Born of Fire

Darkness surrounded him, an all-encompassing void that mirrored the emptiness within. he was nobody now, stripped of memories, life, and identity by the merciless fire. It had taken everything: everything but one thing—a name. "Shirou," he murmured into the darkness. It was a fragile anchor in the sea of nothingness that now defined him.

The boy's eyes were half-closed as he drifted, floating in nothingness. This place was cold, but the boy smiled to himself. The cold was a welcome respite; he found solace in its embrace. It was far better than the searing heat of the fire that had consumed his legs and the suffocating smoke that had choked his lungs. Here, in the serene chill, he felt a strange sense of peace, as if he could sleep here forever, escaping the pain and chaos that had torn through his life.

His appearance told the tale of his ordeal: his hair was a vivid shade of blood-red, contrasting sharply against his pale, milk-white skin. Ember eyes, dimmed by exhaustion, gazed out from a face marked with soot and ash. He wore a burnt white shirt, now stained and torn, paired with yellow pants that bore the scars of flames. His feet, once lively and quick, were now all but blackened, burnt to a crisp. Cracked lips spoke of a thirst that could not be quenched, while his body, paler than milk, seemed almost ethereal in the dim light of his surroundings.

Suspended in mid-air, Shirou could feel his strength fading, evident by the heaviness of his eyelids."Huh," he murmured, surprised as a blue screen morphed before him—a simple blue box with a single question: "Do you want to overwrite the data with the backfile? Yes or No."

The boy did nothing but emotionlessly stare at the screen, his eyesight fading by the second. he was going to die anyway, so why not? Perhaps clicking "Yes" would lead him to his family or something beyond this strange realm. As much as he wanted to move his body, he couldn't. He was dying. The screen seemed to sense his intent and glowed brightly, welcoming him as a player. Unbeknownst to him, a small orb of blue light entered his chest. "Strange," Shirou thought, as the pain dissipated and he began to feel somewhat rejuvenated. He hadn't noticed the ground beginning to materialize beneath him—a multi-colored glass circle forming out of nothingness.

As he fell lightly onto it, the sensation was surreal, as though guided by unseen forces toward an unknown destination.

"So much to do... so little time." The voice echoed around him, small yet omnipresent, seeming to emanate from all directions. The boy's mouth opened instinctively to respond, but no words came out. He looked around, his hair floating and swirling in the darkness, searching for the source of the voice.

"Don't be afraid," the voice reassured him. Suddenly, a bright blue fire appeared out of nowhere, splitting into 7 smaller flames arranged at the edge of the circle. Each flame transformed into a card, hovering in the air.

Saber:  of the Sword of the Righteous 

Sword of Power, a power of terrible destruction

Archer:  of the Bow of the wrought iron

the Bow that travels, shifts, and is deadly, never missing its shot, it will hunt its prey down till the ends of the earth.

sharp focus, precise accuracy

Lancer: of the Lance of destiny, piecer of death

a lance that shakes the heavens, swift and agile, way maker.

Shielder: The Defender of the Poor.

defender of others, resist evildoers, the shield of the garden of promised victory.

Caster: of Spells and Sorcery 

Assassin: of Silent Killer

art of silent movements

Ruler: of truth and order

A leader, of many, with the wisdom that surpasses all understanding,

"Power sleeps within you, if you give it form, it will give you strength, Take your time," the voice repeated gently. "Choose wisely, your Beginning depends on it."The Boy, surrounded by mystery and confronted with choices, hesitated for a moment. The cards glowed softly, each one holding an unknown destiny.

"The door is still shut," the voice echoed again, its presence lingering in the air.

Shirou stood amidst the circle of cards, their gentle glow casting faint light on his weary face. he wanted to speak but the voice spoke up.

"Now step forward. Can you do it?"

What did it mean? Shirou wondered.

He gazed at the cards, each pulsating with latent energy, waiting for him to make a choice that would shape his destiny.

With a determined breath, Shirou extended his hand towards the nearest card. he hated the feeling of powerlessness, the sense of being unable to do anything. He never wanted to feel that powerless ever again. 

he focused on the memory of his past, channeling his resolve into a singular thought. The card responded, glowing brighter as if in acknowledgment of his resolve.

To his surprise, the Saber-class card moved towards him, entering his being. Shirou gasped, feeling a surge of newfound strength coursing through him as he took a step back, overwhelmed by what was happening.

Memories of the fire and his failure to escape its wrath flooded his mind, filling him with a sense of dread. He pictured the fire that had killed so many, the flames that had seemed like the angel of death that night.

His resolve hardened. He hated feeling powerless and never wanted to feel that way again.

Without warning, the Assassin card rushed towards him, entering his body. Shirou gasped as he felt the card's essence merge with his own. His senses sharpened, and he felt a newfound agility and stealth settle within him. The knowledge of silent movements, the ability to strike unseen and unheard, became a part of him.

Then, as he continued to think about the fire and the destructive force it wielded, the Caster card moved towards him, merging with him just as swiftly. Finally, the ruler card appeared before him, it was black and the symbol of a king was on its back, and before he could say anything it entered him.

"Your path is chosen," the voice intoned solemnly. "You have embraced your power, but remember the sacrifice. May you wield it wisely."

Shirou raised his hand, and a blue fire appeared in his palm, flickering gently. The sight of the flame stirred a strange calm within him, despite the haunting memories it evoked. His expression remained a stoic mask, unwavering and resolute.

He stared at the blue flame, feeling its warmth yet recalling the devastation fire had brought upon his life. The irony wasn't lost on him, The purple glow in his eyes flickered slightly, mirroring the fire in his palm.

Eyes cold in the face of death as the screams echoed in his head. not even a single tear left his eyes as he watched them all burn, multitudes of people crying out for help. It was as if the fire had stolen his ability to display emotion. He saw other things in the fire, a being, a shadowy person standing in the sea of fire, its purple glow connected with him, and, a multitude of Flashes rushed him, glimpses of things old and new, things to be and things forgotten. In the face of the souls trapped in the fire, he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, what could he say to such people?,absolutely nothing, they were already damned. He clenched his fist as his heart bleed for them, extinguishing the flame but retaining its warmth inside as a single utterance came.

"Arise," Shirou muttered in a daze, his voice tinged with a strange, newfound authority. As his eyes glowed purple, a sharp, searing pain pierced through his skull, forcing him to clutch his head in agony. It was a pain unlike anything he had ever felt, not even the fire that had consumed his city compared to this excruciating torment. It felt as though his mind was being torn apart like a shard of ice was being driven deep into his brain.

"What's happening?" he could barely whisper, collapsing to his knees. Memories that weren't his own began flooding his mind, images and flashes of events he couldn't comprehend. The world around him shifted, and suddenly, he found himself standing before a multitude of people, each armed with cameras and bombarding him with questions.

Panic surged through his younger mind, but his body moved on its own, his mouth forming words he didn't consciously choose. "This will be a difficult time for all of us," the voice that emerged was calm and mature, bearing a weight of responsibility that seemed alien to him. The shock of hearing his own voice sound so different felt like lightning coursing through his veins.

"This isn't a fight that anyone can ignore," the older Shirou continued, his tone grave and resolute. He spoke with a certainty and knowledge that belied his years as if he were channeling a future version of himself.

A figure among the crowd, a president of one of the leading nations, challenged him, "You really expect us to believe that? Surely the nation-level hunters can stop them."

Shirou met the leader's gaze with unwavering seriousness. "There will be thousands of beasts stronger than Kamish, the dragon that brought the greatest disaster in the history of the world."

As these words spilled from his lips, Shirou's own consciousness struggled to grasp their meaning. He felt like a spectator in his own body, a mere vessel for a much older, wiser soul. The clash of identities within him was overwhelming, each piece of this foreign knowledge settling into place, reshaping his understanding of the world.

"So, no," he continued, his eyes glowing a fierce purple, "not even the world's strongest can stop them." The words flowed with a certainty that unnerved him, as if they were carved from a truth he had yet to fully comprehend.

The crowd before him murmured in disbelief and fear, the weight of his declaration sinking in. Shirou's eyes scanned their faces, noting the mix of skepticism and dawning horror. He felt the enormity of the situation pressing down on him, a burden he had inherited from this mysterious, powerful presence now entwined with his own soul.

The gravity of the situation settled over him like a shroud. He realized he was no longer just a boy who survived a catastrophic fire; he was now entwined with a destiny that stretched far beyond his own time, tasked with facing unimaginable threats. 

"Who am I?" Shirou whispered, his voice barely audible. The weight of the memories, the titles, and the responsibilities pressed heavily on him. He was just a boy, yet he felt the burden of countless lifetimes.

A strange, eerie silence fell over the world in his head. The fires seemed to dim momentarily, and the cries of the dying were replaced by a cold whisper that echoed through the void. Shadows began to stir in response to the command, rising from the depths of the void. The spirits of the fallen, their forms wreathed in a dark, ethereal mist, emerged from the flames, drawn to Shirou's command.

He watched in a mix of awe and fear as the shadows took shape, forming ghostly figures that knelt before him. Despite their ghastly appearance, Shirou felt a strange connection to these beings, as if they were now a part of him.

"I... I didn't mean to..." Shirou stammered in shock, unsure of what had happened. He didn't know what he did or how he did it; it was a reflex as if he had done it a thousand times before.

Grid-like patterns appeared all over his body, displaying sparks like crazy.

Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.

Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.

Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.Pain.

that was the only thought that crossed his mind, his whole body was on fire.

Shirou screamed as the memory ceased, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. His vision blurred, the world around him spinning wildly. He clutched his chest, fighting to stay conscious as pain wracked his body. Through the haze, he saw the screen flashing urgently before him:

Warning: magic circuit overload. Beginning protective measures.

The shadows remained silent, their ghostly forms watching him with an eerie calm. The term "Shadow Monarch" echoed in his mind, a title that felt both foreign and strangely familiar. He had no idea what it truly meant, but the weight of it pressed heavily on his young shoulders. As quick as the soldiers came, it was the same way they vanished.

Fail-Safe Protocol Activated.

As the dizziness faded, he opened his eyes to find himself on his face, the blue flame still flickering in his eyes but now under control. 

"What does that even mean?" he asked aloud, more to himself than anyone else.

A calm, firm voice responded from the darkness, "The power within you must be controlled. This is the only way to prevent it from consuming you."

The screen before him displayed a new message

The answers you seek lie beyond

Shirou's golden purple eyes looked ahead, toward a staircase made of multicolored marble. It spiraled further into the stretches of nothingness. The staircase seemed both inviting and ominous, a path that promised answers but demanded courage.

A blue screen materialized before him, its ethereal light casting a faint glow on his face. The words on the screen were clear and direct:

Missions "Seek the truth, Inheritor."

Shirou took a deep breath, the weight of the task settling on him. He glanced behind him, only to see nothing; the glass circle had disappeared. The boy silently pondered on what to do now. How does he get out of there? What happened to the fire? He remembered wandering in the midst of the inferno, desperately seeking to escape death.

All that surrounded him were questions, endless and daunting. 

The memories of the fire are still vivid in his mind. he needed to understand what was those cards, to learn why this happened to him specifically, and what he was meant to do now.

His heart raced as he heard the first cracks behind him, the sound echoing ominously in the stillness. Turning, he saw the stairs disintegrating, fragments of marble crumbling into the abyss below. Panic surged through him, urging him to move faster, to outrun the collapsing path beneath his feet.

With each stride, the darkness around him began to shift, yielding to a gentle, pulsating light that grew more intense with every step. The warm glow wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, urging him onward despite the crumbling staircase threatening to swallow him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of sprinting, Shirou reached a vast platform that sprawled out before him. At its heart stood a door, towering and majestic, crafted from smooth, ancient marble. Its surface was adorned with intricate runes that shimmered faintly in the pulsating light.

Shirou approached cautiously, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hand trembling as he extended it towards the cold, imposing door. The air around him crackled with anticipation as if the very atmosphere held its breath in anticipation of what lay beyond.

With a hesitant touch, Shirou's fingers met the cool surface of the door. A surge of energy coursed through him, tingling with uncertainty and determination. The door remained resolute, offering no clues or hints as to what awaited on the other side.

 "Here goes nothing," he muttered, pushing against the door with all his might. It slowly creaked open, revealing a corridor bathed in an ethereal glow.

The corridor stretched before him, walls adorned with ancient, indecipherable runes that pulsed with a faint light. Shadows danced along the edges, seemingly alive and aware of his presence.

Each step echoed softly, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the space. Despite the eerie surroundings, Shirou felt a strange sense of purpose driving him forward. 

The walls, rough and cold to the touch, seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Every few feet, the stone was etched with intricate symbols, their meanings lost to time, glowing faintly in the dim light. The floor, slick with moisture, reflected the soft glow, making the corridor appear as if it were a path through a living dream.

Along the sides of the corridor, armor stands stood in silent vigil, their metallic forms rusted and worn, yet somehow menacing. The suits of armor, each one unique with exaggerated features and elaborate engravings, seemed almost lifelike. Some bore the scars of battle, their helmets askew, and their breastplates dented and battered. Others stood in perfect, eerie stillness, their gauntlets raised as if ready to strike at any moment.

As Shirou took a tentative step forward, the air grew colder, the temperature dropping unnaturally. He could see his breath, a thin mist in the dim light. Each step he took seemed to echo louder, reverberating through the corridor, and amplifying his fear. His eyes scanned the darkness, searching for any sign of movement, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.

Suddenly, his footfalls disturbed the stillness, and with a startling clang, one of the armored figures lunged forward, its movement fluid and unnervingly quick. Shirou barely managed to jump back, his heart racing with terror. The stone soldier, its eyes glowing with a cold, unnatural light, was now advancing toward him with a relentless, mechanical grace.

The soldier's fist moved with such force that even dodging, the pressure of the wind knocked Shirou back.

"Th-that thing is alive!" Shirou shouted in disbelief, his mind reeling with confusion and fear. "Why is this happening to me?" He couldn't comprehend the bizarre and dangerous situation he found himself in. The memories of the fire and the chaos flashed through his mind, contrasting sharply with the surreal danger he faced now.

The stone soldier's movements were swift and relentless, its attacks precise and deadly. Shirou's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to catch his breath, his mind racing for a solution. Another slash came, and Shirou barely managed to roll out of the way, feeling the rush of air from the blade as it passed mere inches from his face.

He stumbled to his feet, adrenaline surging through his veins. As the stone soldier lunged at him again, The boy tried to avoid the attack, but his inexperience showed. The soldier easily parried his escape and knocked him back with a powerful blow. He hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs. Pain radiated through his body, every muscle protesting against the strain.

The soldier loomed over him, raising its weapon for a killing blow. Shirou's vision blurred, the edges darkening as he struggled to breathe. "is this... how it ends?" he thought, panic rising in his chest.

But then, like a whisper in the darkness, he recalled the words: "Power sleeps within you." The words echoed in his mind, resonating with a hidden strength he had yet to understand.

In that moment every ounce of willpower overrode Shirou and forced him to move. He rolled to the side just as the soldier's weapon crashed down where he had been moments before, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through the floor. With trembling legs, Shirou stood, his eyes glowing blue as he raised both his hands. he could see a single blue line over the soldier's neck, an urge to strike.

The soldier dragged its feet as the blades created sparks across the floor. Shirou stood there in a tense silence, his magic circuits glowing and burning with intensity. "I am the bone of my sword," he muttered, his voice carrying a determination that belied his fear.

As the soldier appeared before him, ready to cleave him in two, Shirou repeated, "Trace on," through gritted teeth. Two blades formed from thin air, their shimmering edges catching the faint light of the corridor. With a swift movement, he intercepted the soldier's attack, the clash echoing through the chamber.

The blades cracked under the pressure, and Shirou clicked his tongue in frustration. Dodging the soldier's counterattack, he aimed for the back of the soldier of the soldier's neck by jumping as high as he could, where its armor seemed weaker. With a precise strike, following the blue line across the armor allowed him to pierce through, causing the soldier to shudder and collapse into a heap of stone.

Breathing heavily, Shirou staggered back, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He glanced around cautiously, half-expecting another attack. The corridor remained eerily silent, save for the faint hum of magic lingering in the air.

A blue screen flickered into existence before Shirou, its glow cutting through the dimness of the corridor. The words "Congratulations, you have leveled up" shimmered in digital clarity. Shirou's eyes widened as he read the message.

Name: Shirou

Class: Ruler

Titles:

Survivor

Inheritor 

survivor

Level: 2

Stats:

Strength: G-

Agility: F-

Vitality: E-

Intelligence: G-

Luck: E

Perception: EX-

Magic circuits: 27 

Circuit Quality: F-

Element: Shadow\Sword

Origin: Shadow\Sword

Skills:

Shadow Extraction (Rank S)(sealed): extract and control shadows, turning them into loyal minions.

Berserker (Rank D)( sealed rank E ): Enhances physical abilities drastically for a short period, increasing strength and speed.

Detection (Rank B)( sealed rank E ): Enhances perception to detect enemies and hidden threats in the vicinity.

Healing (Rank C)( sealed rank E ): Basic healing ability to recover from injuries over time.

Sword Mastery (Rank B )( sealed rank E ): Proficient in close combat with swords, enhancing attack precision and power.

Projection Magic (Rank F): the creation of temporary items and objects with high precision.

Abilities:

Avalon (Rank EX) (sealed ): Regeneration using Avalon's ether magic from the ever-distant utopia. requires mana to use.

Tracing(Rank EX)( sealed ) Allows the perfect replication of weapons.

Unlimited Blade Works (Rank EX)(sealed ): Reality Marble that creates an armory of countless weapons. Allows Shirou to summon and use any weapon within it.

Hunter's Sense: Enhanced sensory perception to detect monsters and danger.

Monarch's Authority(sealed): Commands over shadows and monsters under his control.

Survival Instinct: Intuition and reflexes honed through combat experience.

Mana Sense: Detects magical presence and energy fluctuations.

Eye of the Mind (True): Tactical acumen honed through combat experience

Mystic Eyes of Death Perception(Rank EX): show the death of things, the weak points where everything is most easily broken and the imperfection in everything that will break down one day.

Equipment:

Unnamed Blades: Pair of magical swords formed by Projection Magic.

Inventory:

Mana potions (x5)

Health potions (x5)

Shadow crystals (x10)(sealed)

Rins rune pendant: A treasured gift from a friend long passed from a time long forgotten.

Shirou took a deep breath, his gaze shifting from the fading blue screen to the corridor ahead.his thoughts flickering back to the encounters with the stone soldier and the cryptic messages that had guided him thus far. and could not help but wonder if this really was hell, he was walking into, a hell he had no other choice but to continue forward.

The way seemed to stretch endlessly before him, lined with these sentinel-like figures. Their very existence posed questions he could not help but wonder. What had brought these constructs to life? Who had crafted them with such precision and purpose? And most pressing of all, why were they here, barring his path through this mysterious place?. As he surveyed them, a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

Adjusting the grip on his sword, he turned his attention back to the path ahead, resolute in his determination to press forward, no matter the challenges that awaited him in this mysterious realm. he would find his way out of this place.