boss here! You suckers belong to me! Your lives are mine!!”

A moment passed and then Shirou let out a scoff. “You own nothing. Not even your life.”

That just made the man madder but that was fine with him, his sanity left the building a long time ago. “YOU ALL CAN GO TO HELL!!!!!!!”

Stabbing the dagger in the magic circle generated a chain reaction of blood and mana to unleash whatever its creator was doing in every direction. Previously Macabro used smoke but this time he built his spell with fire.

Consequently the magic circle exploded in a huge fireball that threatened to consume everyone.

Macabro was willing to kill himself and everyone else.

The flames never got far as the moment the blade made contact, Shirou was already acting. “Red Buster!!” Mana activated the sword as its center, one of his first creations, lended its ability.

The fire knives Shirou once made for the kitchen had in themselves a spell to generate fire and heat but the reason why the blade was the only thing affected was by how it was forged with the intent of controlling the flame and protecting the user’s hand.

It was a small thing that was multiplied dozens of times by Red Buster, the prototype of a new type of sacred gear that pushed the ability of its Core to a whole new level. All of its abilities.

Truly it could create fire, that was its main and most basic feature, but protecting its owner was both the Mage and the Cadre’s priority resulting in a greater control over flames even when the handle was made small.

So when Macabro used the dagger to spark the flame, Shirou reacted faster than the devil expected, raising his weapon and taking control of the fire about to be unleashed.

Instead of a ball of fire that would consume everyone, Red Buster took it all and became lit like a supernova, all those flames channeled in the body of the sword.

Shirou couldn’t contain it forever and neither would try as he slammed the blazing sword in front of him with all his strength. Fire didn’t bother him even as it spread around on the floor and burned the man just a few steps away from the magus as he kept pushing the flames down and heating up the room.

Plenty of the devils who could take flight but others that couldn’t escape ended up with minor burns as the flames grew exhausted. When everything was done Macabro sported some severe burns on his legs as Shirou was just sweating a little. Ki and Reinforcement kept the worst back even as he was in the epicenter of the fire.

But just in front of him there was a huge hole with melted stone that nobody would dare to get close to even as the temperature began to normalize.

Yet the fire remained but only on the blade as the single edged sword was still involved in flames. The fire was still bright and waiting, completely under the Mage’s control. While everywhere else it seemed to cool down, just looking at the weapon made many devils feel a lot of heat.

“As I said, ‘not even your life’.” Shirou commented as Macabro glared. Rising to his feet the devil summoned another magic circle but Shirou had leaped over the hole he created and cut the man’s arm off with his blazing sword. “Now you lost a hand too.”

The man screamed and fell to his knees as his other hand came to hold the cauterized wounds. The flames in the sword were so hot that Macabro felt the burn more like the cut as he began to whimper and hold the arm tightly. Took him a second to look for his hand, still holding the dagger, before he began to crawl towards it.

Shirou wasn’t having any of it as he took his dagger back and looked at the lone appendage with the same disgust he had for the man. “This hand doesn’t deserve to exist.” A swing of his weapon and it began to burn away before the Mage’s eyes returned to the criminal who jumped to attack.

Hatred pushed back the pain as instead of just whimpering and crawling Macabro was positioning himself, getting close to Shirou with his remaining hand hidden and a magic circle prepared.

Fire came back as his palm approached the magus but before he could even touch the object of his hatred the sword came faster than it should.

It was a huge sword, so big that most people needed two hands to even lift it a few centimeters and yet it suddenly was there cutting off a man’s arm.

The career criminal looked to the other burning arm he suddenly had as Shirou destroyed it. “And now you can’t even attack. Or are you skilled enough to use magic without a hand?” He looked at Macabro who glared in fury and jumped in his direction to bite him. The hooded magus punched him in the face and the man fell on it. “Looks like you are not.”

Macabro began to curse and complain coherently as he tried and failed to gather mana to do anything. Despite his age he wasn’t skilled enough to create magic circles without his hands and so was powerless.

Still Shirou wasn’t satisfied, the monster wasn’t broken. “How does it feel?” Words would have to do as he had no stomach for torture. “To be there, on the ground with only pain and nothing else. Do you like it?” When there was no reply Shirou saw hope the man was understanding the predicament he was in. “Not so tough now, are you?” When Macabro began to shake the magus stopped, pondering on knocking him out. But after all the lives he took, Shirou wanted the devil to understand why he was on the ground. “Compared to the pain you inflicted on others this is nothing…”

Everyone watched as Macabro laid there and barely moved without saying a word of protest. The owner of the factory and once the biggest arms dealer of Runeas was defeated or at least that was what everyone thought.

However the shaking continued until all noticed the laughter, a laugh full of malice. “Did I kill someone you cared about? Who was it? Hope I made them scream.” He looked at Shirou with insane glee and his face was so unhinged that nobody could believe how mad the man really was. “Was your father? Maybe your mother? A sister or a lover? Who was it? Did I have fun with them?”

Instead of replying immediately Shirou stabbed his sword on the ground and crouched to get closer to the man. “It was a kid.”

His next words made every devil and Xenovia shiver. “Which one?”

Not the Mage of Swords who took a deep breath and stood up. “By principle I don’t like killing unarmed people. Quite literally in your case.” Macabro blinked as the madness retreated back in surprise by the statement. “Then again, apparently killing children is taboo here… and you just admitted to killing more than one before plenty of witnesses.”

It was then that everybody understood the lack of reaction from the magus: he wasn’t surprised. Just by seeing the glee on Macabro’s face on just a few recent victims convinced Shirou there had to be more. Now he knew that for a fact but still he wouldn't kill the man.

However he would make sure the man lived to regret it. “What is going to be his punishment besides death?”

“There isn’t one, he is going to just be judged and killed on the spot.” Sairaorg looked around. “With this many witnesses to a confession there will be no resource.” His eyes landed on Shirou. “You can kill him if you want. As Heir of Bael, I authorize it.”

“No thanks. He isn’t worth it.” Getting Red Buster on his back the magus started walking away.

“Get back here, you pussy! Don’t you have the guts to finish the job?!” Macabro tried to get up but his almost carbonized skin wouldn't allow it. Considering his burns he shouldn’t be feeling pain but he was. “Aren’t you here for vengeance?! Come here so I can kill you!”

“Master…” Xenovia approached as the man kept shouting. “Do you want me to-”

“No, let him scream until his throat bleeds.” Shirou kept walking, ignoring the monster and letting it roar in pain and despair. “He will die as late as possible and only when it is convenient. Just to make sure his last thoughts are that he isn’t worth it.”

Sairaorg could respect the attitude and even the reason behind it. “He is too loud.” Doesn’t stop him from getting annoying at the curses the man was throwing around. Measures needed to be taken. “Can we at least shut him up?”

“Sure, is there a spell for that?” Asked the Mage with no interest. The whole exercise left him completely unsatisfied.

Still Bael’s Heir was happy for the approval. “Kuisha, if you could be so kind…”

“Of course, milord.” With a wave of a magic circle was formed and a spell was launched on the man’s mouth. For a moment he was confused as nothing seemed to happen, only to try to open his mouth and fail. “A pity you never learned to use magic without your hands. Maybe then you could break something so simple.”

It was like there was pink duct tape on his lips and no matter how much he raged Macabro couldn’t open his mouth for anything. Losing his last tool of torment the man slammed his head on the ground and tried to use a rock to peel the mana away. He looked like a worm who couldn’t move from its place and he would be like that until the Queen let the spell go.

“Excellent work as always, I doubt anyone else can have a better Queen. But I have another task for you.”

Beaming at the gentle praise, the woman bowed a little. “I listen and obey, milord.”

“Go to the closest station and get some men for transportation.” The heir pointed to the hole they got in with his thumb. “I destroyed the elevator so they couldn't escape so this is the only exit. We will stay here until you bring reinforcements.”

It was the last nail in the coffin of the criminals’ morale as the other route was the lift and Shirou came from there with a flaming sword after destroying a lot of the walls, nobody believed it was intact.

All the criminals could do was wait for their fate as the Queen bowed. “I shall return as quickly as possible.” Kuisha opened her wings and departed swiftly.

“Good. She will be back in a while.” Sairaorg said confidently, pointing to their prisoners. None of them was tied up. “We just need to keep an eye on these guys until then.” With his glare, none of them would dare to try to run away anymore.

“How long do you think it is going to take for her to get back?” Shirou asked on a whim, his voice lacking any motivation.

Still the King did his best to reply. “With her speed she will arrive at the closest office in a few seconds. Thanks to Bael’s authority she is going to be taken seriously and have a squad formed in… half an hour at most.”

“Paperwork?” Xenovia asked, which surprised Shirou a little but it shouldn’t have. She saw Rias, Azazel and her superiors in the Church fighting to get things going since little.

And in the Underworld the thing was no different. “Hah, pretty much. Is that common in the Human Realm as well?” Both of his new friends nodded slowly. “Heheh, we really aren’t that different.” He then looked around ominously, daring anyone to try and fly away. That thought was very much dead in their prisoners. “Then again we have at least 40 and some prisoners here who need an escort. Maybe Kuisha will take a little longer to request a special teleportation permite?” He only had that idea now but trusted his Queen. “Anyway, we just have to wait. Good job all around if I can say so myself.”

A small chuckle left the magus. “Yeah, a good job.” He tried to say as sincerely as possible. Sitting on a stack of rocks almost like an improvised chair. “Good job…”

Sairaorg believed him, Xenovia didn’t. “Mas- Nero… Is everything alright?” She asked, crouching in front of him. “Because if it isn’t-”

“No, it is fine. We did good today.” Shirou took a deep breath, just wishing to get rid of his clothes and take a shower. The magus was more exhausted than he should be and he knew it. “It was good enough.”

Xenovia knew something was wrong but didn’t know what. It was written all over the Mage’s eyes and his tone of voice felt heavier than a mountain.

Getting closer she sheathed Durandal and rested it by her side. “You can tell me. Is this not enough? Did we miss something?”

Looking at his knight Shirou wondered. ‘Why are you so loyal?’ Instead of speaking his thoughts, he replied with. “I feel like we didn’t help anyone with this.”

“We took irregulated and dangerous weapons from the market and arrested a ring so deep nobody knew about. That is a lot.”

“But something is missing…”

The Heir of Bael felt he was intruding on something he shouldn’t but said his piece. “Know what? If there is someone else above it, they lost their golden goose… Speaking of which, aren’t we missing something?” His eyes grew wide. “Or someone?”

“Fiton, their smith.” Shirou was about to get up but the taller man raised his hand to stop him. We need to find him or someone else could start this whole thing all over again.

“Whoa, hold your griffins. Maybe one of these guys knows something.” The devil’s thumb was pointing to the others nervously waiting to be escorted to rehabilitation. “Let me ask a couple of questions. If I offer them a deal they probably will give the guy up.”

“Then I will-”

“Nero, I feel tired. Can you make sure they don’t attack us?” Xenovia was lying, Shirou knew she was lying and Sairaorg had a pretty good guess she could fight the whole day if necessary. Yet the blue haired girl made her best innocent face and laid in the rocks with her eyes closed. “Maybe it is my internal clock but I think it is time to go to bed.”

The Bael Lion pounced on the opening as any good warrior would “Yeah, watch over her.”  He turned, not giving his new friend a chance to reply. “Not like you are the Heir of a Pillar who can cut those devils a deal for better rehabilitation that won’t send them to the ends of the Underworld. Take a nap if you need.”

“Will do.” Xenovia commented as Shirou turned to her, his mouth hanging in disbelief. She even opened one eye to make sure he was there. “Maybe I am hurt? Can you check my back.” Slowly she turned but with her clothes and cape intact the answer was obvious.

“Xenovia, I can’t see anything.”

“Just touch it. Maybe I have a bruise?” She wasn’t going to point out she was laying on rocks or anything of the sort.

Sairaorg took the opportunity to approach the worst dressed group of devils he could find, judging them to be grunts. If his guess was right then those would be the ones who win the most with a deal.

Maybe he was wrong but it was a place to start. “Gentlemen, as Heir of Bael, I am here to offer you all a once on a lifetime opportunity.” Noticing the attention he smiled. ‘Good. This will be easy.’ From the side he could hear some older devils demanding to talk first. ‘Very good.’ But he didn’t like tricks and spoke bluntly. “We are still missing an important prisoner here; Fiton, the man who gave you the designs for your swords. Pretty much made most of them too.”

The older devils, better dressed and obviously more trenched in the crime life, tried to get Sairaorg’s attention quickly. Some shouted and called while others made offers for more information that went in one ear and left by the other.

Those were the ones that Sairaorg wanted punished and exiled to cripple crime in Runeas. To them there would be no deals.

But the younger ones, who were a great majority mostly identifiable by their humble clothing with second hand suits or overalls suited for factory life, were the ones he could help the most.

By no means any of the men in the clandestine factory was innocent but some were more guilty than others and the Heir of Bael hoped to give some of them a chance to earn a better life.

“Must be hypocritical coming from me but ignore those guys, they come from old money and have contacts that will turn their life around if I give them some rope. You don’t.” Again he was blunt, as much as he could. “But we came here with a goal, to stop the spread of illegal swords. If you all tell me what I need to know, I am willing to speak in your favor, even give pardons.”

They started to sing like the most uncoordinated flock of birds that Sairaorg had ever heard but the younger devils were speaking for the most part, exactly what he wanted.

Unfortunately he couldn’t understand almost anything but he got enough. “That door?”

“Yes sir." Finally the devils controlled themselves as the heir’s attention on his target settled things down a little. The devil who replied was one of the younger ones but also braver. “We have to drop metal in there. And food, everyday. The guy barely eats.” Or at least less fearful of the consequences should he be known as a ‘rat’ in the criminal world.

However he had courage and that made another move. “Never learned the guy’s name but he works with swords every day. I’m sure he’s the one you’re looking for. Sir.”

“You’re dead!!” Did ya hear me?! You're all dead!!”

“Oh~ do you have a volunteer to face the Bael’s Power?” An ominous white aura escaped Sairaorg, his Ki coming out in sinister undertones. “Perhaps I should execute you for bothering the other prisoners?”

“You have no Power, boy! Everyone knows you were a blank!” The older devil, still someone looking in his thirties but over two hundred years old, stood up.

None of the devils saw when Sairaorg moved but suddenly he was there, face to face with the man as he fell back down, the weight of a mountain on his shoulders. When the younger devil spoke it was like he had fangs and the Ki around him began to grow darker as he appeared ready to devour the weaker man.

“I can do to you the same thing I did to the elevator.” It had been destroyed right before some devils managed to get in for safety. And almost everyone had seen it happen. “So?” The old devil shook his head, pissing himself. “Good.” Fear forced the devil to grow pale as Sairaorg turned to focus on the others again. “That door?”

After many nods of confirmation the Bael made a mental note to put a good word in favor of some. Definitely not all as he caught more than a glimpse of hatred in many eyes, a lot of resentment brewing in the area.

‘That is why we have rehabilitation before sending them out. That or prison for the worst of them.’ Bael’s eyes returned to Macabro who had stopped struggling and settled for glaring at Shirou. ‘Was expecting him to run…’ Finally his eyes turned to the door the prisoners pointed to. “Are there any guards inside?”

Once again a younger devil was quick to answer. “The guy hates us watching him work. Said we’re on the way.” By his tone that one was expelled from the workshop at least once.

Approaching the door Sairaorg decided to be diplomatic. “Fiton! Come out! Your associates are already under arrest!” No response was given. “As Heir of the Clan Bael I am ready to show leniency! ” Still nothing.

“Sir…” Another devil spoke carefully, one of the older ones this time. “The door is unlocked.”

Grabbing the handle, Sairaorg began to open the door only for a disturbing stench to escape with a malignant energy. Looking around the door everybody suddenly saw pools similar to oil pouring from the room. Many devils including Sairaorg jumped or scrambled back in any way they could, doing their best to escape whatever that was.

And the smell was rotten like a dumpster filled with the worst trash possible, enough so to poison the soil and damage even rock.

But it didn’t advance much further even as everyone stayed on guard. "Sairaorg-”

“Stay back! Everyone just stay back!” The heir prepared himself and approached the oily puddle, feeling how his shoe was beginning to melt at the slightest contact. “What the hell is this…” Nobody could give him an answer but Xenovia took up Durandal as Shirou helped get some devils away from whatever it was. “Is Fiton still alive? No, most likely he is responsible for it.”

Finally the sole of his shoe had melted but the man felt no pain or even a prickle on his skin. Concluding that he was stronger than whatever he was facing, the heir stepped forward, approaching the door again.

“I am coming in!” Once more he began to open the door but a blast of oil-like energy hit him with more power than he expected and the Bael Heir was sent flying back all the way to the other side of the factory.

Everyone could only watch as some of the equipment exploded when the noble devil collided with it. ““Sairaorg!”” Shirou and Xenovia shouted in concern but quickly their eyes returned to the door.

Stepping through it was a man with short stature, slightly smaller than Xenovia, long hair and beard that filled his face. His body had some muscle but not as much as on his arms, each seemed like they had bowling balls tied up with how big they were. There were also his eyes, the sclera red with exhaustion with huge shadows beneath them.

In his right hand however was a thing of nightmares as the oily substance spread from a tall sword with a circular pommel so big it would cover the hand completely. That sword also made some shiver as a sentiment of loathing and anger threatened to take over most of their hearts.

Nobody knew what it was, nobody but Shirou. “A Cursed Sword?”

“What do you mean, Master?” Xenovia was nervous as well, not even caring about his disguise anymore.

Not that he minded, they had more pressing matters. “The most advanced techniques of swordsmithing involve adding emotions to the weapon to push it further. Be it feelings of love or hatred anything can make a sword better.” All in the place knew a thing or two about forging swords and almost none of them knew that. “However, too much of anything can be poisonous and weaken the weapon or have other devastating results. Muramasa found the perfect emotion in his obsession which he had in spades but would drive someone into seeking to become the best wherever his swords are involved.”

“And that emotion?” It was so alien but familiar that the former Exorcist didn’t know where to put it.

“Hatred… Pure hatred.” When Shirou gave a name the feeling became clear to all.

A hatred so all consuming that made Macabro’s insanity look tame, the man himself crying in fear as all he wanted was to scream for help.

“WIth how things are now… he is completely consumed.” Shirou’s hand began to twitch as his circuits grew warm. If this was his next opponent he couldn’t go easy for the sake of a disguise. “Careful. With how he is now that sort of power could crush a High Class devil in a swing.”

“YOU!!!!!!!” The devil once known as Fiton shouted loudly, his blade pointing at Shirou. “Draw it!!! Draw it!!!” With another step the oily substance, his hatred given form with mana, began to pour more and more. “Draw it! Draw it! Draw it!Draw it!!Drawit!!DRAWIT!!!!” When no one moved, the oily pool began to expand. “DRAW IT!!!!!!!”

“Draw what?” Xenovia finally asked, her Light shining and forcing the pool to retreat thanks to Durandal.

Her spirit combined with the Holy Sword was enough to keep hatred at bay and even devils found themselves moving close to her, finding relief on Light for the first time in their lives.

Despite the hatred that kept spilling, the devil was coherent enough to reply. “The Mage of Swords’ creation.” There was so much vitriol on Fiton’s voice that the words seemed to be born out of hatred. “Draw it so I can destroy it!!!” He demanded with a hateful swing to his right which destroyed a dozen metal crates and a wall. “I am going to show the Gremory!! I am going to show that my swords are the BEST!!!!!”

“Hatred born of envy… the worst kind.” Already his Reality Marble had a copy of the sword in Fiton’s hand. An abomination with no name that had no effect on his soul but threatened to split the underground factory apart. “Xenovia, protect everyone else. I will take care of this.”

Named or not that sword was made with some of his techniques combined to Fiton’s despair and dedication that few ever reached in their lives.

The devil gave everything he had to finish the sword, everything.

Mana, blood, spells, knowledge, tones of steel and his own soul.

Because much like Bakuya there was a soul in the sword also consumed with hatred but it didn’t get in there through a sacrifice or for the sake of somebody else.

Fiton, after days of toil, lack of sleep and completely consumed in his obsession, gave his creation everything he could to complete it. The Mage even saw how the swordsmith devil kept mumbling about a sword in the area, realizing his presence broke whatever little sanity the man had left.

If anything that made him frustrated and more upset about the events of the day but Shirou couldn’t allow that to get him. A new danger was loose and, criminals or not, he had lives to save.

“Wait a minute!” From behind all Sairaorg emerged from a pile of metal that dried to crush him. The man still was holding the door he opened before, it was damaged but more so than the man who was just bleeding a little from his mouth. “He is mine.” He declared with a smile after spitting some blood.

"Sairaorg, I don’t think this is a good idea.” While Fiton wasn’t strong what he created was a monstrosity without name. “That thing is a real Cursed Sword, a badly made one but still a hazard by just existing. Literally the opposite of a Holy Sword and extremely dangerous even to a devil.” Meanwhile they talked, whatever was left of the man kept repeating his demand. “Besides, he wants me.”

“Nah ah, that isn’t fair.” It sounded childish but Sairaorg was being honest as he stepped up facing forward towards his opponent. “You already fought today, twice. And Xenovia also got to fight too. Now it is my turn.”

“You are joking. Please tell me you are joking”

“Come on, Nero. This guy is strong too so this will be fun.” No devil dared to stay in the heir’s way.

“This isn’t- You don’t understand, Sairaorg, that man is already dead.” Shirou gave Fiton a grim look. “That is just a body, a vessel prompted by whatever is left of the creator’s will. That sword was made to destroy the Mage of Swords’ weapon and there isn’t changing that path.”

A thoughtful look came to the Heir of Bael. “So he is already dead, hmm.” Then a bloody smile came to his face. “Great. That means I don’t need to hold back!” He suddenly charged.

‘Fast.’ Both Shirou and Xenovia were thinking the same when their new friend went past them at full speed.

Only when his target disappeared from his view did Fiton’s body react. “Out of my WAY!!!!!!”

A wave of oil-like mana exploded from the sword and Shirou saw no choice but prepare Rho Aias. Xenovia pretty much felt the same as a bronze aura covered Durandal and she prepared her own defenses. It was just too much and many of the devils behind them couldn’t take such power and none was willing to just let them die.

Sairaorg punched the Cursed Energy away like nothing with Ki covering his fist and a carefree smile on his face. “Finally! A worthy opponent!” He finished the leap by planting his feet closer to Fiton’s body and directing all his energy to the other fist.

Roaring proudly the Bael Lion let loose as his attack connected with what was left of the older devil. Cursed Sword or not Fiton’s ribs all broken as his power had no defensive properties, his organs turning to mush as he was sent flying until he was thrown inside his workshop.

There was a small explosion and a cloud of dust but Sairaorg only felt confusion, looking at his fist. “What the… That was too easy.”

While many felt relief at the disappearance of the sinister energy, Shirou shouted in warning. “It isn’t over yet!”

Oil-like mana began to retreat inside the workshop and soon Fiton began to exit again, his chest with a visible print of Sairaorg’s fist and revealing broken bones jumping off the man’s chest.

A sigh that made many sick also had Shirou balking in disgust. “He is already dead, Sairaorg. That is just the body driven by the Cursed Sword.”

“Do all of them do this?” Sairaorg asked as a bad feeling crept in his spine.

“This thing isn’t just a Cursed Sword being used. This is a dead devil whose hatred he passed to the sword and exists only for its goals.” Shirou was sure that should make an easier opponent since he was around and Sairaorg could break the body with ease.

However there was an intelligence behind the sword, an evil mind born from a corrupt soul swallowed by hatred. Its hatred demanded Red Burst’s destruction but the Cursed Sword managed to set its priorities straight first by turning Fiton’s eyes on Sairaorg for the first time.

“You are on the way.” There was no air for the lungs, those were destroyed, yet the words were heard as the oil-like mana began to pour from the eyes and mouth of the corpse.

It lifted the sword and more mana began to pour from the corpse before it took another swing in Sairaorg's direction. The heir punched the Cursed energy again, his Ki easily keeping it at bay, before charging. Wind made his movements faster and once again he appeared before his target to this time throw a kick on its head.

Only for the corpse to suddenly bend its spine to let the limb safely pass without contact. The unconventional maneuver also left Sairaorg’s chest open as the Cursed Sword came up for a stab. He saw it coming and managed to grab the weapon just before it reached his heart, noticing how his Ki was struggling against the Cursed Mana.

Jumping on his stationary leg, Sairaorg connected a kick on Fiton’s stomach and the devil was sent flying with the sword escaping the heir’s grasp despite his strong grip. The Bael looked at his hands with worry as some of the oil-like mana was stuck and he felt like acid was trying to eat his fingers.

Waving his hands around to get rid of the energy, the man looked at the corpse which got up again with a tear on his stomach. “Any reason why he doesn't have any blood?”

“You are stepping on it.” All watched as the oil-like mana was still spreading. “I don’t know how much hatred or power this man had but it was enough to turn his blood and most of his organs into… that thing.” He doesn’t know how to describe it.

At that point, either because of courage or fear, many of the defeated devils took their chance and spread their wings to try and escape. At least nine or so rushed to the hole.

“IDIOTS!!!” Shirou shouted in panic as Fiton’s corpse took another swing full of Cursed energy.

Once again Sairaorg was there, his Ki surpassing and destroying the energy anyway he could but not all of it and everyone watched as the Cursed energy spilled around the area even with his Wind keeping it at bay.

The Bael Heir was trying to protect everyone behind him but those who flew didn’t have that luxury. “AAAAAAAARRRRRRHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!” One screamed as his body began to melt upon contact.

Another lost his life in an instant as a drop landed on his forehead and melted his brain while another one had some of it touching his leg and it melted until he only had the bones.

The other six got lucky because both Shirou and Xenovia had jumped to save them, KI protecting them both as they blocked as much of the Cursed Mana as they could. With a swing Durandal banished the rest as the devils landed in a panic, realizing they were too slow to reach their escape route.

So were Shirou and Xenovia who failed to save two of them. Durandal’s Owner used her arm to help the man who was losing his leg as Shirou Traced a sword and cut off what was left before the Cursed energy could devour him.

“Damn it.” Sairaorg cursed under his breath as the opponent was more dangerous than he expected. The corpse was already moving, charging at him to try and cut his neck. “To think Cursed Swords were this strong.” He commented with a dodge as the oil-like mana kept dropping in his clothes.

Touki was protecting him but Sairaorg could tell that the curse was trying to eat his spirit. Not that the Bael Lion would allow it as he let more of his spirit run free and threw a punch aiming for the corpse’s head.

The neck bended in an odd angle as the sword came from another direction only for another fist to hit Fiton’s shoulder, destroying it completely. It made no difference and Sairaorg had to take a step back to avoid the sword, returning with another punch this time on the arm. It broke, had every single bone pulverized, but never let go of the sword.

Cursed energy flowed freely around the fighters as the hand holding the sword ignored any remaining bone and turned on Sairaorg’s face. He managed to move his head out of the way just in time but some of the oil-like mana fell on his eyes and pain was all he could think about.

It was the worst experience he ever had in his life and there was nothing he could do when the Cursed Sword hit his shoulder with another wave of Cursed energy. Once again he was sent flying without any control, his arm numb as his body collided with a huge tank reserved for melted metal.

“...” Fiton’s mouth opened but no sound came, his sword pointed at Shirou once more with harmful intent. Gritting his teeth, Shirou prepared to join the fight before a loud noise was heard behind him.

Sairaorg stood up once again, his overshirt and shirt ruined on his left side. “Okay, that hurt a bit, I will admit. Not bad, Fiton. Or should I say, ‘Cursed Sword’.” A smile was on his face as he cleaned his eyes. “But man, talk about a cheap trick. Maybe that is why Cursed Swords are considered evil.”

Most surprising thing about the man was that while his clothes were damaged he actually didn’t have a single scratch. Indeed if it wasn’t for him scratching his eyes one would think he was just blown away by wind.

“Sairaorg, stay back. I will handle this.”

“Nero, we already agreed that thing is my opponent.” Still messing with his right eye the man began to approach again, his left one open with tears. “Besides, it already recognizes me as its enemy. Don't you, ‘Cursed Sword’?” There was no response but the weapon was now being pointed at him. “See? It is my fight now.”

“But your eyes…” Xenovia didn’t know if she would feel comfortable letting the man fight again.

Yet the confidence on his stride couldn’t be denied, Sairaorg didn’t look worse for wear. “It's fine, just some dirt. Nothing much after all mana is mana.” He said with a grin as his eyes opened again. “And Ki can get rid of whatever is left over or is there something else about that sword other than mana and bad blood?”

Shirou shook his head in disbelief. “Even then you almost-”

“I am fine, I am fine. Can’t be Maou if I let a weak corpse beat me like that.” And everyone there believed he was being completely sincere even as he had to scratch his left eye again. “There is also the fact this fight is already won and I would like to finish it.”

Fiton’s mouth opened with only more blood leaving it as the Cursed Sword’s hatred began to demand the heir’s life. Nobody should know that but Sairaorg did, he could feel its hatred turning to him.

“That is right. You still want to finish this properly, don’t you.” He let more of his Ki explode, ripping the rest of his shirt apart and throwing some devils on the ground. “Fantastic. I also don’t like to leave fights unfinished.”

“The birth of a Cursed Sword isn't a simple thing, Sairaorg.” Shirou was concerned and everyone could hear it. “Fiton, whatever was left of the man, gave everything he had to its blade. That thing is at its strongest now than it will ever be even if it is a subpar sword.”

Because that was the crux of the matter, if it wasn’t for Fiton’s death and hatred his creation would be nothing but a big piece of metal barely capable of cutting anything. Once the body fell apart, which it would soon enough, all the power it was showing would be lost. Even if it somehow corrupted someone else, they couldn’t bring out all of it ever again.

All because the soul connected to the sword belonged to the body holding it and through it the Cursed weapon could use all the body could give to its advantage even if its creator was already very much dead.

“Not that different from necromancy really.” Sairaorg commented with a frown before smiling again. “Which means that we should give it a chance to show all it has to give before it finally breaks.”

“Then Nero should fight it.” Xenovia said quickly. “Or I should do it, our weapons give us a better chance against it than you.”

That made the Heir of Bael glare at the former Exorcist but she refused to step back. “Do you think I am weak?”

“What? No but-”

“Then don’t think just because I lack a weapon that I am not strong.” His fists cracked as his Ki grew stronger. “For my fist can destroy anything.” He advanced again with his head high.

Xenovia let out a sigh and turned to her Master. “I don’t think he is going to listen to us.”

“Just be prepared for the worse.” Because the first opportunity he had Shirou was going to cut that corpse into pieces Sairaorg’s opinion be damned.

While the Bael’s heir heard that he didn’t care, his focus was on the swing of oil-like mana flying in his direction.

Opening his palm quickly he batted it away with a gust of wind that kept going until it hit his opponent and threw the corpse off balance. Immediately the devil charged with light steps, appearing besides the moving dead. A punch was to its head but it began to move away for a dodge.

It was never completed as the punch connected before the fist did, a second impact just slightly stronger than the first echoed on the factory when Sairaorg’s hand finally reached its target.

However, despite the dead body the Cursed Sword was working with, oil-like mana covered its neck and kept the head in place, forcing the rest of the body to follow it as it couldn't stop physics from sending it away.

As it wasn’t a devil even if the soul inside it was one, the Cursed Sword didn’t know how to use its wings so the body ended up even more ruined as it collided with a pile of swords. Blades poured over the corpse on all sides except its head as Fiton’s body moved again thanks to the sword’s will.

Nothing Sairaorg didn’t expect. “I was right. You are protecting your head like a zombie would.” The corpse managed to get up and throw another careless swing that the Bael heir bashed away. “So the sword is the heart and since the whole thing is your soul consumed by hatred, you need the brain to keep a connection. Makes sense.”

Hatred flowed at being denied accomplishing its mission, forcing the Cursed Sword to consume more of the body of its creator to produce more Cursed energy. Cursed mana spread further until it couldn't anymore, the legs of the corpse giving out as there was little to nothing else to give.

Sairaorg watched as it tried to get up, much of the oil-like substance returning but the damage was done. “Honestly, you remind me of a friend; lost in hatred like that. His story ended better but yours unfortunately ends here.” Circumstances were certainly different but he recognized the similarities. “I doubt a fight will get rid of your hatred but the least I can do is give you a proper one.” He didn’t move until the corpse was up again, a soundless scream on what was left of its lips. “That is right! Fight! Your target is behind me! Win and get it!!”

A mass of mana began to pour from the sword as it began to use all it had left to crush the man before it. As the soul inside it still drowned in hatred, the Cursed Sword would use until both fell apart.

But neither of them was a fighter and in unskilled hands all it could do was focus whatever it had left and throw a huge wave of oil-like mana towards its enemy.

Taking a deep breath Sairaorg was unafraid of the mass hatred on his path, he began to move his arms around calmly, not concerned about the attack in the least. With firm footing and his hands apart he placed a hand with open palm in front of his chest vertically before taking a step and throwing a punch with the other.

Wind exploded and sent all the mana away only to reveal the dead smith’s body with his sword held high in a desperate attack.

Despite his death somewhere in his soul Fiton knew his sword would fail and tried to push it just a little further for his ambition. The corpse now lacked legs and more Cursed mana was pouring from the blade as it consumed more of its creator in his last ditch effort. It was an attack as great as the previous one.

Sairaorg closed his other hand in a fist as his body transitioned from a punch to another regardless of range. The flow of his Ki was unbreakable from fist to fist.

When the next punch was thrown the corpse was a few meters away yet it had been hit, the wind connecting the attack as if Sairaorg had really punched the man. This time there was no saving the head as too much was given on the previous attacks. A headless corpse fell just before the Heir of Bael.

Mana was destabilized with the destruction of the brain, the Cursed Sword unable to control the blood in any shape without that connection. Soon it returned to its natural red color as all hatred and curses vanished inside the sword.

Then it began to crack without warning, the blade suddenly resembling a mosaic instead of a real weapon. Sairaorg approached to grab the sword only for it to become dust in his hand.

Looking at the remains of the man, he couldn’t help but remark, “Pity. He was skilled.”

“Maybe but that was the worst sword I have ever seen.” Shirou and Xenovia approached, their eyes also on what was left of Fition. “It was the worst kind of curse, one created by accident.”

“What do you mean by accident?” Sairaorg got up and cleaned the dust from his hands.

A sigh left Shirou as he found the whole situation pitiful. “He kept working on that sword, more precisely, that handle, for months. Pouring all his frustration and hatred in it.” He kneeled over the corpse and brought Red Buster closer gently. “Pouring more mana, more effort, more sweat in it until he could produce something, anything he could consider worthwhile. Something to face me…”

The devil was confused but the former Exorcist wasn’t. “Like a ritual? Or a prayer?”

“Yes, he hadn’t even realized what he was doing.” Red Buster was activated, the artificial sacred gear began to spread its flames on what was left of the smith. “Then when he saw my sword he snapped, realizing that he could pour his emotions in his weapon.” The moment played on Shirou’s mind and made him shiver.

“But he didn’t realize that he was already doing so.” Sairaorg watched as the rest of the body began to burn. “Breaking his own weapon again and again. Growing increasingly frustrated with it but repeating the process anyway. I can see why that could be called a ritual.”

“It is also the definition of insanity.” Shirou remarked after a pause as they all stepped away from the corpse. “In the end the sword was just metal, not even tempered properly. It really only got this far because the man offered it his everything in an accidental ritual.”

The Heir of Bael nodded in understanding. “That is why you called it subpar.” Then he smiled and began to stretch. “Man, Cursed Swords are more dangerous than I thought. And that was a weak one too.” It made him want to find the real deal and face it in battle. “Anyway, a good day of work today, no matter what. A pity we couldn’t capture everyone but we caught more than enough to close and stopped arms dealing on Gremory territory for a while.”

“‘For a while’ huh.” Shirou offered his best smile. “Yeah, a good day of work.” But it didn't reach his eyes.

“Master…” Xenovia approached the Mage as the devil went to check on their prisoners.

Before she could say anything else, Shirou shook his head and looked at the embers from the corpse. “Fiton died because he rushed towards his goal without thinking about anything else. He discarded everything until only a husk remained.” He turned to her with a sad smile. “Truly a sad Fate.” He began to walk away as well.

The sworn sword was left behind blinking before looking back at what was left of Fiton. “Rest in peace.”

She didn’t know if the devil would appreciate a prayer but she gave it to him anyway.

…..

Back in the Vault of Prosperity, Xenovia cleaned her mirror after a long bath and looked at her own worried expression, the events of the day couldn’t leave her mind. In the end the trip to Runeas was way more than they bargained for.

After they got back that nagging feeling couldn't leave the young woman’s mind no matter how many distractions went her way. A bath did nothing to help as it only gave her more time to think. Usually she would enjoy it more, playing with bubbles as her sore muscles rested, but not today.

A deep breath left as she cleaned the mirror some more and looked at her own face. Despite all that happened she felt fine sans for the nagging still on the back of her head.

Outspoken as she was Xenovia wanted to do something about it but many times she was told not to and despite her emotions or status she did consider herself a knight and didn’t want to disobey her liege.

Sorting that stuff for herself wasn’t something she wanted. “What I would give for Irina to be around… She usually took my mind off this stuff.” The blue haired maiden began to dry herself away, trying to focus her mind on other matters.

Taking care of her body and remembering her friend had an effect of her also digging up her past, small moments she had a problem and went to Griselda or Irina or someone else to confront them about it.

Either that or pray to God but while she was still grateful, knowing that there wasn’t anyone hearing made it harder for her in some days. Especially in the sort of situations where every instinct demanded her to do something to solve the problem. Or at least confront it in some way, regardless of orders.

As her mind began to tread on dangerous waters she focused again on other matters, this time the scars that covered her body. There weren’t many, the Church was proud of its healing prayers, but they were present when the wound was considered too insignificant to need extra healing.

Most of those were on her legs or arms, small cuts almost invisible which were the result of training or intense fights. Durandal wasn’t an assured win when she was younger, nor it was now, but it gave her more confidence than she should have more than once.

A particular scar just above her breasts and below her collar bone from a particular tough hunt was a good reminder of that. It was a Stray Devil who started to kidnap young women close to the beaches of Sicily. Xenovia had been just the right age and with Durandal her superiors hoped for an easy win.

So did she but it wasn’t that easy and it was close, the claw had aimed for her neck but she maneuvered just right and survived.

Powerful sword or not she would have been dead were it not for her combat uniform, a lesson her guardian hammered on her head for days so she wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

Still most scars were almost invisible and as she finished drying herself she exited the bathroom.

It was on this sort of occasion that Xenovia regretted not having furnished her room at least a little. The place was spartan with only a bed, a closet and a computer for entertainment she never bothered to use. She was frugal but some sort of equipment or something else would be welcome to take her mind away from her problems.

Which began to return as she moved to the closet, her hand resting at the door as she remembered their return to the Vault a few hours earlier.

For the most part their welcome was triumphant as some of the devils had spread the word of their work into taking down a criminal syndicate and arms dealers. Their cheer spread even to the fallen angels and Sairaorg acted similar to Rias when they arrived in the Underworld, waving and smiling to his adoring crowd.

The man had a way with the public, always confident and certain but also in control, never arrogant. While he stopped to say a few words it was already late by devils standards and the King was there to retrieve his Piece and depart for a good rest. It was the way he spoke, gentle but also commanding, that left no room for discussions.

Quickly they had made their way to the lower floors, the main lab was on sight when Shirou took off his hood and got rid of the disguise for good. Just looking at him Xenovia felt like he had fought several armies without rest and was still struggling with something.

“I am fine.” He repeated with that fake smile that was getting on her nerves. “Just thinking too much. Don’t worry about it.”

As his sword there was nothing that Xenovia wanted to do more than obey but as his friend, she found the idea unappealing even if there was silence between them from there. If possible the former Exorcist wanted to find Akeno and ask her opinion but the Queen would still be training even at that hour.

When they stepped foot on the main lab there were Medusa and Regulus relaxing with each other as Azazel hummed with triumph and pride, like a composer who finished a great symphony and couldn’t wait for it to be played.

“Shirou! Sairaorg! You guys won’t guess the day I had!” He was all smiles but stopped when his eyes landed on his lab partner. Still his smile returned a moment later. "Rough day?” When the Mage looked at the Cadre it was like they had an understanding nobody else was privy to. “Heard what happened. You guys should have been relaxing, you know?”

“Couldn’t leave things alone. Good news is that Red Burst performed as expected.” The redhead drew his blade and some of the assistants moved to place it back in its place.

“Mmm, it seems you were right then.” Azazel rubbed his chin a little and looked around. “Can you give me a report tomorrow? I also have a lot to talk about what we discovered thanks to Regulus here.”

“Sure, sure.”

A little small talk followed before the Bael King called for his Pawn for their departure. “Have my own training to get back too.” He shook hands with Shirou with a smile. “I still hope we can spar sometimes.” His Queen shook her head while shrugging in surrender.

That moment was the last where Shirou felt unburned to Xenovia. “Either you are going to kick my ass or I will need help.”

“I don’t mind. Maybe we can rope Regulus in and call it fair.”

“It would be my pleasure to face the Champion of Lady Medusa.” The Nemean Lion spoke with such respect that nobody doubted the goddess had earned his affection.

Soon enough the Bael Peerage departed and Shirou looked ready to go back to work until Azazel suggested that he wait until they talked about the discoveries of the day. Xenovia saw the excitement from the fallen angels and even the devils looked happy about their new discoveries.

Already she could tell they found something important but most of her attention was on the Mage of Swords who looked unfocused, his mind somewhere else that certainly wasn’t his Reality Marble.

She knew his face when he was exploring his own soul.

Meanwhile she kept her silence, Xenovia wasn’t the only one noticing Shirou’s behavior or the expression on his face. Medusa gave them a look before approaching her protector.

“Are you well?” Xenovia swore she would hear a pin falling on the ground after the question. Even if the fallen angels and devils pretended to not hear the goddess she was sure they all were paying attention.

“Yeah, yeah. Today was just stressful instead of relaxing. Runeas is a wonderful city but… I suppose every capital has its troubles.” Medusa gave Xenovia a look, clearly indicating she wasn’t buying what Shirou was saying. However the ‘tell’ of his lies was missing. “I am just tired. Nothing a good night of sleep won’t fix.” He didn’t give anyone time to say anything else as he turned and began to wave. “Since you guys have stuff to set up I will be turning in early.”

When Shirou left Medusa approached Xenovia with a complex look. “I suppose he learned how to lie by hiding his face.” The blue haired woman didn’t know what to say.

To be honest with herself Xenovia wasn’t sure what to think as she opened the closet to reveal it had a hallway of clothing for her to choose. It was Rias ‘gift’ as the Princess loved to give Xenovia new clothes to wear despite the fact she only used most of them once. Most of those were more to the Heiress of Gremory tastes than her own and she even gave some to charity.

Rias didn’t object in the condition that Xenovia used the clothes she was going to give for a day, giving the knight the impression that the pureblood devil liked to watch her squirm with some of the stuff she bought.

When they first arrived at the Vault of Prosperity Xenovia was sure that she left most of it back in Fuyuki but Akeno ‘helpfully’ informed her that the King had gone to painful lengths to transport some of her wardrobe to the Underworld before they left.

Still nobody was going to force her to wear anything and without Rias around Xenovia saw no point as she wouldn’t be allowed to make a donation until the redhead saw her with the clothes.

After a couple of days she grew used to the giant closet, easily finding the pajama section and skipping right past it.

White there were every type of pajamas, going from button up shirts and pants of the best silk to risky nightgowns that revealed everything but the most intimate parts, she cared not for any of those.

Xenovia liked simple and easy, she preferred a pair of man briefs and a loose shirt without sleeves that let her breasts free to anything else to wear at night. And that was what she found, both were always a little too big for her but it was how she grew used to sleeping since she could choose her clothes as a child.

Leaving the closet Xenovia stared at the bed as her mind played back all her conversations with Shirou since they left the illegal factory. ‘No…’ She stopped herself almost immediately. “I should forget about it.” She turned off the lights and sat on her bed, her head hitting the pillow quickly.

Yet she couldn't close her eyes as the situation as a whole still bothered her because she wanted to do something, anything about it. But Shirou told her to not worry and she was his knight, a part of her wished to adhere to the order.

Turning around on her bed her eyes landed on Durandal, the blade resting beside the computer, the sheath by its side. ‘Maybe I should polish it…’ Turning on the lights, that was what she began to do, removing the kit from the wardrobe. “Wait a minute…”

Remembering something else Xenovia moved to find another kit, the one that Shirou bought earlier that evening with the rare stone to help sharp swords.

Most of the products within the kit were similar to her own showing that the devil, Jazl, truly wanted to sell the gold’s worth and not get any extra which actually made Xenovia chuckle as she was sure Shirou slipped a few more coins without the smith being none the wiser.

Carefully, extremely carefully considering Durandal’s edge, she used the special rock to sharpen the blade. With its Holy properties and its status as a Noble Phantasm Durandal didn’t need it but she was doing it more for herself. Xenovia only worked with it a few times before picking up some cloth and cleaning the Holy Sword.

However, despite how much she focused on her sword, the woman’s mind went back to the events of the day and eventually landed in Shirou’s depressed expression. “Holy Mary, I wish I had a real fight today.” Xenovia’s hand moved faster as she wanted something to vent. “Maybe if I also got to crack some skulls I would be feeling better.”

When she saw her own expression on Durandal’s, Xenovia could see a similar look she saw on the bathroom mirror, full of conflict.

And seeing her reflection on Durandal made her pause as the confusion in her eyes started to bother her. But there was also a memory of a younger Xenovia having a completely different look after a mission, a mission that thinking about it now raised some questions.

Suddenly she realized what the problem, her problem, was. “If I just wanted to follow orders I should have stayed at the Church.” Xenovia’s eyes grew wide in realization of why she made her oaths and how they restricted her. “It is easier… But not right.”

Placing Durandal on her bed, Xenovia left her room and moved around the hallway. All lights were turned off and she could barely see but the door she was looking for was only a few steps to the right.

Reaching it, she noticed the lights on by her feet and took a deep breath before knocking. “Xenovia?” Shirou had answered quickly with a look of surprise. “Something wrong?”

“Can I come in?” She asked but made her way inside before he could reply. Xenovia knew he wouldn’t mind but she didn’t want to give him a chance to come up with an excuse.

The swordswoman looked around a little as it was her first time going inside a room not her own and noticed it was pretty much the same but less spartan considering that Shirou had a bookstand half filled and dozens of papers spread around his desk.

Some had draws of swords but most of them had a wide array of objects that the former Exorcist recognized as sacred gears. If she looked at the top of the pages Xenovia would read many of those works and reports were from Azazel himself.

“Sure…” Shirou finally managed to answer through his shock, closing the door and turning as his friend sat on his messed bed and noticed some more papers on it. Those had draws of swords and a bunch of ideas written on them written everywhere but Xenovia spared them barely a glance. “Is there something wrong?”

Patting her side, the woman waited for Shirou to sit beside her, trying to emulate what her mentor did when she had a problem.

“Do you need some help or-”

“Could you please sit first… I just want to talk. Need to talk.” Curious and willing, the redhead did as asked and waited for the bluehead to continue. “I know you said to not worry but I am worried.”

“Xenovia-”

“Please, Master, let me finish.” She saw him frown but also his consent. “Ever since we left the factory you have had this look, the same look you had when you first saw your blades were used to do bad things.” Shirou grew stiff but said nothing. “Your rejection of what was done, your pursuit, your anger.” Xenovia stopped, dropping to a knee and held his hands. “You’re upset.”

Taking a deep breath the redhead nodded. “I am.”

“Why?” She asked immediately after. “We stopped them. We chased the responsibles for corrupting your swords and delivered them to Justice.” Xenovia made sure her eyes were firmly on his. For his part Shirou did the same. “You are angry and that isn’t like you. Usually you let things go or accept and adapt to them. Something is different and I don’t know what.” That bothered her far more than he expected. “Was it because it was too fast? Or maybe you think we didn’t do enough-”

“But we did enough, Xenovia. That isn’t…” Shirou stopped and pulled her up, having her sit by his side again. “Look… Yes, I am angry. But with myself. I was naive.” He said with a depressed look. “I thought some Geass would stop my swords from being used for bad things. The Gremory would assure we always knew who had what and if someone stepped off the line they would be punished for it. Nobody did, that was what I never considered.”

In the end Rias and the Gremory did a great job in finding good clients for Shirou but his blades, by virtue of existing, created a situation he failed to predict.

Which just made him feel worse. “‘Status’, that was what Lakmia was referring to. By putting my swords for sale and making them exclusive I created a market that people wanted to take advantage of. Just for ‘status’, to be seen as someone recognized by the Gremory even in a small measure.” Shirou wanted to punch himself when he heard it the first time back in the Underground Arena. “Can’t blame anyone else either because they did everything right too; those who bought the swords didn’t sell them, the Gremory hired or trained smiths for maintenance while preparing to receive EM, even those criminals wouldn’t have the designs if I hadn’t made the first ones.”

“But then they would sell something else!” Xenovia stood up in a panic. She didn’t like seeing Shirou beating himself up. “If not your swords then it would have been something else! Criminals like those just want money, no matter the cost!”

“But it wasn’t something else, those were my swords.” Shirou did his best to not raise his voice but Xenovia felt his frustration. The Mage stood up and began to walk around the room impatiently. “What they did with them was just so disgusting that I feel sick explaining. And those bastards did it to test the ‘steel’ and the ‘edge’. To make sure Fiton had done a good job while losing his own mind. Macabro knew he did a great job but still insisted on ‘tests’.” Frustration and anger became more pronounced. “I can’t say for sure but I think that monster was using it to test his men too, to see who he could push and how far.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because some of the people who used those weapons before they were sold were the same ones better dressed in that factory.”

Xenovia’s eyes grew in horror. “He dragged them to his level. Corrupted them completely to make them forever loyal. Perhaps that is a man who deserved to be called ‘devil’.”

“‘Monster’, not devil.” Shirou remarked with a shake of his head. “Devils are different but they have their own set of morals and emotions. While they see life in a darker tone than you or I, they care and have as much emotions as us. Sometimes more. Obviously they also have monsters in human skin.”

Understanding the situation a little more had Xenovia more frustrated. “Did they also kill children?”

“No, Macabro knew how much he could push.” Silent descended into the room and Shirou looked at the clock in the wall. “It is getting late, Xenovia. You should go to bed.”

At that she frowned. “But you are still-”

“I will be fine.”

“No, you aren’t. Not if that is still in your head.” Xenovia blinked, realizing she was in control. “What else is wrong?” Shirou took a deep breath and turned around.

“I already told you.”

At that Xenovia stood up and moved to stand in front of the redhead. “Look into my eyes and say it again.” She challenged and Shirou winced. “What else is wrong?”

“You aren’t letting this go, aren’t you?”

“I am your sword. Your well being is my priority.”

“A sword would leave well enough alone. They can’t keep asking questions.”

“But didn’t you call me your friend as well?” Xenovia replied with a beautiful smile, knowing she had him. “So as your friend, I’m not leaving that easily, Shirou.”

A small smile escaped Shirou no matter how much he fought it. “Look at that, you can use my name when we are alone.” She punched his arm but her smile remained the same.

“Just tell me what you need. Tell me how I can help.”

Shirou chuckled at her eagerness but sobered up quickly. “This isn’t something you can help with. Those were my swords and my soul won’t let me forget them.” Looking at his hand the redhead remembered the work he put in those blades. “Sure I didn’t forge those nor gave Fiton permission to do what he did.” Making a fist he blinked and there he was in his Reality Marble even as he spoke to Xenovia. “My designs, my ideas, were used to take the lives of children and others. None could even defend themselves.”

It gave Shirou a new perspective as while many of the weapons he had seen before, the Muramasa a perfect example, had committed atrocities. Somehow it felt worse that his swords were now guilty of the same actions.

Xenovia grasped his hand once again. “They weren’t yours.”

“But-”

“They weren’t. You didn’t make them, Fiton did and he died for it.” She tightened her grip when he was about to protest. “You can’t blame yourself for everything others did. Especially not that.”

“It still feels like I did those things-”

“But you didn’t. You never would.” Xenovia gave him a glare of challenge, her hand refusing to let go. “The Emiya Shirou I know would never do such a thing. He is the kind of guy who would stop fighting the moment his opponent gave in, who would help anyone with no strings attached, who accepted a heretical Exorcist just because she didn’t want to go back to the Church.” Hands joined on his and she held it close. “If you can’t stop thinking about the evil that was done with your swords, think about the good too. Weren’t you pleased with how Okita used hers? Think about how many lives those you choose saved and forget about those fakes. They weren’t yours.”

A beat passed and it was like the weight of the world left Shirou’s shoulders. “You are right.” His relief was palpable. “You are absolutely right. They were used for good too, weren’t they?” It made him wish to check his works around the Underworld.

But in truth Shirou found no need, those choices were carefully selected and approved by Rias; he trusted her. His weapons may have taken lives still but none undeserving or cruelly. It was all to help a race who lived in a desolate world to expand and find some semblance of order.

When seeing things like that Shirou grew calmer as the blades Fiton made were pushed far away on his Reality Marble, Bellerophon nodding in satisfaction as he blinked the landscape of swords away to look at Xenovia.

“Thank you.” Xenovia could see he was being sincere and not hiding his pain away. His eyes were solely on her.

“No problem, Master. Liz once said it was our duty to ‘keep you grounded’. Rias approved too.”

A sigh later Shirou shook his head with a small smile. “Here I was hoping you would start using my name more often.”

“Can’t do that. I swore my sword to you so you are my Master.” Xenovia was ready to have that discussion again if necessary. “Frankly I don’t know why you don’t like your titles. They are proof of your accomplishments. How everyone shows you respect.”

“I am a Mage because of Merlin…” He spoke in a deadpan tone like it explained everything. “And most of this stuff is embarrassing.”

“But titles like yours shows everyone how cool you are and that your actions had an impact on the World.” She spoke with admiration and sincerity. “Besides, you are just as great of a Mage as Merlin was.”

“That was not… Can’t you just keep using my name? Honestly, being called Master is a little… overwhelming.”

“But you are my Master.” Xenovia took a step back and dropped to one knee. “You are the one I swore my sword too, the person who found me lost and gave me a new light. You are also my teacher, my friends, my advisor and someone I know will never abandon me or anyone else without trying to help first.” She stood up with the same sincere smile. “Calling you Master is just to show my respect for all that. My gratitude for all you have done for me.”

Still Shirou blushed and began to scratch the back of his head. “You are too eager for your own good.”

“Maybe.” Xenovia recognized with a giggle. “But this is who I am and you also like that I am this blunt.” Disagreements were useless, both knew she was right. “So please, stop thinking little of yourself. You are the Mage of Swords, Master of Durandal’s Owner. Hold yourself proudly so this way we who follow you can know we are doing a good job.”

“I won’t get you to change your mind, will I?”

Xenovia was about to give him a negative before thinking better with a grin. “Only if you become a totally different person that doesn’t care about others. Or a tyrant pushing his weight around the weak.” Her smile grew bigger as he chuckled. “But that isn’t going to happen so you are always going to be my Master, the person I can put all my trust in.”

“Some would say you are blind.” Shirou remarked with ease.

She shook her head. “If I was blind I wouldn’t be here trying to beat the truth in your thick skull.” At that he laughed. “So I will keep calling you Master, even if it does make you uncomfortable.”

Her giggle told him it all. “I knew you knew it made me uncomfortable. I just knew it.” Yet he couldn't deny that it was her attempt of showing respect. “I still would prefer if you used my name, even a nickname would be more comfortable in some situations.”

A pause occurred as Xenovia had an idea. “You can try to make me shout it.” Shirou froze as she approached and hugged his neck. “Or maybe I will call you Master anyway.”

“What are you implying?”

“Well, remember how I said I wanted to be a mother? Would you mind being the father of my future child?”

His hands found her waist but he didn’t push or pull. “You are too young. We are too young. Also I am sure you agreed to at least wait until you finished school.”

A pout later Xenovia replied. “Yeah, I know.” Then she smiled and her face grew closer to his. “But nothing is stopping us from practicing, right?” He could feel her breathing. “I personally want to do-”

Shirou cut Xenovia off with a passionate kiss which caught her completely by surprise. She tried to react but unlike him the bluehead had no experience that could help her and soon her legs lost strength.

When she was about to fall Shirou maneuvered and made sure that her back hit the bed. “Are you sure you want this?” His tone was heavy even if his smile was gentle. “You could wait for someone else, fall in love with someone else. I could always just be a Master to you: a teacher, a leader…”

Her hand reached his face as her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was faster while her eyes danced with excitement. “In matters of bloodline there may be better men.” Her finger touched his lips. “But not a real better person.” Lust filled her voice. “Also I really want to know how it feels.” With her legs fixed on his waist she said, “Now, weren’t you going to make me scream your name?”

“You asked for this.” Another kiss later they began to lose themselves.

…..

A couple of hours had passed when Shirou opened his eyes once again, noticing how good he was feeling. Not only all his problems felt distant but every single one of his muscles felt pleasantly sore.

Indeed everything seemed far as his senses returned little by little. Funnily enough he took note on how he should be feeling more tired but Shirou just shrugged it off. Or at least tried to, noticing that moving his left side was a bad idea as he still had company who, unlike him, was deeply asleep.

His gaze fell on Xenovia who was resting by his side covered in sweat but looking peaceful and relaxed. What they did was still vivid in his memory and he smiled upon seeing her smile.

Still his internal clock, no matter how messed it was, told him it was too early and a glance at the watch told him that it was a little past 3 AM much to his surprise. How he was awake was something Shirou didn’t really understand all things considered. Sure he was rested but he shouldn't be, the Mage knew.

‘Then again I have work to do.’ While Xenovia helped to take his mind of Fiton’s mistakes they still bothered hm. ‘Copying my work is fine but why did you give it to criminals. Tch, can’t even complain to the guy, he killed himself.’ Yet the facts played on his mind again and again.

Which made Shirou restless as such thoughts began to lift the fog of peace he had settled himself in. Only Xenovia’s weight kept him grounded as they cuddled as she slept.

However his mind refused to leave him alone. ‘There is work to be done.’ Shirou realized with a frown. ‘There won’t be next time and there is only one way to make sure of it.’ Realizing what he wanted to do, the redhead sighed while gazing at his new lover. ‘Sorry but I won’t be here when you wake up.’

At least that was the plan as Shirou carefully began to extract himself from Xenovia’s grip. Hers was less tighter than Rias who loved to cuddle more than any other of his lovers even if he rarely woke up earlier than her to try and escape. But the blue haired woman was more relaxed and easily accepted the pillow Shirou used to replace himself.

He also covered her with a blanket to make sure she wouldn't be cold, picked up a pair of pants and a loose shirt before exiting his room. It was still dark in the hallway.

‘Well, I am already awake anyway.’ Shirou thought with a chuckle while taking careful steps. In the direction to the elevator he had to pass by Medusa’s room and he didn’t want to wake anyone up.

Fortunately the Vault’s elevator was designed to be silent and a beam of light almost blinded him as the door opened. Biting back a curse, Shirou didn’t take long before going to the main lab’s floor.

Already his mind was busy with ideas and theories. “First things first I should check what they learned from Regulus.” Shirou mumbled as the elevator moved. “Sacred gears can be stolen but maybe we can solve that too… Damnit, I will have to wait until Azazel wakes up.”

Still it was a place to start and the assistants in the lab had made a habit of documenting everything that could be of use later. Certainly the same would be for their tests on Regulus and so, even without the Cadre, Shirou was confident he had a place to start.

When the elevator stopped the redhead sighed. “Time to see if I am really as good as people say.” The doors opened and Shirou found himself surprised at noticing a light emanating from the lab. “Did someone forget a light? No, wait, nobody but me needs a light here.” Either way he found it odd.

Shirou didn’t know if it was more odd; that the light was coming from the main computer of the lab, a giant monitor bigger than most TVs and sound systems put together or that it was being used for one of the latest racing games of all things.

And he only knew one man who would be bold enough to use their supercomputer for a game. “Azazel?”

“Shirou? You are up early.” The Governor General turned to glance at the redhead for an instant before returning to his game. “What is wrong? Can’t sleep?”

Approaching his lab partner, he placed his elbow on the huge chair the man was using. “Kinda restless right now. What about you? Don’t you need to sleep?”

“Angels who have Holy don’t need to and fallen angels of a certain level don’t need to unless we want.” He replied with a shrug. “Sit down, tell me what is bothering you if your scowl when you arrived was any indication.”

Frowning a little, Shirou picked a chair and sat beside the older man. “I wasn’t scowling.”

“But something was bothering you.” Azazel gave him another look and actually paused the game. “Or maybe you already had some help with that.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” It was easy to see Shirou was lying.

“Oh really? Strong smell of sweat, basic clothes and lack of shoes shows you left in a hurry to not bother your guest…”

“I could just be too worried and walk here without preparing because, you know, I wasn’t expecting to find anyone here.”

“And the love bites all over your neck.” Azazel laughed out loud as Shirou shrunk on his chair.

“I really hate that you can see in the dark.” He clapped his hands, turning on the lights. “Also, is it safe to have a screen like that on without any other light?”

“Bahaha! Don’t try to change the subject.” There was no way the fallen angel was letting go so easily. “Who was the lucky lady? I would know if Rias was paying a visit.” Then a thought crossed his mind. “Please tell me it wasn’t Akeno. Her father is gonna flip!”

“Baraqiel is here?!”

“Hey, don’t worry. Odds of her seeing him are nil.”

“That doesn’t help at all.” Already he could imagine his friend’s reaction and a huge desire to hunt down the man began to take root in Shirou’s mind.

However, that wasn’t going to happen on Azazel’s watch. “Dude, relax. It is all under control. Baraqiel just… wanted to see his daughter, even from a distance.” The sadness in his tone caught Shirou’s attention. “He is around but won’t get close to her. I think none of them is ready for this right now.”

“Okay, okay.” Shirou took a few deep breaths, still worried but relaxing on his chair.

Which lowered his guard. “So it wasn’t Akeno, right?”

“No.”

“Aha, Xenovia then.” Azazel restarted the game as Shirou glared at him. “You are so easy to read.” He wasn’t even looking at the magus. “Still, good for you two. It is a nice way to relax and give her something to look forward to at night and not pass out from training.”

“I wasn’t- That- You are pulling my leg.”

“Meh, not really.” Both looked at each other, Shirou letting out a sigh and Azazel laughing. “So, what brings you here before dawn? Got the blood going and decided to do some science?” He was wiggling his eyebrows just to be coy. “Or perhaps you did the deed and didn’t want to wake your lady love. If that was the case I hope you were in your room because leaving her to wake alone on her own would be a dick move.”

“Yes, it was in my room. I couldn't sleep and didn’t want to wake her.” Shirou’s glare grew more intense.

Which only made the Cadre smile more. “Good on you then. Can’t have my lab partner be less than a gentleman.” He kept playing the game and for a second the redhead thought the conversation had ended. He was wrong. “So, how was it?”

Thinking quickly, Shirou found the perfect reply. “A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell.”

“Heh, nice.” Azazel won that race easily and soon he was messing with the menu. “In all seriousness now, why are you here?” Now there was concern in his tone.

Taking a deep breath Shirou began to tell the story as the fallen angel stopped messing around and turned to him. Not once Azazel interrupted but Shirou saw a glow on his eyes when he arrived in the Underground Arena and more so when Red Buster was mentioned.

So the magus delivered and told as much as he could of the weapon’s performance while keeping up with the story. How he dealt with its weight and extra power while stopping himself from gutting Lakmia’s security.

Which eventually had him talking about his weapons or at least his designs, Fiton, Macabro and everything else. All was summarized at the best of his ability with just a few details skipped.

But Shirou gave special attention to the crimes done with his swords. It was obvious how much he was bothered by the events but still looked fine and mostly past them.

Yet Azazel let out a sigh and threw his back on his chair. “Never thought that I should have warned you about this but that is normal; every new invention or improvement has a dozen or so people jumping in to try to steal or improve on it.”

“They are just swords…” Shirou replied with some irritation. “Good swords, true, but compared to Noble Phantasms or sacred gears they are lacking.” Yet both knew that wasn’t the reason they were sought after.

“Nonetheless they are desired, for a reason or another.” Both nodded in agreement and understanding. “Did I tell you that I am helping expand the Evil Piece System?”

“Really?”

“Yep. Not for the devils but for Heaven. A way to create new angels.” Azazel chuckled at the thought. “It is pretty much the same thing but unlike those guys who only had Fiton, a half baked smith, to help with the projects, Ajuka already sent me all the blueprints.” Approaching the computer he pressed some keys and a lot of data came up.

Shirou noticed that every chess piece was mentioned with characteristics, advantages, disadvantages, methods of creation, how they affect the body and the soul. Every single one of them.

“There are sixteen?” Including one he knew nothing about. “A King Piece…”

“Yeah, something that was discontinued because it was considered too dangerous.” A few more button processes and a red King Piece was highlighted, its information expanded. “Increase of power, greater mana manipulation, better access and control over other Pieces… An ideal weapon to create an army.” The magus silently agreed. “You can see how this could have gone wrong, can’t you?”

“With how some nobles are already arrogant with their power and like to flaunt it around? No doubt.” Shirou shook his head as he read the rest. “But the worst part is the control over Pieces. Give that to someone like Rias and I know she wouldn't abuse it but…”

“Not all devils are well intentioned, just like you learned today. Same with every being, really.” Azazel commented with a chuckle. “Good and bad apples in every tree. Anyway, they aren’t accessible to the public so we don’t need to worry about it.” He brought out the data on the other Pieces.

“You think some still exist?”

“Ajuka is a scientist like us.” Azazel saw the raised eyebrow and laughed. “Think about it like this; would you destroy a sword just because it was too dangerous?”

“I threw an original Muramasa on the ocean…”

“After you studied it, learned everything you could from it, right?” A nod was the only reply the magus could give. “This is the same. When creating Evil Pieces, Ajuka discovered a lot about devils’ souls but not everything. I have no doubt he has a few King Pieces saved for research.” Azazel saw a look of confusion and shrugged. “They could be the key to unlock more of a devil’s potential or just an emergency measure to quick strength in a time of crisis.”

“A secret weapon of some sort.” Shirou could see the value of it even being known; something to dissuade their new allies from starting a fight. “And so you are going to help create what? Good Pieces?”

“We were thinking more about a card motif but Heaven has the final say, obviously.”

“Obviously.” The idea would help Heaven a lot but not what Shirou was interested at the moment. “Did you figure out how Regulus managed to keep that form?” A moment of silence was the reply as the fallen angel put the game back on. “That is a ‘no’, isn’t it?”

For a few moments all Azazel did was grumble before picking up a controller and offering it to Shirou. His intent got even clearer when the game screen went back up again and the redhead realized he was playing to vent or calm down. Apparently the research wasn’t going so well and the Mage took the controller as they prepared a new race.

“I wish Father was still around.” A packed sentence if there was any. “Whatever happened to Regulus I can only classify it the same way as a Balance Break; a bug in the System. Just a completely different one.” Both chose their cars and soon they were circulating on tracks. There would be no CPU racers. “The intense drive of emotion and Regulus' own power makes things complicated enough but the fact that the System may be cracking without a guiding hand just makes things more complicated.”

Another packed sentence and just before the race started too. “You tried to convince Medusa to take the job again, didn’t you?”

“Can you blame me? We need someone up there to see how things are running or else everything we are doing is as random as a shot in the dark.” Azazel grunted as Shirou took the lead. “Every other System in Heaven seems to be working as intended even if in a lower capacity, every single one. But not the Sacred Gear System and that is concerning. I know the others are more connected to the planet itself but still…”

“Maybe we should let go of how Regulus did it and focus on the other factors for now. Why him, for instance?” Shirou knew Azazel enough to understand the man was looking into other avenues of research. “Or can Ddraig and other beings sealed into sacred gears do the same in the right circumstances?”

“We hypothesized it was because Regulus Nemea wasn’t created in the same vein as the Boosted Gear or that Father didn’t predict Regulus was strong enough to break free. Then again, Divine Dividing has the souls of the former owners also inside them, same thing with the Boosted Gear.”

“So those sacred gears are better to hold souls. Same for others? If so, was it Regulus’ power and fury who broke him free? Just that?”

“Relatively free. His body is the sacred gear as the original one is probably somewhere in Olympus.” Azazel quickly scratched his chin before his hand moved back to the controller quickly. “Damn you are way better than Ise.”

“The advantage of growing up with a competitive sister. Should see her in fighting games.” Shirou commented with a smile before sobering up. “But rage and power can’t be the only reasons or else we would have more cases.”

“I don’t know… The pain of betrayal is not something small.” The Cadre watched his car for a moment before adding, “Then again, maybe other parts of the System could have helped him…”

Glancing at his lab partner, Shirou could see the man losing himself in his own mind. “Such as?” So he tried to coax him back. “Don’t leave me in the dark here. You have millions of years of this, come on.”

Banter was something Azazel needed to keep thinking. “Well, many sacred gears Father created carry the names and abilities of gods or monsters. Do you think he was trying to use Legends to help their existences?”

“Like Noble Phantasms?” Many ideas run wildly in both men's minds. “If that is the case then they would have a growth rate. Unless-”

“They are bound by their System to follow the path of their owner’s soul. If that is a limit or a feature, the judge is still out on that one.” Which made the fallen angel incredibly frustrated much to his surprise. “Say, any chance that you can-”

“She will get the Throne of Heaven if she wants so don’t even ask.” Shirou paused with a chuckle as Azazel’s car hit a wall. “But the fact God used Legends to… I suppose I should say ‘ground’ the sacred gears, was not something I saw coming. It is too close to Noble Phantasms.” Yet he could see the difference. “Except some of them actually have souls inside and are actually made of divine metal.”

The only similar stuff he could think of were Angelo’s dual swords that combine into a bow and Rhongomyniad. Those Noble Phantasms were stronger than anything else he had ever seen, even Caliburn fell short. They were also some of the few weapons that his Reality Marble, his soul, couldn't comprehend.

“Similarities or not, sacred gears and souls have their advantage while Noble Phantasms and the growth of their Legends have their own.” Azazel recognized with a nod, trying to catch up. “Unfortunately they are also too fundamentally different for us to really compare.”

Suddenly an idea sneaked into Shirou's mind. “Can’t we make a sacred gear by using a Noble Phantasm as a core?” Azazel’s fingers froze, his car constantly accelerating on a wall. “I mean, I do something similar with Ascension thanks to Medusa’s Gift; Bakuya’s metal expands thanks to Bellerophon’s power. If we can use some Divine steel to create a similar effect then a Noble Phantasm can expand their Legend through the Sacred Gear System.”

“Or at least use it to create a new power. That is brilliant!” In the same wavelength, Azazel also began to flood with ideas. “In that case would the Noble Phantasm gain a new aspect? No, wait, perhaps recover an old one? Maybe a new power depending on the user?”

Shirou paid half attention to the rambling and half to the race. “If so I want to try with Durandal first.”

“Oho, already trying to find new ways to protect your new love? I approve!” It also helped that both of them knew that Durandal was the best Noble Phantasm in their possession. At least the most versatile.

Not bothering to deny Azazel’s observation, Shirou added something else. “I also trust Xenovia and know she won’t abuse our creation.” The events of the previous day would never leave him, one way or another. “And she also can be too reckless. I hope a sacred gear using Durandal gives her some defense.”

“Noble Gear.” Azazel coined the term almost immediately. “They are going to be Noble Gears, a combination of Noble Phantasms and Divine equipment. Noble Gear.”

“... Your name sense still sucks.”

“Hahahaha! You are just jealous that-” Azazel then noticed that the race was over with Shirou winning and him losing with four laps behind. “Okay, that was dirty.”

“I trust Xenovia and I do want to give her something to keep her safe… Not only her but everyone else I care about.” Shirou let out a sigh of relief with that admission. “We also have the original Bakuya and the Green Knight’s Mantle but without Kanshou or someone called Gawain they are mostly useless.” Not that he was sure they could use them as Cores.

Durandal was versatile thanks to its Miracles. If Xenovia gave permission and had a real desire for her sword evolving then it was absolutely possible even if complicated.

“Well, we still have a goddess around. Maybe she can make more gifts.” Azazel began to prepare another race, throwing the Mage a pleading look. Shirou shrugged and they just changed tracks. “Anyway, I understand you are more reluctant to create things that can be reproduced but don’t lose heart.” The fallen angel paused and turned to the younger man. “For every sinner there are a hundred good people our creations can save, never forget that. <aking something exclusively for you or those you trust is not wrong either.”

When the Cadre drew the Down Fall Dragon Spear from his lab coat, Shirou understood the message but also realized something else. “Can’t we add that to a Noble Phantasm as well?”

“Bah, I wish. Maybe if we had Balmung or Gram we could build a connection between them and Fafnir.” The orb began to glow ominously and both got the message. “Okay, okay. Never mind. Geez, you are back aren’t you? Forget about it already.” Once the dragon calmed down he put the spear where it belonged. “I swear Odin must have left some of his sense of humor wherever dragons go after dying.”

“I will take your word for it.” Shirou chuckled as he was already ahead by a good margin.

Something Azazel couldn’t accept thanks to his unexpected defeat a few minutes ago but he wasn’t the Governor General for nothing and already had a plan.

He wouldn’t cheat, not in a friendly competition, but he could stun Shirou into a defeat. “Well, there goes my plans to make a giant robot spaceship.”

“You said you wanted people to go to space but ‘robot spaceship’ is new.” Shirou fell for the bait.

“Well, you see, it is because I wanted to imitate the Greeks.”

“The Greeks? Like Medusa?” The confusion was sweet for the fallen angel.

“No, the 12 Olympians. Didn’t I tell you that they actually have two bodies? One is the god born in this World and another is an actual spaceship from another dimension.” His plan worked, Shirou’s hands were frozen.

“What?”

“Yeah. The Titans had them too. A humongous ship parked close to Earth and just before everybody decided to blow it up Chronos had already swiped some of the stuff inside.” Azazel’s eyes never left the screen. “So they had 12 ships and fused their essences with it. Once the Olympians took over Greece they made better ships after usurping some of the Titans’. Zeus had one before the Titanomachy and was what helped him beat his father. They almost blew up the planet on that. Those ships are no joke.”

“What?!” Already Shirou was recovering even if he wanted to scream and grab his lab partner by the collar to get the story straight.

Not that Azazel needed that to continue. “Aham, that is why the Olympians are still super powerful even if they are mostly isolated to Greece and their worshipers in secrecy. Also why they are more technologically advanced than other gods; spaceships from another dimension.” The Mage knew Azazel wasn’t joking but he wished he was. “Even the Trojan War had giant mechs going all around, people with super armor and spears capable of throwing energy attacks.” His car entered the last lap, victory in sight. “Can’t remember if the Trojan Horse was one of those or just wood but some soldiers used them left and right.”

“Wait, are you saying that heroes like Odyseus and Achilles also-”

“No no nope, they actually were some of the few who used other means. I mean Achilles' whole rage? That thing that the Iliad is all about? That was him mowing down people and giant robots with just his spear and armor.” It had to be heavily edited for the mundane side but the guy didn’t need a mech to decimate an army.

Shirou was stunned into silence after that, not even reacting when Azazel won the race. His mind was too busy processing everything he just learned.

Finally he was coherent enough to ask a question. “Is that why you want a giant robot? To counter the Greeks?”

“Pft. Of course not. Even if they are strong the Olympians are divided and have enough sense to not start anything else the other Pantheons will fall on them like a rockslide.” Azazel could barely contain his laugh. “But a body like that, if it can contain my power, can contain my mind and that would help me a lot.” At the redhead’s look of confusion, he laughed openly. “That is how Zeus managed to get around Hera so many times, the AI from the ship is a reflection of him, almost an Aspect but still tied to the original. Working together he could go around having fun while also doing his duties as a god. That is why the Greeks, together with the Hindu Pantheon, are some of the most dangerous around.”

“So you want to- You just-”

With a chuckle he pointed to the monitor. “Hey, you should finish the race.”

Shirou glanced at it and then back at Azazel before letting out a sigh so deep it fully emptied his lungs. “I am going to need some coffee.” Throwing the controller around, he stood up as the Cadre laughed. “I really wished I stayed in bed.”

Which of course only made Azazel laugh harder.

…..