I am f--king shirou emiya
In an instant, the world transformed into a kaleidoscope of swirling colors, captivating the mc's senses before plunging them into darkness. When the mc regained consciousness, they were confronted by a scene of utter horror. It was a nightmarish tableau of devastation and chaos, where the world had succumbed to an unforgiving inferno.
The crackling flames devoured everything in their path, their fiery tongues licking at the air with an insatiable hunger. Desperate cries and anguished pleas for help reverberated through the air, intermingling with the haunting symphony of destruction. The once peaceful streets now lay in ruins, transformed into a haunting labyrinth of smoke and ashes.
Panic gripped the mc, his heart racing as they desperately tried to activate the system, their voice trembling as he uttered the word "stat-." But amidst the cacophony of cries and the looming terror that surrounded him, his attempt was drowned out, lost in the sea of anguish and despair. Fear coursed through his veins as he grappled with the overwhelming realization that he was trapped in a nightmare, his own helplessness magnified by the suffering of those around him.
In the midst of the chaotic inferno, the MC's legs propelled him forward, but his movements felt hindered, and his agility diminished in his childlike form. As he glanced down, his heart sank at the sight of a lifeless child's body, a cruel reminder of the fate that had befallen him. Frustration and anger welled up inside him, cursing the circumstances that had not only thrust him into this nightmare but also stripped him of his strength and stature.
Despite the horrors surrounding him, the MC pressed on, determined to escape the clutches of the devouring flames. The piercing cries for help echoed relentlessly in his ears, pleading for salvation and the comfort of loved ones. Yet, he hardened his heart, shutting out the desperate pleas, his own survival instinct overriding his empathy. Each step he took sent waves of pain through his burning body, the searing heat and smoke invading his lungs, but he pushed past the agony, driven by an unwavering will to survive.
The echoes of anguished voices pursued him relentlessly, the voices of those trapped in the relentless grip of the merciless fire. "Save me, please!" they cried, their voices desperate and filled with terror. "Mommy, help! Mommy, where are you?" Yet, the MC remained resolute, deaf to their pleas as he sought his own means of escape.
"Come back, you piece of shit, and save me!" a voice lashed out in desperation, anger lacing its tone. "Please, save my son, please!" another voice pleaded, its anguish cutting through the chaos. The MC's heart twisted with guilt and conflict, but the overpowering need for self-preservation propelled him forward, a stark reminder of the harsh reality he found himself in.
In the face of unimaginable suffering, the mc made a choice—a choice to ignore the cries of others in order to survive. It was a decision weighed down by a heavy burden, and one that would forever haunt his conscience. Through the swirling smoke and engulfing flames, he pressed onward, chasing fleeting hope amidst the devastation, consumed by his own desperate struggle to stay alive in a world crumbling around him.
As the mc's body screamed for respite, fatigue and anguish gnawed at his every fiber. It felt as though an eternity had passed as he relentlessly pushed himself onward, but his weary legs could no longer bear the weight of his burden. The burning pain that coursed through his limbs mirrored the torment that engulfed his soul.
Reluctantly, he slowed his steps, his brisk run decaying into a laborious walk. Every movement was an arduous struggle, an agonizing reminder of his own limitations. The weight of guilt pressed heavily upon him, suffocating his spirit as he grappled with the tormenting thought of leaving others behind.
With each passing moment, the mc felt himself hollowing out, his identity fading into a shadowy abyss. His memories, once vivid and concrete, slipped through his fingers, their fragments dissipating like smoke in the wind. The pain, both physical and emotional, eroded his sense of self, leaving him adrift in a sea of desolation.
All that remained in his mind was an overwhelming sense of pain—an all-encompassing agony that drowned out his surroundings. The cries of others, the charred landscape, and even his own existence became mere echoes in the symphony of torment that reverberated through his being.
Blinded by his own suffering, the mc stumbled forward, his steps becoming a limp, a reflection of the shattered state of his being. With every faltering movement, he sank deeper into a well of self-blame and remorse. The weight of leaving everyone behind settled heavily upon his shoulders, a burden he could not escape.
In this numbing haze, humanity slipped through his grasp, vanishing into the void. He blamed himself for his perceived failure, unable to reconcile the choice he had made in the face of adversity. The world around him, consumed by fire and despair, became a backdrop to his own internal torment.
Alone and shattered, the mc trudged forward, unaware of the depths to which he had sunk. Forgotten were the faces and names of those he knew, lost in the fog of his own torment. The pain remained, relentless and unforgiving, etching itself into every fiber of his existence, a constant reminder of the choices he had made and the price he had paid.
As the mc's body finally succumbed to exhaustion, he collapsed to the ground, his strength completely depleted. His eyes surveyed the desolate surroundings, taking in the grim reality that lay before him. The once vibrant and bustling city now lay silent and lifeless, consumed by the merciless blaze. The voices that once cried out in agony had fallen silent, their desperate pleas extinguished.
A profound emptiness settled upon the mc, erasing any trace of emotion that had remained. His spirit felt hollow, stripped of its vitality and connection to the world. With grim determination, he mustered the last vestiges of his willpower and resorted to crawling, each movement a laborious struggle against the ashes and debris that littered the scorched earth.
'I cant die not after the chance given to me by R.O.B' the mc thinks then realizes 'Wait who is Rob? Who am I? What wishes?' a fiery piece of concrete falls close to him, removing him from internal dialogue realizing that he needs to keep moving to survive he does.
The crackling of the fire provided the only soundtrack to his solitary journey. The flames danced and flickered around him, casting eerie shadows upon his battered form. Through the pain and despair, a flicker of survival burned within him, compelling him to crawl onward, driven by an instinctive need to find a semblance of safety in this ravaged landscape.
His progress was slow, his limbs trembling with exertion, but he refused to yield. The world had become a desolate canvas of destruction, and amidst the ashes, he sought a sliver of hope. The will to survive, though shrouded in darkness, burned within him, a defiant spark against the overwhelming despair.
Each inch gained through his agonizing crawl represented his unyielding determination to defy the cruelty of fate. The path to safety seemed uncertain and treacherous, but he clung to the possibility of finding solace, no matter how faint.
As the mc moved forward, his body scraped against the unforgiving terrain, bruised and battered. Yet, he pressed on, fueled by an indomitable spirit that refused to surrender. The remnants of his humanity were diminished, but a glimmer of resilience remained, compelling him to continue his arduous crawl towards an uncertain future.
In this harrowing journey, the student found himself bound by a solitary existence, traversing the charred remnants of a world that had been decimated. With every painful crawl, he moved closer to survival, his indomitable will overcoming the desolation that surrounded him.
The mc's feeble crawl came to a halt as an imposing figure approached. The regal presence of this individual was undeniable, emanating an aura of grandeur and arrogance. With flowing golden locks cascading down his back and piercing, intense eyes that held a commanding gaze, he exuded authority and superiority. Adorned in resplendent golden armor adorned with intricate designs, he was a sight to behold.
The mc, his hollow gaze fixed upon the figure, remained silent and devoid of any emotion. He was a mere shell of his former self, consumed by the despair that had engulfed his being.
The regal figure sneered, his voice laced with contempt as he addressed the mc, "Ah, a mongrel still clings to life. How surprising." His words dripped with disdain, a reflection of his arrogance and superiority.
Unable to respond, the mc could only meet the figure's gaze with hollow eyes, his body devoid of strength and his spirit shattered.
The imposing figure continued, his voice laced with scorn, "Truly, this age of man is a shameful one. To witness the only living human reduced to such a pitiful state, already devoid of hope and purpose. Killing you would be a mercy, a release from your wretched existence."
As the figure's words echoed in the air, a shimmering golden aura enveloped the surroundings. A small portal materialized, radiating a brilliant golden hue, and within it, a sword came into view. The atmosphere crackled with otherworldly energy, portending impending danger.
In that moment, the mc's ability, Epitaph, activated. The future unfolded before his eyes, revealing the image of a flying sword hurtling towards him, destined to pierce his defenseless form.
In that critical moment, something within the MC snapped a surge of determination and fighting spirit welling up from deep within. The weight of his guilt, the guilt of leaving everyone behind, fueled a newfound resolve that demanded action. He couldn't allow himself to perish, not after the arduous crawl he endured, not after everything he had witnessed.
A crimson aura, vibrant and intense, erupted around him, catching the attention of the regal figure. The figure's curiosity was piqued, momentarily intrigued by this display of power that he had never encountered before. Contemplating his decision, he entertained the possibility of sparing the kid's life, eager to witness the extent of his newfound strength.
With a calculated move, the figure sent the blade hurtling toward the mc, anticipating an inevitable outcome. Yet, at the very brink of danger, a resounding shout erupted from the mc's lips, his voice carrying a fierce determination. "King Crimson!"
In that instant, the fabric of reality shattered, the world around them warping and breaking. The once-blinding speed of the blade slowed to an agonizing crawl, time itself bending to the mc's command. Empowered by the presence of his Stand, King Crimson, he seized the opportunity to rise to his feet, his body infused with newfound strength and agility.
In an impressive display of newfound speed, the mc swiftly evaded the impending strike, dodging to the right at the last second with precision. The world snapped back to its familiar shape, time resuming its normal course as if nothing had transpired.
The regal figure stood in awe, a mixture of surprise and curiosity etched upon his features. He had witnessed something extraordinary, a kid seemingly teleporting himself and the blade he shot to pierce him. a power that was inexplicable even with his ability Sha Naqba Imuru, it truly defied his expectations. Intrigued by this unexpected turn of events, he decided to withhold his final blow, eager to observe the depths of the kid's capabilities.
At that moment, the mc stood defiant, his hollow gaze replaced by a glimmer of determination. The crimson aura enveloped him, a testament to the power that resided within.
With a mix of astonishment and amusement, the imposing figure acknowledged the mc's display of resilience. "Ah, it seems you still possess some fight within you, mongrel," he declared, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "Rejoice, for this king shall spare your life. You may continue to exist, bringing me further entertainment."
As the figure turned away, his regal presence fading into the distance, the kid found himself drained and exhausted. The exertion of utilizing King Crimson to erase time, even for the briefest of moments, had taken its toll. The crimson aura that once enveloped him waned, leaving him spent and vulnerable.
Collapsed on his back, the mc could only contemplate the uncertainty that lay before him. He was weary, his body battered and broken, his spirit dimmed by the weight of his struggles. Doubt crept into his thoughts as he questioned whether this would be the end of his journey.
The mc's gaze shifted from his hair, now reflecting the color of auburn, to the absence of the future visions granted by Epitaph. Confusion swirled within him as he attempted to make sense of his thoughts and the fragments of memory that surfaced.
"Fire? Red hair? Who in the Nasuverse underwent such traits and trials? Shirou?" the mc questioned himself, his voice filled with uncertainty. "Nasuverse... is that where I am? Wait, Shirou... Could that be my name? No... Maybe... I don't know."
Interrupting his musings, the mc's attention returned to his immediate surroundings. He observed the utterly exhausted state he was in, his body weakened and his spirit wearied by the ordeals he had endured. The weight of his own identity and purpose remained elusive, an enigma begging to be unraveled.
With a heavy sigh, he acknowledged the uncertainty that enveloped him. The answers he sought seemed just beyond his grasp, tantalizingly close yet frustratingly out of reach. However, he knew that dwelling on these mysteries would not serve him in his current state. He needed rest, recovery, and a chance to gather his strength
Shirou POV
As I extended my hand towards the moon, my fingertips stretching towards the distant luminary, an unexpected touch interrupted my solitary endeavor. Startled, I turned my attention to the figure standing beside me—a man whose eyes glistened with tears, their shimmer reflecting an overwhelming joy. It was a sight that stirred confusion within me, for his elation seemed misplaced as if he were the one who had been rescued, not me.
His grip tightened around my hand, and his voice quivered with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "I found someone... someone alive," he whispered, his words laced with a profound sense of wonder and gratitude. His tears mingled with a smile, an expression that conveyed a profound connection to the flickering flame of hope.
At that moment, I couldn't help but be captivated by the depth of his emotions. It was as if my mere existence had ignited a spark within him, filling his heart with newfound hope. His genuine delight at finding a survivor was evident, and it touched me in a way I couldn't fully comprehend.
all I thought at that moment was ' Could I smile like that someday?'
suddenly a golden glow enveloped the stranger, an ethereal radiance emanated from within him. With a serene grace, he retrieved a magnificent golden and azure sheath from his own chest, and gently placed it into my chest. A profound sense of comfort washed over me as if the weight of my burdens had been momentarily lifted.
In that instant, a soothing presence seemed to emanate from the sheath, infusing me with tranquil energy.
Wrapped in the comforting presence of the golden and azure sheath, I allowed myself to be carried away by the currents of slumber, trusting that this respite would replenish my spirit and guide me toward the path of redemption for those I didn't save.