Disclaimer: The works of Type-Moon and Jō Taketsuki are their own despite my most fervent wishes. This is a fan work and if anyone does pay me for it the only thing it will accomplish is to get me into trouble. This is being done purely for fun, constructive criticism is welcome, and flames will be ignored. Please be gentle though, this is the first fanfic I've put on the net.

God Slaying Blade Works: Chapter One

Shirou was feeling a bit lost.

No, that wasn't quite right, there had been times in his life that he had felt lost, in fact feeling lost was one of his earliest memories. No, what he felt right now could best be described as shell shocked. It was hard to believe it really had been only a month ago that his life had been so . . . uneventful. He'd just been the 'fake janitor' at school, Tohsaka Rin had been the school idol and Sakura had been just a friend that he had finally realized was also now a beautiful young woman.

Then the Holy Grail War had come to Fuyuki and everything had changed. Rin had been revealed to be a magus of a level he'd never even been aware of, Shirou himself had been dragged into the death matches that were the Heavens Feel ritual and Sakura had been revealed to contain far darker depths than he could ever have dreamed of.

It still boggled his mind of just how fast everything had spun out of even the illusion of control. He'd been killed by Lancer, only to be saved by Rin (even though he only found out about that later). When the spear wielding Servant had returned to finish the job the only reason he'd survived was through the accidental summoning of Saber. He'd almost been killed by Berserker in his second meeting with Illya as well. But despite having a sizable chunk of his side blasted off him by a mere glancing blow from the mad Servant his contract with Saber seemed to have granted him the healing needed to not only survive but also to recover in short order.

By that time he had thought he had something of a handle on the situation. He might have been in totally over his head but at least he felt like he had some idea to the scale he was dealing with. Saber had given him some basic lessons in combat and he had insisted on going out on patrol with her. That was when they had found Shinji feeding his Servant a living victim. Even the memory of it still carried a small sting, after all Sakura's brother had been as sort of estranged friend to Shirou for years. But that night the sheer ugliness of spirit that hid inside the boy was laid bare for him to see. Cruelty to his victim, cruelty to Shirou even cruelty to his Servant when she fell to Saber. It had all spilled forth from his cracked veneer of coolness like filth from a broken sewer pipe.

From there things had only spun further out of control. Zouken Matou had made his appearance in the war and saved his grandson by seemingly destroying his Servant. He'd let Shinji go, assuming him to be harmless. Things even began to look up, in a way, after they were able to take out Caster after finding her standing over her dead master. Things seemed to go even better after that, despite Sakura getting sick. He'd managed to start a friendship with Illya and had had something of a truce with Rin after they seemingly killed Zouken.

Then everything had started to go to hell. Saber died during an investigation of Ryuudou temple and the only reason Shirou survived was due to Riders unexpected aid. Shinji kidnapped Sakura leading to her being revealed as Riders true Master as well as just what she had been forced to endure at the Matou household. He then was forced to choose between his ideals and his friends life when he learnt of what Sakura could become. In the end he chose Sakura.

From there things had become a tangled mess of both good and bad. Rider was no longer his enemy and his relationship with Sakura had progressed with surprising speed. The Shadow made more appearances consuming Berserker and regurgitating a corrupted version of Saber. The fight involving the rescue of Illya from that mess had left him sans an arm and with a replacement that could well kill him if not restrained.

There had been so much after that, Sakura's corruption, his and Rin's desperate plan, Rider a constant unknown in just what she'd do, him having to use the arm even though in doing so it began to kill him. Eventually it all came down to the cave under the Ryuudou temple where a maddened Sakura, under the influence of the darkness within the Grail, sought to complete the Greater Grail and unleash her pain on the world. With aid from Rider Shirou was able to send Saber back to her death while Rin faced her sister. Though he didn't see what took place between them he arrived in time to find Rin on the ground bleeding and out cold and a Sakura restored to her senses but losing control of her power.

Despite her pleas for him to kill her Shirou had instead used a traced version of Casters Rule Breaker to sever the link between her and the unborn Avenger within the Grail. Rider had shown up and was able to take the unconscious sisters out of the collapsing cave while Shirou stayed behind to see to the Tainted Grail.

That's when Kirei had shown up and tried to stop him leading to a fight between the two dying men, Kirei with his artificial heart giving out and Shirou with his body and mind being eroded by Archers arm. In the end it had simply come down to who could outlast the other, and the victor had been Shirou.

He'd forced himself over towards the boiling mass of the Grail, his body little more that a mass of swords held together by barely living flesh. His senses had turned to steel, his mind had begun to break apart as memories had cracked and faded away. All he could remember was a small almost insignificant promise, a promise to see some flowers with a girl whose name he couldn't remember and a face he could no longer recall.

But that had been enough, enough to keep him alive, enough to keep him moving.

He didn't know what it was that had happened next, by that point there simply hadn't been enough of him left to store the information his failing senses were receiving. Illya had been there though, running desperately to catch up to her onii-chan before his body gave out.

She was far more knowledgeable in the mysteries of thaumaturgy than he was, not that that was very difficult, but even so she wasn't sure of just what it was that had taken place. Her best guess was that somehow the Grails original function, the corruption of Angra Mainyu within it and Rin having made liberal use of the Kaleidoscope had all come together to form some sort of uncontrolled gateway. The Greater Grails original purpose had been to bore a passage all the way to the Root of Existence, given how twisted it had become and how other dimensions had already been brought into play near it Illya guessed that somehow it aim had become . . . off.

Whatever the case she had arrived just in time to see the vast roiling corruption of the Grail somehow flowingdownwardssidewaysinto itselfthroughthefrontreverse dbyleftover, doing something that defied rational understanding. Even as his adopted sister had tried to make sense of it though the unborn Angra Mainyu had vanished, disappearing into the distortion about itself. She had just had time to reach Shirou's side, as he stood uncomprehending as his target had faded away, before the same distortion swept over them.

He'd asked her what it had been like during the travel, she'd answered him by saying it had rather like smelling what the colour purple tasted like. When he'd told her that he didn't get it she'd smiled and said that that was exactly right.

Whatever the transit might have been like she had had no trouble describing what it was like when they arrived in the new world. Illya had guessed that there was some sort of dilation effect so that while the trip had only been seconds for them the servant Avenger had had minutes or even hours there before they arrived.

According to her Angra Mainyu had been birthed from the Grail and had assumed the form of a fifteen foot tall toddler covered in wounds and blood. The very air around the being had felt corrupt and the nearby statues had wept bloody tears while the stone of the streets and building had cracked to bleed blood and fire. Around them had been screams, cries for mercy and maddened laughter. Quite simply it had been a scene from Hell.

The young Einzbern had not been ashamed to say that she had been terrified. She'd been ready to give her life so that the mistake of her family could finally be laid to rest, but this . . . this was every evil of mankind given form and set loose before her. Faced with something like that terror and powerlessness were the only sane responses.

However Shirou was not in a state that could be described as sane.

His mind was in tatters and his body was only alive because the blades that were impaling it from the inside out were also holding it together. He only stood because those blades had locked his legs into place as the ground against each other. He was impervious to fear because he had no emotions left to him. He did not feel the heat of the flames because his nerves had become solid unfeeling steel. There were no thoughts, no memories, no emotions; all there was was the overriding imperative that drove the machine that had once been Emiya Shirou.

End that which threatened her.

Under any normal circumstances tracing Excalibur would have been as beyond him as the moon was from his touch. Even though Archers arm had supplied the blue print his mind should have broken in trying to do it.

But his mind was already in ruins so that was no problem, instinct and will had sufficed.

Under normal circumstances using that traced Excalibur would have been as impossible as touching the sun. Simply drawing forth that much of his od should have killed him on the spot.

But his body was already dead so there was no problem in drawing forth every scrap of the power it held.

So as his last act the ruin that had once been Emiya Shirou whispered one word with its last breath and brought the traced weapons full force down on the abomination before it.


According to Illya both Angra Mainyu and the entire length of the street in front of them had been obscured by the blast of golden light that Shirou's final act had unleashed. When the light faded all that was left was a decimated length of land that had once contained buildings. That and the slowly disintegrating form of the god of evil.

She had turned to Shirou then, expecting to see the last of his life slip away from him, to see his corpse fall. Instead she was greeted by the sight of a sleeping young man lying on the ground and completely restored to the peak of health. His clothes had remained torn and bloodstained, proof of just how wounded he had been, but beneath those cloths skis was unbroken and flesh was restored. Illya had no idea how it had happened, but somehow Shirou was completely healed.

Of course since she was a sensible girl, at least when it didn't get in the way of her anger, or something she wanted, or something cute, or something annoying, or . . . Well most of the time she was a sensible girl. So she had realized that standing at the end of a clear blast zone while next to an unconscious boy and wearing a powerful mystic code like the Dress of Heaven was not a good idea. Of course any normal twelve year old girl would have had a hard time escaping with an unconscious seventeen year old boy, but the young Einzbern was not normal, she had been raised for almost her whole life to be the ultimate Master. While not raised as a traditional magus Illya had been physically and spiritually modified in various ways since even before her birth to act as the best possible Master to a Servant and vessel to the Holy Grail. As a result she could generate massive enough levels of Prana to sustain even a Berserker Heracles before the Holy Grail was there to lend aid. When you combined this with even the somewhat lacklustre education she had received in the Einzbern style of Alchemy then you got some interesting results.

During the course of the Holy Grail War that she had been involved in Illya had never had to employ her skills in thaumaturgy, with arguably the strongest Servant in the war as her obedient tool she had had no need to. One or two bonded fields, a prank or two on Shirou, that had been the full extent of her use of mage craft. But back then she had need something to help her move her insensate adopted sibling, so she had used the same mystery that her mother had employed in the forth Heavens Feel.

Shortly thereafter a small girl in a dazzling white dress had made her getaway while being followed by a vaguely human form, composed entirely of glowing blue strings, carrying an unconscious redheaded teen.

Illya had no knowledge of the Italian language, but her English had been good enough to find them a hotel where someone understood her. A rather liberal use of hypnosis later and she had been able to secure them not only a room, but also a change of rather ill fitting clothes that had once belonged to the hotel owners own son and daughter. They might have been a bit big on the snow fairy like girl, almost to the point of being comical, but it had been less conspicuous than her families' mystic code. Once they were safe Illya had set up several simple bonded fields around their room, crude but powerful ones designed to hide them from scrying and searching spells. She had figured that with the amount of damage that had been done whomever was in charge of the mystic aspect of the world around here would be looking for someone to blame. And Illya had no intention of making it easy for that someone to be either her or Shirou.

He could still remember coming to in that room, in fact the memory was branded into his memory quite effectively. He'd had the poor luck of regaining consciousness just as Illya had set about the task of changing him out of his torn and bloodied clothes. To be more specific he'd come to just when she was taking of his trousers.

He could still remember it, waking up shirtless to see the snow haired girl dressed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

"Illya . . . what are you doing?"

Hardly the most inspired words to say first thing after having so narrowly escaped deaths clutches, but it had been the only thing he could think of at the time.

Illya had frozen and then looked up at him while looking extremely guilty.

"Err . . . this . . . this isn't what it looks like you know?"

"So you're not trying to take my pants off?"

"Ah yes, I mean no, I mean . . ."

" . . . "

" . . . "

"If I promise never to speak of this again will you as well?"

". . . yes?"

"Good, now Illya . . . where are we?"

In the end they had decided to stay in the spacious hotel room and wait while one of Illya's hastily made familiars tried to make it to one of the Clock Tower branches that existed in Italy. She quickly explained to him that since this country housed the Vatican it was one of the nations in the world where the Church held the most influence. Consequently while there was no official tension between them and the mages association most sensible mage craft users kept their heads down and their noses clean while in the country.

In this case they had inadvertently unleashed a demonic god onto the streets of Naples and then proceeded to reduce a number of those streets to ash and rubble. As far as Illya was concerned the sooner they got out of there the better.

Shirou had felt slightly . . . off for those first two days after he had woken up. He just hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he had somehow forgotten something, something important.


He fell towards the shattered stones of the street. This was the end, there was simply nothing more left to give. His last attack had taken everything he had left, in the space of time it took for him to hit the ground the last of his life would fade and vanish. Just as his body had broken, just as his memories had dissolved.

And yet . . .

There was one memory, one single image, that of a beautiful young girl with sad but caring eyes and a soft smile.

The tiny wrecked fragment that was all that remained of Emiya Shirou refused to surrender that one memory. He forgot his name, he forgot his fathers face, he forgot the colour of blood, he even forgot how to breathe, but that one small recollection it clung to with all the savage intensity of the desperate.

He didn't want to die. He wanted to see that girl again, to hold her, to see her smile, to smell the scent of her hair, to keep the promise they had made that he could no longer remember.

He wanted to LIVE!

"Ano . . . this is a most difficult choice you know . . ."

What was that voice, it sounded vexed, like a child puffing out their cheeks in frustration at not knowing the answer to a question at school. And yet at the same time it sounded so sweet, so loving, the sound of a mother using the voice of a child.

"Both you and him. You're both breaking the rules for this. He was not at his full strength, so I should say that this victory won't do. But look at you. Your body breaks, your memories whither and your mind collapses, and yet you still struck that last blow even though there should have been nothing left of you to do the striking. How can a maiden's heart not be moved by such magnificent foolishness?"

Hadn't he been falling just now? Why was the back of his head now lying on someone's soft lap? How could he even feel anything? Hadn't his nerves already transformed into steel?

"And yet though the kill was grand I'm not sure about the slain. He is god enough to fall beneath the ritual of I and my husband, and yet can such a creature truly be called a god?"

He felt . . . warm, at peace. It was similar to being held by his father he supposed, but different, softer, warmer. What was this feeling?

"I have decided. I, Pandora, the witch who brought forth all disasters and a shred of hope, do now declare this child to be my new son."

Soft hands caress his face and warm lips touch his forehead. He was a son? Was this what it was to be held by a mother?

"Let everyone present grant their blessing and their hatred to this child! The eighth Campione - possessing the destiny of the strangest of the devil kings, please bestow the sacred spell words upon this child!"

As though far in the distance he could hear a dull roar, not words or shouts, just a mindless enunciation of raw never-ending hatred. It should have chilled him, it should have angered him, but here in this soft and gentle embrace he felt as though nothing in the world could bother him.

"Hohoho, rage all you want, but I have made my choice. Then Emiya Shirou, I grant my blessing to thee who has been reborn as the new god-slaying king!

"By the black art that I and Epimetheus left behind this is the sacred birth of an illegitimate child, shrouded in darkness, born of a fool and a witch. A secret of usurpation only made possible through the sacrifice of a god.

His eyes managed to drift open. He managed to see a blurred image, a sweet face, far too young for such a motherly tone, pale purple hair that reminded him of someone he couldn't remember, but who had fought at his side. And such a warm smile.

I, the all-giving woman Pandora, declare that you shall be reborn as a Campione. The god-slayer, the king of kings, the Campione."

Again she leaned in to place a kiss on his brow and at the same time he felt something gently but insistently push INTO his chest.

The world gently faded into white.


Shirou knew he was forgetting something important, but for the life in him he couldn't remember what it was.

So much had happened since then, first Perseus, his strange new powers, Hades, finally learning just what it was that he had become. Still despite the bizarreness of all that had taken place the first time they had learnt they were in a completely new world had possessed its own unique form of shock.

It was on the same day he had woken up, the day before he had faced Perseus, Illya had been getting annoyed that her familiar had not yet returned with an answer to her message, annoyed and bored. Their room had a bookshelf on it, one with a number of different subjects, but sadly all in Italian which neither of them could read. Wanting to do something to relieve her restlessness his adopted sister had pulled a picture book of animals off the shelf and started to flick through it gasping in delight at the odd animals within. Then she had found one that she hadn't recognized and had brought the book over to the still bedridden Shirou to see if he knew which it was.

He'd simply glanced at the picture and answered her without thinking.

"That's a Cantor's Giant Soft Shelled Turtle."

"Wow, onii-chan knows his turtles."

It had been hearing that from Illya that had made Shirou realize that he did not in fact know the answer to her question; he had just glanced at the page and read the caption under the picture.

Which had been in Italian.

And he had read it.

Getting up of his bed in a rush he had grabbed another of the books off the shelf and opened it on a random page. It was in Italian, of that there was no doubt, and yet he had no trouble in understanding it. Once he'd explained it to Illya they had begun to experiment, she'd written a few words in German and once more he had no trouble in reading them. She'd then used what little she knew of French and Spanish to experiment further and found that it didn't seem to matter what the language was the red head could now intuitively understand it.

They had no idea where this strange new talent had come from, but had seen no point in not putting it to use. Illya had borrowed that day's paper from their hosts and brought it to Shirou so they could learn what was being said about what had happened the day before. As was to be expected it was all blamed on some terrorist group or other, in fact several different such groups were already trying to claim credit for it. However that was not what had caught Shirou's eye, what had done that was the year at the top of the front page.


But as far as he knew the year was 2004.

They'd checked other papers and found them to be the same; Shirou had then gone onto the internet, after more hypnosis had been used on their hosts, to further verify it. In the meantime Illya had been trying to work out if there was away to get in contact with the Clock Tower that wouldn't lead to them ending up as research subjects since it looked as though they had experience the Fifth Magic, time manipulation.

It had been when Shirou went to his schools website in an attempt to learn what had happened to Sakura that the full scale of what had happened was brought to light. The website hadn't been there so he had tried to look up his school. No luck there either. He'd tried to find other places on the net that might have had records of Sakura or Rin, but either found the sites not to exist or to have no record of them. In frustration he had simple tried to find out if Fuyuki city had been damaged by the Grails disappearance. The answer to his search had caused his mouth to drop open in horror.

Fuyuki city did not exist.

In fact it seemed that it had never existed in the first place. As he started looking Shirou had found other differences; cities he'd never heard of, politicians with important roles who had never appeared, new celebrities, the list went on and on.

It seemed that it had not been the Fifth True Magic to which they had been subjected. It had been the Second.

So much had happened since then, but now here he was. Back in Japan, but not a Japan that he had ever been in. And for the life in him he wasn't sure what he should do next. Oh he had some general goals, protect Illya, find a way home, try to get a better handle on the changes and powers he now possessed. But those were so far off, he simply had no idea how they could be linked into the now.

And so here he was, sitting on a grassy bank outside Tokyo watching the sun set over the city while a sleepy Illya leaned into his side. He supposed he should be thankful that it was late spring and the nights would be warm, as such they could stay here a little bit longer before having to worry about finding a hotel. Money was no problem anymore, not since acquiring Rule of the Underworld, all he needed to do was find a halfway honest pawn shop and he'd soon have enough money to keep himself and Illya comfortable for a good long time.

And he felt lost.

For so long he had known what he wanted to be, an ally of justice, someone who saved everyone. Then he had faced a choice between the 'everyone' he didn't know and the 'one' that he care for.

And he'd chosen the one.

He wasn't sure if that counted as betraying his ideals, or if he had cast them away or even simply modified them. He just knew that he did not regret his choice, even after all this. Sakura was safe and Rin and Rider would take care of her until he found a way back to her.

And he would, he would accept no other outcome.

But for now he was content to sit where he was, his sister dozing against him, and watch the sun set.

Let the future bring what it wanted, for better or worse he was the Eighth Campione and the technical victor of the fifth Holy Grail War, he would match whatever it threw at him and persevere.

Really, how hard could it be?

Marcus Here

I am quite frankly amazed at how fast I managed to get this chapter written. Fair warning to everyone; don't expect this to be the norm by any stretch.

Anyway I hope this chapter answers a few of the questions people had about the legitimacy of Shirou's victory over his first god. Angra Mainyu might have been weakened, but so was Shirou. Given how Pandora has been portrayed in the anime and books I think that a fair fight is what she values, something that makes the humans involved worthy of the Authorities they gain.

In answer to another question I am drawing from both the light novels and the anime. For the most part I prefer the storyline of the light novels but dislike their illustrations since they make the characters look childlike. The anime is much more visually appealing but a bit shakier story wise. There were a few other good questions asked me in the reviews, but I can't answer without giving spoilers, so I ask you all to be patient and wait for the next chapter. One thing I can reveal is that Shirou is going to arrive in Tokyo at about the same time that Godou would otherwise have gone on holiday to Naples leading to his encounter with Perseus. Needless to say things will now go a bit differently.

As a last note some people might note that Shirou seems a bit out of character. This is at least partly deliberate and will be addresses either in the next chapter or the one after.

Please keep up the constructive reviews as I find them to be a fine source of inspiration. Also I'm looking for a beta, anyone know how I can find one?

Thanks to Kalepos