The disappointment on her face was still there, hard to ignore.
I looked at her for a brief moment, analyzing not just the expression… but what lay behind it. It wasn't just frustration. It was shattered expectation. She wanted something solid, something that confirmed she hadn't made a mistake in the summoning.
— So, Archer — she began, crossing her arms and looking at me with an expectation that almost made me sigh — now that we're done with the basic introductions, let's get to what matters. What is your Noble Phantasm? What's your trump card for winning this war?
Basic introductions?
For a moment, that caught me off guard.
Basic…?
She hadn't even said her own name.
Of course, I knew who she was. I knew exactly. But technically, that hadn't been said out loud. No real formality, no verbal contract beyond the bare minimum needed to sustain the bond.
"Hm… organized in her own way," I thought, with a faint trace of irony.
I turned my attention back to her, keeping my expression neutral.
— If you're expecting a simple answer, you'll be disappointed.
My voice came out calm, unhurried, as if I were merely stating an obvious fact.
She frowned slightly, clearly not liking the direction of the response.
— What do you mean? — she shot back, not bothering to hide her dissatisfaction. — Every Servant has a Noble Phantasm.
— They do — I replied without hesitation. — But that doesn't mean I'm going to explain mine right now.
Her gaze fixed on me more intensely, and it was easy to tell what was going through her mind. To her, this didn't sound like caution—it sounded like distrust… or worse, disobedience.
— You're withholding information from your own Master?
I held her gaze without looking away.
— I'm avoiding giving away an advantage for free.
The answer came direct, without hesitation.
— This is a war. Information is as valuable as any weapon. The less they know about me, the better.
I tilted my head slightly, keeping my tone steady.
— That includes you, for now.
She clearly didn't like that, but this time she didn't react impulsively. The discomfort was still there, visible, but there was something else too… restraint.
Good.
At least she was learning.
— Besides, you're focusing on the wrong thing — I continued, glancing briefly at the debris around us before looking back at her. — Noble Phantasms are important, but they don't win wars on their own.
I gave a slight shrug.
— Strategy, positioning, reading your enemy… that's what decides who makes it to the end.
I looked at her more firmly.
— If you're relying on a "final move" to solve everything, then you're putting too much on a single card.
Her expression didn't soften, but it changed enough to show she was actually listening now.
The disappointment was still there.
But it wasn't the only thing anymore.
She sighed, this time longer, as if trying to reorganize her patience after everything that had already happened that night. Her eyes still carried irritation, but there was something more now—restraint, effort, a clear attempt to act like someone who knew what she was doing, even if she was still learning.
— Fine… then at least tell me this — she said, looking at me more firmly, even if a hint of fatigue was beginning to show in her voice. — Which Heroic Spirit are you?
The question was direct, without hesitation, but unlike the others, it didn't come from impulse. It was a genuine attempt to get something concrete, something that could give her some footing, some sense of stability in that completely new situation.
That made me hesitate for a moment.
Not because I didn't know the answer.
But because I knew too much.
I could simply say it. I could reveal everything, I could even go further and test the limits of this "dream," say something absurd like all of this being nothing more than a construct of my own mind and see how the scene reacted. The idea crossed my mind quickly… too quickly for someone in my position.
But I discarded it.
If this really was a dream, there was no reason to break immersion. And if it wasn't… then it would be even more foolish to act like that. Either way, there was no advantage in being reckless right now.
Besides…
It had been a long time since I had anything even close to peace.
So, for now, I would play by the rules.
I looked back at her, keeping my expression neutral, giving no room for her to interpret more than I wanted to show.
— I don't know.
The answer came out simple, almost casual, but it was enough to make her eyes narrow immediately. Before she could interrupt or question me, I continued, keeping my tone steady.
— I don't remember who I am. The only thing I have… is a name.
I paused slightly, just enough to give weight to the next word.
— Nameless.
I watched her reaction closely as I finished, keeping my reasoning consistent.
— That's probably the result of an incomplete summoning. Something in the ritual failed, and instead of bringing a full identity, you ended up pulling only fragments.
As I spoke, I couldn't help but notice how familiar that sounded.
Because it was.
I was, essentially, repeating something I had seen before. The original Archer himself had used a similar explanation, and honestly, it was too functional to ignore. Simple, plausible, and convenient.
I tilted my head slightly, as if analyzing the situation alongside her.
— But my abilities are intact, so in the end… it doesn't change as much as it seems.
The statement lingered in the air, calm and steady, but I already knew.
For her… it changed everything.
Rin clearly wasn't okay.
It showed in the small details she tried to hide: the faint tremor in her fingers, the way she avoided holding my gaze for too long, the excessive stiffness in her posture. Even so, she forced herself to maintain the image of the Tohsaka heir, someone above the situation, someone in control.
— It's fine — she said, lifting her chin slightly, as if reaffirming it more to herself than to me. — As my first order to you, it will be…
She stopped.
Without finishing the sentence.
Without warning, she turned and walked out of the living room, her steps far too firm for someone who was clearly trying to compensate for something. For a moment, I just stood there in silence, staring at the empty space where she had been seconds ago.
"I hurt her ego," I thought, almost automatically.
But I quickly dismissed the idea with mild disinterest. No… she shouldn't be that childish. Proud, sure. Difficult, definitely. But not to the point of—
The sound of returning footsteps cut through my thoughts.
She came back.
And this time, she was holding something.
A broom.
And a dustpan.
Before I could even react, she tossed them in my direction. I caught them on reflex, the movement smooth and automatic, as my eyes slowly lifted to meet hers again.
And then she spoke.
— As a Servant, you should clean up the mess you caused!
Her voice was firm.
Authoritative.
Clearly trying to impose a presence… a figure of leadership that was still being forced into existence.
I stayed silent for a second.
Looking at the broom in one hand.
The dustpan in the other.
Then I looked back at her.
And, internally, a thought surfaced, pure and direct:
"Son of a—!"
And just like that, Rin Tohsaka, the supposedly flawless heir of the Tohsaka family… went to sleep.
Just like that.
No ceremony.
No looking back.
She simply turned her back, as if the matter was completely settled, and left the room — or rather, what was left of it — behind, as if it were no longer her problem. Her steps were firm until they disappeared down the hallway, and soon after, silence reclaimed the space.
I stayed there.
Still.
With a broom in one hand… and a dustpan in the other.
For a few seconds, I did nothing. I just looked around, slowly taking in the full extent of the damage. Cracked walls, destroyed furniture, debris scattered everywhere… that wasn't "mess."
It was practically a battlefield.
— …Seriously?
The murmur slipped out, low, more to myself than anything else.
I knew.
I knew this was part of the process. The summoning, the impact, the way the environment reacted… I had seen it before. In the memories. In the story.
But this?
This was… excessive.
Even by the standards I knew.
I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a sigh my body insisted on mimicking, even though it had no need to.
— She took that way too literally…
"Servant."
The word echoed in my mind with a certain ironic weight.
Because apparently, in her mind, that included… house chores.
I looked at the broom again.
Then at the rest of the room.
And for a brief moment, I seriously considered ignoring all of it.
But…
I clicked my tongue lightly and started moving, pushing some debris aside with my foot before actually getting to work.
— Whatever… — I muttered, without much energy.
If this was a dream, then it didn't matter.
And if it wasn't…
Well, standing still wouldn't help either.
As I began organizing the larger pieces, a thought crossed my mind completely at random.
Too honest.
— I really need to rethink my preferences…
I shook my head slightly, almost laughing at the situation.
— I was never into tsunderes.
Even so…
I glanced briefly in the direction she had gone.
Then went back to work.
— …And yet, look where I ended up.
I sighed, leaning slightly against what remained of the couch as I studied the ruined room. The mess was surreal — broken furniture, scattered shards, piles of debris that looked more like remnants of a battle than the result of any domestic routine. And no matter how much I tried to rationalize it, the question kept hammering in my mind: how the hell was I supposed to fix this?
In the original, EMIYA had caused destruction, sure, but they never really explained how. I remembered seeing Archer deal with magecraft and battles, but the literal transformation of a room into a domestic war zone… that didn't come with a manual.
Magecraft. That was the only plausible explanation. Not ordinary magic. Not simple tricks of illusion. But that controlled use of mana capable of temporarily altering physical properties. He had probably manipulated the structure of the environment almost unconsciously, like a reflex born from his abilities and combat instincts. Maybe I could try the same, but first I needed a plan. I couldn't just sweep up the pieces and expect the room to fix itself.
— Alright… — I muttered, crossing my arms as I looked over the debris around me. — Magecraft… yeah, that's necessary. It won't be fast, but it should work.
My gaze swept across every corner of the room, trying to mentally map out the critical points: broken wood, shattered glass, warped furniture, scattered books and papers. If I was going to use mana to rebuild everything, I'd need surgical precision. One mistake and the mess could get even worse.
So I took a deep breath. Even if this was just a dream… the situation demanded focus. If I wanted to maintain the logic of what was happening — and prove that an "Archer" could clean up like a responsible Servant — it was time to test my limits.
I set the broom and dustpan on the floor and inhaled deeply, closing my eyes for a moment. My hands hovered above the ground, but the energy beginning to flow wasn't meant for combat or attack — it was pure concentration, absolute focus. Every fragment of attention directed toward a single point: reconstructing the room, rearranging every piece of furniture, every shard of glass, every splinter of wood scattered across the floor. It was like conducting an invisible orchestra, but one where the conductor knew exactly where every note should fall.
Magecraft was a path. It wasn't True Magic — it wasn't about miracles that ignored reality. There was no breaking of physical laws here, no arbitrary manipulation of the impossible. Magecraft had rules, limits, its own internal logic, functioning as a map of what could be done within the physical world. A simple example came to mind: alchemy — turning coal into diamond. Both are made of the same element, carbon (C), but the difference lies in the crystal structure. By altering the arrangement of atoms, reorganizing them in a precise and controlled way, the substance could take on completely different properties.
With Magecraft, the process was similar. Every action, every rearrangement, every manipulation of particles or matter required logic and step-by-step execution, as if the world itself followed internal rules that you had to decipher and apply correctly. It didn't create something out of nothing, but it allowed results that, to ordinary eyes, looked like miracles. Every movement of mana was deliberate, every emission controlled to influence physical structures, combine elements, alter tensions, rearrange particles with precision. The final outcome was something tangible, real, but always grounded in cause and effect.
True Magic, on the other hand, was not bound by that. It was the concept of the philosopher's stone: the impossible becoming possible purely through the will of the user and the channel created by magic. There was no need to respect the logic of the physical world; magic flowed independently of natural laws. An extreme example: turning a stone into perfectly drinkable liquid glass. Something that defied not only chemistry, but physics, density, temperature, and molecular resistance — everything adjusted automatically to the will of the one using it. Magecraft could never achieve such a feat directly. It required paths, steps, a chain of reactions leading to the final result, always within the realm of what was possible.
I took a deep breath, feeling the mana circulate through my body, running from my chest down my arms and into my hands, reaching out into the environment around me. Every shard of glass, every piece of wood, every broken piece of furniture, every fallen book — everything responded to my will, but still obeyed the inherent logic of the world. Magecraft began to align the elements, reorganizing structures, filling in gaps, rebuilding what had been broken. It wasn't pure magic, but it was enough.
And as complex as it was, I knew it would work. Because, in the end, Magecraft didn't need miracles. It only needed a sharp mind, precise reasoning, and patience. Everything I had at that moment.
I closed my eyes again, deepening my concentration even further. The destroyed room ceased to be just a pile of debris and instead became an incomplete image in my mind. Slowly, I began reconstructing it there first — not with mana, but with memory.
The couch in its original place. The table intact, without cracks. The walls smooth, free of impact marks. The smaller objects neatly arranged, each occupying its proper place. I used not only what I remembered from the "real world," but also what came from his memories… from EMIYA.
It was strange.
But it worked.
I could feel it.
The magical circuits began to respond.
Not as something external, but as part of me. Like muscles I had never used before, but that now knew exactly what to do. A faint pressure spread through my body, starting in my chest and moving down my arms until it reached my hands.
And then…
Flow.
Mana.
It began to circulate.
It wasn't visible, but it was impossible to ignore. A subtle, constant warmth filling each circuit like water pouring into dry channels. There was resistance at first — as if my own body was still adjusting — but soon it stabilized.
And that was when it came.
Again.
The memories.
Not fragmented like before.
But vivid.
Whole.
I was no longer in the room.
I was somewhere else.
A backyard.
Simple.
Quiet.
The night was clear, the sky filled with countless stars stretching endlessly above. The air was fresh, calm… the kind of night that made the world feel, for a moment, at peace.
And there they were.
A boy.
And a man.
The boy sat on the ground, leaning slightly forward, his eyes shining with an intensity impossible to ignore. There was life there. Hope. An almost pure admiration, untainted.
Beside him, the man sat more casually, resting with natural ease, looking up at the sky with an expression that was hard to read. Calm… but distant. Like someone who had already seen too much.
I knew that man.
Not because I was there.
But because I had seen him before.
On a screen.
In stories.
In memories that weren't mine.
The boy turned his face, too excited to contain what he felt.
— I want to become a magus like you!
His voice came out loud, full of energy, carrying a conviction that knew no limits. There was no doubt. No hesitation.
Only will.
Pure.
— I want to save everyone!
He clenched his fists slightly, as if he were already holding onto that ideal.
— I want to become…
A small pause.
But not from uncertainty.
Just the weight of what he was about to say.
— …a hero of justice!
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was heavy.
Because even there, in that simple moment, in that quiet night…
Something was wrong.
Something broken.
Something the boy still couldn't see.
But I…
I could.
Because I knew.
I knew how that story ended.
And that made the scene…
Painful.
The man beside him didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained on the sky for a few more seconds, as if searching for something among the stars… or perhaps trying to find an answer he already knew didn't exist.
And then, slowly—
He smiled.
A small smile.
Tired.
But… gentle.
The scene began to fade.
Like sand slipping through fingers.
The stars vanished first.
Then the backyard.
Then the voices.
And then—
I was back.
In the room.
Amid the debris.
With mana still flowing through my body.
But now…
It wasn't just technique.
It wasn't just logic.
There was something more there.
Something that didn't belong to me…
But that, somehow, was now a part of me.
Without letting myself sink into those memories, I pushed them to the back of my mind and focused on what actually mattered. The image of the reconstructed room was still clear within me, every detail fixed with precision — the position of the furniture, the structure of the walls, even the small objects scattered before the destruction.
It was enough.
The mana was already circulating steadily now, filling the circuits with increasing intensity. There was no more resistance, only continuous flow, as if it had always been there, waiting to be used. Without hesitation, I directed everything at once.
I let it out.
Without restraint.
Without excessive refinement.
The energy spread through the room almost instantly, responding to the command of my mind. Every fragment on the ground began to vibrate slightly, as if being called back to its original place. The shattered wood moved first, sliding across the floor in almost impossible motions, fitting together with millimetric precision.
The air seemed to grow heavier.
The pressure increased.
And then came the light.
An intense glow flooded the room, filling every corner with a brilliance that was almost blinding. It wasn't soft, nor controlled — it was raw, a direct reflection of the amount of mana I had released without a second thought.
For a moment, everything vanished beneath that radiance.
Shapes, outlines, even the sense of depth were swallowed by the light.
But within it… the process continued.
Structures reorganizing.
Cracks sealing.
Surfaces being restored.
It wasn't a miracle.
It was forced reconstruction.
And even so…
It worked.
The light was too intense.
Instinctively, I closed my eyes, even knowing I didn't need to. It was an old reflex, far too human to simply disappear. And yet, there I was, reacting as if this body still depended on something as basic as shielding itself from brightness.
The glow didn't last long.
But at the same time, it felt stretched — as if each second had been elongated by perception itself. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.
Silence returned.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
And stopped.
The living room… was intact.
There were no more cracks in the walls, no debris scattered across the floor. The furniture stood exactly where it should be, without marks, without damage, without any sign that, minutes ago, the place had looked like a battlefield. Even the smallest details were there, reconstructed with almost absurd precision.
As if nothing had happened.
As if the destruction had never existed.
I remained silent for a few seconds, simply observing.
Analyzing.
Confirming.
— …It worked.
The words slipped out quietly, more as a statement than surprise.
I took a few steps forward, running my hand along the surface of a nearby table. Solid. Stable. No visible flaws. It wasn't an illusion, not something superficial.
It was real.
Completely restored.
My mind quickly connected the dots.
This wasn't creation.
It was reconstruction.
Everything that was there had already existed — I had merely… reorganized it. Used mana as a medium, as a tool, following the logic of Magecraft to reach the final result. No miracles, no impossibilities.
Even so…
It was absurd.
I let out a small sigh, more out of habit than necessity, and brought a hand to my forehead for a moment.
— …Okay.
My gaze swept across the room once more.
— Maybe this is getting more interesting than it should.
The words came out low, almost casual.
But deep down…
I knew.
This had already gone beyond being just a "dream."
With the room finally restored, silence once again took over the space — now clean, organized… almost too normal for what had happened minutes ago. My eyes scanned the room again, as if searching for any flaw, any detail out of place, but there was nothing.
Perfect.
— …Now what?
The question slipped out quietly, more to myself than anything else.
I crossed my arms for a moment, thinking about what to do. The mansion was large — that much was obvious. Too spacious, too quiet… filled with rooms I hadn't yet seen. I could explore, maybe get a better sense of the place.
A specific thought came up.
Her room.
I shook my head lightly, dismissing it immediately.
— No… definitely not.
I brought a hand to my face, letting out a short sigh.
— Not that kind of guy.
Even if this was "just a dream," it felt far too real. Crossing that line didn't make sense… not for me, nor for the logic this scenario was following.
So, with nothing else to do for the moment, I simply threw myself onto the couch.
My body sank into it easily, comfortably… as if it were already used to it. I brought an arm over my eyes for a moment, relaxing, letting the silence settle in.
But it didn't take long.
Because a thought emerged.
Simple.
Direct.
And… interesting.
I lowered my arm, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds.
— …Alright.
If I was already here…
If I had already gone this far…
Then why not?
A faint smile formed, subtle, carrying a curiosity I didn't bother hiding — even if only from myself.
— Let's test this.
Slowly, I got up from the couch, once again feeling that natural control over my body, that sense of familiarity that wasn't originally mine… but now fit perfectly.
EMIYA's abilities.
So far, I had only used the basics.
Magecraft.
Reconstruction.
Mana flow.
But that was just the surface.
If I was really going to test things…
Then I had to go further.
Much further.
My gaze sharpened, my posture shifting slightly — less relaxed, more focused.
— Let's see how far this goes.
The curiosity was no longer faint.
It was real.
And, for the first time since all of this began…
I was genuinely interested in what would come next.
I stood up from the couch slowly, feeling my body respond with that strange naturalness that was already becoming familiar. It wasn't just "movement" anymore — there was something behind it, an instinctive awareness, as if every action came with a silent analysis.
So, before anything else…
I needed to understand the basics.
— Alright… parameters.
I brought a hand to my chin for a moment, mentally organizing the information coming from both my own knowledge and the inherited memories. It was almost automatic, like accessing an invisible interface.
I started listing them.
Strength: D
Endurance: C
Agility: C
Mana: B
Luck: E
Noble Phantasm: ?
I stayed silent for a few seconds, just staring at those values in my mind, as if I could "see" each one represented in some abstract way.
— …Nothing impressive.
The conclusion came simply.
Direct.
Compared to other Servants, that was… average at best. Low strength, nothing exceptional in endurance or agility, and luck… well, that spoke for itself.
A faint sigh escaped.
— Luck E… that explains a lot.
I shook my head slightly, almost amused by the irony.
Still, there was no real frustration there.
Because I knew.
I knew exactly what those numbers meant… and more importantly, what they didn't.
I crossed my arms, my gaze sharpening.
— Parameters don't define everything.
The words came almost automatically, echoing both my own reasoning and something that felt already ingrained in me.
— They're just the foundation.
And in my case…
A deceptive foundation.
My attention shifted to the last point.
Noble Phantasm.
Unnamed.
Unrevealed.
But known.
A faint smile formed, subtle.
— Yeah… I'm definitely not at a disadvantage.
I slowly raised my hand, observing it for a moment.
— If I use this properly…
My voice came out low, almost thoughtful.
— These parameters won't matter that much.
Because, in the end—
What I had wasn't brute strength.
It was versatility.
It was adaptability.
It was something far more dangerous than high numbers.
And now…
It was time to test that.
I leaned my weight lightly against one of the walls, crossing my arms as I organized the information surfacing in my mind. It wasn't like remembering something I had studied… it felt more like reading something that was already written inside me.
As if my own body were a record.
A grimoire.
I began to "note" things mentally, carefully separating everything. Skills, capabilities, limitations… everything came in organized blocks, like a well-defined system I already knew, but could now access directly.
But before going deeper into that, there was something more fundamental.
The classification system.
The ranks.
E
D
C
B
A
At first glance, the hierarchy was simple, almost intuitive. From weakest to highest, each letter represented a significant difference in performance, quality, or power. But that was only the surface.
Because there was something beyond it.
EX.
I paused for a moment on that.
The EX rank wasn't just "above A." It didn't follow the same logic. It wasn't a linear progression… it was a break in the pattern. Something that couldn't be properly measured within that scale.
Abilities ranked EX weren't just strong.
They were anomalous.
Outside normal logic.
Something that couldn't be directly compared to the rest.
— …Basically, off the charts.
I muttered quietly, absorbing the idea more clearly now that it wasn't just theoretical knowledge.
But that wasn't all.
There were also variations.
C+, C++, C+++…
Small changes that, in practice, made a huge difference.
Those "+" didn't change the rank itself, but indicated temporary peaks, conditional boosts, or specific situations where that capability could exceed its normal limits. It was like having a base value… with expansion potential depending on the context.
I tilted my head slightly, reflecting.
— So it's not just about the fixed value…
It was about how and when that value could be used.
In the end, the system was more flexible than it first appeared.
More… dangerous, too.
I closed my eyes briefly, letting the information settle completely.
Now…
I could start analyzing my abilities for real.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the information surface more clearly. It wasn't like studying or remembering… it was like accessing something that had always been there, waiting for the right moment to be understood.
— Alright… skills.
My mind began organizing everything in sequence, as if I were reading my own body, line by line.
Clairvoyance (Rank C).
The first to manifest was vision.
Not just seeing… but perceiving.
My perception expanded, even within the room. I could notice details that would have gone unnoticed before — small imperfections in the wood, the slight misalignment of an object, the way light reflected at specific angles. It was more than sharp eyesight.
It was calculation.
Distance, speed, trajectory… everything became clearer. And even without a bow in my hands, I fully understood how that would translate into combat. Moving targets stopped being unpredictable. Within an absurd range… four kilometers.
— …That's not normal.
I muttered, more to myself than anything else.
It went far beyond human standards.
Mind's Eye (True).
This one came differently.
It wasn't sensory.
It was… instinctive.
A silent weight in my awareness, like a constant presence analyzing everything around me. Situation, risk, possibility of failure, chance of survival… all processed in the background, without conscious effort.
It was cold.
Logical.
Precise.
Even without enemies in sight, I could feel it working, as if it were always ready to react. It wasn't talent. It wasn't luck.
It was condensed experience.
Battles.
Mistakes.
Survival.
— …1% is enough, huh…
The thought lingered for a moment.
It wasn't comforting.
But it was effective.
Magecraft (Rank C).
This one I had already felt.
The flow of mana.
Structural analysis.
Reinforcement.
What I had used to rebuild the room… now made more sense. It was the base. The foundation. Nothing impressive at first glance, but essential to support something greater.
— Basic… but necessary.
It was the kind of ability that, on its own, didn't stand out.
But combined…
It became dangerous.
The classification of Projection Magecraft, once limited to a modest Rank C, now rose to A+ — even if conditionally — and that changed everything. That alone would already be impressive. But what came next made it even more… interesting.
My mind reacted almost instantly, forming the image of a blade with unsettling clarity. And, for a brief moment, it almost existed. Not completely, not in a tangible way… but the sensation was there. Form. Structure. History.
Because projection wasn't just about creating an empty copy. It was something much deeper. It was about understanding an object down to its core, absorbing every detail, every imperfection… every memory it carried. It was recreating not just the appearance, but the essence.
And more than that… weapons. Especially swords.
That's where the game changed.
A faint smile formed on my lips, almost involuntarily, as the pieces began to fall into place. That explained a lot. The ability to create, destroy, and wield — all without relying on external resources, without being bound by conventional limitations.
And then came the last one.
The true trump card.
I didn't need to think about it. I didn't need to call it, nor search for it. It was already there, like a constant, silent presence at the core of my existence.
Unlimited Blade Works.
A Reality Marble. A world.
And not in a metaphorical sense.
Literally.
An internal space where everything existed for a single purpose: swords.
Countless.
Weapons that had been seen, copied, stored. Each carrying fragments of history, power… and death.
My breath faltered for a moment — or the closest equivalent to it. Because I could feel it. Not activate it… not yet. But feel it.
The vastness.
The weight.
The overwhelming number of possibilities stored within.
— …Thousands.
The word slipped out in an almost inaudible whisper.
And the most impressive part? I could use them. Draw them. Adapt them. Even if each one was inferior to the original… the sheer quantity made up for it.
More than made up for it.
I slowly opened my eyes, staring at my own hand as if seeing it for the first time.
Now I understood.
Truly.
Why EMIYA could fight on equal footing with other Servants, even without absurd parameters, even without relying on a single decisive finishing move.
— …This isn't weakness.
I muttered quietly, almost to myself.
A faint smile appeared again, this time more restrained, more aware.
— It's versatility taken to the extreme.
And, for the first time…
I wasn't just curious.
I was excited.
I decided to start with the simplest — or what should have been simple. Projection Magecraft. Within the fundamentals of Magecraft, this was considered a basic technique, almost looked down upon by traditional magi, since creating temporary copies of objects was seen as inefficient and unstable. For most, it made far more sense to reinforce something that already existed than to spend energy reproducing something imperfect.
But that clearly didn't apply to me.
I slowly closed my eyes and focused all my attention on a single point, emptying my mind of unnecessary distractions. Mana began to flow naturally, responding to my intent without resistance, as if it were already accustomed to that kind of use. Then, instead of "imagining," I simply allowed the form to emerge.
And it came.
A bow began to take shape in my mind with absurd clarity. It wasn't a vague image, but a complete structure, detailed down to the smallest level. Its lines were aerodynamic and fluid, designed for maximum efficiency, with long, slender limbs that curved elegantly into fine, discreet tips. The central grip had an organic, fragmented appearance, as if composed of overlapping plates resembling obsidian, with hollowed openings that gave the weapon a unique look.
There were no unnecessary ornaments, no flashy shine. Everything about it conveyed a silent aesthetic, focused on precision and discretion. It was a weapon made to fulfill its function without excess, refined to the point of feeling almost like a natural extension of its user.
And then, before I could even deepen the thought—
The bow appeared in my hand.
I opened my eyes immediately, staring at the object with full attention. The weight was there, perfectly balanced. The texture, the way it fit my grip… everything felt far too natural. There was no awkwardness, no need to adjust. It was as if that bow had always belonged to me.
I remained silent for a few seconds, just feeling it.
And then I realized.
I didn't need to test it, nor think it through. The understanding came instinctively, directly, like something that was simply part of me now.
That was EMIYA's bow.
Or, at the very least, something so close that the difference no longer mattered in practice.
A faint smile formed on my face without me noticing. It wasn't calculated, nor laced with irony like before, but a genuine reaction, almost too simple for the situation.
Because, deep down…
That really was impressive.
The sensation still lingered. The weight of the bow in my hand, its perfect balance, the way it simply existed there without effort — all of it reinforced a single conclusion that was becoming harder to ignore: this dream was far too realistic, on a level that went beyond anything I had ever experienced before.
It wasn't just visually convincing, nor merely detailed. It was the consistency. The logic. The way every element seemed to follow its own rules, as if this wasn't a creation of my mind, but a complete system functioning on its own. The more I thought about it, the more unsettling it became, because it was starting to edge dangerously close to another possibility.
That this wasn't just a dream.
I cut that thought off before it could fully form, shifting my attention back to the bow. I studied its structure more carefully, analyzing every detail, every curve, every design decision behind the weapon. There were no excesses, no useless parts. Everything existed for a clear reason — and, more strangely, I understood that reason without needing to think about it. It was as if that knowledge was simply… there.
That was when something felt off.
As I adjusted the bow slightly to better observe the grip, I noticed something in my other hand. The realization didn't come as immediate surprise, but as a delayed awareness, as if my brain was taking an extra second to process something that should have been there from the beginning.
A key.
I froze completely.
I didn't remember projecting it. I hadn't thought of a key, there had been no intent, no conscious process. And yet, it was there, resting in my left hand as if it had always been part of the scene.
Slowly, I brought it closer to my eyes.
The first detail that stood out was the color. Gold — but not in an ordinary way. It wasn't the polished metallic shine seen in common objects, nor something decorative. It was a dense, deep gold, with an almost overwhelming presence, as if it carried a value that couldn't be measured by appearance alone. It didn't look like something made in modern times. There was a strange sensation to it, as if it belonged to a forgotten era… or perhaps to something that shouldn't exist at all.
But what truly drew my attention was its base.
Instead of a simple ring or a standard functional structure, the handle of the key was composed of an extremely complex cylindrical block. It wasn't just detailed — it was intricate to an almost unsettling degree. Geometric shapes intertwined in multiple directions, forming a dense three-dimensional structure filled with recesses, grooves, and perfectly sculpted protrusions.
It resembled a labyrinth.
Or something even more elaborate.
Like a miniature mechanical city compressed into a single object, where every surface seemed to hide its own function. There were no imperfections. Every line, every angle, every connection felt planned with absolute precision.
I ran my fingers slowly over that structure, feeling the variations in texture and depth.
It was real.
Completely real.
The shaft connecting this base to the blade of the key was short, sturdy, and surprisingly simple by comparison, acting as an elegant transition between the geometric chaos of the handle and the rest of the piece. A smooth, rounded collar marked that connection point, creating a sense of visual balance — as if that prior complexity needed a moment of stability before continuing.
Then came the blade.
Flat, wide, and thick, it extended with a solid, almost heavy presence. Along its lower edge ran a sequence of deep rectangular cuts, each carved with extreme precision. The teeth varied in length and spacing, forming a pattern that didn't seem random. On the contrary, there was a clear logic there — something that resembled a code. Not merely mechanical, but structured in a way that suggested a purpose beyond the conventional.
The closest comparison would be a three-dimensional barcode, or perhaps the grooves of a linear gear, but even that felt like an oversimplification of what I was seeing. The tip of the blade ended in a straight cut, with a slight chamfer — subtle, but intentional, like the final touch of a design that clearly hadn't been made by chance.
I stood in silence for a few seconds, just observing.
The bow was still in my other hand, but at that moment, all my attention was focused on that key.
Because, more than its appearance…
What truly unsettled me was the fact that I had no idea how it had gotten there.