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Steel Eyed Faker Chapter 18: Rumours
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 15:27:57 +0000 UTCBeta read by Paragon of Awesomeness and Shigiya.
Next update is Fate Coiling Sword which will be updated in... (☉｡☉)! 5 mins.
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-Revolutionary Army Headquarters-
Regret.
It clung to her like a second skin, stubborn and unshakable, burrowing into the marrow of the silver-haired ex-Imperial general. She sat motionless, save for the impatient tap of her finger against her shoulder, her thoughts adrift in the hum of the room around her.
She had failed to be there when they needed her most and allowed herself to get swayed by just a few words from her allies, imploring her to stay behind.
And worst of all, she felt as if her strength was slipping further with each passing day.
Across from her, defiant as ever, Bulat had his hair no longer styled in that ridiculous pompadour and instead just letting it down. A person who had nearly bled to death was flashing her a lopsided grin, the kind meant to banish her guilt.
…It didn’t work.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, voice low as she took a long drag of her cigarette. Around them, the makeshift infirmary of the Revolutionary Army pulsed with activity; healers, medics, and aides weaving between the injured, binding wounds, administering painkillers, whispering reassurances that might or might not be true. The air was thick with antiseptic, blood, and the acrid scent of burnt flesh, some poor souls needing to have their wounds cauterized on the spot. In hindsight, perhaps smoking here was a terrible idea, but the habit had taken over before she realized it.
The nurses gave her nervous glances but said nothing. Too afraid to challenge one of the best military minds in the Revolutionary Army, perhaps. Not like she ever threw a fit if someone asked her to stop… probably had something to do with her overall presence, which her dear little brother said was intimidating to others.
Pft, like he was one to talk.
“Bright and dandy, Najenda!” Bulat replied, far too cheerfully for a man wrapped in bandages and confined to a hospital gown covered in gauze patches. His left arm was decorated in medical tape and plaster, but her eyes were drawn inevitably to the other side. Or rather, to the empty space where his right arm had once been, now replaced with a blood-stained bundle of gauze.
“Don’t make that face,” he said, chuckling despite the weight of it all. “I chose to go through with the mission, and there’s no way in hell I would’ve let you come with me even if I’d known how it would end. It was a trap, and we knew it and knowingly took a risk.”
“A risk far too great that at no point should I have even given any consideration to,” she replied bitterly.
“Probably,” he admitted with a shrug. “But I’m still alive, aren’t I? One arm down, sure, but that’s not a deal-breaker. I can still fight. Just gotta adjust my style a bit.”
He said it lightly, flashing the same crooked smile that on so many occasions had comforted frightened rookies. But she wasn’t fooled. She knew, just as he did, that he wouldn’t be rejoining Night Raid anytime soon on any missions. A warrior like him might still swing a blade or pull a trigger, but the front lines were unforgiving. He was lucky to have survived. A quieter life was his best shot now.
One without bloodshed.
One where he could disappear.
One where this soldier could live in peace, as he had earned.
But even that was a fantasy. A man like him was still branded, still being hunted by the Empire. Retirement wouldn’t offer Bulat any peace. It would just be a more drawn-out death. And a man like Bulat would never consent to sit back and try to get all cozy while his comrades were still risking their lives.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said suddenly, as if reading her thoughts. “This setback won’t stop me. I can work with a prosthetic. And even without Incursio, my skills haven’t dulled. Heck, I learned a lot and got some good experience against the general. I’ve already got a few ideas for our next encounter once I’ve got myself back in fighting condition.”
“You idiot,” she muttered, her voice suddenly sharp. “You barely made it out alive, and now you want to leap right back into the flames? That’s not bravery. That’s suicide.”
“So is standing against the Empire,” he fired back without hesitation. “We all knew what we were signing up for. Every single one of us. Esdeath was never a surprise. It’s a constant possibility that’s been trailing us since day one. Eventually, it catches up. That’s just the truth of it. Me? I got lucky. I lost an arm and my Teigu, but I lived. Tell me, how many other people in history can say they went toe-to-toe with General Esdeath, the Empire’s Strongest, and walked away?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes narrowed, then the answer slipped out before she could stop it.
“One.”
"Exactly. Now, better make that a two," Bulat grinned, tapping the side of his head as though he were already imagining the plaque on a wall. "That's a medal of honour I'll proudly wear to my grave."
She didn't reply.
Najenda studied him quietly, almost envious of how the man could still muster a smile after everything. It wasn’t bravado… somehow, he was still as positive as ever. Still laughing. Still hopeful. And yet, that very hope made her stomach twist. Most would have fallen apart from the loss of a limb, let alone the Imperial Arm that had defined their strength — especially a powerful one like Incursio.
"Besides," he added with a smirk, leaning against the old, weathered cot that groaned under his weight, "I've still got plenty to teach Tatsumi. The kid’s got potential, I’ll give him that. During our last mission, I saw something in him. Just a flicker, mind you, but real. And holy hell, did he actually have the balls to kick Esdeath herself in the face? If I hadn’t been doubled over in agony, I swear I would’ve laughed until my stitches tore."
She allowed herself the faintest curl of a smile. A small thing, but genuine. A gem in the rough, that boy. She had seen it too, sharp instincts, raw courage and a good heart which was a rarity in the Empire these days. Her brother had seen it as well. With proper training and a compatible Teigu like Shambhala, Tatsumi could become something remarkable.
"I'm sure he’ll be glad to hear that," she said quietly. Then her tone hardened, eyes narrowing. "But as for you… From now on, I won’t allow you to return to the front lines."
Bulat blinked. The smile froze. His brows pulled together, confusion mingled with disbelief. He looked at her like she'd just denied him air. "Boss…"
"That’s a direct order," she cut in, voice firm and unmoved. "You can either obey it or leave the group entirely. Or better yet, I can easily throw you out."
The words hit harder than her earlier silence.
"I hate to say this, but without a Teigu of your own, you are more of a liability than an asset in frontline combat. Your presence would be a risk to yourself and the rest of the team that would not be worth the potential rewards. Most of our enemies have their own Teigu, and one cannot fight another user of such relics without one of their own. And you don't bring up my brother in this! He is an anomaly who can create Teigu and Shingu alternatives on a whim, and no one else has a power like that."
The words were cruel.
But she meant every one of them. Sugar-coating the truth would only make things worse. And he knew it too.
"…I know," he said at last.
"Then why are you still so stubborn?"
"Because I know this isn’t the end for me," Bulat answered, his voice quiet but resolute. He looked her straight in the eye, unflinching. "Whether it’s with the Revolutionary Army or on my own, I’m not finished. Even if I get stripped of my position and have to work as a freelance mercenary, I won’t let this setback chain me down."
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. She wanted to shout at him, call him an idiot, shake some sense into that thick skull. But she didn’t. Because this was Bulat. He had always been this way — stubborn, relentless, unwilling to back down even when logic screamed otherwise. It was part of why she had brought him into the fold in the first place.
“Guh!”
So instead, she punched him.
Hard.
A right hook, quick and unexpected, slamming into his face. He stumbled back with a grunt, surprised but still standing. A small bruise was already forming on his cheek, but the bastard was still smirking.
"Don’t you dare go running to the battlefield like this," she growled, forcefully getting her breath under control. "But… I knew I’d have to expect this from you. That’s why I pulled some strings."
Without another word, she turned and led the way down the corridor. He followed, rubbing his face but not complaining. Soon, they arrived at one of the deeper wings of the Revolutionary Army’s hidden base. Guards stood watch at every checkpoint, nodding respectfully as they passed. When they reached the final door, a pair of soldiers moved to crank open the heavy mechanism, the metal groaning under its own weight.
The room beyond was a fortress of reinforced steel. It was more bunker than laboratory, with high ceilings, humming equipment, and the subtle hiss of pressurized locks.
"With Incursio gone," she began, stepping inside, "we lost one of our stronger weapons against the Empire. But over the years, we’ve recovered other Teigus through various skirmishes, heists, and even pure dumb luck. Powerful relics were seized and kept in here until suitable wielders could be found. Not all of them are exactly as powerful as your last one. Fewer still have chosen compatible wielders. But they’re here. And you’re going to try every last one of them until something sticks."
“Uh… what's that coffin over there? Is there someone in it?” Bulat pointed at the far corner of the room, where one could see a blue-haired man with horns sleeping within. A strange sight he had to admit, though the figure did not seem like a corpse.
“I have not checked,” she admitted with a simple shrug. “We did not come here for me to choose another Teigu for myself; I already have Pumpkin.”
Bulat nodded his head as they walked inside, his head turning to a glass container nearby, which held the headpiece that resembled an eye. The very same Imperial Arm that they acquired a while ago from a certain mass murderer.
“So no one managed to find a suitable user for Spectator.”
"It is a tricky weapon to use," she began, eyes lingering on the sleek, sealed vault ahead, its metallic doors humming faintly with latent power. "If it falls into the wrong hands, it could be used for all sorts of nefarious ends. Worse still, it had the effect of worsening Zank’s mentality because of all the people he executed, till he became a senseless killer. Hearing the thoughts of every single person you kill… Madness is a plausible outcome, I suppose. Very few have the fortitude to put on a Teigu that turned its last user into an insane killer."
"Can’t say I blame them, I myself don't think Spectator is the right tool for me," he muttered, voice low as they passed rows of dormant Imperial Arms resting like slumbering beasts behind reinforced glass. "It was hard enough keeping myself sane after pushing that cursed armor as far as I did, and that was just once. I can’t imagine what it'd be like being tethered to it day after day, all those impulses creeping into your mind. The thoughts of other people entering my head on a daily basis. I'd rather face Esdeath again than go through that."
"You’re not the only one who thinks like that."
Their boots echoed in rhythm down the steel corridor as they entered the heart of the vault. A shimmering wall came into view, densely lined with dormant weapons, each sealed in a separate alcove, humming with power. Some glowed faintly; others looked as lifeless as the corpses of their former wielders.
"These have been collected over the past half-decade," she said, coming to a stop, her voice laced with something between pride and sorrow. "They've seen battle, each one. And each one was recovered after its wielder fell. Thankfully, we reached them before the Empire could. A certain few have been damaged but are still usable, the knowledge on how to fix them is… not around per se."
Her hand extended toward a corner where a pair of worn, battered metal boots sat upon a polished stone pedestal. "That’s Stella. Grants the user enhanced speed and devastating strikes, especially their kicks. But overuse them and your bones and muscles will shatter from the pressure."
He gave them a cursory glance and shook his head. "Yeah, no. I know myself well enough to realize I tend to push myself pretty hard, and I like my skeleton to be intact when I do so, thanks. Even then, I use fist more than my legs."
She gave a quiet chuckle, then turned back toward the exit. "Take your time. I need to report to the higher-ups. The vault’s yours for now." With that, she disappeared into the hallway, leaving him in solemn silence.
She knew he’d figure it out alone. The room was a crucible of power, and he was sharp enough to sense which weapon would resonate with him before trying to pick it up. In truth, he could probably use any of them. Even Spectator would suit him, if he could handle its drawbacks. But the decision had to be his.
Meanwhile, she had her own burdens to bear.
It didn’t take long before she stood in the central meeting hall, tension hanging thick in the air. The leaders of the Revolutionary Army had gathered in full. Around the oval stone table sat generals, tacticians, and a certain tribal chieftain whom she had not seen for a while. Among them, her eyes locked on a blue-haired man, her brother ended up saving a while ago.
As to how he managed to convince this stubborn guy who had previously turned down plenty of invitations from them, that was still a mystery, the man himself was not in any hurry to clarify. Perhaps Esdeath’s forces had truly shaken him that much?
"Esdeath has grown more powerful than we suspected," Numa Seika said gravely, wasting no time with pleasantries. His words struck like a hammer blow, and no one dared to interrupt.
They all knew it to be the truth.
"We’ve long been aware of her strength," another general added, voice taut with anxiety. "But she hides her real capabilities. Rarely fights on the front lines herself. She uses her Beasts to strike for her, even though she could end entire battalions on her own. She doesn’t waste energy on what she deems beneath her."
Pride.
No, more like the woman just did not feel it was worthwhile to waste her strength on weaklings. She had always been like that.
"Your decision to proceed with that mission was dangerous," one of the older councilmen said, the edge in his tone drawing subtle nods from several others. His white beard trembled slightly as he spoke. "It was reckless, and it endangered everything we’ve accomplished around the Capital."
"I couldn’t ignore the opportunity," she replied evenly, her eyes locking onto his. "That old woman worked closely with Doctor Stylish for years. She may not have wielded Perfector, but her knowledge of his various projects alone would’ve been more valuable to us than any Teigu we might recover in the future."
There was silence. A few of the assembled leaders gave her reluctant but respectful nods at her statement; others kept their expressions guarded, still believing that it was not worth it or was too risky.
"In any case, the mission failed," Numa Seika said, steepling his fingers. "You didn’t retrieve the target. Worse, you nearly got one of your team’s key fighters killed. And now he’s crippled for life."
"His role in the team hasn’t ended yet," she said firmly, folding her arms. "Even with one arm, I believe he’s just as valuable to us as he ever was. He just needs time to figure out how to make it work, and is selecting a replacement Teigu as we speak."
It wasn’t as though the others openly scoffed or denied her words. No, their doubt came from a place of caution, not cynicism. And in truth, they had a point.
"Still," one of the older men sighed, fingers tapping against the wood like a slow march, "losing Incursio on top of Bulat being crippled is no small matter. That’s a serious blow to your Night Raid group. And considering how often your team encounters General Esdeath now that she’s taken up residence in the Capital, it’s fair to assume she’ll come for you again. Next time, I’m not confident the outcome will be so… forgiving."
She didn’t flinch.
"Bulat wasn’t the only one capable of facing her," she replied evenly. "We still have others who can stand their ground. We’ve developed strategies. We aren’t helpless."
“Archer,” Numa mentioned, making others turn their heads and almost making Najenda groan. These people would immediately change their attitude upon hearing his name. “He's been with you lately, hasn't he?”
“Archer has returned!? Why haven't we been notified!?” One of the generals exclaimed out loud. Yet he immediately noticed how some of the people did not seem as surprised as he was. “All of you knew?”
“We were informed, but due to how hectic things have been on the front lines, it was hard to relay the information to everybody. It appears you're the last one here to know.”
“Unbelievable!”
Seeing the group starting to argue with one another, Najenda cleared her throat to bring back their attention to the main topic of the conversation. “I'm sorry to hear that not everyone received the news at the same time, but there is no point in arguing anymore since he is already here and has even faced Esdeath recently.”
“They fought again? Then that means…”
“No, the damages were not nearly as bad as before, thankfully.” At that, several people released a sigh of relief.
"Even with Archer around, we still feel that the current situation with your Night Raid is lacking," Numa Seika interjected, arms folded tight across his chest. His eyes were distant, haunted by something that clearly hadn’t loosened its grip on him over the years. "That woman… she’s a monster. If we want any chance of keeping up with her, numbers are our best bet. Quality alone won’t suffice. And from what I’ve read, she is also assembling her own elite force once more, and they outnumber your own group. So we believe it’s best to reinforce your ranks."
Her gaze sharpened instantly. She didn’t have to ask. She already knew what he meant.
"Are you certain?" she asked. "I was under the impression that the Revolutionary Army was already stretched thin."
“With the Northern Tribes joining us, we have gained plenty of able hands to bolster our frontline troops and secure supply routes without fearing Danger Beasts or the Empire's army intercepting it.”
"Also, with Esdeath now keeping herself planted in the Capital, we’ve got some breathing room in the regions she’s no longer hovering over," another commander said. "Her forces have been pulled back from the surrounding territories, and with them gone, we've been able to shift some of our personnel. A few of them could be a serious asset to your team."
He slid a folder across the table, and she took it without ceremony. She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning names, faces, and the brief descriptions of each candidate’s Imperial Arms. A few names stood out, some familiar, others not.
She didn’t bother pretending Night Raid didn’t need the help. It was war, and the Empire was not getting any weaker despite their recent efforts. Reinforcements weren’t a luxury; they were a necessity. Even if Bulat did find a new Teigu, Najenda could certainly use another assassin within her team’s ranks.
Someone precise, silent, and surgical.
Hammers hadn’t worked, time to find a good scalpel.
The last thing she wanted was to dump the responsibility and burden of saving the Empire's future onto Emiya’s shoulders. Or at least, she intended to help lighten the burden on him as much as possible.
Her hand halted midway through the stack.
"This one," she said, tapping a finger on the sheet.
All eyes turned toward her choice. She pushed the paper forward. "She’s exactly what we need right now."
The room fell quiet for a breath. Then, one by one, the heads around the table began to nod.
"Understood," Numa Seika said.
{Break}
-The Capital Outskirts-
“No signs of danger. We should be arriving at the outermost edges of the Capital in about an hour,” said Emiya, scanning the road ahead as his horse trotted steadily forward.
From the first light of dawn, the main group, Emiya, Leone, Chouri, and Spear, had departed the tavern and begun their journey toward the Capital. Leone had moved ahead on foot, eyes sharp and senses alert, scouting the path as the rest followed. Once noon rolled around, they regrouped and pressed on via horseback, the midday sun bearing down relentlessly on those who made their way along the trail.
“It’s a miracle Esdeath didn’t send anyone else after us,” Leone remarked with a half-hearted grin as she swung back into her saddle. Her eyes, however, remained locked on the faint silhouette of the Capital looming on the far-off horizon. Just before it lay their actual destination: a modest village nestled among the fields. “Though honestly, I wouldn’t have minded if she had. Was kinda hoping I’d get to bust a few skulls before we got here, it’s just been so boring with nothing happening after we took out those two Beast guys.”
The village, humble and unassuming, served as a refuge for the fieldworkers who couldn’t afford life within the Capital’s towering walls. He would occasionally stop by the area from time to time to acquire any new Danger Beast requests back when he still traveled the region alone.
“The whole situation with Liver and Daidara coming after us,” Emiya said, tone clipped as he adjusted his reins, “it’s obvious that wasn’t her call. Someone other than Liver acted behind her back. It’s just a matter of time before she finds out about their deaths.”
Leone raised an eyebrow, her earlier levity dampening. “So… we’ll be dealing with a grieving and pissed-off General Esdeath soon?”
He gave it some thought before shaking his head. “Saddened, yes. But grieving and out for blood? Not so much. She’s not that impulsive.”
He knew the woman too well. After spending so much time with her on a regular basis from back when she’d still been at the Imperial Academy as part of her initial officer training, Emiya had grown familiar with how she thought. Despite her reputation, she was not ruled by emotions in moments like these. Even if she mourned the deaths of her two remaining Beasts, she wasn’t the kind to toss reason aside and turn the region upside down in a fit of rage. No, she’d bide her time and hone her blade’s edge.
Her fury would come, but when it did, it would be guided by purpose.
For now, they had to focus on the mission.
His gaze shifted to Chouri, the old man having remained quiet for most of the ride. His weathered eyes stared ahead, not at the road, but past it, through memory and time.
“It’s been years since the last time I was here,” Chouri murmured. “Feels like nothing’s changed. Still hiding the rot that has been festering for years.”
“If only that were true,” Leone replied under her breath. “At least then we wouldn’t have to deal with so much of this nonsense.”
By the time they approached the village perimeter, it was time to abandon their horses. Too many guards, too many scouts. The village wasn’t fortified, but it remained heavily watched, and several pairs of eyes would be searching for the old man and anyone who traveled with him. Still, laziness and corruption worked in their favour. Orders may have come down from Honest himself, but that did not mean every soldier would follow them to the letter. Some lounged, some slept, and others couldn’t be bothered to take their posts seriously.
“I’m surprised Honest didn’t assign Esdeath or her troops to keep watch,” Spear said quietly. Ever the most cautious, her eyes scanned every alley and shadow, searching for even the faintest sign of an ambush.
Emiya shook his head.
“After last time? He wouldn’t dare. Besides, grunt work like this was never something she bothered with.”
“Unless,” Spear added, her tone tightening, “she knows you’re here.”
“That’s just it, she doesn’t,” Emiya replied.
The others glanced at him, clearly confused. It wasn’t long ago they had been ambushed by the beasts, after all.
“Esdeath knows what I’m capable of better than anyone. If she even suspected I was part of this mission, she wouldn’t have sent her men out for this kind of task. Not alone. Not against me, and definitely not when I have two other highly proficient fighters beside me, one of whom has a Teigu. That would’ve been sending her troops into a meat grinder. And Esdeath doesn’t make those kinds of mistakes.”
The group fell into a thoughtful silence as they continued on foot, the fields ahead quiet under the weight of coming conflict.
“In any case, we should be grateful she isn’t here right now,” Chouri muttered, his voice low and steady as his eyes swept the perimeter. Without waiting for a reply, the old man stepped forward, approaching a weather-worn wooden building that sagged slightly under its own age. There was nothing remarkable about the structure at first glance, it could have easily passed for the crumbling home of a destitute farmer or even one long abandoned. The paint had long since peeled from the walls, and the roof looked like a stiff wind might take it.
Four sharp knocks echoed from his knuckles, a simple rhythm that sounded more like a signal than a greeting. Leone’s ears twitched first. She shifted her posture. Emiya’s senses caught up moments later, his gaze narrowing just as the faintest creak betrayed footsteps within.
A sluggish groan of hinges followed, the door swinging open just enough to reveal a gaunt, ragged man peeking through the gap. He looked barely human — hair tangled like straw, skin clinging to bone, and the stench of stale liquor and sweat practically punched the group in the face. Leone wrinkled her nose and scowled, but caught herself and quickly returned to her usual guarded expression.
“Surprised to see you’re still breathing,” the man muttered flatly once he caught sight of Chouri.
“I’ve had great assistance,” Chouri replied evenly, glancing back at them. “And even better allies.”
“Night Raid, huh?” the man snorted, stepping aside. “Still feels like a bloody miracle, if I’m being blunt. Not a great time you’ve picked to come back, though. Most who once served you have already fled or turned their backs. Those who didn’t… well, they’ve been executed long ago.”
Chouri sighed, but his eyes remained resolute. “I feared as much. Still, all hope is not lost. I never expected this to be easy. Just like before, we’ll gather new allies. We’ve done it once. We’ll do it again.”
“Come inside,” the man said, voice dropping to a whisper as his eyes flicked about nervously. “We’d best speak in private. Never know who’s listening.”
Without another word, he led them inside. Spear hesitated, her eyes scanning the surroundings once more. Only once Leone gave a small nod did she follow them in.
“Well, mission complete, I suppose,” Leone announced with a yawn, stretching her arms above her head as though she’d just finished a casual errand.
“I’m heading to the slums for a bit. Meet me at the back entrance I told you about earlier. Take your time talking things out,” she added, her tone pointed as she looked from Emiya to Spear, then gave the blonde girl a deliberate wink.
The gesture made Spear stiffen slightly, uncertain, but after a moment’s pause, she nodded. Emiya watched, quietly puzzled. He couldn’t quite grasp what Leone was trying to achieve—he and Spear didn’t exactly have anything left to talk about aside from a brief farewell. Nothing deeper, nothing unresolved.
But Spear, it seemed, had something else in mind.
“It was shorter than I would’ve liked… our time together,” she said, her voice softer than usual, gaze not quite meeting his.
He nodded, answering calmly, “Perhaps. But missions like this… they’re never meant to last.”
“Yeah,” she replied with a small whisper, shifting her weight and glancing up at him through her lashes. There was something hovering behind her words, a hesitation Emiya couldn’t quite pin down.
“All the same, I did enjoy getting to travel with and fight alongside you again, brief as it was,” he continued. “You’ve grown a lot since the last time we fought together. Your skill with the spear has improved to the point where I wouldn’t be surprised if you earned the title of Master in another year or two. If you keep progressing like this… well, you’re already better than most I’ve seen in the Empire.”
She nodded absent-mindedly.
“I meant it, you know. You’ve got real talent. Not just skill, but the kind of motivation that pushes someone past their limits. If you keep at it, you could become one of the greatest spear users in the Empire.”
“Better than you?” she asked with a smirk, the question clearly meant as a joke, some playful prod she expected to be deflected with sarcasm.
But Emiya tilted his head slightly and answered with a thoughtful seriousness that caught her off guard.
“Why not?”
Her expression faltered.
“Remember what I told you? While I may be decent with a spear, it’s not my first choice of weapon. My strength lies in the sword and the bow. You see me as a master because I’ve trained long enough to make up for the gap, but there are many who could outmatch me in pure spearmanship, even if I had my blades on hand. Even when it comes to the sword or bow, I am not the most skilled in the world.”
For a few heartbeats, neither of them said anything. Then, softly, Spear smiled.
That made her look up at him, disbelief flickering across her face at his words. "You don't need to make up lies just to make me feel better," she said with a soft scoff, her brows knitting together. "Being humble is a good trait, but not to this extent."
A low chuckle escaped Emiya's lips. She pouted in response, as though he were laughing at her rather than with her, and the childish twist of her expression only deepened his amusement.
"It’s up to you whether you believe me or not," he said finally, shrugging. "But by now, I’d hope I’ve earned at least the benefit of the doubt. I’ve never lied to you."
He paused, his eyes distant for a brief second as if peering far beyond the walls, beyond the city and the Empire. "The world is vast," he continued, his voice quieter now, thoughtful. "There are people with unimaginable strength and talent in every corner of the globe. Most of them you’ll never meet. But they exist. One particular person comes to mind. Even if I gave everything I had. Even if all the generals here fought alongside me, that stubborn bastard could still take us down."
As the words sank in, her gaze dropped, and her fist tightened at her side, knuckles pale from the pressure. "If people like that exist," she muttered, "then why don’t they come here and help us? Why don’t they do anything to end all this tyranny and suffering?"
Her voice cracked slightly, not from weakness but from something deeper, years of bottled frustration, helplessness, and grief turned into something heavy. "The Empire's corruption has destroyed so many lives. Honest is still alive. Esdeath is still alive. Why don’t these great warriors you talk about come and save us? If the Empire wins here, then they'll continue spreading across the globe; already the Northern Tribes were affected."
It was a question soaked in sorrow and frustration, not naivety. And he understood. How could he not? She bore too many responsibilities for someone her age, and yet she carried it still, with almost no complaining. Not like Chouri was wholly responsible for involving his daughter in such an environment, since it had been her choice, but still.
"I can’t speak for them," Emiya said gently, placing his hand atop her head. He ruffled her hair softly, his smile calm and reassuring. "But things will get better, whether or not they help us. That much, I promise."
The tension in her shoulders eased, and then, in the next moment, she stepped forward. Her arms found their way around his waist in an awkward but sincere hug, her grip a little clumsy, a little tight.
"I’ll miss you," she murmured, her voice muffled slightly against his chest.
He hadn’t expected the hug at all. But after a brief second of surprise, he returned it without hesitation, one arm around her back, the other resting lightly at her shoulder.
"Keep training with the spear," he told her. "And try to make sure your father doesn’t throw himself into danger with one of his idiotic plans."
"I should be the one saying that to you," she muttered, pulling back just enough to look up at him. "Be careful, okay?"
"I will."
Just as he turned to leave, her fingers tightened at her side, and she leaned up onto her toes, placing a quick peck on his cheek before darting back like a startled animal. Her face was flushed crimson as she slipped inside the building and pulled the door shut behind her with a solid thud.
He blinked, standing there in the silence, staring at the wooden door in front of him for a few lingering seconds. Then he exhaled through his nose and shook his head with a small, wry smile playing on his lips.
"Take care, Spear. I’ll see you soon."
He pulled his hood back up and walked away, heading toward the path Leone had taken, boots crunching softly against the ground beneath.
Behind the door, the girl slowly slid down until she sat with her knees drawn close to her chest, arms wrapped around them, her face buried deep into the folds of her sleeves.
"Idiot," she whispered.
.
.
.
(A few minutes later)
"You're back earlier than I expected. Honestly, I went out of my way to give you two some alone time — the least you could've done was leave the girl with something to remember you by forever. Oh, wait, don’t tell me… did you kiss her?" Leone leaned in far too close, squinting at his face, searching for evidence. "Hard to tell since she doesn’t wear lipstick. Hold still for a second."
Rolling his eyes, he shoved her face back before she got any closer. He caught the subtle tilt of her nose, clearly trying to sniff him, probably hoping to catch a trace of Spear’s scent clinging to his skin. Given past experiences, he half-expected her to try licking him again and wasn’t about to give her the opportunity.
"Why are we even at the Capital again? Do you have a mission or a target or something else?"
"Just follow me. I’ll show you." Her voice turned casual, but she didn't wait for him to respond before heading off. He followed, boots crunching on the gritty dirt. This side of the slums was the mirror image of the place where he last fought Esdeath. Buildings sagged under their own weight, plaster peeling from their walls. Starving people lined the streets, their eyes vacant as they begged with trembling hands. The smell was an assault on the senses — rotting meat, human waste, decay thick in the air like smoke. Men with suspicious eyes leaned against broken door frames, watching the pair with wary interest.
Yet Leone inhaled deeply and relaxed as though she'd just walked into a hot spring.
"Ahh… do you smell that, Emiya? Do you know what that is?"
"I'm guessing it's the rotting corpse of either a human or an animal nearby. And a sewer system that hasn’t been maintained in years."
"Yes, but that’s not what I was going for." She grinned. "That… is the smell of home. It's been so long, I almost forgot."
"We were here not that long ago. Just on the other side, in an area that looked exactly the same," he said flatly, unamused.
His eyes caught the figure of an emaciated woman, skin draped over bones like cloth, holding a limp child to her chest. She didn’t even bother to beg. She already knew no one would give her anything. But as they passed her, Emiya’s gaze narrowed. Leone’s hand moved with a thief’s precision, and a tiny coin purse dropped beside the woman’s leg. The action was almost invisible. The woman snatched it up instantly, her wide eyes brimming with silent gratitude. She grabbed Leone’s hand as she passed and pressed something into her palm, a small piece of folded paper. Leone glanced at it but said nothing.
"Come on, let me show you where I used to work as a masseuse. It also doubled as a bar," she said suddenly, tugging on his arm and dragging him deeper into the maze of alleys. “I'll give you a special service for free!”
Eventually, they stopped in front of a weather-worn building with a beer mug carved onto the door. Next to it, etched into the wood, was the image of a woman in revealing clothes clutching the mug suggestively.
"You like it?" Leone asked, beaming with pride. "This is one of my finest works!"
"This is basically a brothel," Emiya said, arching a brow.
"That’s such a crude way of putting it. We prefer the term ‘bar with an added extra service of a massage parlour, if you pay the right amount.’"
"Sure."
Still looking unimpressed, Emiya let himself be led inside. The moment they entered, a man behind the counter looked up and froze when he saw Leone. His expression flickered with recognition, but he quickly returned to wiping glasses like nothing had happened.
"What’ll it be?" the man asked after a second.
"Two shots of ale mixed with some barley beer. Bring it to the side table, the house special. Oh, and a plate of cashews," Leone said without missing a beat.
The man nodded and moved efficiently, pouring two foaming mugs and scooping a handful of roasted nuts into a small wooden bowl. He placed them on the tray and brought it over without a word, leaving Leone and Emiya to settle into their seats in the half-lit corner of the establishment.
But instead of quickly setting the ordered items on the table and returning to his usual work, the man leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper as he began to speak, his fingers moving to wipe down the table more out of habit than necessity.
"Things have been a bit tense lately. The number of guards patrolling the area has tripled, and no caravan or soul passes through the city gates without getting searched down to their socks."
Though he didn’t outright name her, Emiya could tell who the man meant. The sudden clampdown, the sheer paranoia in the air — it all pointed to one source, and he figured as much without needing confirmation.
"Any news on the fat bastard?"
The barkeep gave a grunt and shook his head, the corner of his lip twitching into a grimace.
"He hasn't left the palace at all lately. Just stays holed up inside like some scared bloated turtle."
Leone sighed, low and weary, before taking a generous sip of her beer. The glass clinked lightly against the wood as she set it down again.
"What about the generals?"
Her question hung in the air for a moment. Emiya leaned in slightly, just enough to show that he too wanted to hear the answer. The barkeep, however, looked far less casual now. His jovial front slipped as he glanced toward the door, lowering his voice further.
"Things have been pretty tight-lipped around Esdeath lately. It’s a pain just to find the tiniest scrap of info on her, let alone catch a glimpse. As for the others, nothing out of the ordinary. Just doing their usual routines, no sudden movements, no bold manoeuvres."
He paused, lips twitching with hesitation, then decided to add one more thing.
"Well, except one thing. There’s been a rumour going around. Word is, Esdeath ended up fighting a member of Night Raid over at the old Nagumo estate."
Both Leone and Emiya froze.
Leone immediately turned to look at her informant, her eyes sharp and questioning, while Emiya's face remained eerily still, unreadable.
"What happened next?" he asked, voice calm, deliberate.
The barkeep gave a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.
"That’s the strange bit. Even though that area’s sealed off tighter than a noble’s wine cellar, we could tell something big went down. A whole section of the estate’s wrecked, like a Danger Beast had rampaged through it. I swear, I could feel the ground shake all the way from here. Some folks say massive icebergs erupted from nowhere during the fight. Gave me the chills, literally. I don’t want my tavern frozen over again like last time. Took every coin I had to rebuild it."
"Did the Night Raid member survive?"
The barkeep’s eyes dropped to the table where Leone had slid a small handful of coins, too many for what she’d ordered. With practiced ease, the money vanished into his pocket without a trace.
"Not sure. Or rather, no mention of any major casualties. Which is surprising, considering who she is. What we've gathered is that Night Raid tried to either assassinate someone who was at the execution they were holding there, or they were trying to pull off a rescue. Either way, General Frosty was ready for them. Rumour says it was Bulat who fought her. A few of my more reliable sources swear they saw a giant suit of armour materialise out of thin air."
"A giant armour?" Emiya's brow furrowed.
Incursio was a formidable Imperial Arm, without a doubt, but it didn’t have the ability to form such a construct, at least, not to his knowledge. If the reports were true, then only a few possibilities remained.
Either the relic had evolved in some unprecedented way, acquiring the ability to grow or transform into a massive form… or it had gained the power to manifest illusions or constructs to fight in the user’s place.
He couldn’t be certain; these were mere speculations in the end and needed a closer look. Hopefully, they’d be able to clear things up once they reunited with the rest of the team.
“Was it just Bulat alone? Were there no other members with him?”
“Not sure, I’m afraid,” came the reply, accompanied by a shake of the head. “You’ve got to understand, the whole district was locked down tight. Even the most inquisitive folks around these parts had to be real careful of how close they got, lest they get torn to shreds by her soldiers. They’re as tight-lipped as fanatics, worse than any cultist I’ve ever seen. Couldn’t pry so much as a whisper out of them, no matter how much they drank.”
That meant, at the very least, no deaths had been confirmed. For now. It offered a small ember of relief, faint, flickering, but it was something. Had anyone been killed, Honest would have paraded it. A public execution at the very least, anything to hammer a nail into the morale of his enemies.
Seeing their expression and then weighing the coin in his hand, the man sighed and then continued. “Not sure if this will interest you, but while we may not have gotten much info on the general, the same can't be said about the Jaegers working under her. Things are messier when it comes to them… or rather with the Stylish fellow.”
Doctor Stylish? Hm, a few ideas roamed in his head on what could be happening with him, given what Najenda told him last time — to say nothing of his own recent encounter with the man — best to verify then.
“His creepy assistants have been going around the entire fucking Capital, buying out every single raw material from every blacksmith. The area where the general fought last time has been sealed off entirely, and it seems those people are going through every inch of that place trying to find something. From what I learned, they are searching for swords and arrows.”
As soon as he said that, Leone's head whipped towards him.
Right, so Stylish really was doing what he expected. This realization made the reincarnated Heroic Spirit sigh.
“You'd think he's gone mad. He is even sending people outside to find more of these treasured weapons he calls Hōgu’s. Probably some Teigu alternative, not sure. Though not openly, we suspect he's putting together some sort of army around the forest area consisting of Danger Beasts. Unfortunately, anyone who tried to approach the area to get more info never returned.”
Definitely trying to gather his Noble Phantasms, though without his will maintaining any such constructs, it was impossible for the scientist to get his hands on one regardless. With just a mental command, he could easily dismiss all of them so as not to let them end up in the wrong hands, even Esdeath knew that, which was another reason why she never kept any of his weapons in the past. Knowing full well they were never hers and could disappear with enough damage or a thought from him.
But did Stylish know that?
Unless this information was ever shared with him, then most likely not.
‘Still, that name, Hōgu… Treasured Tool. It’s basically an actual word for Noble Phantasm… just how did he arrive at that name?’ he wondered, a little worried.
‘Plenty of members of her own team are going behind her back lately. This won't end well for her if she leaves it unattended, but it works in our case in the long run if they decide to act recklessly and either try to confront us themselves or earn her ire.’ As for the Danger Beasts around the forest, Stylish was most likely planning on invading Night Raid's base and forcing him to use his weapons. ‘Since Honest never got their precise location last time, he's most likely going to scout the area first, though he could have a quick reaction force standing by if he feels he needs to move fast lest she notice.’
With these thoughts swirling in his head, Emiya figured he and Leone needed to return to base as soon as possible.
“Leone,” he said sharply.
The buxom blonde was already ahead of him. She didn’t need to be told. Rising from the chair in one fluid motion, she made straight for the door, her boots echoing briskly against the tavern floor. He followed in step, each stride laced with urgency.
But just as his hand reached for the handle, she spun. In a single motion, Leone grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall with surprising force. Her forearm braced the wall beside his face, eyes sharp and voice lower than he’d ever heard from her.
“Before we go any further, at no point later on do I want to hear you start muttering about how you should’ve been there,” she warned, her words a low growl more beast than woman. “Or even thinking for a second that this was your fault. Beat that out of your head right now unless you want me to do it for you.”
Her tone carried no room for argument. It wasn’t the usual teasing and instead made him realize she was talking about Bulat’s encounter with the general, where they were not even sure if he survived or not.
“That fight was a trap,” she continued, her face inches from his, the heat of her breath betraying the tension she barely held back. “One laid out for you. If you’d been there, it would’ve been a repeat of what happened two years ago when you guys left a mountain split down the middle between being perma-frozen and scorched. Bulat and the others made their choice. They knew the risks, and they took them to save that person. You didn’t force their hand. They weren’t pawns, and Bulat is not easy to kill; he's one of the toughest people I know.”
He said nothing at first, the words sticking in his throat.
“I wouldn’t have let there be another battle between Esdeath and me. I know the risks. I could have done things differently…”
“So you do admit you would have gone there in the end.”
“…”
At this point, he could not blame anyone else but himself. Having no words to say in return, and instead gazed back at the blonde while she did the same.
“We can't save everyone, Emiya. Not even our own comrades. That’s… that’s war.”
He frowned. “I know that.”
To have someone else say that to his face felt so very ironic and a bit frustrating. He understood the intent behind it, he knew the meaning, and had said the same thing countless times in the past.
The woman’s face softened, and she leaned closer to his face, “You know, during our time together, I am finally starting to understand why the boss worries about you so much. No matter how you act, even if you take a handful of lives without a change to your expression, or if you mention taking all the necessary precautions before making a decision — your actions end up being very contradictory.”
Well, to that he had nothing to say, as something told him that whatever answer he gave would only end up being used against him.
A mischievous glint appeared on Leone's face in his silence, “Too bad we need to leave, or else I could have shown you how good I am as a masseuse. Unless you want to give it a go? I promise I'll be gentle~”
Taken aback at first, his eyes widened a bit before he shook his head.
“You have a strange way to break the awkwardness.”
“But it worked, right?”
“I suppose you could say that.”
“But I was not joking around. After we head back to our hideout, I can give you a massage to ease some of that bundled-up stress inside you, it's not healthy to keep that bottled up.”
At this point, he was not sure if she was being genuine or was trying to make some kind of lewd comment; the grin on her face did not help in making him believe she was being sincere, much less innocent. Given her recent bold gestures towards him, he was starting to think that she would become more and more aggressive if he did not retaliate, or she was just certain that he would just keep acting the same way.
Two could play that game.
“Fine.”
“…Eh?”
For a brief moment, confusion flashed across her gaze as the woman was trying to confirm what she just heard. But rather than give her time to process his answer and formulate a reply, he continued. “But if I'm not satisfied, I'll be the one giving you a deep and thorough massage instead.” He then caressed a lock of her blonde hair between his fingers with a smile on his face, “You might not be able to get up next morning.”
Her eyes widened while her jaw fell open a bit. Satisfied with her reaction, he gently pushed past her and went outside to begin making his way back to their hideout as soon as possible. Only a second later did Leone's brain catch up to her, whipping her head around while looking at his parting figure.
“H-Hey, what the hell was that just now!? We're talking about a massage, right? Were you being serious there? Hey, I'm talking to you!”
She hardly caught up to him, uncertain how to react to what she heard, barraging him with multiple questions about what happened just now, only for him to ignore most of them with a stoic face.
“Don't just brush me off like that after doing what you did back there! You're talking about a massage, right!? In my room? You're not messing with me? I might be a bit rusty, so it might not feel as good! I-I need to gather ingredients for the essential oils and candl— wait, what kind of massage do you mean!?”
“Hm, it's best we grab the horses in order to save time, let's go before someone else steals them.” Again, he was focused on more immediate concerns, much to the woman's dismay.
“Don't fucking ignore me! This is serious!!!”
{Break}
-Hidden Laboratory-
Crash!
The dim chamber stank of old metal, beast ichor, and scorched oil. Bright lamps cast flickering shadows over jagged heaps of Danger Beast parts, shattered blades, and glistening piles of rare ore. Schematics papered the walls in unending, curling rolls, blueprints for weapons both impossible and obscene, while glass vats hissed quietly in the corners, pulsing with unnatural fluids. Amid the chaos stood a wild-eyed scientist, gaunt and twitching, his normally pristine white coat smeared with soot and dried blood.
With a howl of fury, Dr. Stylish hurled a familiar-looking black sword to the floor. It bore a delicate yin-yang pattern etched into the hilt, the metal humming faintly, until it cracked like cheap porcelain against the tiles. The weapon shattered instantly, and the look of raw frustration on Stylish’s face twisted into outrage.
“What am I missing here!?” he shrieked, his voice rising in a pitch under the strain of his frustration. “Every material is of the highest grade! The Danger Beasts, the exact ones known to possess electromagnetic properties! The procedures, the sequences, they’re flawless, absolutely flawless! So why aren’t they the same!?”
His words echoed through the room like a curse. The entirety of his fury was aimed at a single person rather than his own failures.
“If he could create them,” Stylish snarled, teeth bared, “then I should be able to as well!”
“Still on about that?” came a lazy, almost mocking voice from behind.
Stylish spun, his wide, manic eyes settling on the young-looking blonde seated on one of his steel tables. Dorothea, legs swinging back and forth like a bored schoolgirl, glanced at a schematic rolled half-open beneath her. She looked up with lazy amusement, her tone dripping with mock sympathy.
“Yikes. Version twenty-seven, and you still can’t replicate it. I’d be embarrassed if I were in your shoes, but you? You’re far past that stage, aren’t you?”
Stylish’s hand darted to the counter beside him, seizing a glass beaker without a moment’s thought. He hurled it in one fluid motion, straight at her head.
The girl leaned back, barely flinching. The beaker soared past her nose and exploded against the concrete wall behind, its contents sizzling on contact and eating through the cement like water through paper, revealing it had been a highly potent acid. She straightened again, arching an eyebrow.
“Touchy.”
“I don’t have time to waste on you,” Stylish growled, stalking toward his workbench. His fingers twitched with frustration, smearing grease across a half-finished design. “Say what you came to say and get out. I have important work to do.”
Work. That was what he kept telling himself. But the truth gnawed at him. He had hit a wall. He was on the brink of something revolutionary, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the Empire’s foundation; he could feel it! But the final piece of the puzzle eluded him still, no matter his genius.
He had tried everything, every alloy, every binding formula, every permutation, every catalytic mixture known to alchemical science. He had studied the resonance fields, the beast cores, even using obscure methods uncovered from conquered enemy tribes. He had followed the procedures with surgical precision, and still, the results were vastly inferior. Something fundamental eluded him.
What that man had created, a random nobody that was found in a backwater village that was ransacked by Danger Beasts…
It wasn’t just the quality of the blade, though that alone was exceptional. It wasn’t merely the magnetic signatures capable of powerful attraction or the durability, or even the unparalleled keen edge. It was everything all at once. A single weapon that could multiply itself, mimic other forms, manifest entirely different abilities, each one more lethal than the last. Sharpness and overall durability, trying to duplicate even one of those properties had proven near-impossible. All of them together? That bordered on what was basically a Teigu.
“We recovered the bodies you spoke of,” Dorothea said at last, her tone shifting to something faintly more amusing. “One of them’s still alive, funny enough. No clue how. Should be dead, by all accounts. But they’re in stasis now.”
Stylish froze, hand hovering just above a soldering iron. His eyes narrowed.
“Alive?”
“For now.”
Frankly, he had forgotten all about that task.
Those people were only ever any good as potential specimens, raw material he might’ve used for his Danger Beast hybridisation experiments. But after the string of failures that had been these past several days, his enthusiasm for the project had withered. Slumped against his desk, head tilted in thought, he found himself sifting back through notes, ideas, and half-mad theories.
“There must be some element in all this that I’m somehow missing, something that ties everything together into sheer perfection,” he muttered aloud, voice crackling with restrained frustration. “I’ve gathered every piece I could discern, the flesh, the orichalcum, the ritual techniques, the proper containment… and yet still the results are inferior in every conceivable way. I just need the one thing that acts as the binder. Something to fuse it all into one coherent whole.”
His fingers tapped the table absentmindedly as his thoughts turned bitter.
A random orphan. That’s what the now deceased general claimed to have found and taken into his home. Just a pitiful vagrant, and yet somehow that brat had managed to produce weapons unlike anything seen in a thousand years, not since the First Emperor. One he'd witnessed firsthand in that disastrous clash against Esdeath that would have devastated the Capital had Syura not teleported the two of them elsewhere. The mere memory of it remained forever engraved in his mind.
There was no way someone like that possessed the intellect to craft such advanced constructs. No training. No pedigree. It had to be luck, pure, cosmic, unjust luck. The kind of divine favour that gifted uncultured morons with unearned insights while men like him, true geniuses, bled their lives out for every crumb of knowledge.
“How much longer until we’re ready?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
The answer was the same as ever. Only one way remained: to track down those weapons again, isolate one, and trap it in an environment beyond corruption or interference. An enclosed space. Something sterile. Something permanent. In such a vacuum, the weapon wouldn’t degrade, wouldn’t disappear. He could study it. Learn from it. Replicate it.
One weapon. More samples would naturally be ideal, but even just one was all he needed. One blade to unravel the truth. And to obtain that weapon for his own research, he needed to find the one who created and wielded it.
“Give it a day or two,” came her grumbling reply. “It’s a pain in the ass doing this without the General catching on. I don’t fancy getting my skull turned into a frozen mosaic by that ice-hearted bitch, so forgive me if I’m not exactly rushing to get this done. If you want to get yourself killed, be my guest. But don’t expect me to follow you into the grave.”
“Tch. As expected from a coward like you. For all your intelligence, you still cannot see the beauty of my work and the progress it offers, just like the General herself,” he sneered, brushing off the woman’s complaint like a fleck of dust. He hadn’t placed much faith in her from the start. She was only here to handle grunt work, minor arrangements, the sorts of things that didn’t require his brilliance. Still, she wasn’t wrong.
“It’s very unlikely we’ll get away with this unnoticed,” she added. “Best case is you getting frozen solid, but you’re far enough in this line of research that I can pick up where you left off. Worst case? You die before you even get close, and you leave me nothing to work with.”
“My goal isn’t to kill him,” he snapped. “I’m not violating any orders. Besides, I won’t be going in person. I’ve got other experiments that demand my attention.”
That caught Dorothea’s ear. She turned toward him, eyes gleaming with intrigue.
“Oh? You found someone willing?” Her smile was sharp and dripping with menace. “Is it Cosmina? Please say yes. I’d love that. That dumb slut’s been getting a bit too comfortable with the more goody-goody members of Esdeath’s team for my liking just because she’d like to get into their pants, and honestly? She’d probably be more useful to me dead than alive.”
“No,” he said with a smirk, “someone much better.”
He leaned back in his chair, a glint of anticipation flashing across his features.
“She’s got a score to settle with him. That’s all the motivation she needs.”
Comments
SsanghwaSilver
Compared to some other fics the main reason this stories exists is the Emiya is holding back and acting like a sane person with somewhat of a normal person's sensibilities. For example, killing Esdeath and/or nuking the capital with most of the worst high ranking people (and innocents) which though will cause a LOT of complications will but will also remove a lot of the cancer within the empire and therefore be overall beneficial in the long run if seen without morality and etc. Not saying Emiya is god-like or anything but if he is willing to risk and sacrifice all that he has (and himself alone) into such precision/indiscrimination attack(s) he can do a lot of damage. And I am basing this on what I have seen him do so far in this fic. But then again personal factors aside sacrificing tens of thousands or more innocents and bystanders to kill hundreds of corrupt or evil leaders probably is still isn't an actual option any sane or semi-sane person can really consider. Blowing up and completely demolishing an entire 35 story apartment building full of its residents as hostages just to kill a few dozen extremely dangerous terrorists is not considered an option by almost everyone.
AngraMayu777
tan desesperado esta por conseguir una de las armas de emiya ahhahahahahaa pero si lograr tocar el teigu de incursio tal vez pueda no se
KuraiSomnium
Realistically there should be no way stylish can make a noble phantasim as each weapon has a history and a hero tied to it as well as mana to make it... honestly wondering how that'll go once he realizes it's impossible 😂
Benny
Liked the moment between Emiya and Spear but God I loved the part with him and Leone more. I’m definitely hoping for a Emiya x Leone lemon in the next chapter or two. Also on the subject of Bulet, couldn’t he get a prosthetic/metal arm like Nejenda to continue fighting? I mean sure it would take time and rehabilitation but surely he can keep going rather then being pushed out of the fight against the Empire. None the less this was a great chapter and again loving the chemistry between Emiya and Leone which I hope blooms into something more.
