Dungeon, Floor 50.
This place was supposed to be the endpoint of the so-called "Great Wasteland"—but now it had mutated into a psychedelic Resident Evil set.
Gigantic man-eating flowers thrashed in the air like tentacles, each vine thicker than a grown man's thigh, their buds dripping corrosive acid. And at the center of it all, that half-human, half-plant Corrupted Spirit looked like a glitched-out RTS base that just wouldn't stop spawning units labeled "Despair."
"Firebolt—volley fire!"
Green mana beams poured down like a storm.
This wasn't magic anymore—this was a bullet-hell game.
"Defensive formation! Don't break ranks!" Gareth roared, bracing that tower shield that looked like it could block a nuke. He took the frontal barrage head-on. Frost and sparks clung to his beard, turning him into a moving fortress. "This firepower's insane! Worse than that dumb dragon that only knew how to breathe flames!"
"Quit whining, old man!" Bete became a streak of silver lightning, weaving through the gaps in the barrage. Every kick from his enchanted boots shattered a vine cleanly—but against a monster this massive, it was like trimming nails.
And on the opposite side of the battlefield—
A duel of fate was playing out.
"ROOOOAR!!"
Bone Tyrant (Modified).
A monster fattened by Freya Familia, rebuilt by the Corrupted Spirit, and apparently equipped with its own "revival armor."
It was high—no, feral—with excitement.
The orichalcum greatsword in its hands screamed through the air with each swing, sonic booms detonating in its wake.
"CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!"
Shirou's Pseudo-Demonic Sword: Severing Mountain met it again and again. Sparks erupted—fireworks on a battlefield.
"You've gotten stronger, old friend," Shirou gritted out, boots carving twin trenches through the ground as he was forced back.
He joked—but he knew the truth.
This thing's raw stats were brushing the threshold of Level 6. Without Structural Reinforcement and the boost from Mystery, he'd already be a smear.
"But if all you've got is brute force," Shirou's eyes sharpened, "you're not beating me."
Mind's Eye (True) snapped fully open.
As the Bone Tyrant's blade came down again, Shirou didn't block.
He didn't dodge.
"Trace—Alteration."
The greatsword in his hands disassembled instantly into countless black fragments.
The Bone Tyrant's strike whiffed—its massive inertia buying Shirou a single, microscopic stutter of stiffness.
"Got you."
Those black fragments didn't vanish.
They reformed midair into two sleek weapons—
A pair of long-barreled pistols.
Not "Kanshou and Bakuya (handgun edition)," exactly.
More like mana amplification devices, shaped like guns.
"Eat this—Gun Kata!"
Shirou slid in close, snapping into the Bone Tyrant's chest range. The pistols pressed against its ribcage.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
No gunpowder—just compressed mana rounds detonating point-blank with the brutality of armor-piercing shells. The monster's chest bones shattered into dust, black blood spraying out.
The Bone Tyrant reeled, roaring in pain—almost offended, as if it couldn't comprehend why a swordsman had suddenly turned into a shooter.
"Relax," Shirou said coldly. "We're not done."
He sprang backward with the recoil.
The pistols shifted again, flowing like liquid metal, transforming into a pitch-black longbow.
"I am the bone of my sword…"
The atmosphere resonated—not for a Reality Marble expansion, but for something else:
Ammo loading.
Behind Shirou, ripples of golden rings bloomed in empty air.
Sure, that visual effect belonged to a certain King of Heroes—but for a faker, copying the special effects was easy.
"Sword Barrel—Full Open!"
Whip-whip-whip-whip—!
Dozens of projected magic swords launched like missiles.
Each one carried a different attribute—explosive, freezing, corrosive, gravity distortion…
A miniature Noble Phantasm saturation strike.
"BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—!!"
The Bone Tyrant vanished into a storm of detonations. The ground shook. The air burned.
Haruhime, off in the backline maintaining buffs, stared in disbelief. "S-Shirou-sama… is he really human? That firing rate… it's more ridiculous than a mage!"
Ais, carving through incoming tendrils, spared a glance toward Shirou. A flicker of pride crossed her eyes—so fast she didn't realize it herself.
"That's 'Unlimited,'" she murmured. "As long as he has mana… he's an army."
Then the smoke cleared.
And the red skeletal figure was still standing.
Crack—crack—
Its bones regenerated at visible speed.
Worse, a layer of crystalline plating began growing over its surface—an armor tailored to resist mana-based attacks.
Enemy unit has evolved.
New traits acquired: High Mana Resistance, Extreme Self-Regeneration.
"Tch. You're a cockroach," Shirou clicked his tongue.
The Corrupted Spirit's mana supply was too abundant.
As long as that giant flower bud existed, this bone freak was effectively immortal.
"If long-range bombardment doesn't work… then we cut its lifeline."
Shirou's gaze snapped toward the Corrupted Spirit's main body.
Finn and Riveria were coordinating the assault—but the Spirit's defenses were absurd. Layer upon layer of petal-shields guarded its core like absolute protection.
"Someone has to tear a hole in that."
Shirou inhaled.
And made a decision that could only be described as insane.
"Hey, big guy!" he beckoned at the Bone Tyrant with a finger. "You want to kill me? Then keep up!"
He turned and sprinted—
Straight toward the center of the battlefield.
Straight toward the Corrupted Spirit.
"ROOOAR!!"
The Bone Tyrant took the bait immediately.
It charged like a runaway train, thundering after him.
"Emiya?!" Finn spotted the movement, eyes narrowing. "He's dragging that monster into our formation—he'll blow the line apart!"
"Trust him!" Ais shouted, wind surging violently around her blade. "Everyone—make a lane for Emiya!"
No hesitation.
No questioning.
Loki Familia adjusted positions instantly, opening a corridor straight toward the Spirit's core.
"Thanks, everyone!"
Shirou shot through the gap—Bone Tyrant raging behind him.
Faster. Faster.
His circuits pushed into overload. A metallic sheen spread across his skin.
"Steel is my body—!"
Fifty meters.
Tendrils surged like a tidal wave.
"Annoying!"
Shirou didn't stop. He didn't even swing.
The Bone Tyrant did the work for him.
Its massive orichalcum blade swept wide, pulverizing everything in its way—tendrils, barriers, even some allied magical cover—reduced to debris.
This was Shirou's plan:
Borrow the knife. Kill with the borrowed knife.
Use the Bone Tyrant's monstrous attack power to shred the Corrupted Spirit's outer defenses.
Thirty meters.
The Spirit noticed. Its chaotic eyes turned in panic.
"No… don't come closer…"
A concentrated cluster of green beams lanced toward Shirou.
"Rho Aias!"
A violet shield unfolded—four layers only.
Three layers shattered instantly under the barrage—
But it was enough.
Ten meters.
Shirou could see the Spirit's terrified expression clearly now.
Behind him, the Bone Tyrant raised its greatsword, preparing to cleave Shirou and the Spirit in one brutal strike.
"Now."
Shirou slammed on the brakes, boots carving a crater in the ground.
He turned.
Facing the descending greatsword.
Not blocking.
Not dodging.
"Trace."
A huge weapon materialized in his hands—so oversized and brutal it looked like a stone axe carved into the shape of a blade.
A technique from Greek myth.
A hero's weapon.
Even as a projection—without true divinity—its skill was perfectly replicated.
Nine Lives.
Shirou grinned, voice sharp with feverish resolve.
"This one… is in honor of a certain 'Uncle B' who loves wearing an apron!"
He didn't swing in a normal arc.
He activated a skill that surpassed the flow of time itself.
"Nine Lives Blade Works!"
Slash.
Time didn't truly stop—
but for that instant, it may as well have.
Before the Bone Tyrant's blade could land, nine strikes overlapped nearly simultaneously.
The first strike severed the Bone Tyrant's greatsword.
The second shattered its crystalline armor.
The third cut away both arms.
The fourth through the eighth disassembled its torso into ruin—
And the ninth—
The ninth carried the momentum of the first eight, exploding into an unstoppable shockwave that pierced the Bone Tyrant's remains and smashed straight into the Corrupted Spirit's defensive wall.
"BOOOOOOM—!!"
That was Shirou's true target.
Hit the cow through the mountain.
Use the Bone Tyrant as a stepping stone, amplify Nine Lives, and dump the entire output into the Spirit's defense.
Crack…
The supposedly unbreakable petal-shields finally split—
a thin fissure opening just enough to reveal what lay within:
A massive core magic stone, radiating seven-colored light.
"Finn! Ais! Now—!!" Shirou collapsed to one knee, screaming the command through sheer exhaustion.
He didn't need to.
Loki Familia's vanguard had been waiting for exactly this moment.
"Helfinegas!" Finn's spear became a red comet and stabbed cleanly through the fissure.
"Lil Rafaga!" Ais followed, golden sword-light pouring along Finn's opened path, striking the core directly.
"Win Fimbulvetr!" Riveria's triple chant completed at last. Arctic cold flooded through the wound, freezing the Spirit from within—core and all.
"No… don't…!"
The Corrupted Spirit's final cry was pure terror.
A crisp, crystalline snap—
The core magic stone shattered.
The huge body destabilized, dissolving into countless points of light, the tentacles and flowers withering into ash in a heartbeat.
The battlefield fell silent.
Only ragged breathing remained.
And the sound of weapons slipping from tired hands.
"We… we won?" Tiona dropped onto the ground, gasping. "This time I'm seriously dying…"
"We didn't just win." Finn pulled his spear free and looked into the emptied space, eyes blazing. "We cleared the obstacle blocking the route to Floor 51."
"We did what no one before us could."
"Ais—"
Ais didn't wait for anyone.
She sprinted to Shirou first.
"Cough—don't shake me," Shirou wheezed, forcing a weak grin as she hauled him upright. "My bones are about to file for resignation…"
He wasn't as ruined as last time—at least both hands were still attached—but mana exhaustion still made him want to sleep for a week.
"You were reckless," Ais said, voice stern—yet her eyes held something bright and proud. "But… you were amazing."
"Heh. If the Sword Princess says that, it was worth it."
Shirou glanced at where the Bone Tyrant had vanished.
Only black powder remained.
"Goodbye… trial," he thought.
Forced as it was, this fight had pushed him closer to a higher realm—the way he'd fused Unlimited Blade Works with borrowed techniques and projected traits at the edge of death.
"Everyone, hold position and rest!" Finn called. "Don't drop your guard! This is Floor 50—monsters can still spawn!"
"Medical team! Emiya first priority!"
"Support team! Food prep! We're eating here!"
"Eating—?" Shirou's half-lidded eyes snapped open. A terrible premonition crawled up his spine.
"Heyyy, Emiya." Loki sidled up with that familiar smile that made people want to call the police. "You're injured, sure, but… everyone's exhausted, so…"
"No." Shirou shook his head violently. "I'm a patient! I'm taking medical leave! I'm filing a workplace injury claim!"
"Aww, don't be stingy~" Loki leaned in. "If you cook, I'll tell you classified intel about the Knossos labyrinth."
"…."
Shirou stayed silent for three seconds.
Then he sighed in defeat.
"Lili. Bring my spare apron."
"And Gareth—help me start a fire."
"YEAHHH—!!"
The entire Familia erupted in cheers louder than the boss kill.
Looking at these shameless teammates, Emiya Shirou reaffirmed a truth:
Compared to monsters, these hungry idiots were his real natural enemies.
But then—
he saw Ais's quietly eager expression.
Haruhime bustling about.
Everyone's exhausted smiles.
"…Fine," Shirou muttered, picking up a knife with a soft, resigned warmth.
"This is… the everyday life I want to protect."
....
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