Chapter 2: Dawn of Understanding
The first light of dawn crept over Fuyuki City like fingers of gold threading through storm clouds, painting the wet streets in hues of amber and rose. The tempest that had raged through the night had finally exhausted itself, leaving behind only the gentle patter of residual raindrops and the clean scent of washed air. At Ryuudou Temple, where ancient stones had witnessed countless prayers and miracles, a new chapter in the city's hidden history was about to unfold.
Aion Origin stood in the temple's main courtyard, his dark hair still damp from the previous night's downpour. Sleep had eluded him—not from discomfort, but from the overwhelming weight of revelation. Every time he'd closed his eyes, images had flickered through his mind like half-remembered dreams: vast cosmic spaces, the sensation of power flowing through his veins like molten starlight, and beneath it all, an inexplicable certainty that his awakening in this place and time was no mere coincidence.
"You appear troubled, young one."
The voice belonged to Merlin, who approached with his characteristic unhurried gait, robes billowing gently in the morning breeze. The Grand Caster's expression held that familiar blend of wisdom and mischief, as if he could perceive truths that others missed entirely. His staff—a simple wooden length crowned with ribbons that seemed to flutter without wind—tapped softly against the stone as he walked.
"I keep trying to remember," Aion admitted, his voice carrying the weight of frustration. "There's something just beyond reach, like a word on the tip of my tongue that won't come. And these powers..." He flexed his fingers, watching as tiny motes of golden light danced across his palm before fading. "They feel familiar, but impossible at the same time."
Merlin's smile widened, and he settled gracefully onto one of the stone benches that lined the courtyard. "Ah, but perhaps that's precisely the point. True power often feels most natural when we stop trying to understand it and simply accept it as part of ourselves. Tell me, when you created that barrier last night, did you think about the mechanics? The flow of magical energy? The transformation of raw mana into physical manifestation?"
Aion shook his head slowly. "No, I just... wanted protection. I imagined safety, and it appeared."
"Fascinating." Merlin's eyes gleamed with scholarly delight. "Most magi spend decades learning to visualize and manipulate energy according to established principles. Yet you bypass those limitations entirely, creating something from pure intention. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were tapping into something far older than modern magecraft."
Before Aion could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention. Artoria Pendragon emerged from the temple's main hall, her golden hair catching the early sunlight like spun silk. Even in the peaceful morning atmosphere, she carried herself with the bearing of a warrior-king—alert, dignified, ready to face whatever challenges the day might bring. Her blue eyes, sharp as winter frost, assessed the scene before her with tactical precision.
"The night's rest appears to have restored you both," she observed, her tone formal but not unkind. "Good. Today begins your proper education, Aion Origin. If you are to survive in this war, mere instinct will not suffice."
Two more figures appeared at the temple's entrance, their contrasting energies immediately apparent. The first was a young man with auburn hair and determined amber eyes that held an almost painful sincerity. His school uniform was pristine despite the early hour, and he moved with the careful precision of someone accustomed to being useful rather than celebrated. This could only be Shirou Emiya—the boy whose selfless idealism had impressed even the legendary King Arthur.
Beside him walked a girl whose very presence commanded attention. Long, dark brown hair was styled in precise twin-tails that swayed with each confident step, framing a face that balanced aristocratic beauty with sharp intelligence. Her blue eyes held the calculating gleam of someone who viewed every interaction as a potential chess match, weighing advantages and vulnerabilities with ruthless efficiency. Rin Tohsaka carried herself like royalty—which, in the hidden world of magi, she essentially was.
"Saber," Shirou said, offering a respectful bow that spoke of genuine admiration rather than mere courtesy. "I hope we're not intruding. You mentioned yesterday that you'd found someone who might be able to help with the war."
His gaze settled on Aion with cautious curiosity. There was no hostility in his expression, but neither was there immediate acceptance. This was someone who had learned to evaluate potential allies carefully, knowing that trust given too quickly could prove fatal.
"Shirou Emiya," he introduced himself, stepping forward with characteristic directness. "I've heard you have unusual abilities. If you're fighting to protect innocent people, then I'm glad to meet you. If not..." He let the implication hang in the air, his stance shifting almost imperceptibly into something that could become combat-ready at a moment's notice.
Rin's approach was more direct, her analytical mind already working to categorize and understand this new variable in the war's complex equation. She produced a small ruby from her pocket, its faceted surface pulsing with contained magical energy.
"Rin Tohsaka, heir to the Tohsaka magical lineage," she announced with the confidence of someone accustomed to being the smartest person in the room. "Merlin claims you wield some form of creation magic. Prove it." Without further preamble, she tossed the charged gem in a high arc toward Aion. "If your power is truly creation-based, show us a defense that doesn't rely on conventional magecraft."
Time seemed to slow as the ruby spun through the morning air, its magical energy creating prismatic trails of light. Aion felt that familiar stirring in his chest—not panic, but a deep, instinctive response to the need for protection. In that stretched moment, he didn't think about magical theory or energy manipulation. Instead, he simply reached into the fundamental fabric of reality and willed something new into existence.
Golden radiance erupted from his outstretched hand, weaving itself into a dome of translucent energy that materialized around the entire group. This wasn't a barrier formed by redirecting existing forces or transmuting available materials—it was pure creation, bringing forth something that had never existed before. The ruby struck the luminous shield and dissolved harmlessly into scattered motes of light, its energy absorbed and transformed into something beautiful and harmless.
"Impossible," Rin breathed, her composed facade cracking for the first time since her arrival. Her analytical mind raced through every magical principle she'd ever studied, finding none that could adequately explain what she'd just witnessed. "That's not magecraft. Magecraft manipulates existing phenomena according to established laws. But you just..." She stared at the still-glowing barrier in stunned silence.
Shirou's reaction was different but no less profound. His eyes widened with recognition and wonder, seeing in Aion's effortless miracle something that resonated with his deepest beliefs about justice and protection. "It's like what they say about the Age of Gods," he murmured, "when divine beings could speak new realities into existence with nothing more than their will."
Merlin clapped slowly, each sound echoing in the stunned silence that followed. "Remarkable, truly remarkable. Young Aion, you've just demonstrated something that challenges the fundamental assumptions of modern thaumaturgy. This isn't simply unusual—it's revolutionary."
The barrier pulsed once more before gradually fading, leaving the morning air shimmering with residual energy. Aion swayed slightly, the effort of creation taking its toll, but his expression held a new confidence born of understanding. He was beginning to grasp the true scope of what lay within him.
Artoria was the first to break the contemplative silence, her voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to making crucial decisions under pressure. "Your power appears genuine, but raw strength without discipline is a danger to yourself and others. Will you accept training?"
"Training?" Aion looked between the faces surrounding him—Shirou's earnest determination, Rin's sharp curiosity tempered by newfound respect, Merlin's amused wisdom, and Artoria's knightly resolve.
"Combat techniques," Artoria continued, drawing a practice sword from her side. The wooden blade gleamed as if it were forged steel, testament to the skill with which it was wielded. "If you're to survive this war, you must learn more than just the manipulation of your unique gift. Power without technique is like a sword without an edge—impressive to look at, but ultimately ineffective in battle."
Shirou stepped forward eagerly, his natural inclination to help others overriding any lingering wariness. "I can assist with that. I've been training with Saber for weeks now. The fundamentals of combat, at least—stance, breathing, the mental discipline required to fight effectively."
"And I can provide theoretical grounding in magical principles," Rin added, though her tone suggested she was still processing the implications of what she'd witnessed. "If your ability truly is creation-based, understanding its relationship to existing magical theory could help you develop it more efficiently. Or at least help you avoid accidentally unmaking yourself."
Merlin's smile widened, his eyes twinkling with the delight of a teacher who had discovered a particularly fascinating student. "While I offer perspective on the broader implications. After all, power without wisdom has toppled more than one civilization. The ability to create is perhaps the most dangerous gift imaginable—it requires not just strength, but understanding of consequence."
Aion looked around at these four individuals who had transformed from strangers to potential mentors in the space of a single conversation. Yesterday, he had been utterly alone, lost in a world that made no sense. Now, he found himself at the center of something larger than he could have imagined—a web of destiny that connected legends, heroes, and the very fate of the city around them.
"I accept," he said simply, his voice carrying a quiet determination that seemed to resonate with something fundamental in each of his listeners. "Teach me."
Artoria nodded approvingly, her expression softening almost imperceptibly. "Then we begin immediately. First lesson: the foundation of all combat is not strength or speed, but understanding—of yourself, your opponent, and the space between you."
She moved to the center of the courtyard, her wooden sword held in a deceptively casual grip that nonetheless radiated lethal competence. "Power flows from the center, but control comes from the foundation. Watch."
What followed was a demonstration that transformed the peaceful temple courtyard into something resembling the training grounds of Camelot itself. Artoria moved through a series of forms that were simultaneously elegant and deadly, each motion flowing into the next with mechanical precision. Yet there was nothing cold or robotic about her technique—instead, it embodied the perfect marriage of discipline and passion, duty and personal conviction.
"Your turn," she said, offering Aion the practice sword with the same gravity she might have shown when knighting a new member of the Round Table.
The wooden blade felt strange in his hands—heavier than he'd expected, yet somehow familiar. As Aion attempted to mirror Artoria's earlier demonstration, he found himself moving with surprising fluidity. His stances weren't perfect, his timing could use work, but there was an underlying rhythm to his movements that suggested deep, buried familiarity with the art of combat.
"Interesting," Merlin observed from his position on the stone bench, chin resting on his hand in a pose of scholarly contemplation. "He moves as if he's remembering rather than learning. Tell me, Aion, do these motions feel entirely foreign to you?"
Aion paused mid-swing, considering the question seriously. "No," he admitted after a moment. "It's like... like finding an old song you'd forgotten you knew. The melody is there, waiting to be remembered."
Shirou nodded in understanding, his own experiences with mysterious knowledge lending credence to Aion's words. "Sometimes understanding comes from places deeper than conscious memory. What matters is that you're willing to learn and grow."
As the morning progressed, the impromptu training session evolved into something more comprehensive. Rin set up a series of magical exercises designed to test the limits and applications of Aion's creation abilities, while Merlin provided running commentary that was equal parts educational and entertaining. Shirou offered practical advice on maintaining focus during combat, drawing from his own hard-won experience in the war.
Through it all, Artoria served as the anchor point—demanding excellence, correcting mistakes, and gradually building the foundation upon which true mastery could be constructed. Her teaching style was firm but fair, pushing Aion to his limits without breaking his spirit.
By the time the sun reached its zenith, painting the temple courtyard in brilliant gold, something fundamental had shifted in the dynamic between the five individuals. What had begun as a cautious alliance between strangers was evolving into something deeper—the first tentative bonds of trust and mutual respect.
"Enough for now," Artoria declared, lowering her practice sword with a satisfied nod. "You've shown promise, Aion Origin. Raw talent, certainly, but also the discipline to listen and learn. That combination will serve you well in the battles to come."
As they gathered in the temple's main hall to discuss strategy and share a simple meal, none of them could have predicted how this alliance would grow and change. The quiet young man with impossible abilities would indeed become the axis around which their entire world would turn, but for now, in the gentle afternoon light filtering through ancient windows, there was only the simple pleasure of discovery, learning, and the first precious threads of trust being woven between souls who would soon become something far more than mere allies.
The Holy Grail War could wait a little longer. Today was for foundations, for understanding, and for the careful cultivation of bonds that would either save them all—or destroy everything they held dear.