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.