"You're already strong enough," Nitocris replied casually. "Even though you can't use my power directly, whenever I borrow your body, I've been adjusting it bit by bit—any internal injuries, disease factors, latent damage, all of it has been eradicated by me. Right now, your body is healthier than it's ever been. Your physical condition has improved a great deal."
"Eh? No wonder I've been feeling more and more energetic these days! During P.E., I can run three laps around the track without getting tired. So it was thanks to you, Kami-sama—wait, no! That's not what I meant! Even if Kami-sama did help me a lot, that's not the point!"
No one liked running laps. Maybe it wasn't the hardest kind of exercise, but it was certainly the most torturous. And yet, every P.E. class required it—running circles just to "warm up." It couldn't be avoided. Schools in China even made students gather for morning runs at six in the morning—that was pure hell.
Nitocris's power had been subtly reshaping Hirai Yukari's physique all along. But Nitocris never intended to turn her into something inhuman, like a Flame Haze—only to make her body healthier. It was like granting her a [Robust Health] skill, though not the exaggerated [Robust Health EX] of Arash—still well within human limits. Hirai Yukari had never hit anyone with her full strength, nor run at her full speed, so she hadn't realized the change. She only felt that running during P.E. had somehow become easier and easier.
"What I mean is—I want to help you, Kami-sama, just like Shana-chan! I want power like hers! That's something you could do, right?"
"Don't even think about it. I will absolutely not turn you into a warrior—that would only destroy you."
Nitocris had no intention of letting such a good girl walk the same path as a Guardian like Emiya or Artoria. Even Merlin, with all his nonchalance, had sealed himself away out of guilt after witnessing Artoria's end. Nitocris didn't believe her heart was any stronger than Merlin's.
"Forget about becoming a warrior. That kind of future is far too cruel—and not for you. At most, you could become my shinkan."
"Shinkan?" Hirai Yukari's dark eyes shimmered with thought. "Is that… like a miko?"
"If you want to understand it that way, that's fine."
Nitocris had to plan for the future too. After all, she would eventually have to leave this world. She had to think about how the human world—and humans living within it—could protect themselves after her departure.
When Hirai Yukari mentioned "miko," Nitocris's mind immediately conjured the image of a certain red-and-white shrine maiden.
Ah, that's right! She could make Hirai Yukari into something like Gensokyo's Hakurei Reimu—a sort of city warden, or even an embodiment of the world's counter-force. Conveniently, the world itself was cooperating with her unconditionally. The World Consciousness might not be entirely reliable, but she herself was—and that was enough.
When she finally prepared to leave this world, she would build a temple—a jinja—within the human realm, and appoint Hirai Yukari as its shinkan (or miko). By then, blessed by both the Underworld and Humanity, Hirai Yukari would become invincible within this world.
And at that point, there would be no need to worry about anything happening to her.
...
It was a small seaside town. The noonday sunlight seemed filtered through seawater—bright but not blinding—spreading evenly over the winding breakwaters, the colorful rooftops lined like fish scales, and the gently rolling waves. The sky was so clear it seemed fragile, blue to the point of transparency.
The wind blew from the harbor, carrying a faint saltiness and the dry scent of sunbaked seaweed. It brushed through the low branches of jacarandas, swirling a shower of tiny blossoms. Petals fell upon the cobbled streets like drifting lilac ripples.
By the docks, the white lighthouse cast a short, sharp shadow under the sun. The keeper leaned drowsily against the railing. Fishing boats rested side by side, their masts gleaming silver in the light. Ropes tapped softly against the wood, producing a clear ding-ding rhythm. Farther out, a flock of gulls skimmed along the crests of waves—sometimes diving, sometimes rising sharply, their wings brushing the surface and scattering droplets like splintered jewels.
The town's narrow streets were quiet and lazy. Half-shuttered blue windows, shells and starfish drying on sills, vines spilling down the walls, their leaves reflecting flecks of light.
And then, in an instant, that tranquil blue sky was replaced by dark crimson. The roar of flames shattered the stillness—war had arrived.
At the edge of an enormous Fuzetsu, hibiscus-purple fire burned violently, enclosing the peaceful seaside town. It had become a battlefield.
"…"
Steady your breathing. Keep your rhythm steady...
Her heartbeat was pounding—not just from the earlier intense combat, but from the opponent's ability… She'd been careless. The power her enemy revealed had truly shaken her.
Sparks floated through the air. Shana sat on the creaking, warped floorboards, too preoccupied to care about the stench of cheap liquor thickening the stagnant air. She leaned back against a wall as old as the floor.
She needed to rest—just enough to stabilize her breath and mind. She admitted it—she'd lost focus when she saw that scene, and that lapse had driven her into this desperate state. If she went back out now, she'd almost certainly take another beating.
Assuming the enemy even allowed her time to recover…
"Here it comes! Evade!"
She didn't need Alastor's warning—Shana had already seen it. The blinding radiance bursting through the window.
Under the blood-red sky, a band of seven-colored light rose abruptly. It was dazzlingly beautiful—and within that beauty lurked death.
The rainbow light reached its zenith—and suddenly froze. Like a crystalline dome crushed by invisible hands, it shattered with a BOOM, scattering into billions of burning fragments. Each fragment became a blazing blade of light, trailing ion-flame tails as they plunged downward, columns of rainbow fire lancing into the earth like sweeping laser bombardments.
The first struck the coastal rocks—basalt pierced and vaporized in a ten-thousandth of a second, the gray-white stone instantly melting into orange-red magma.
The second struck the sea—cold water never even had time to scream as it split open into a canyon of steam, white mist surging upward like a reversed waterfall.
The third streaked across the sky like a meteor, slicing over a distant ridge, flying toward horizons beyond sight.
The fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh…
Distance did nothing to weaken their destructive power. The rainbow blades rampaged through the region, weaving a net of annihilation in brilliant color.
Their power was immense, their reach overwhelming—but none of them touched Shana.
She stood on the remains of a passenger ship, two-thirds of its hull carved away, her emotions a tangled storm.
The same old flavor. The same old sting. She remembered the day she contracted with Alastor to become a Flame Haze—she'd faced this very same strike then, forced to flee for her life.
Her keen eyes caught the figure floating high in the sky—molten-gold irises glinting with layered emotion.
Nostalgia. Melancholy. …And rage—flames of fury blazing like wildfire.
This was a young man who could truly be called handsome.
Silver-white hair, as silky as a woman's, cascaded down his back. A gold crown-like headband adorned his forehead. He wore ornate clothes over his armor, including a chestplate and leg guards, topped by a pale violet cloak, and tall riding boots complete with spurs. A longsword hung at his waist.
The young man's attire didn't look modern—it resembled cosplay, like some knight or swordsman. Details here and there carried a distinctly medieval air.
To Shana, the beautiful youth before her was no stranger—but rather, someone extremely important.
"Shiro…" the girl murmured involuntarily.
But the next instant, she snapped awake, as another attack rushed at her—sharp edges slicing through the air, closing rapidly toward her position on the passenger ship.
With a light tap of her toes on the deck, wings of flame abruptly unfolded from Shana's back. She soared upward into the sky like a bird spreading its wings.
Moments after she left, ribbons of pure white surged forward, slicing through the wind. Normally soft and delicate, these ribbons were now razor-sharp. The ship's deck shattered like tofu beneath their assault. At the other end of those ribbons was clearly the attacker—a beautiful woman dressed in a maid outfit.
Her cherry-colored hair reached just below her shoulders, tips gently curving outward, with locks framing her face down to her chest. Her eyes were wine-red. She wore a knee-length maid dress with a high collar, puffed lantern sleeves at the shoulders tapering sharply toward her wrists, tightly fitted at the chest and waist before flaring outward.
"Wilhelmina…"
Shana bit her lip hard, a complex expression appearing on her face. Clearly, this was another familiar figure.
Worried about Shana's state of mind, Alastor shouted sharply, "Don't be shaken! Those two are illusions created by the enemy!"
"…I know."
Shana knew clearly that both figures were illusions—absolutely not real.
…If these really were Wilhelmina and Shiro, I'd already be dead.
Wilhelmina was Shana's caretaker—her guardian, her foster parent. Back in Tendōkyū, Wilhelmina had always handled Shana's daily life—though admittedly, her cooking skills weren't exactly great.
Shiro—originally known as Merihim—was Shana's combat instructor, teaching her how to fight. In the girl's memories, he'd always been a silent white skeleton, so she'd simply named him "Shiro." After Shana successfully contracted with Alastor, Merihim had exhausted the last of his Power of Existence, returning briefly to his true form and offering Shana one final lesson before vanishing along with the collapse of Tendōkyū.
Shana didn't know much about their pasts—but she knew very clearly how powerful they were. If they truly became her enemies, it would undoubtedly be a difficult battle.
"But… these are merely illusions."
And precisely because of that, Shana was furious!
The people she valued most—the people who were already gone—had now been twisted into illusions by the enemy.
This was desecration! This was an insult!
"'Merely illusions'? Oh, no, no, no… These creations of mine aren't just simple tricks on the eyes. They truly exist, and their blades can kill. If they cut you down, you really will die, you know?"
An elderly, slightly mocking voice drifted across the water, sounding faintly amused.
As though emerging from fog—or rather, as if the fog itself coalesced into human form—a quietly smiling old man appeared before Shana, standing effortlessly atop the water.
"So it really was him—'Mirage' Agris," Alastor's grave voice rang out from the pendant. "Be cautious, Shana! His Unrestricted Spell can create illusions directly from your memories—which means every powerful being you've ever seen could become your enemy! Though their strength certainly won't match the originals, their numbers could still make them troublesome!"
"I understand…"
Alastor had unconsciously shouted out her name, "Shana," but the girl herself didn't seem to mind at all.
"Hahaha! At first, this old man thought my eyes had deceived me, but isn't that the famous Tenjōkekkai?" Agris stroked his white beard, smiling faintly. "'Flame-Haired Burning-Eyed Hunter'…eh? Wait a moment, you don't seem to be the one I remember. Did you switch contractors, esteemed God of Retribution-sama?"
Though his words spoke of respect, neither his tone nor expression held a shred of sincerity from start to finish. It felt completely fake.
Indeed, it was fake. Judging from his words, he seemed to look down upon the Crimson God, Alastor. But in fact, the moment he'd glimpsed those crimson flames, Agris had almost turned tail and fled. He wasn't some arrogant young lord like Friagne. Just as he said, he'd witnessed the first Flame-Haired Burning-Eyed Hunter—Mathilde Saint-Omer.
Those blazing crimson flames had left an indelible mark upon him. Or rather, there wasn't a single Crimson Denizen from that era who hadn't learned to fear Mathilde. Even Sydonay, "Thousand Changes" himself, would lose his composure upon seeing that blaze of red. Only young, foolish Denizens would dare underestimate Alastor and his contractor.
Initially, Agris really did plan to run—but he soon realized the owner of these flames wasn't the tall, commanding Mathilde, but a little runt. Curious, he'd lingered behind to quietly test the other party's strength without revealing himself.
Then, he made the delightful discovery: The small girl before him truly was Alastor's current contractor—but she was painfully inexperienced, even needing to rely on the katana Treasure Tool in her hand to summon flames, an ability that should have been as natural as breathing to a Crimson Denizen.
Overflowing with newfound confidence, Agris had boldly revealed himself.
When faced with Mathilde, Agris's thoughts had been:
"Me? Fight the Flame-Haired Burning-Eyed Hunter? You must be joking!"
But when the opponent turned out not to be Mathilde, but instead this little girl named Shana, his attitude instantly changed:
"Oh, so now YOU'RE the challenger!"
---
T/N: i think agris is an OC
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