Chapter 105: Emiya Shirou vs. Dead Apostle · I
Eyes fixed on the Dead Apostle, Shirou kept a portion of his attention on Sigma and Assassin until they vanished from his sensory range. Confirming their departure, Shirou withdrew his final bit of divided focus.
Jester stood in place, muttering incessantly to himself:
"Hey now, how can you just leave me behind and start talking among yourselves? Don't you think that's strange? And even you started chatting with my love? Where did an inexplicable fellow like you come from? I truly can't stand such insolent people!"
After a long-winded rant, he bared the claws extending from his fingertips: "Listen well, I'm going to scatter your minced meat across a chicken farm."
He seemed to be talking a lot. However, if one were to say he was being serious, it was quite nonsensical.
"Then why don't you just charge in?"
Jester was not a creature with any qualms about killing. If that were the case, why was he merely bickering with Shirou instead of lunging at him as he had done before?
"…"
Jester's expression became very subtle.
Shirou didn't have time to waste with him for long. If possible, Shirou wanted to hurry and help Saber. It was best to settle this quickly. If this was a Dead Apostle accustomed to living off human blood, there was no need to hold back—just as Shirou didn't support showing mercy to a certain witch based on her past actions.
He took a breath of the oxygen essential for human movement. In the next instant, Shirou simply vanished.
He disappeared in a flicker. Vanishing from one side, he reappeared on the other without a trace. What Jester thought was a silhouette in front of him was actually just a giant sword flying in a straight line, sealing off his evasion angles.
Even the Dead Apostle, after missing the chance to track him during a moment of carelessness, had to strain to turn his head; his crimson eyes shifted to the very edges of their sockets.
This was a strike at full power and full speed from the start. But the most lethal part was that Jester was predicting based on human expectations.
The axe-sword was a feint. When Jester focused too much on the axe-sword, it was difficult to react to the fact that the opponent had vanished after throwing the weapon like a spear.
Behind the Dead Apostle, who had leaned aside to avoid the axe-sword, a blade's light flipped; Shirou held the blade in a reverse grip. Faster than the Dead Apostle could defend, a piercing flash of a blade streaked across the dark night sky. It aimed directly at the junction of that rotating torso—the neck.
In the night air, a crisp "clack" sounded.
As a result... Shirou frowned deeply.
The force had indeed struck the Dead Apostle's neck. However, the head and body did not separate; they remained firmly attached. There was a wound of mangled flesh on the neck, but as soon as Shirou saw it, it healed.
That was all.
Conversely... Jester, having reacted, twisted his joints at an impossible angle. His claws reached from his front to his back, gouging toward Shirou's heart.
That had undoubtedly been a successful surprise attack, but to speak of it in terms of military tactics: a failed surprise attack meant the attacker would fall into a brief moment of rigidity after the strike, while the defender's counterattack would be sharpened by rage.
The opponent's counter-offensive wasn't the problem; he could block it with Kanshou and Bakuya. While that was true in theory—Shirou shifted his body.
A mere instant after he retreated to the side, a cold light pierced through. While monitoring the predicted results of moves that were almost equivalent to seeing the future, Shirou raised the Kanshou in his hand to parry. He simultaneously imagined the best and worst-case scenarios.
The conclusion: at the edge of his vision, Shirou witnessed the moment the "Proof of a Hero" fell apart.
Beautiful fragments scattered in the air. At the same time, Shirou had already retreated backward, and Jester's thrust hit nothing but air. The shards of the weapon, having lost their mystery, fell onto the grass and were swallowed by weeds. Shirou discarded the remaining half of the hilt in his hand.
"Even though you're using Noble Phantasms, you still insist on using brute force to hurt me? What use is all that strength? A Noble Phantasm is a Noble Phantasm... Say, are you the thirtieth person among those twenty-nine? Or were you hired by them?"
Jester threw out a topic as if he were familiar with the [Clan Calatin- The Twenty-eight Monsters].
He rubbed his neck, which still felt uncomfortable, and said with a look of disgusted disdain: "Though you seem a bit different from them—a bit stronger—there's no fundamental difference in your fighting style. In other words, you too are a blood bag. The fact that you managed to surprise me just now was pure coincidence, an error born of my misjudgment of your strength."
While the Dead Apostle named Jester seemed to be trying to convince himself of something, it had nothing to do with Shirou.
Shirou silently tested: "Continuous Projection: Multi-Layer Overwrite."
A cluster of Noble Phantasms appeared quietly, deployed quietly, and then turned into streaks of light in the night, piercing toward the Dead Apostle. The testing cluster was deflected with essentially no power, some even shattering upon impact.
This familiar feeling reminded Shirou of an unpleasant sense of déjà vu. Shirou asked straightforwardly: "The Nemean Lion's pelt?"
The Nemean Lion's pelt was the true identity of the fur attached to the Archer, Alcides. In legend, it belonged to a divine beast that was invulnerable to blades and spears, yet it was killed by Heracles to mark the end of his first trial.
Alcides' Noble Phantasm was different from the Servant of the Winter Maiden that Shirou had seen. He had likely obtained Noble Phantasms that symbolized the specific deeds of the "Twelve Labors." One of them was that lion pelt.
Saber could cut it easily. The [Rule Breaker] Shirou projected was effective. But Shirou's Kanshou and Bakuya were not. When he truly thought he was out of options, a prana explosion could also cause damage. Although there hadn't been more chances to experiment, that thing likely had the property of isolating "human-made works."
"It's not the lion pelt you spoke of, but it's close. We Dead Apostles exist as things that scorn the Human Order, enough to stain the colorless with color. It's fine for Heroic Spirits who affirm the Human Order to use Noble Phantasms, but for a human to use a Servant's armament is nothing more than characterless imitation."
He took a step. Jester walked closer from a distance, step by step. After realizing the opponent hadn't hurt him, his pace finally took on a hint of leisure.
Shirou couldn't help but stare blankly for a moment. Immediately, he twitched the corner of his mouth and complained: "This is the first I've heard of it... that guy never told me at all."
"'That guy'?" Jester narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"A Dead Apostle I once fought alongside. A fellow who looked like a gentleman—that was the impression he gave. He left on a boat after the business was over."
Clearly, back then, he had explained the difference between a "Reality Marble" and a "Principle Blood Suit" over a distance, yet he had kept this key property hidden; it felt a bit deliberate. Shirou's threat back then shouldn't have been large enough for a Dead Apostle to show that level of "respect"; in his style, it was more like a special kind of "appreciation." Furthermore, while the man had offered, Shirou hadn't asked for his contact information—not to mention Flat had it.
While diverting the conversation, Shirou poured strength into his legs.
Jester was also stunned for a moment, then he bared his teeth and laughed aloud:
"If I were any other Dead Apostle, I wouldn't ask you for help, human. Those who seek help from humans are either lower-class Dead Apostles with insufficient properties like myself, or the deceased who haven't even reached the rank of Dead Apostle. Listen to me once more... my next strike will break through that blade of yours. I swear by my name, Jester Karture, and the name of the 'Ancestor' who acknowledged me—since you've entertained me, I'll give you a chance for some last words before I drink your blood!"
Shirou shook his head uninterestedly.
And so—as if Jester's smile from a moment ago was a lie, his face instantly turned icy, and he began his slaughter. The Dead Apostle used a speed faster than the fastest animal on earth to show all humans what a humanoid monster truly was.
With staggering strength, he brushed aside several giant stone swords that tore through the air and flew toward him at almost the same time. His gaze, obscured for a moment by the stone swords, noticed that Emiya Shirou's figure was no longer in front of him.
The Dead Apostle Jester snorted coldly, his figure leaping upward toward the presence that had long been exposed. Like one enjoying the preparations for a kill, he extended his claw-blades... and then suddenly realized the claw-blades were gone.
From the height of his right chest all the way to his right hand, everything exploded. Blue flames swirled and surged outward from the site of the explosion, manifesting illusory colors.
It wasn't that the entire body had vanished. Countless fragments of flesh scattered in all directions, thrown into the tall grass along with the hot flames.
Jester's gaze narrowed, drifting slowly and with extreme friction toward the starting point of the flying blue line.
The red-haired youth, holding a bow, quietly maintained his shooting posture while hanging upside-down in the moonlight. In his hand was a bow with a pure and elegant frame, its luster shimmering outward.
There was no arrow in his hand. That is to say, the arrow shot just now was a pure prana arrow.
"I meant—as for pelts and such, I won't fall for the same trick a second time." Shirou added, "And besides, you aren't as strong as him."
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