To Hell and Back

The twisted land of steel, where swords stood row on row into the endless horizon like it was a graveyard of the fallen heroes. The twinge familiar of the rusted gears that dotted the everlasting dusk of a sky, and the occasional whisper of the dry wind.

He opened his eyes, revealing a pair of steel that danced in his broken core. Finally, he stood again, his back against the wasteland as he stares to the empty chasm as signifying his fate that been lost.

Was that a dream? Was him –sitting in the hill of swords was the dream instead?

He spent too much time with them now he almost can't blur the line between the dream and reality –no, he just can't accept it, to be granted salvation so easily. Fate still not yet done her business with him, dangling such irresistible bait in front of him. Maybe it just his cynicism that he still refuses such an easy way out.

Then he closed his eyes, shutting down all those thoughts and tried to go to a deep slumber as he always been and awaits for a new order from mankind's collective consciousness.

"That's not it, fool."

He immediately traced his favorite set of swords, Kanshou and Bakuya ready to leap against the source of the voice behind him.

Sword against sword, steel against steel. Creating a fierce spark between their clashes.

That fiery hair, and an inexhaustible amount of fire. He started to hate it –deep inside he knows that he envied his younger self.

"What is it, Bowman, cat got your tongue?"

Playfully smirked the red-hair, his attire was the same as he was in that dream. Though he knew this is not that Shirou Emiya, not the one he knew but instead this one speaks in a very old dialect.

"For the first thing, let's settle this peacefully."

That got caught the Archer's attention, he still has many questions regarding that dream and the swordsman existences in the marble phantasm.

Archer solemnly stood, and lowering his blades though it didn't matter if the swordsman decided to betray his trust.

Then the red-hair nodded, revealing his exposed back as he stared off the distances.

"A broken soul, a broken origin, and a broken fate… was that all the materials it needed to make the finest sword? I've search something like this in the span of my life, but I never seen such masterpiece forged together by just a mere idiotic tendency."

"Stop talking in riddles, just what do you want!?"

The swordsman seems very patient, as he just shifted his eyes to the Archer behind him.

"I made a deal… to the devil himself –no, would that be called the deal of the devil if you sign a pact with the kaleidoscope operator?"

"Of course it would be always that old vampire, always meddling in my business wherever he goes." Archer cursed under his breath, "Then, what kind of deal?"

"In my youth, I was just another blacksmith, until I save her. She revealed her name, her origin, her life. She ever told me that if there's only a sword that can cut the very fate and universe themselves then the rest of her life wouldn't be so miserable."

The swordsman explained in which archer just sit again in his hills side by side the swordsman as he listened to the story.

"Ah, what a foolish endeavor she said, and yet I still accepted it. Years after years I forged swords after swords, unrelenting while the nation embroiled in bloodshed. I still cannot reach her dream. Human life is just a mere flicker of candle wax, I stopped forging and went outside my workshop in search of apprentice that will continue her dream."

He paused. Archer only cast a brief glance at him, knowing the rest of the swordsman story after. Failure.

"Hey, bowman." The man called him. "She is no more, burned in the fire of the grand order. Her fate ends before the swords ever cast in my burning forge. My legacies are all I have left."

"What do you need me for?" Archer responded.

"Nothing. Our soul and origin are compatible, while clash will happen, the forging of both spiritual cores will be easy for me."

Then archer's eyes widened in realization.

"You want to fuse!?"

"Just think of it, I'll assign you as my successor, even if she doesn't exist anymore I just wanted you to continue my legacy and forged that sword."

"Why, what are your purpose?" Archer steeled his eyes. No sane man will so easily give what amount of his hard-work to another unless they were him.

The swordsman smiled softly, "Have I told you, be my successor. I'm a heroic spirit, although not a proper one, my existence has already imprinted in human grand order and the throne. I can't set my foot again amongst the human realm lest the counter force will shackle me down."

"That's why you wanted to fuse?"

The swordsman nodded, "Both of our souls will be twice stronger, and Alaya will not be able to keep your soul or mine anymore. This way I can still keep forging her sword. The effect is that our personality will somewhat meld together, though it won't matter since we exactly the same copy albeit at different times."

Archer's response was only silence as contemplating the offer the swordsman gave to him. On the other side, he can finally escape this hellhole and away from Alaya clutches. He really needs to think long about this, but time is something both of them can't always have.

"By the way, the 'dream' you experienced is real so far, that old vampire only shows you a glimpse about it since he can't exactly borrow you for so long."

That's it. This is his final straw. Dangling such a tasty bait and he was sold. He heaved a long sigh, hoping that this won't be another nightmarish experience.

The swordsman, already knows the answer is, much to the Archer annoyance.

"Fine."

He didn't know whether to curse or to feel blessed.

Fuckin' Zelretch.