Chapter 18: Royal Counsel and Forbidden Miracles
Gilgamesh's presence in the Emiya Residence wasn't that of a tenant, but that of a star that had decided to orbit around a humble country house. Her splendor hadn't dimmed; it had only been domesticated in appearance, transforming into a constant, golden pressure that permeated every room. Kiritsugu watched her with the silent tension of a soldier facing an undetonated mine, while Taiga, dazzled and naive, fluttered around the "new glamorous friend of Shirou's" until, fortunately, her grandfather called her away on errands, leaving the house plunged into a charged silence.
It was in that silence, seated in the main living room— Gilgamesh in the best armchair, which she had declared her "provisional throne"— when Shirou, driven by a day of frustration and the overwhelming proximity of his supposed mentor, decided to collect the price of her domestic invasion.
— Gil,— he began, trying to keep his voice steady.— About the questions I've been accumulating...
A gleam of genuine pleasure lit the Queen's ruby eyes.— Finally! I was bored of waiting. Speak, my Wandering Star. Satisfy my curiosity, and perhaps I shall satisfy yours.
Shirou took a deep breath and launched his first salvo, seeking to unravel the mysteries that Rin, whether due to limited knowledge or protective instinct, couldn't answer.
— Mystic Eyes. Rin said my circuits reach my eyes, that I have the structure, but not the function. How is that possible? And how are they obtained?
Gilgamesh laughed, a clear, contemptuous sound.— The eyes! Those mirrors of the soul that obsess mongrels so much. Having the pathways doesn't mean water flows through them, boy. Mystic Eyes are a mutation, a forced specialization brought on by desire, trauma, or a bloody inheritance. Your eyes… are clean windows. They see too much, perhaps, but they don't impose will. Obtaining them isn't a course. It's a violation of oneself. A pact with a demon, an ancestral curse, a flash of madness at death's door. Would you want that? To stain your beautiful, empty gaze with something as mundane as a predefined power?— Her tone made it clear she considered the very idea vulgar.
Shirou ignored the provocation and moved to the next.— The difference. The real one, between a Servant and a Heroic Spirit.
Gilgamesh's smile widened, flattered.— Ah, we touch the core of the epic. A Heroic Spirit is the perfect record, the crystallized legend, the truth of the myth engraved upon the Throne, outside of time. It is what was. A Servant…— She made a dismissive gesture with her hand.— …is a cheap copy. A borrowed shadow, a limited vessel, a tool summoned by the petty aspirations of the magi of this era. It is what they use. The difference is that between a king and his portrait; one rules, the other hangs on a wall and gathers dust.— In her words, there was an echo of contempt, but also a fierce nostalgia for her complete state.
— True Magic— Shirou continued.— Rin mentioned it. She said it was different.
Gilgamesh's contempt became absolute.— That girl plays with terms she doesn't understand! What you call "True Magic" are merely five residual tricks, the last feats the world, withered and old, hasn't managed to explain. In my time, in the Age of Gods, that wasn't "magic." It was the world's very breath. The gods walked, and their steps were law. What today is an unattainable miracle was then simply the beating of reality. Current users… the Kaleidoscope, the Blue… are children fumbling with the last embers of a divine fire that went out.— Her voice was a funeral dirge for a lost splendor.
— And that's the real difference, then?— Shirou insisted, catching the thread.— Between your era and ours?
Gilgamesh looked at him, and for the first time, her expression wasn't amusement or disdain, but a lucid, ancient melancholy.— The difference, little wanderer, is the density of Mystery. It's the scale. It's the presence of the Divine. Your world is gray, flat, ruled by small, petty laws. Mine was vibrant, dangerous, and glorious, ruled by wills. You study the rules. We dictated them. That is the insurmountable abyss that separates me from everything I see.
Shirou nodded, feeling the weight of those words. Then, he asked his most personal question.— My Origin. "Miracle." Rin couldn't really explain how it interacts with who I am. She said it was a force, not a personality. But… how does it actually work?
Gilgamesh leaned back in her chair, interlacing her fingers. Here was the crux.— Your Origin isn't an accessory, stupid boy. It is the foundation of your soul. It is the first and last thing you are. And yours… "Miracle"… is the most arrogant, the most beautiful, and the heaviest of all.— She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper charged with power.— The reason you shone like a beacon for any magus with half a brain, before that girl taught you to dampen it, is because your Origin awakened the moment you stopped being one thing and started becoming another. At your birth in the fire. It hasn't been dormant. It has been active from the very first second, dictating every breath, every heartbeat, every survival instinct. It is the very root of your existence.
Shirou felt a chill. The pieces were starting to fit together in a terrifying way.— Then… is that why I can't project a simple spoon? Why instead of a glass I make a self-playing flute?
The Queen burst into laughter.— Naturally! You demand a hurricane to whistle a tune! Your essence is to be the exception, the unique event, the possibility that mocks the established order. Forcing yourself to follow the minuscule steps of Gradation Air, to replicate the mundane… is like asking the sun to illuminate only a single grain of sand. It is counter-natural. Your power isn't for repeating, it's for creating. For imposing. Those "failures" aren't mistakes. They are your soul rejecting mediocrity. Stop trying to fit into their small molds, Shirou Emiya. Create your own. Or better yet…— Her scarlet eyes shone with a dangerous and tempting light.— forget the molds. Break the rule. Don't project what they see. Project what is. Simply, perform a miracle.
The words resonated in Shirou like the tolling of a giant bell. "Create your own… Break the rule…" The murmur took hold of him. The day's frustration, the image of the metal bird, the crystal flute… they weren't failures. They were clumsy attempts by his own nature to break through. An irresistible impulse, a familiar warmth welling from his chest, began to grow within him. He was no longer listening to Gilgamesh. He no longer saw the room. A beat, strong and clear, began to sound in his ears, drowning out everything else.
Thump. Thump. THUMP
He jumped to his feet, eyes glazed, fixed on an inner vision.— I need… I need chalk,— he murmured, and headed for the door that had always been forbidden: Kiritsugu's workshop.
The room was Spartan, gray, filled with tools and the faint smell of gunpowder and oil. Kiritsugu was there, standing in front of a workbench, his face a mask of alarm and growing anger.
— What are you doing here? Get out immediately! What did that woman tell you? How did you meet her? Answer me!— Kiritsugu grabbed his shoulder, but Shirou shook him off with unexpected strength. His gaze swept the room, searching, searching… until it found a shelf with various materials. There, a small tube of blue chalk for magic circles. He took it.
— Shirou, for the last time!— Kiritsugu's shout was now a sharp command, the tone of the Magus Killer, but it fell on deaf ears. Shirou was already running back to the living room, followed by his father, furious and frightened.
Gilgamesh, who had witnessed the scene with a smile of immense delight, burst out laughing as she watched them pass.— Leave the boy alone, worn-out man! Creative fire knows no paternal prohibitions! Come, sit! You will witness something worth more than your entire life of shadows!— With a golden flash, she made two ornately carved chairs appear beside hers, one for herself and another, ironically, for Kiritsugu.
But Shirou saw none of this. He had fallen to his knees in the center of the living room and began to draw on the wooden floor. He traced the basic projection circle, the one Rin had taught him. But looking at it, it seemed ridiculous, insufficient, a cage of stupid lines. The impulse, the fierce beating in his chest, took control of his hand. Break the rule.
He began to add lines. Symbols he had never seen before, curves that spoke of possibilities, angles that defied Euclidean geometry. He transformed the circle into a multi-pointed star, then into a fractal mandala that seemed to absorb the room's light. It was a theoretical monstrosity, a nightmare for any orthodox magus. The perfect chimera.
— What is he doing? What is that circle?— Kiritsugu asked, his anger giving way to an icy perplexity.
— Shut up and observe, shadow-mouse!— Gilgamesh commanded, her eyes gleaming like carbuncles.— Observe the dawn of a star!
Shirou poured his prana into the circle. At first, nothing. An absolute silence, as if the world held its breath. Then, with a beat that shook the air, a silent golden wave exploded from his chest.
And the world changed.
It wasn't an explosion, but a transmutation. The Emiya Residence living room vanished, its walls melting into an infinite horizon of a pure, cobalt blue sky. The wooden floor transformed into a field of fresh green grass waving in a gentle, nonexistent breeze. The air smelled of damp earth and wildflowers.
Then, the colors. Birds of impossible plumage— scarlet, sapphire, emerald— burst from the air like ripe fruit and began to fly, tracing arcs and chirping melodies never heard before. A fawn with fur that seemed made of liquid silver poked its head out from behind a hedge that was once a sofa, chewing illusory grass. A butterfly the size of a hand, with wings like miniature stained glass, landed on the shoulder of a paralyzed Kiritsugu.
It was beautiful. It was alive. You could feel the breeze, smell the grass, hear the birdsong. It was tangible in every sense. A solid illusion, a dream projected onto reality that breathed and pulsed with its own life.
— A… Reality Marble?— Kiritsugu murmured, unable to contain the technical term, his magus mind struggling to classify the impossible.
— HA!— Gilgamesh's laugh boomed across the dreamlike landscape, a sound of pure, absolute delight.— No, fool! This is not the inner world of a distorted soul forcing itself upon the world! This is purer, more impossible! It is simply projection! An illusion made solid, made alive, made miracle! A spectacle worthy of my hanging gardens! Look, joyless man! Your son does not distort the world… he shakes it until it dreams!
Shirou's masterpiece, however, had the fuel of a sigh. Less than a minute after it began, the colors paled. The birds dissolved into a rain of light petals. The field faded like smoke, gradually revealing the furniture, the walls, the wooden floor of the Emiya Residence. Shirou, standing in the center of the now inert and scorched circle on the floor, had his eyes rolled back. A last, faint smile of wonder touched his lips before his knees gave way and he collapsed like a ragdoll, his body imposing the final safety limit: the automatic shutdown to prevent his own Od from being consumed unto death in creative ecstasy.
Silence returned, now heavy and empty after the burst of beauty.
Kiritsugu lunged toward his son's unconscious body, his hands seeking a pulse, finding it fast but weak. He looked up at Gilgamesh, and in his eyes there was no longer just fear or anger. There was a new horror, that of understanding he had underestimated the nature of the power nesting within Shirou, and the monster who had unleashed it.
Gilgamesh, for her part, rose from her golden chair, which vanished in a flash. She walked slowly to the center of the room, where the monstrous circle still smoked. She stepped on the fading illusory grass and looked at the unconscious Shirou with an expression of deep, voracious satisfaction.
— One minute,— she murmured, to herself or to Kiritsugu.— Only one minute of true splendor. But what a minute…— She turned to the father, her smile now serene and terrible.— Don't scold him, Emiya. You have just witnessed the first step on a path that even the gods could not pave. Take good care of him. Nourish him. Because next time… I want the spectacle to last longer.
And concluding the session, she headed to her room— which she had unilaterally taken— leaving Kiritsugu alone in the devastated living room, his exhausted son in his arms, and the certainty that the rules of his world, once again, had been shattered.
* * *
The Five True Magics, for anyone curious about what they are:
> The First, the "Denial of Nothingness": The sole user and creator of the First Magic is Yumina, who is said to have passed away a long time ago, just before the modern era of magecraft began. However, not much is known about her beyond being "The First" or "The Founder". In fact, Yumina is recognized as the only one of the five Magicians considered to be directly deceased.
The domain of the First Magic remains unknown. In a series of depictions of the different Magics, it is represented by a massive explosion of matter. Likely associated with the Denial of Nothingness and related to the generation of Ether Clumps (It is basically the failed attempt to materialize Ether by combining it with one of the other elements. In a sense, creating an Ether Clump is analogous to creating "Nothingness")
Although the "Denial of Nothingness" is a phenomenon that materializes through "Magic," it is only known that it can be used to resurrect deceased humans. The secrets hidden behind the First True Magic still await for our dear Kinoko Nasu to reveal them in some new Fate work.
> The Second, the "Manipulation of Parallel Worlds": As its name suggests, it allows its user to travel to and interfere with parallel worlds and timelines, being capable of feats such as: extracting magical energy from their infinite parallel selves; limited time travel; etc.
Its only known user is Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, also called the Magus Marshal or the Kaleidoscope. Furthermore, it is known that in other Fate and Nasuverse works, Rin Tohsaka is taken by him as an apprentice in the hope that, thanks to her talent, she might become the next user of the Second True Magic.
As an extra note, in Fate/Kaleid Liner PRISMA☆ILLYA, we can see how Illyasviel Von Einzbern and Miyu Edelfelt are able to partially perform this Magic through the Kaleidosticks, which are basically Mystic Codes in the form of magic wands that Zelretch himself created and which turn their user into a Magical Girl (like in Sailor Moon or Madoka Magica) as a condition of use. And no, men are not included, tough luck, fans of Kore wa Zombie Desu Ka? XD
> The Third, "Heaven's Feel": It is the "materialization of the soul." The soul becomes a physical object that can exist in the world without needing a biological body. Since the soul is physical, you no longer age (age-based immortality). As the soul is the perfect mold of your being, any damage to the "body" is instantly repaired because the soul simply projects its form anew. It is a regeneration that surpasses even that of the Dead Apostles (Vampires); you can imagine it as Wolverine's or Deadpool's regeneration from the comics, but much faster. By materializing the soul, it becomes a perpetual motion machine; you no longer need to generate *Od* through limited Magic Circuits, as the soul generates infinite energy by itself, eliminating the risk of dying from magical exhaustion.
In theory, the entire "Holy Grail" ritual: the war and the sacrifice of the Servants. It is merely a method to reach the Root (the source of all magic in the Nasuverse, depicted as a data processing center. But just imagine it as the origin of EVERYTHING that exists in the Nasuverse, similar to the Akashic Records) and obtain this True Magic, while the wishes are just something the Grail can carry out as a "side effect" of being, in essence, an accumulation of immense magical energy.
The only known users are: Justeaze Lizrich Von Einzbern, the homunculus who served as the original Grail; and Illyasviel Von Einzbern (in the Heaven's Feel route), who manages to perform an incomplete version of this Magic at the end of the route to save Shirou, putting his soul into a vessel so he doesn't die after losing his body (Classic Shirou: People die when they are killed XD).
> The Fourth, the "Unknown" or "Anonymous": Its use and current user are unknown. It is said that the user of the Fourth Magic simply **"declared that they exist"** and then hid themselves.
> The Fifth, "Blue": It is the domain of Aoko Aozaki. If the Second travels between worlds, the Fifth messes with the consumption of order and the flow of time. It is considered the most "modern" Magic and, honestly, the most terrifying for the universe's balance.
Although it has several effects, its essence is "Time Travel" and "Entropy Manipulation," with Aoko being capable of feats such as: taking "her own future years of training" and bringing them to the present to become absurdly powerful instantly; if something bad happens (like someone's death), she can send that event to the far future, but the problem is that *the debt doesn't disappear*, someone or something in the future will have to pay for that "stolen" time, accelerating the death of the universe (entropy). Unlike the other Magics, which are conceptual or constructive, the Fifth is incredibly efficient for *annihilation.* Aoko is famous for firing energy beams that don't just destroy matter, but seem to "erase" existence itself.
Unlike the other four Magics, which were achieved by reaching the Root (Akasha), it is said that the Fifth appeared as a byproduct of Aoko *reaching* there. That's why it's the only one with a color name ("Blue").
Yes, guys, I know. THIS STUFF IS INCREDIBLY COMPLICATED TO UNDERSTAND!!!
But that's precisely the joke with these Magics!!!
They are complicated to understand, yes, but that's exactly what makes them FREAKING POWERFUL, and in my humble opinion, very exciting :3
Oh, I didn't post yesterday because time got away from me while I was looking into this shit xd