Time passed.
Two days had gone by since the farce of Shirou "feeding" Lady Hestia on the street.
During those two days, Emiya Shirou didn't dive into the Dungeon as often as usual. Instead, he stayed in the back courtyard of the Twilight Manor, acclimating to his new body.
"Haa…"
Bare-chested, he swung an ordinary iron sword—no Projection, no tricks.
Every swing tore the air with a dull, heavy whump.
Level 2.
It wasn't just a number.
It was evolution.
After the death match in Rivira, after stacking his stats to the absurd limit of All-SSS, Loki had updated his Blessing.
Now, even without Reinforcement or any special craft, he could crush what he used to be purely with physical strength.
"So this is the territory of upper-tier adventurers…"
Shirou clenched his fist, feeling the magic surge inside him.
That full, overflowing sensation made him want to roar at the sky.
"EMIYA!"
Finn's voice came from the corridor.
The Pallum captain was dressed unusually formally today—he even had a bow tie.
"Stop training. Go wash up and change."
"Loki just sent word. Tonight's main event is about to begin."
"Main event?" Shirou blinked.
Finn pointed out the window, toward the top of the towering Babel—where sacred light was already glittering.
"Tonight is the Denatus."
"By Guild rule, every adventurer who reaches Level 2 gets an Alias—a title bestowed by the gods."
Finn looked at Shirou with an amused glint.
"For adventurers, this can be even more nerve-wracking than leveling."
"Because… some gods have absolutely terrible taste."
Babel Tower, 30th Floor — The Round Table
The Round Table Hall was a domain only gods could enter.
A divine banquet held once every three months.
A massive stone table, crowded with deities of every shape and mood—wine aromas mixing with laughter and constant chatter.
"Heard it? Quite a few good seedlings leveled up."
"The new one in Ganesha Familia is decent."
"Hmph. As good as Loki's 'monster'?"
Nearly every gaze drifted, one way or another, to one corner of the table.
There, Loki sat with a leg crossed, chugging divine liquor with zero goddess dignity, wearing her usual smug grin—the kind that made people want to punch her.
At the far end, Hestia lay sprawled on the table, glaring at Loki while gnawing on a handkerchief, wearing an expression that screamed: I'm furious but I refuse to lose.
"Ahem! Quiet down!"
The host, Ganesha—wearing his signature elephant mask—stood up and struck a dramatic pose.
"I am Ganesha!"
"Now, the XXXX-th Denatus begins! First—information exchange!"
"Information exchange" was basically divine gossip time:
Whose child caused trouble, who was dating, who owed Hephaistos money—
But tonight, everyone was distracted.
Because every god knew the real main character of this Denatus was only one person.
"Enough of the boring stuff!"
Loki slapped the table impatiently.
"Get to the real topic already! My kid's ready to become famous!"
"If Loki is that eager…"
Ganesha cleared his throat and unrolled a parchment, his voice shooting up in volume.
"Then let us discuss the most watched rising star of this Denatus!"
"Member of Loki Familia! Human!"
"Promoted from Level 1 to Level 2 in half a month!"
"Solo-killed a mutated Floor Boss on the 17th Floor!"
"Wiped out a Dark Faction capture squad!"
"And possesses both 'magic sword forging' and 'peerless cooking' as dual side professions!"
"EMIYA—SHIROU!!!"
A wave of commotion rippled through the hall.
Even gods who'd heard the rumors stirred when the achievements were read aloud like an official record.
This speed of growth was outright cheating.
"Alright, my fellow gods," Ganesha said, "suggestions for his Alias?"
Hands shot up everywhere.
"Red hair, hot-blooded—how about 'Crimson Lotus Flame'?" Apollo proposed first, wearing a grin that was one step from predatory.
"Too cheesy. Rejected!" Loki snapped instantly.
"Then… I heard his cooking is so good he fattened Loki Familia up."
Hermes stroked his chin, smile turning nasty.
"How about 'House Husband'? Or 'Orario's Kitchen God'?"
"You want to die, Hermes?!"
Loki's forehead vein bulged.
She grabbed a cup and hurled it at him.
"That's my ace! My warrior!"
"Say one more word about cooking and I'll throw you off the tower!"
Then, a calm voice cut through.
"Faker."
Hephaistos spoke.
As the goddess of forging, she saw straight through the nature of Shirou's Projection.
"He can create weapons comparable to the real thing, but at its core it is 'replication' and 'imitation.'"
"That title fits."
"Hm…"
Loki frowned.
"It fits, but it sounds like an insult."
"My Ais said his swords are fast and real."
"And that kid can handcraft god-tier gear."
More voices piled in—
"Thousand Blades!"
"Unlimited Blade Works!"
"Red-haired Babysitter!" (clearly shouted by a certain blue-ribbon loli goddess who refused to give her name)
The debate grew louder, the proposals more chaotic—
Until—
At the window seat, a goddess who had stayed silent the entire time slowly set down her wine glass.
A single clear clink.
Freya.
The beautiful goddess with silver hair and silver eyes.
The hall fell silent in an instant.
All gods turned to her.
"Senji Muramasa."
Freya's red lips shaped an exotic phrase.
"Huh? Senji… what?" Loki blinked. "Is that Far East slang?"
"In the legends of that child's homeland," Freya said softly, smiling, "there is a master smith who forged cursed blades."
"His name is Senji Muramasa."
Her gaze seemed to pierce beyond flesh, into something only gods could see.
"I have seen it."
"That child's soul is, at its essence… a furnace."
"His blood is steel. His heart is glass."
"He is not merely a swordsman."
"He is a madman who will spend his life forging the 'ultimate one.'"
Freya rose.
Her violet dress flowed like water.
She looked around the table and spoke with quiet authority:
"An artisan who forges countless blades."
"And a cursed sword that cuts through causality and fate."
"Therefore, call him—"
"Senji Muramasa."
For one second, the hall was dead silent.
Then the weight of it sank in.
Senji Muramasa.
A name that sounded razor-sharp—like it could sever anything.
And it matched Shirou's nature of "handcrafting infinite swords" perfectly.
"Muramasa…"
Loki rolled the word around her mouth.
The light in her eyes grew brighter and brighter—
Until it exploded into manic delight.
"Hahahaha! GOOD! That's good!"
She slammed the table.
It stung that the suggestion came from her "rival," but the name was undeniably badass.
"'Cursed Blade Muramasa'—sounds like he'd slice monsters into sashimi!"
"That fits my kid!"
"I have no objections," Hephaistos said, nodding with a trace of admiration.
"Wearing an artisan's name on a warrior's body… that's romantic."
"And since Lady Freya has spoken…"
No one else dared oppose.
"THEN!" Ganesha raised both hands and roared:
"It's decided!"
"Loki Familia, Emiya Shirou—Alias: Senji Muramasa!!"
The Next Morning — Twilight Manor
"Senji… Muramasa?!"
Shirou stared at the Guild notice in his hands.
His lips twitched twice, expression turning complicated.
"Why that name…?"
It was better than "Red-haired House Husband," sure.
But it dragged up an unpleasantly vivid image—
A cranky old man who lived by a forge, hammering steel with a foul temper.
Someone Shirou had seen on the Throne of Heroes…
Another "possible self."
"Tch, what's wrong with it?"
Tiona leaned in, elbowing him with open envy.
"It's super cool!"
"'Muramasa'! Sounds stronger than my 'Big Cutter'!"
"Aaaah, I want a title that screams 'top-tier' too!"
"I think… it's good."
Ais sat at the table, sipping miso soup Shirou had made.
She looked up and gave a serious verdict.
"It suits you."
"Because Emiya's sword… sometimes really is as sharp as a cursed blade."
"…If Ais says so…"
Shirou sighed and folded the notice away.
Compared to Bell's "Little Rookie" in the original story—or the nightmare scenario of being labeled a cook—
Senji Muramasa was basically top-tier.
At least it sounded like someone you absolutely didn't want to mess with.
"Lord Emiya! Lord Emiya!"
Lili burst in from outside, panting, waving a newspaper.
"It's bad! Something huge happened!"
"What is it?" Shirou's eyes sharpened, his hand reflexively drifting toward his waist.
"Did Soma Familia cause trouble again?"
"N-no!"
Lili slapped the newspaper onto the table, pointing at the front page. Her finger was shaking.
It was Orario's largest paper: God-Era Weekly.
Huge bold headline text took up half the page:
[Fastest Legend Born! Level 2 in Half a Month!]
[Loki Familia's New Star—'Senji Muramasa' Emiya Shirou!]
And beneath it, a painfully eye-catching line in smaller print:
[Exclusive: After last night's Denatus, Lady Hestia publicly declared at Babel's gate—'Senji Muramasa' is the only man she recognizes (meal ticket), and she welcomes him to transfer anytime!]
"PUFF—!"
Shirou sprayed water everywhere.
"That loli goddess—what is she even saying?!"
When Loki saw the paper, she went completely ballistic—rolling on the floor in rage.
"Hestia, that short turnip!"
"Daring to ride my kid's fame in public?!"
"I'm going to tear down her stupid church!"
"Don't stop me! Finn! Get my staff!"
"Calm down, Loki."
Riveria grabbed her helplessly, though her eyes carried a faint smile.
"This only proves Emiya's fame has truly exploded."
"For the familia, it's excellent publicity."
"Exactly," Finn said, smiling at Shirou—his eyes full of expectation.
"From today on, all of Orario will be watching you."
"Your strength. Your title."
"They'll become your calling card."
"Emiya—are you ready?"
"To live as a 'celebrity'?"
Shirou looked around at the eyes on him—expectant, teasing, admiring.
He smiled helplessly at first—
Then his gaze steadied.
"Yeah."
"Bring it on."
He touched the short blade at his waist.
Level 2. All-SSS foundation.
Alias: Senji Muramasa.
At the starting line of this world, he was already at the very front.
"But before that…"
Shirou tied on an apron and headed for the kitchen.
"Let's eat breakfast first."
"Today's celebration menu is—sekihan with fried shrimp tempura."
"YEAH!!"
Cheers rang through the Twilight Manor.
And somewhere in Orario's shadows, countless eyes began to fix on the cursed blade who had appeared out of nowhere.
-------
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