Fate Stay Night - Medea Caster route

It was now evening, and Medea sat in her room, occupying her chair while holding a photograph in her hands.

As Medea sat there, she keenly sensed the unstoppable flow of time, drawing her ever nearer to her impending demise. Unlike the swift current of countless years that had shaped her long existence, these final hours stretched out before her like an expanse of serenity, akin to a river gracefully converging with the vastness of the sea. Time at this juncture unfolded with a steady and deliberate rhythm, carrying within it the weight of uncertainty and possibilities, while remaining resolutely bound to a singular path.

Soon, she would meet her end... just as she had always… feared.

But Medea felt no impatience. She remained calm. In truth, this was something she had long looked forward to... for many years, she had pondered how she would be punished... and now she knew.

Yet, She wondered, when did her fixation on justice begin? Had it truly commenced five years prior, or was it something she had harbored all along deep inside of herself?

After saving Shirou, she had managed to suppress the memories of her past and her sins. However, the sight of those children and her subsequent act of killing shattered her resolve. Even in death, the priest had provoked her, fueling her disdain.

Since then, it had been a gradual decline, almost imperceptible. Yet, this year had become unbearable. She understood that something was amiss, but what choice did she have other than to persist? The echoes of the dead she had left behind wailed in anguish, while she grappled with shame and self-loathing. She had always wondered how much longer she could endure...

But now the time had come. It drew near. After everything she had done, it was too late for tears.

Medea shifted her attention back to the photograph she clutched in her hand. The picture portrayed her and the children in a harmonious moment. Little did they realize the intricate tapestry of deception she had spun around them. The delicate structure she had erected was now on the verge of crumbling, a threat that extended beyond just herself to those unwitting souls ensnared in her elaborate masquerade.

The weight of her transformation struck her. What had she evolved into? This façade needed to crumble, the illusion needed to shatter. She had to face the truth and dismantle the lies before they consumed her completely.

Until then, all she had witnessed was bloodshed and suffering. The armor she had forged from her transgressions had grown burdensome, its jagged edges encasing her soul like a prison.

But then, he appeared—an ember amidst the ashes. Her bloody path had led her to this moment, facing a pale and fragile being. Her thorns failed to inflict pain upon him.

She recalled the time she had saved him. The boy had been crying, isolated and alone. Strangely, his pain resonated with her own. Solitude. Abandonment. Self-condemnation. In him, she discovered a new purpose to live for. He bestowed meaning upon her anguish. He became her judge... her salvation.

Yet, the darkness had not completed its grasp on her. It reached out like sinister claws, poised to seize her final breath. Her transgressions couldn't be effortlessly wiped away. The burden of her obligations pressed upon her, a relentless specter that lingered until the very end. Having discovered a semblance of solace, she now confronted the reckoning. The toll had to be paid.

Why? Was this her predetermined fate? Her mind and spirit were shattered... exhausted...

Oh... was it wrong for her to crave peace and love? Her life had always been steeped in pain, so it seemed only natural that it would also culminate in-

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of keys sliding into the entrance door, shattering the absolute silence that had enveloped the house. It sent a chilling shiver down her spine.

"I'm home!" Shirou's voice echoed through the house.

...

...

...

"...he's here," she whispered to herself in a hushed tone, her gaze fixated on the door of her room, as if anticipating it to be violently breached at any moment.

Medea's eyes widened slightly, her breath becoming unsteady. She clutched her housecoat tightly around herself, seeking a futile shield from the impending fate that awaited her.

Time passed, yet Shirou did not appear. So, Medea mustered the courage to go and confront him.

As she made her way towards the living room, she paused momentarily when she passed by the backyard, the place where it would all unfold. With a mixture of fear and trepidation, she cast one final glance at the scene. She had seen it. That serene yet macabre tableau.

Shaking off her contemplations, she continued on her path towards her inevitable end. As she drew closer to the living room, she could hear the sounds of Shirou cooking.

'Tch. Does he think I'm a fool?' Medea thought to herself.

She had glimpsed how it would all conclude, but the details of what would transpire before that remained unknown, and the uncertainty frightened her. For all she knew, he could be lurking just behind that door, or even the walls, ready to strike.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. Her breath grew heavy, her face drenched in perspiration. She stood there for a full minute, wavering, unsure if she truly wanted to proceed.

'No! This is not who you are!' Medea admonished herself angrily. 'You will face your end with pride and dignity! You have committed unspeakable acts without hesitation! I forbid you from succumbing to this fear, Medea! I FORBID YOU! For the past year, you have been dead in every way except the one that truly matters! It is time to confront your fate! Embrace the end you have earned!'

Summoning her resolve, she swung open the door and beheld Shirou... in the kitchen, engrossed in his cooking.

"Oh, hi Nee-san," he said casually, turning his face slightly while still focused on their dinner.

"...Shirou... what is that?" she asked, her attention drawn to the object on the table.

"Oh, that?" Shirou replied. "It's a present for you."

Medea looked at the bag, her initial surprise masked by a pensive expression.

...

...

...

"Is today a special day?" she thought aloud, briefly questioning the significance.

'Could this be some kind of scheme or ploy?' she immediately pondered.

"Uh, no. I just saw it and thought it would look good on you. Hope you like it," Shirou explained.

With that, Medea slowly walked to the table, ready to react at any sudden movement… and took the bag.

"Oh... this..." she murmured as she opened the bag and pulled out the purple velvet triangular shawl.

The fabric felt soft to the touch, and her keen eye could discern its fine craftsmanship. As she examined it further, she noticed the floral design along the edges and the deep purple rose in the center.

'This is not what I foresaw,' she thought, taken aback by the unexpected gift.

She held it in her hands, inspecting it closely, before draping it around her shoulders and catching her reflection in the living room mirror.

It was a lovely present. It suited her... it suited her perfectly. It was a beautiful shawl that accentuated her beauty and elegance…

...But this was not what she had foreseen. It was not what she deserved.

Caught off guard, Medea's mind snapped back to reality, as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over her. Her heart ceased its frantic pounding, and reason slowly began to return. After a few fleeting moments, she regained her composure, as though she had not glimpsed her impending demise.

In that instant, her gaze sharpened, and she realized she had yet to fully comprehend what she had done to potentially alter her fate or why circumstances had taken a different turn. The notion that it might still be a ploy on Shirou's part to lower her defenses lingered, but she needed to discern where this was leading. To avoid arousing suspicion, she decided to act as she normally would.

What was her usual course of action in moments like these? Part of her considered that a simple expression of gratitude might suffice, but their relationship was neither simple nor formal.

She delved deeper into her thoughts.

Shirou wasn't typically driven by materialism. She wouldn't label him as inconsiderate, as he consistently extended himself to aid others in their times of need. However, the notion of purchasing her a gift solely to uplift her spirits struck her as uncharacteristic of him.

She swiftly deduced that it must have been the girls who had proposed the idea. But which one? Both of them, or maybe just one? Or perhaps...

"So, let me guess. Sakura was too shy to ask you on a date, so she came up with an excuse to stroll around with you and Rin. And instead of thinking about her, you were more concerned about me? You're such a mama's boy, Shirou," she teased him.

It had been some time since she had playfully teased him, but such banter remained well within her character. In the present moment, such comments seemed fitting and helped her maintain a facade of normalcy.

"Argh! It wasn't a date, we just took a walk in the city!" Shirou protested, a tinge of embarrassment coloring his words, while also omitting the truth. "And stop saying that Sakura is in love with me. If that were true, Rin would have skewered me ages ago."

"Heh. Trust me, Shirou, if you were to get engaged to Sakura, Rin would be furious, but not for the reason you think..."

"*Sigh* Here we go again..." Shirou mumbled, his head dipping slightly.

"Come on, are you truly that clueless, or are you pretending not to notice?"

"..." Shirou remained silent, and Medea looked at him.

Perhaps he had long been aware of the feelings the girls harbored for him. He was the only boy their age with whom they shared a deep bond for the majority of their lives. Their connection was strong. Shirou saw Sakura as someone to protect and care for, while Rin was a close friend and equal companion. Maybe he had no intention of risking or jeopardizing their friendship.

But at that moment, those considerations were secondary. They were merely a facade.

For the next thirty minutes, Shirou cooked, and after dinner was ready, they silently ate. As Medea ate, she thought to herself, carefully eyeing Shirou from time to time.

Despite her composed exterior, her mind was a tempest of disorder. Theories, plots, and schemes swirled into existence only to be swiftly discarded.

Now, she found herself utterly unsure of how to proceed. She had been caught off certainty of her imminent demise had driven her to the extent of slaying Zolgen and marching resolutely towards what she believed to be her end. Her conviction in the vision's accuracy had been unwavering... and yet...

"How foolish I've been," she thought to herself. "How could I ever entertain the notion that he might uncover the truth and pose a threat to me? I took great care to cast a spell on his mind, blocking any knowledge about my past, especially to forestall any potential harm." She contemplated further, her mind racing.

"But then, how did that vision manifest? The cards are one thing, but I've witnessed it... my divination couldn't have been mistaken," she whispered in the recesses of her thoughts.

Medea had no doubts in her mind that it was Shirou who would slay her.

In her vision, she saw herself wounded, bloodied, with tattered robes, barely standing in the moonlit backyard, while Shirou approached her with a blade in hand.

However, she couldn't understand how they had reached that point.

…What had she done to make it a reality?!

And despite her knowledge of the future events, Medea could see that Shirou truly didn't know. He remained ignorant of the truth, just as he had been in the past.

A strange dichotomy then seized Medea's heart as she wrestled with conflicting emotions. While part of her dreaded the horrific outcome she had foreseen, there was an inexplicable, clandestine desire within her—a twisted longing for that vision to manifest.

It was a disturbing realization that had surfaced in her mind, this secret desire both terrifying and enthralling her. As much as she feared the dreadful outcome she had foreseen, a part of her secretly yearned for it, longing for the release from the guilt and burden that had haunted her for so long.

The realization sent shivers down her spine. How could she entertain such dark thoughts, even for a moment? Medea recoiled from the idea, ashamed of herself for even considering it. Yet, the flicker of curiosity remained, haunting her every thought.

The darkness within her, fueled by her past deeds, whispered sinister thoughts in her mind. It whispered that perhaps this was her deserved punishment, a grim fate that matched the depth of her transgressions. The guilt she carried like an unyielding burden seemed to drive her towards this self-destructive path, where the sins of her past would find their ultimate reckoning.

But if it wasn't him who would confront her about all her crimes… then…

…

…

…

"...Heh..." Medea chuckled, as it clicked in her mind.

Shirou's gaze shifted immediately when he heard Medea chuckle.

Did he do it? Did he make her feel better? Did his simple present actually bring her some relief?

In that moment, a rush of hope surged through him, filling his heart with warmth. The thought that his small gesture could have made a difference almost overwhelmed him with genuine joy.

'...It was me... wasn't it?' Medea thought. '...I will ruin everything once again because of my selfish and reckless desire...'

The realization tormented her, making her fall into a spiral of torment and depression. Her head started to spin and feel heavy.

She looked up and managed to glance into Shirou's eyes before he quickly glanced down at his plate.

'Just look at you, Shirou... you are so caring... so concerned for me... while I... I'm so sorry. I have only ever deceived you...' She confessed to him in her thoughts. 'I always complained about the gods and how I wasn't able to choose my own path and my own decisions... but it turns out, though... that I'm just like them. Look at what I've done with my freedom... And look at what I am about to do...'

Medea looked down at her plate.

'It wasn't a reckless impulse that guided me. I understood my actions... always have... a decade ago when you perished... countless eons past when Jason's betrayal unfolded... I was aware... fully conscious.'

…

…

…

"...Shirou, what am I to you?" Medea then asked, as she glanced up from her plate, her gaze fixed on him.

As soon as he heard those words, Shirou started to think of the best answer he could give.

He had recognized the serious tone in Medea's voice and knew he had to respond quickly to avoid any negative reactions.

He pondered on it. Medea had not only saved him but also adopted and raised him. She played various roles in his life—teacher, friend, sister, and mother. She had imparted her knowledge, teaching him magic, life skills, and everything in between. With each passing moment, his respect for her grew. Although she was his family, he felt deep respect and reverence towards her.

Moreover, she inspired him to become a Hero and served as his role model. He aspired to be like her in the future. In essence, she meant everything to him.

However, Shirou understood that giving such an answer could have the opposite effect in Medea's current condition and potentially worsen her mood. He needed a response that was both simple and true, without any excessive praise.

With a measured breath, he chose his words carefully, understanding that the delicate balance of their conversation hung in the balance.

"...You are my family," he said after a brief moment, making it appear as if he hadn't pondered the answer at all, before he resumed eating.

Medea remained silent, seemingly lost in thought.

"...Have I... have I been a good family?" she asked after some moments.

"...Of course you've been," Shirou replied, as he set down his fork.

A pause hung in the air before he pressed on, unable to suppress his emotions any longer.

"You know... That night... the night of the fire... after I left everyone I knew behind to save my life, but then collapsed, I believed I was all alone, left to perish... but you were there for me. I... I can't find the right words, but having someone to save me when I needed it the most made me incredibly happy... so much that it still overwhelms me to this day. I can't adequately express how grateful I am to have you in my life."

"..."

"I... I should have known that you would never have abandoned me, Nee-san," Shirou commented, a small smile forming on his face as he looked at the table.

However, his attention shifted to Medea as he heard a sob. He looked up and saw her covering her face with one hand, her gaze averted. It was evident that she was either crying or on the verge of tears.

"..."

'Shit. What did I say?' Shirou pondered before rising from his seat and approaching her.

"Nee-san, if you're not feeling well, maybe you should rest? Sometimes, things work out better when you don't push yourself too hard. No matter who you are, carrying too much burden eventually leads to everything crumbling."

"...You're right... It's overwhelming... I... You are someone else... while I'm still right here," Medea uttered, panting heavily and struggling to catch her breath.

"..."

Shirou felt perplexed by her response and behavior, but he set that aside. His priority was to offer his support.

"Nee-san, please tell me what's troubling you..."

"Why should anything be wrong?... I'm fine, Shirou. Why do you ask?" she replied, removing her hand from her face and forcing a smile, though her gaze remained distant.

"...Tell me the truth. You appear pale... and you're sweating profusely," Shirou insisted, stepping closer to her.

"I've told you I'm fine, Shirou," she insisted, distancing herself from him.

Shirou froze at that moment. Previously, Medea would either try to shoo him away or tell him not to bother, but she had never distanced herself from him like this. It was not a promising sign. He understood that it was something he could not disregard.

"What is the issue, exactly? Please, tell me. I want to help you," Shirou pleaded, placing a hand on her shoulder.

...

...

...

"It's just that…"

"What is it?" Shirou inquired, wearing an understanding smile. He hoped that she would finally open up and reveal the truth.

"..."

And she did.

"...I'm... I'm finished. Completely. Physically and mentally. The damages I've done… the pain I've caused… they haunt me. Like all the dead I've left behind, they come looking for me at night. And they scream, Shirou. I've got no peace. The constant reminders of all the horrible things I've done have made it impossible for me to enjoy the majority of those moments that made life worth it, and facing every day all the people who have died or life has been ruined because of me has put me in a constant urge to... disappear. I ruined everything. I lied to everyone. I even ended up convincing a mentally damaged child that I was the last member of his family, for Zeus's sake! When will this hell stop?! ...I can't take it anymore..."

Medea turned her head to watch him for a moment, before taking a deep breath and then sighing with relief.

"...After all these years, I was finally able to say it," she said with a relaxed tone and expression, something that Shirou had not seen in years.

"...Nee-san… what did you just say…?"

"Do not misunderstand my words, Shirou. These ten years have been the best period of my life. I never needed to do anything to assure happiness both for myself, and the people I cared about. And you brought joy to me every day. It may not seem much to you, but there was no need for me to plot or scheme anything, I had no need to fear being betrayed or abandoned, no need to hide or run away… for all this time I was secure... I was safe," She confessed with a composed tone, a hint of shame tingeing her expression.

She briefly looked away, her voice softer and contemplative.

"I would like to say that everything was perfect and that there were no problems... but I have to say that I had too much free time even for my own good... I used a lot of that time to think and meditate... and often, my thoughts drifted toward the past." Medea said as she closed her eyes.

"...I first thought that I could have left everything behind, like 'you' had advised me to do... but in the end, it was impossible for me to do it. When you were a child, every time I saw you smiling at me, you always reminded me of both Mermerous and Phere... and each time, I felt the guilt and the pain of my terrible sin... each time, I felt so bad that I thought that I shouldn't be allowed to live," Medea said as she lowered her head to watch her hands, before she clenched them. "...but then at one point, I convinced myself that everything would have changed once you would have grown. I convinced myself that with time, those thoughts would have gone away... but things only got worse. Not only as you grew up, I started to constantly wonder how my sons would have looked if they reached your age, but as time went on, you grew up, and you became almost like... yourself. The you who I left to die... Gods... you were just seventeen... you were such a sweet, young boy who had an entire life full of hopes, dreams, and opportunities in front of himself... but you ended up being torn to pieces because of the war I involved you in..."

Shirou remained silent, unable to comprehend the direction of Medea's ramblings. However, the weight of shame in her voice was evident to him. Uncertain of where this seemingly aimless and absurd "confession" was leading, he allowed her to continue, observing and listening attentively in an attempt to grasp the inner workings of her mind.

"...I can't help but question why I viewed everyone around me as mere tools... There were no distinctions, really... my allies... my friends... even my own sons... all of them were treated as objects for my own purposes. But how... how did I become this way?" She inquired with genuine wonder, even though she understood that he couldn't provide her with an answer.

At that moment, Medea slowly lifted her head, meeting Shirou's gaze.

"It's perplexing, Shirou, something you cannot fathom... How... how is it possible that, in the end, I ended up loving you more than my own sons?... Was it because I never truly loved them?... Was it because I harbored hatred towards them?... Was it an attempt to somehow redeem myself?... Was it because you held a special place in my heart?... Or could it be that I am not the real Medea, but a mere replica, thus not their true mother?... There are countless possibilities that I... I... I simply do not know..." She spoke with genuine confusion and a profound sense of being lost.

"I swear, Shirou, despite the things I did and said, I truly loved them... I still love them... my love for them is genuine… Is it real…" Medea's face contorted in pain, tears welling up in her eyes. "...but it's real, just like that dreadful resolution I had come to... Gods... What have I done?!" Her voice trembled with agony and remorse. "I should have fled to Athens with them! Even if it meant a life of hardship as beggars, I'm certain we could have found a way to be happy... but just like Jason, I proved that I never truly cared for them... No! I was even worse than him in the end!" Medea's voice grew louder, bordering on a shout. "I was too proud! Too consumed by vengeance! I couldn't let a single one of my enemies mock me from behind! I couldn't even spare my sons from my wrath! ...and it's because of this, that I became what everyone feared me to be... a witch!" She exclaimed.

Shirou simply looked down on her in silence, more confused than ever. The weight of Medea's words settled heavily upon him, their meaning intertwining with his own inner turmoil.

"...From that moment on, I never thought that someone like me could ever find peace... but then you arrived, and things started to... change a little. You... you saved me. You offered me your help. You trusted me. You became my ally... thanks to you, I discovered that even someone like me could do good actions and help others... you did something that no one had ever done before, you made me find a bit of redemption," Medea's voice trembled with a mix of gratitude and regret.

A deep sadness washed over her face as she continued, her words heavy with remorse. "But how have I thanked you in the end? I'm sorry... I'm so sorry that on that night, when you remained alone to fight and die, I wasn't there to rescue you, just as you had once rescued me... I'll never forgive myself for having left you alone at the moment where you needed me the most... but I believe that in the end, I've repaid my debt. You, and all the people you cared for, lived the life you always deserved, and in the future, you will become the hero you always wanted and hoped to be…"

Shirou's confusion and worry grew as Medea lowered her eyes, focusing on the ground before speaking.

"...Heh... I served my purpose... and now it is finally time, isn't it?" She asked, a small, genuine smile appearing on her face.

"It's finally time? What do you mean?" Shirou inquired, his voice filled with confusion.

"It means that my time with you is over," Medea replied, her tone resolute. "No more lies."

"I don't understand... What are you talking about?" Shirou's confusion deepened, now tinged with worry.

This entire conversation seemed to be spiraling into madness. He couldn't fathom why she was uttering these absurdities. Had she become hysterical? Was she experiencing hallucinations, unable to distinguish reality from her imagination?

His knowledge of her past was limited, but he couldn't believe any of the things she had said about his own death or any of the other absurd claims she made. Her mental state must be far worse than he had ever imagined, reaching such a point. How foolish he had been. He should have taken action sooner. He felt like a failure of a human being for allowing the person he cherished most to deteriorate to this extent.

Shirou scolded himself internally, realizing that self-reproach could wait. For now, his focus needed to be on Medea's well-being.

Instead of labeling her as crazy or urgently in need of help, Shirou knew he had to keep her calm and reassure her that everything would be alright. Perhaps by doing so, he could guide her back to a state of reason.

If things took a turn for the worse, he resolved to call Taiga for assistance. However, the thought of Medea resorting to magic and potentially causing harm to others made him reconsider. Urgently, he needed to reach out to Sakura and Rin. Yet, he couldn't afford to divert his attention from Medea. He would have to leave them a message, but the phone was in the hallway. Could he leave her alone even for a few moments?

But out of the corner of his eye, Shirou noticed Medea's movements, causing him to swiftly turn his focus back to her. Until that moment she had remained silent, refusing to speak further, yet he could notice a strong frown forming on her face as she slowly turned to face him. And now, as he looked at her, he realized she was snarling at him.

"...Shirou, you wanted to become a hero, didn't you?! ...Let me test your resolve then," Medea's words carried a tone that seemed to emanate a long-repressed resentment, as she rose to her feet.

A shiver ran down Shirou's spine, causing him to instinctively take a step back. What was unfolding before him? Just moments ago, Medea had been in a state of confusion and self-loathing. Why was she now directing hostility towards him? Had she descended into complete madness? How should he react?

"Now I would say that I'm betraying you... but the truth is that I've already betrayed you... a long, long time ago."

Abruptly, the lights in the room extinguished, plunging them into darkness. In that fleeting moment, Shirou caught a glimpse of Medea's eyes reflecting in the blackness before she vanished without a trace.

Then, a single footstep broke the silence, emanating from behind him.

His survival instincts kicked in, prompting him to act quickly. With a swift movement, Shirou sidestepped just in time, narrowly avoiding Medea's jagged dagger that sliced through the air. Yet, he wasn't completely unscathed. The blade managed to graze his chest, leaving a searing wound.

In that instant, despite the sting of the peculiar dagger cutting through his skin and flesh, a sensation of lightness enveloped him. He felt a subtle release, a loosening of constraints, as if he had been unburdened from something that had held him captive.

Retreating a few steps, Shirou maintained a stoic expression as he stared at the gash on his chest. After a moment, his gaze locked back onto Medea, ready for whatever would come next.

"...What are you doing?" Shirou asked, his voice filled with disbelief, as he instinctively took another step back from Medea. His attention momentarily shifted to examine the wound on his chest, processing the reality of the injury.

He couldn't fathom the fact that she had seemingly descended into madness. What was happening? Why did it have to unfold this way for her? Why did this—?!

'No,' he internally admonished himself, recognizing the need to remain calm. Giving in to panic would only exacerbate the situation and achieve nothing.

"You don't see it, do you?" she asked, her expression filled with a sense of pity for him. "Shirou, I'm offering you my final gift. Now that you are finally freed from the spell I cast upon you, you will receive a new weapon in your arsenal, and you will also come to know the truth," Medea explained, gently raising the dagger, now stained with his own blood, towards his face. "Now, take a closer look at this blade. Absorb its power into your inner world... and uncover its bloody history."

Shirou's heart sank, a sense of dread washing over him. He couldn't comprehend what Medea was talking about, but the implications weighed heavily on his mind.

Shirou's eyes involuntarily lowered, fixating on the blade as his mind was engulfed by a torrent of memories. The flood of images consumed him, unraveling a series of fragmented scenes, each one etching itself deep into his consciousness.

He saw it all—the girl, once filled with hope for true love, taking her brother's life in a twisted act of devotion. The disdainful gaze of a witch, offering liberation from her sins. A man boiled alive by his own daughters, a result of her contrivance. And then, her two sons, blissfully cradled in her arms, with her beloved at her side. It seemed like a perfect existence, one she couldn't have asked for more.

But then came the betrayal, her loved one forsaking her for the allure of a brighter future. The girl, now a woman, alone in her room, weeping, praying, and pleading for vengeance.

And then the vengeance came when he saw the princess and the king consumed by the flames of their own demise. Her sons, once pleading for mercy, meeting their tragic fate at her own hands. The man who betrayed her, crying and begging, his eyes fixed upon the lifeless bodies she held. A hanged corpse.

The subsequent recollections grew hazy and indistinct, branching into various paths. From a new life in Athens to punishment by the gods for her crimes, or a continued existence marked by a never-ending cycle of murder and betrayal on the road.

Then clarity returned to the visions. She wandered through woods, weary and wounded, until she stumbled and fell. And then, someone appeared, rescuing her. Shirou struggled to comprehend the familiarity of the boy—it was himself. He witnessed the woman and the boy conversing, training, summoning other servants, and engaging in the war.

However, the image of this dying, tanned man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to someone he knew, left him utterly bewildered.

But then the boy died, leaving her once again alone. The woman couldn't bear the weight of such isolation. And then, he saw a golden cup materialized before her. Following that, a blonde figure—a girl, immersed in a pool of her own blood. A very young Illya, lifeless on an altar. The Tohsaka residence reduced to ashes. The shattered golden cup, now filled with malevolence. The world transforming around the woman. A burning city. And finally, he saw himself, buried beneath the rubble.

Shirou snapped back to the present, bewildered and shaken, blood trickling from his nose. "What... was that?" he questioned aloud, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of the memories that had overwhelmed him.

Overwhelmed by the weight of the revelations held within the blade, Shirou found himself grappling with the sheer magnitude of the information presented to him.

No, it wasn't merely the quantity of information that troubled him, but the very nature of what he had witnessed.

Had he truly seen different versions of himself? What was the meaning behind these visions? Was it some sort of illusion or trickery? No, he couldn't deny the veracity of the blade's history. It couldn't be manipulated or distorted! What kind of paradoxical reality had he been exposed to?!

"That was the truth," A voice echoed, simultaneously recognizable yet eerily unfamiliar, as though he had never encountered it before.

In the now silent room, the only audible sound was that of air gently brushing against flowing robes. Shirou's gaze shifted, and before him, suspended in mid-air in the middle of the room, was the figure from whom the voice emanated.

"You have seen him, right?" The witch inquired. "There is no witch here," He said. "You're the person I trust the most," he had once said. Heh. Shirou, have you seen how much damage stupidity and naivety can cause?"

Silence hung in the air, leaving Shirou without words to respond.

"That fool trusted me, and look at what has happened. Look at the consequences of his actions!" she exclaimed, frustration, anger and regret evident in her voice. "But I can't really blame him. I had deceived him, like I have done with so many others... he was not the first... he was but one of many."

Taking a step back, Shirou closed his eyes and focused on practicing Square Breathing—a technique Medea had taught him as a child to control his breath and find calmness after his nightmares. He inhaled deeply for four seconds, held his breath for four seconds, exhaled slowly for four seconds, and paused for four seconds before repeating the cycle. Gradually, his racing heart slowed, and his frayed nerves began to settle. It was a practice ingrained within him, a tool to maintain composure during moments of intense stress.

"But you... no, no, no... hehehehe... you're not like him at all. I made you better. I made you stronger. I made you wiser. You... yes... you can make things right," she rambled, her voice turning almost into a whisper.

'She had gone mad... she's dangerous,' Shirou thought to himself, his concern growing by the second. The realization struck him that he could no longer involve Rin and Sakura in this situation. Knowing Medea's true identity and power now, far greater than she had let on, it would only put them in grave danger. He had to face this on his own.

"...I wonder just how much anger and indignation seeing all of the things I've done has caused you to feel. You must hate me for all the innocent blood that I have spilled, don't you? Hehehehehehe..."

Shirou maintained a stoic silence, his eyes locked onto her with an expressionless gaze.

A faint smile curved upon Medea's lips, sensing her inability to read his thoughts. "Yes... Yes... You're just like I wanted you to be. Even in the face of adversity, even in the face of the worst of betrayals... you look so calm, so controlled... your breath is so still," she remarked, her voice trembling, quivering with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

Shirou's fists clenched tightly, his frustration and anger building up within him.

"Oh?! Do I sense a surge of anger within you? Come on, be honest with yourself. There's no need to deny it; deep within, it's undeniable. I can sense it, I can see it - you yearn to strike me down!"

Shirou's shock and anger collided within him, stirring a fire of emotions that clashed against his typically composed demeanor.

But as much as he now hated to admit it, Shirou couldn't deny that he hadn't been groomed to be quick to anger or hatred. He had been taught to maintain complete control in every situation, to have mastery over both the external circumstances and his own emotions.

And while he couldn't condone the atrocities he had witnessed, Medea perhaps hadn't anticipated that he might hesitate to act against her due to their current situation and the bond and relation they shared. She might have anticipated that his fury and indignation, provoked by what he had witnessed, would surge to the forefront, driving him to strike her down in a blaze of hatred. However, having shared the majority of her life's experiences through her perspective, he found himself unable to escape the pull of empathy. He comprehended her thoughts on a profound level, far deeper than she could have possibly realized.

And no matter how much she lied or tried to manipulate reality, he now knew the truth after witnessing her blade.

This, was the culmination of her pain.

The betrayal of her family, Jason's abandonment, the murders of countless innocents, the manipulations and betrayals, the heart-wrenching loss of her children by her own hands… even his own death, and the murders of their allies…

It had all caused her an immense sense of guilt, a guilt that had consumed her and driven her to madness over the years.

And now, standing before him, was the result—a bomb that had already exploded. The timer had run out.

He had experienced her life and had glimpsed her overwhelming divine emotions. He understood their strength. The fact that Medea had endured for ten years spoke volumes about her mental fortitude.

But even after witnessing everything she had done, he knew that she had changed and genuinely regretted her past actions. Seeing Rule Breaker had allowed him to witness the past ten years from her perspective. He saw and felt her transformation, experiencing firsthand how tormented she had been. It couldn't all be lies.

But even if Shirou attempted to dismiss all of this, even if he strived to distance himself from her on every front and aspect, there remained one solitary and pivotal truth he couldn't overlook even in a case of most blind righteousness: She had undertaken all of this for him.

In some measure, it was his responsibility that this intricate web had been woven, that this convoluted tale had unfolded.

The weight of that realization settled upon him like a heavy shroud. He couldn't escape the fact that her actions were, in part, a response to his presence, his influence, his existence in her life. The magnitude of her sacrifices and deceptions, the intricate dance of fate that had played out, was a testament to a connection he couldn't deny.

…Nevertheless, he needed to concentrate on the present moment. Medea was now hysterical, and in the face of her escalating madness, he had to remain as calm as possible.

What truly infuriated him, however, was the sudden realization of what she wanted from him—the truth that dawned upon him as soon as he questioned her intentions.

"Come on, Shirou. Now that you know everything, be a hero... do what you must. Show me that you're ready."

Medea wished for him to end her life.

He couldn't fathom why she desired it or what led her to believe he would fulfill such a request... But he needed to deescalate the situation, to find a middle ground that would satisfy her without succumbing to her madness completely.

Yet, Medea remained deranged and unpredictable. Aware of her volatile state, he knew he needed something to defend himself now that he understood her true identity and the depths she was willing to plunge to achieve her desires.

Projecting a sword with anti-magical properties and strong magical defenses, he carefully observed her reaction. A smile formed on her face, an eerie delight in his choice, as if she considered it a fitting response to the current situation.

Shirou noticed the satisfaction in Medea's expression, but he couldn't help but frown. He was complying with her demands for the sake of appearances, yet his true emotions were far from anger—he was growing increasingly desperate.

"Why is he not attacking me?" she muttered aloud after some moments, leading Shirou to believe that she had seen through his facade.

"...Oh, wait. He must be waiting for me to make the first move, isn't he? ...Yes, after all, I've trained and taught him everything he knows... so it would be quite easy for me to predict him. Good. That was a wise decision, one that, in fact, I had not anticipated. I thought he would pounce on me at the first opportunity," she spoke with a proud smile, but it quickly faded into a frown. "But does he really think he can withstand even one of my attacks?"

Hearing her words sent a chill down Shirou's spine. He had little doubt that Medea would go to extreme lengths, even to the point of severing his limb, in order to force him to harm her. He needed to be in his best possible condition if he hoped to restrain her. To defend himself, he would have to summon his weapons and give them life. However, he knew that even if he commanded them not to, his weapons would prioritize protecting their summoner, which could inadvertently harm or even kill Medea.

Shirou contemplated the unfolding situation, already aware of where it was heading despite Medea's intentions yet to be fully revealed. He knew she would present him with a choice between two evils—to either kill her or witness innocent lives being harmed in her subsequent rampage if he refused to comply. However, he was determined to find a third path, an alternative solution that would avoid both options. No matter what it took, he would strive for that.

This kind of scenario was precisely what he had been trained for throughout his life. He had been prepared to face and combat mythical heroes from any era, to achieve the impossible and emerge victorious against insurmountable odds. And ironically, it was Medea herself who had imparted this training upon him.

In situations like these, his first instinct was to recall everything he could from "The Art of War," a book Medea had given him after he made a promise to become a hero. She had emphasized its potential importance in the future, and it had indeed proven useful in various sparring sessions and exercises.

It wasn't a complex treatise on war like Carl von Clausewitz's "On War," nor would it provide him with a foolproof plan. But often, it served to remind him of the most obvious paths, the strategies he might overlook in moments of haste or under pressure.

He remembered some of the quotes:

"Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night. And when you move, fall like a thunderbolt."

That was crucial. If Medea knew the true direction of his plan or its underlying purpose, everything would be lost.

"One mark of a great soldier is that he fights on his own terms or fights not at all."

Engaging in direct combat with Medea was a terrible idea from the start. It was something he wished to avoid, but if he was forced into it, he would have to exploit any advantage or consider alternative methods of fighting her.

"Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance."

No, this tactic would not work against her. She knew his capabilities too well. It might prove effective against other Servants who perceived him as a mere human, but Shirou had become the person he was precisely because of Medea.

"Know the enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles, you will never be in peril."

That was it. He knew himself and Medea better than she realized in the current situation.

He began to survey his surroundings. The room appeared narrow, leaving little room for movement. Engaging in close quarter combat was not her strong suit, and he doubted she had set any traps or rigged the place. His objective was simple: find the opportune moment to catch her off guard.

He carefully observed her. The adversary's strength was not the sole factor at play; their intelligence mattered as well. In that regard, she surpassed him in that aspect as well, but there was a crucial weakness in Medea's current state. Despite her remarkable intellect, she was evidently emotionally and psychologically vulnerable, which would undoubtedly impede her reasoning.

He needed to exploit this vulnerability to his advantage in any way possible. However, first, he had to gain a clear understanding of her mindset.

Recalling the image of Rule Breaker, he revisited the owner's history, focusing solely on the last ten years. Evident indications of hysteria, imposter syndrome, personality disorder, cognitive dissonance, depressive disorder, identity crisis, and even tendencies toward suicidal behavior raced across his thoughts.

Shirou concluded that Medea's mental state was probably ensnared in a condition of intense inner conflict, yet he couldn't definitively determine whether these disruptions covered all or only a portion of the struggles afflicting her.

Nevertheless, even in such a state, she should not be underestimated. Medea was still one of the best mages from the Age of the Gods. If she truly desired his demise, he would undoubtedly meet his end.

A mere whisper from her could halt his heart or turn him into a bloody mist, but this was just the beginning of what she could do in a direct fight where she was supposedly weakest. If she had rigged the home, escape would be impossible. However, she had a different agenda now—to toy with him and provoke him into killing her.

"Shirou, always keep in mind that excessive confidence can gradually and subtly lead to downfall," a memory surfaced in Shirou's thoughts—words once spoken by Medea.

Observing their present predicament and Medea's attitude, he comprehended her significant underestimation of him. She believed she could effortlessly manipulate him into compliance, assuming he had no alternatives. She regarded him as a mere puppet at her mercy, denying him any genuine agency in the situation.

But he was determined to prove her wrong, no matter what, no matter how.

Unlike his predecessors, he understood when it was necessary to cast aside restraint...

So he had to use this opportunity to his advantage, making sure not to make a single wrong move, as everything depended on it.

But first, he needed a contingency plan should everything take a turn for the worst.

Drawing from his observations of her history, Shirou had come to understand the mechanics behind her abilities. Medea's High Speed Divine Language granted her the privilege of activating magic devoid of the need to engage her Magic Circuits or utter intricate incantations. Remarkably, even spells of substantial magnitude could be set into motion through a mere singular action. This language hailed from an era of gods, rendering it beyond the reach of contemporary humans to articulate.

Thankfully, modern times limited her from unleashing the most powerful ones. But still, she could manipulate the surrounding mana without cessation, ensuring a continuous barrage of magic regardless of the fight's duration.

How could he efficiently disarm her if things took a turn for the worse?

Breaking both her arms and silencing her would be a good start. While cutting or breaking her arms seemed feasible, dealing with her tongue posed a challenge. A reinforced uppercut while she chanted her spell might make her bite it off, or perhaps shattering her jaw could suffice. Yet, even in such a state, she would remain a dangerous threat, possibly requiring him to blind her too.

However, he also needed to consider her innate ability to regenerate. Although he questioned whether she retained the capacity to fully regrow a limb after transitioning from her spirit form, he held no uncertainty that almost any injury, regardless of its severity, could swiftly mend due to her divine lineage nad magical nature. The only exception would be if the injury bore a potent curse. He had not yet come into possession of weapons of such caliber. The ones crafted by Medea were not potent enough to possess such powers.

Such wounds might be fatal to others, but as a supernatural being, Medea would endure. And even if he was somehow able to mortally wound her, with the use of Avalon, he could slow the bleeding and keep her from dying. The house was equipped with curative potions, balms, bandages, and various trinkets, providing the means to heal whatever damage he caused.

His determination was unwavering—to save her from herself and protect the city.

He would not falter. He would not fail.

With the last resort plan settled, he now focused on the main one.

As he had observed, she was mentally weaker in her current state than physically, making it easier to defeat her in a psychological fight. If he chose his words carefully, he might be able to calm her and defuse the situation entirely.

However, he could also capitalize on her cognitive dissonance to create an opportunity...

Cognitive dissonance is the discomfort caused by holding conflicting ideas simultaneously.

Her self-hatred was immense, and she wanted him to kill her, but to what extent was she willing to hurt him? She knew that he genuinely loved her as a mother and sister, and putting him in this situation had taken a toll on his mind. Yet, in her self-hatred, she had convinced herself that he now hated her just as much, without a second thought or doubt.

He could use this to his advantage.

If he managed to make her realize that she was mistaken – that he didn't harbor hatred towards her – would it lead to her confusion? Could it instill doubt and hesitation within her? Or might it trigger an episode of blind rage?

All he required was for it to buy him even the briefest moment of distraction.

In her present condition, she had failed to take into account the knowledge he possessed about her motivations. Even amidst his justified indignation, he couldn't disregard the undeniable reality that she had rescued him and dedicated the preceding decade of her existence to him. Beneath the weight of her own remorse over raising a child, she had still persisted.

Some intrinsic significance had to be inherent in their bond. If he delved deeply into his comprehension of her, he could perceive himself as akin to a son in her eyes, a figure she cherished profoundly.

He wasn't entirely sure how to process everything he had discovered, but outright killing her wasn't the option that came to mind. No, what he knew he had to do now was to deescalate the situation.

For now, the best course of action was to wait for whatever had come to her mind to subside, and then he would deliver the decisive blow.

He began to pace back and forth, and Medea readied herself for the impending confrontation.

But as minutes passed, Medea noticed something unusual. Shirou wasn't preparing to attack or waiting for her to make a move; he seemed to be doing… nothing, wasting time. Familiar with his thought process and actions due to her training, she knew Shirou would never waste time in similar circumstances. He was always either planning something or...

Medea's mental rambling was interrupted when she asked, "...Are you hesitating?" Her tone was tinged with disgust.

Shirou flinched, acting as if she had seen right through him. They locked eyes, and Medea appeared genuinely confused by his lack of action. She couldn't comprehend why he hesitated to strike down a wicked murderer like her, despite witnessing everything she had done.

"...If you cannot kill the absolute evil that stands right in front of you, then how can you even hope to become a hero in the future? The truth is simple, Shirou. Why are you having so many difficulties accepting it? Should you refuse, you'll find yourself losing everything once more…" Medea spoke, her tone cold.

Struggling to find the right words, Shirou interrupted her, fearing that if he didn't comply with her desires, she would resort to something horrible. He needed to create a facade of fear, confusion, and insecurity. "I... I can't do it," he stammered, his voice trembling. "If I kill you, I'll lose myself here and now... so please, don't do this to me... mom."

Whatever words were poised on Medea's lips to follow, they perished unspoken.

A heavy silence enveloped Medea. An inexplicable chill raced down her spine the moment that cursed word reached her ears.

Her heart clenched in anguish. She brought a trembling hand to her forehead, feeling the ache radiate within. Echoes of Meremrus and Phere's calls reverberated through her thoughts. The countless instances of Shirou innocently addressing her as "mom" during his younger years surged to the forefront of her mind. An inundation of joyful memories, each a source of torment, inundated her consciousness. Amid the tide, the haunting remembrances of her past misdeeds inundated her soul, each a searing pang of pain. Overwhelmed, she found herself unable to bear the weight of these memories and emotions, a tempestuous storm within her as she grappled with the unfathomable depth of agony that surged through her.

But what cut her deepest was the dawning understanding that, despite all, Shirou's affection for her persisted…

Gods, what had she come to?! What was she doing?! Was her desperation truly this profound?! Could she truly be…-!

Then, a sudden stillness swept over everything.

The ache in her stomach, the teardrops in her eyes... they simply ceased to be, as if extinguished.

Abruptly, once more resembling the pattern of the past, Medea's mind transformed into steel.

She could not permit transient things like her emotions to obstruct her path. Her objective demanded fulfillment, regardless of the toll. She wouldn't go so far as to end his life, but if Shirou wouldn't act as necessary, she would compel him. The choice lay between her and someone else dear to him, destined to perish. Medea knew Shirou could never stand idly by.

Briefly, Medea contemplated who held the closest ties to Shirou.

Rin or Sakura... Which of them should I target first? And who should meet their end should he hesitate?

Her eyes, brimming with a cruel and monstrous determination, opened wide, devoid of kindness or mercy... yet they widened further as she found herself face to face with Shirou.

In a fraction of time too swift to comprehend, she found herself face to face with Shirou. Then, his forceful impact crashed into her, stealing her breath and sending her sprawling to the ground.

Before Medea could even gather her bearings, Shirou swiftly began to subdue her. She wasn't mentally prepared, nor was she an adept in physical combat. The advantage was firmly in his grasp. This needed to end promptly.

"AGH! GET OFF! LEAVE ME!" she screamed, voice laden with desperation. "Aεp-!"

But her incantation was cut short, replaced by a searing pain erupting within her chest, causing her to gasp for air.

Her gaze lowered, fixing on a short dagger deeply embedded in her chest, piercing through her right lung. In an instant, she recognized the dagger – a magical creation she had crafted for Shirou. Designed to amplify the pain of its inflicted wounds manifold, disrupting any focus or concentration. Ideal for facing formidable mages. Ideal for their current dire situation.

And indeed, it functioned as intended. Her concentration shattered, and she was consumed by a primal, piercing agony. The pain wrung from her a guttural scream, each breath a struggle that only exacerbated the torment inflicted by the blade.

However, just as Shirou had feared, it wasn't yet enough.

"Αεpo!" Medea managed to rasp amidst ragged breaths, the syllables escaping her lips despite the excruciating suffering.

In a split-second maneuver, Shirou leaped away from her, narrowly evading the spell that would have likely obliterated his right arm. However, he wasn't unscathed, as a deep gash marred his forearm.

In that fleeting interval, Medea attempted to rise, but her movements were sluggish, hampered by the lingering impact of the initial blow. Shirou capitalized on this vulnerability, swiftly hurtling back towards her, propelling her into the wall behind her with a forceful collision, her head absorbing the impact.

Disbelief coursed through Medea. Given her capabilities, she should have been capable of contending even with Servants like Saber in confined spaces, let alone Shirou.

Yet, she found herself unprepared for a full-blown confrontation with him, neither mentally nor physically in peak condition.

Before she could regain her footing, Shirou was upon her once more, ensuring the dagger he had plunged into her was agonizingly twisted. The pain shattered her concentration, thwarting her attempt at recovery. With her hands restrained and avenues of attack blocked, she was left with raw physical strength as her sole recourse against Shirou's dominance. As they grappled, during a moment of their struggle, her eyes locked onto his. In that gaze, she discerned an absence of hesitation or uncertainty regarding his course of action. His eyes still bore that unmistakable iron will.

'...Good,' she thought, breathless, in a fleeting moment.

He remained exactly as she had crafted him—ruthless to those who opposed him, a master of any battlefield, unflinching in the face of adversity.

Medea had always pitied those she foresaw opposing him in the future, for he possessed an unrelenting spirit. He knew no exhaustion, no hesitation, and no failure. He would overcome every obstacle to secure his rightful victory.

…But for this night, she was determined to withhold that victory, to make him savor his first and most bitter taste of defeat.

Still, Medea had to acknowledge that she was in a precarious position, uncertain of how events would unfold from this point onward. They remained distant from the backyard, where this all would ultimately culminate. She observed Shirou's current restraint, yet she harbored the conviction that, regardless of the circumstances, it would ultimately conclude just as she had foreseen...

Amid the ongoing struggle, as Medea relentlessly battled to repel Shirou, her attention was drawn to the pool of blood that stained the ground. In that instant, an idea formed within her mind. Her composure faltered too swiftly for her to weave complex spells, her hands were restrained, preventing her from casting without risking self-inflicted harm, and her wound continued to escalate. Given these constraints, she considered utilizing her own blood as a catalyst for magic.

In the midst of her dire circumstances, what would be the most strategic application for this unconventional resource?

Before the blood could coalesce into meaningful runes or harness any energy, unexpectedly, a jagged dagger impaled the puddle, instantly disrupting their magical potential.

Horror etched across Medea's features as she witnessed Rule Breaker detach from the ground and returning to levitate in the air. She realized that at some point, Shirou must have projected it and triggered the power of his Magic Crest.

Now, Medea confronted not only Shirou, but also a facet of herself intimately familiar with her thoughts and actions.

For more than five agonizing minutes, she fought, grunted, and wailed. Yet, the situation remained unchanged. Despite her supernatural strength, Shirou effortlessly maintained control. Each attempt to rise was met with forceful opposition, each effort to remove the knife that intensified her pain with every movement was thwarted as Shirou repeatedly plunged another one back into her. Escapes from his holds were swiftly countered and quashed.

And as she teetered on the brink of casting magic that could potentially reverse her dire circumstances, her own enchanted blade interjected, while Shirou inched closer and closer to victory.

At a juncture she couldn't precisely pinpoint, Medea's eyes fluttered open as consciousness trickled back into her awareness.

Her gaze meandered sluggishly, revealing to her that she must have succumbed to unconsciousness at some indistinct moment.

Yet, the paramount realization was the gradual resurgence of her rationale and lucidity, intertwined with her regained consciousness.

Surveying her immediate surroundings, she recognized a profound ache permeating her, a visceral exhaustion consuming her both physically and mentally. Movement and thought seemed onerous tasks.

In her supine state, it dawned on her that Shirou lay atop her, the grip of an arm-triangle choke loosened enough to restore blood circulation to her head. The weight pressed the embedded dagger deeper into her abdomen, and her dislocated right arm was painfully confined behind her back by the combined pressure of both of them. The space between them was minimal, their faces almost aligned.

She shifted her eyes to meet his gaze, finding his stare reciprocated.

She then redirected her gaze to the ceiling, a mental sigh escaping her. Medea understood that her efforts had come to naught.

'...This... cannot be. My vision could not be wrong…' she thought in disbelief.

Despite her conviction, reality unfolded in stark contrast to her predictions. The course of events had taken an unexpected turn, casting doubt upon the certainties she had held. Medea grappled with the unsettling notion that perhaps, for the first time, her foresight had faltered.

At this juncture, she had lost all motivation to continue the fight. Her current state left her devoid of the strength and will required to repel Shirou or to devise any strategy to compel him.

Yet, she grasped the fact that Shirou, for reasons known only to him, harbored no intention of ending her life. And while it was unlikely that he had intentionally orchestrated this, his struggle against her, his blows, and the use of that cursed dagger that brought unimaginable pain – they all coalesced into a form of affliction she had always secretly craved.

Through these agonizing actions, he had wounded her in a manner aligned with her deepest desires. The excruciating torment was akin to a penance, a torturous expiation for her grievous sins. Strangely, it felt like the punishment she had long yearned for, granting a measure of solace.

In this configuration, they lingered for a minute or so, from the moment Medea regained consciousness.

"...Tell me, boy, are you treating me like this because you have seen my suffering? Do you understand my pain?" She inquired after several minutes of tense silence.

As she reevaluated everything, Medea arrived at a conclusion she should have already foreseen, given her extensive knowledge of his abilities. However, in her previous delirious state, more pressing matters had occupied her thoughts.

"I did," he replied, his tone frigid.

"...And you believe that justifies any of my crimes?"

"No. But that's a matter we need to discuss, Medea. I am neither a judge nor an executioner. You should know this."

She knew he was right. This wasn't how she had raised him, after all.

Several minutes elapsed in silence after that revelation. Medea couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort, not because she had been defeated, but because she sensed the futility of prolonging the battle now that it was over. However, after her actions, it took her some time to gather the courage to ask him the question that lingered on her mind.

"Could you... let me go?" she inquired after a pause.

"Have you calmed down?" Shirou immediately countered.

"...Yes," she replied, noticing his swift reaction. She wasn't sure if it stemmed from his heightened alertness or anticipation of her request.

"Can I trust you to refrain from doing anything stupid?" he pressed further.

"...Yes," she answered honestly. With uncertainty clouding her understanding of where things were headed, she chose to observe.

"Very well, then," Shirou replied after a moment.

He complied with her request, surprising Medea with his actions and demeanor. She almost couldn't believe that he had actually released her. However, despite his trust, it was evident he remained vigilant and prepared to act at a moment's notice, his body still reinforced.

Medea sat up and, after repositioning her arm, she began to regain feeling in her right limb as blood flowed back into it. After a while, she removed the dagger from her belly, wincing in pain. Her robes were marred by cuts, tears, and bloodstains, while the exposed parts of her body bore dozens of scars. She noticed her natural regeneration still functioned, even though she was no longer a spirit.

With a simple wave of her hand, the wounds closed entirely, and the scars vanished. She then touched her face and detected a busted lip and a broken nose, from which blood continued to trickle. These injuries she healed as well.

Without the strength to rise, she remained seated on the ground before glancing up, finding Shirou looming over her, his fists planted on his hips. Now, it was unmistakable. He was furious.

"I... I have no words. I don't even know where to start with you..." Shirou's voice quivered with a mix of anger and disappointment as he began to speak.

Before Medea could utter a word, Shirou launched into a tirade, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. He berated her for her inconsiderate, irrational, and reckless actions. Medea chose to remain silent, absorbing his words like blows, fully aware of the validity in his chastisement.

"-I love you, Nee-san! You're my family! You're all I have! H-H-How could you ever think that I would harm you?! I'd do anything for you! Do you understand just how much you've frightened me?!"

As Shirou's thoughts poured forth, Medea felt an overwhelming sense of shame wash over her. She despised herself even more in that moment, realizing how foolish she had been to entertain the thought, even hope, that he might simply kill her.

But beyond her selfish desires for an end to her suffering, she couldn't escape the reality of what she had done to him in their battle as she looked him. The wound that slashed across his chest was the first undeniable evidence of the pain she had inflicted, not to mention the numerous cuts and burns that marred his clothes and flesh. Glancing around, she widened her eyes in astonishment as she took in the devastation that had befallen the living room and kitchen. It was a chaotic scene of almost total destruction.

And now, instead of tending to his own injuries or attempting to rectify the mess she had caused, Shirou's unwavering focus was solely on her...

She knew that Avalon in its current state could only halt the bleeding, and even her magic couldn't mend the damage fully. Those scars would be etched into his flesh for the rest of his life, a constant reminder of the pain she had inflicted.

…

…

…

However, just as it had happened before, those dark and selfish thoughts invaded her mind once again...

...Did she truly care about him? Or was she still wrapped in her own selfish desires? If she genuinely cared, wouldn't she have avoided this confrontation altogether? Wouldn't she have refrained from attacking him?

The confusion gnawed at her. Shirou had witnessed everything. By now, he must have understood her just as well as she did herself. So why did he harbor such pity for her? Were his feelings for her that unshakable?

"...Despite everything you've learned... you still love me?" She asked, her voice carrying both hurt and disbelief. The question baffled her.

"Yes, more than anything else! I'd do anything for you!"

"...Would you really do anything for me?" She repeated, her tone tinged with sorrow.

"Of course! How can I make you understand!? What do I have to do to prove it?!" He responded, his desperation evident.

...

...

...

Medea lowered her eyes, as a sinister and cruel idea, befitting of her character, slithered into her mind. She decided to wager everything on it.

After all, he had declared that he would do anything for her.

"Shirou... if I asked you to end my life, would you do it?" She asked, locking her gaze with his.

"...What?" Shirou finally spoke after a long, profound silence.

He felt defeated, speechless, and almost hopeless. His arms suddenly felt leaden, as though they might fall off.

"Listen, I'm... I'm not asking you to do it for justice, vengeance, or any grand, noble cause. It was foolish of me to even think that you would consider such an act in the first place... but... if it's for me... would you do it? Because I truly desire it..." Medea's gaze fell to the ground before rising to meet Shirou's. "...And you said you'd do anything for me..."

Hearing that, Shirou clenched and ground his teeth. How could she dare to wield his own words against him for something as abhorrent as this?!

"...Would you be able to do it if I asked you? ...Or do I have to get on my knees and beg you?" She asked, stretching her arms and grasping his shirt to pull him closer.

But Shirou remained immovable, a statue gazing at her with a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

What truly horrified him in that moment was the calmness in her voice. This wasn't a sudden whim or a moment of madness like before. This request was too calm, too deliberate, as if it had been... expected? planned? prepared? He couldn't find the right word. How long had these thoughts brewed in her mind? How much time had she spent contemplating that very question?

"...J-Just look at you! You're not yourself! Whatever is plaguing your mind has changed you! This isn't you! You're being overly emotional and irrational!" Shirou tried to reason with her.

"You're the irrational one!" Medea snapped back. "If you truly understand my pain, then why are you being so selfish? Why won't you show me mercy?! You know I can't bear the weight of what I've done!"

He stared at her, flabbergasted.

Shirou had succeeded in deescalating the situation and averting a potential tragedy. But now, doubt began to take root in his mind and worm its way into his very core. He found himself reflecting on everything he had witnessed.

All of it.

...How... How could he help her?

What could he possibly do for her? She had committed so many heinous acts, too many to even begin comprehending. How could he ever guide her toward inner peace? How could he aid her in seeking redemption?

As he stood there, Shirou's mind felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

Shirou felt overwhelmed by the weight of Medea's terrible past, and his mind raced with thoughts of redemption. It was a difficult truth to accept, learning about the things she has done, the choices she made that caused so much pain and harm to others.

His heart ached as he grappled with the realization that the person he loved and admired deeply for all of his life was also capable of the most depraved and cruel acts that he had ever seen.

And amidst that despair, he can't help but wonder just how he could help her find any kind of redemption… or if there was anything that he could do.

First and foremost, he knew that any kind of judgment would not serve them well. Instead of condemning her, he would need to offer a non-judgmental space where she could confront her past and take responsibility for her actions…

...But how could he accomplish it?! She had already confronted and regretted her actions, reaching the point where she viewed suicide as her only escape!

It was obvious that no matter what, It would not be an easy journey, but perhaps he should believe in the power of… positive acknowledgment and self-reflection.

Next, he would encourage her to seek forgiveness from those she has wronged. But It was not possible because everyone she had harmed had technically died. It was not a simple matter such as trust that could not easily be regained.

Sure, genuine remorse and efforts to make amends can pave the way for healing and restoration. But her actions could not be amended, and he knew what kind of amendment she wished to have.

But perhaps he should stand by her side, and guide her towards understanding the impact of her actions and helping her find meaningful ways to make reparations.

…The best thing he could do was to advocate for her personal growth and transformation.

Everyone has the capacity to change, to become better versions of themselves. And while Medea had already regretted what she had done, he had to help her live with herself.

He would support her in seeking therapy, counseling, or any other means necessary to address the underlying issues that led to her past actions… but those were not matters that they could go speaking about.

No, he needed to focus on personal development, so she can learn from her mistakes and actively work towards becoming a force of good in the world in the hope for her to find peace with herself.

But he... he was in dire need of help now.

Desperately in need, he recognized that he couldn't bear this burden alone. These were not the kinds of challenges he had been prepared to confront.

Could he turn to Rin and Sakura for assistance? Perhaps just Rin, as she seemed more mature and capable of...

...No...

First and foremost, could he trust either of them with such a dark secret? The weight of Medea's actions pressed down on him like a boulder. What she had done was beyond forgiveness, but he had managed to understand and forgive her to some extent.

However, if Sakura and Rin learned the extent of her deeds, they might refuse to help her, or even become hostile...

...and if they did turn against Medea for what she had done, what would he do? How should he handle them if they reached that point? The mere thought of raising arms against them sent Shirou's head spinning and his stomach churning...

The entire situation could escalate from bad to worse if things went awry, and he acted too hastily...

...For now, his only option was to concentrate on Medea. The rest could be contemplated at a later time. He had to manage this on his own, for the time being.

"No, I will not have 'mercy' of you. I don't want to hurt you, let alone kill you... but I have to admit that our current situation is difficult. We do not have many alternatives."

"So just do what is righ-"

"You also have to know that I know what made you like this, and what pushed you to do the things you did. So for me, as much as it is hard for you to believe, it is hard to hate you. You understand?"

"…"

"I… I know that you will never be able to make up for any of the horrible things you did… but maybe, if we work together, we will be able to change you for the better. You will be able to become a better person," Shirou said as he kneeled and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. "Nee-san, you do not have to be alone in this. You do not have to think that death is the only remaining option for you. Please, let me help you."

"...I'm sorry, but no... no... it is far too late for that now," she said as she got up, gently moving aside Shirou's hand. "There is nothing I could ever do to redeem myself, and you know it..."

Shirou said nothing as he stood up, his mind racing for the right words.

"I'm sorry that it had to come to this..." Medea then said.

Shirou raised his eyes to look at her, puzzled. Why was she apologizing? Didn't she want him to harm her? Then why seek forgiveness for what she was doing…

"Do not say you're sorry... being sorry will not undo all the things you've done… and all of this," he said with a bitter tone, wondering if Medea had any idea of the position she had just put him in…

"I know..."

"...You know? So, now that you're starting to regret everything you did, you think this is the opportunity for penance?! And you're even asking me of all people to-!"

"No," Medea interrupted him. "I'm not looking for penance, Shirou, and if you want to know the truth, I will never regret the things I had to do to save you. I… I just regret everything before it."

"..."

"...And what about that other matter? Who else should handle it?" she inquired. "Should I tackle it alone? I'm nothing but a coward. I could never bring myself to do it, no matter how dire the circumstances... but you, you are the sole source of joy in my life, the only person I've ever truly cared for... you mean everything to me. Just as I once wished for you to care for me, now I wish for you to bury me," she conveyed, gently guiding his right hand to her cheek and gazing at him with tender eyes.

Shirou yearned to be astonished, to be taken aback, but he found himself strangely unfazed. After all, what else could he expect from the woman who had, out of both love and a desire to spare them from the grim consequences of her own actions, taken the lives of her own sons? And who had also acted out of hatred and vengeance, seeking retribution against their father, Jason, for his betrayal?

"...Please, Nee-san, I implore you, release yourself from the burden of guilt that weighs you down, for it can bring no good to either of us. Henceforth, the only decision that matters is the kind of person you wish to become," Shirou stated before pausing momentarily. "...if... if you cannot do it for yourself, then do it for me," he continued, closing the distance between them.

"For me?" Medea responded, her tone almost derisive. "If I truly cared about your desires, I would never have taken the lives of everyone you held dear. You truly do not understand me, Shirou. These past ten years have been nothing but a facade. The true me would sooner see the world reduced to ashes than continue living in it, drowning in misery and self-pity!"

Shirou's patience was wearing thin, and the contradictions in Medea's words were becoming increasingly frustrating. He was the person she claimed to care for the most, yet it seemed she didn't care for him at all. She had once dedicated herself to molding him into the best version of himself, but now it seemed she was determined to dismantle the very essence of who he was. Her love for him had been unwavering from the moment she had rescued him, but now she showed no hesitation in attempting to maim him. Did she even comprehend the conflicting messages she was conveying? But then, a troubling thought crossed his mind—a thought he loathed but couldn't ignore, one that might explain everything..

"These ten years have been a lie?... Then... you don't care about me at all? ...Am I just a replacement for you? ...Could it be that you raised me just to have me end your life? ...Do you miss 'him' that much?"

Medea fell silent, but Shirou's questions had struck a nerve.

"..." Shirou withdrew his hand from her grasp and took a step back.

"No. Please, Shirou, don't say such things; you're misunderstanding..." Medea stammered, her eyes pleading with him.

"You underestimate me, Medea. I understand more than you think. You admitted yourself that 'I' was someone else," he responded, his stare now bitter and cold.

In this moment, despite her desire to be relieved of her guilt and to die by his hand, Medea couldn't bear the thought of Shirou hating her in that way. It went against her objectives and everything she was currently attempting to achieve, yet, she couldn't accept to let him even think that her love for him might have never been genuine.

"Please, Shirou, try to understand that I was becoming delirious... I didn't mean to say anything that would hurt you... I was just confused..."

He remained silent for a moment before speaking again.

"No matter what I think, I still don't see how things can end well... Is that really my only option? Do I have to become that Shirou who values everyone's life above his own for you to care about me?"

"What?" Medea was taken aback.

"Do I need to prioritize everyone else's life over mine? Do I have to risk my life just to find out if you truly care about me?" he asked.

Medea could see the determination in his eyes. She understood that he was willing to go to such lengths just to ascertain his importance to her.

"Don't say such hurtful things, Shirou... you're hurting me..."

"Oh... am I?" He asked while wiping the blood from his left eye that had been stained by a trickle of blood that had come from the top of his forehead.

Medea clenched her teeth as she realized the hypocrisy of her actions. The bleeding might have been staunched, but at this point, he was drenched in both his own blood and hers. She had wounded him and placed him in this position because of her selfish desires. But what he was contemplating was too much. She had gone to such lengths to ensure he would never become that kind of person again.

"Shirou, I can understand your anger and lack of trust, but for me... it's difficult to explain, but for me, you are all the same person. Can you understand?"

"...How can I trust you? You would never have done such a thing to him, right?"

Medea was left speechless for a moment, then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to regain her composure.

"... Shirou, even if I were lying, you have to understand that I loved that boy for maybe a month at most... but I've loved you for ten years at least. There's no comparison or competition... can you see that?"

After a moment, Shirou averted his gaze from her, clenching his teeth and fists. His heart ached intensely, making it impossible for him to meet her eyes.

"I don't understand. You say things like this and expect me to kill you?"

His doubts and fears about being a replacement had vanished, replaced by an indescribable fear that gripped his heart.

"Yes, I do. I've revealed my true nature to you, and you know what I am now. I'm a witch who, no matter where she went, brought only death and disgrace. Due to my misguided actions and selfish desires, I ignored your wishes and pursued my own path. I desecrated the memory of your nonexistent grave. I took the lives of your loved ones. I brought shame to all your efforts and rendered them meaningless by causing the deaths of who knows how many people... I... I became the very thing you despised the most."

"..."

"The time has come, Shirou, and you have to act. Be a hero, kill me, and make this world a better place."

"How could I?"

"You saved me. You did everything in your power to help me... and yet I've condemned not only you but also everyone you loved to darker fates. So, for the greater good of everything and everyone, kill me. End it now before I somehow ruin everything again... you have to do it."

...

...

"Can't we just forget what just happened and... go back to our normal lives?"

"No."

He could feel the finality in her response. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

"Can't you just forget your past?"

"I've already told you that I can't."

"Then... can't you just... like... run away from it? Ignore it?"

"For my entire life, all I've done is run away from the consequences of my actions... but now, I'm tired of running. I can't run anymore, and I don't want to. It's over."

Shirou tensed at hearing those words. It was over? How could it be over? It couldn't end like this!

"Nothing is over! You can't take back what you've done, but-!"

"No! I knew what I was doing, Shirou!" Medea declared as she grabbed his shoulder and drew closer to him. "I was free! And this world that yearned to witness your failure, your demise, and your oblivion... I reduced it to ashes!"

"But I can't let you-!"

"Shirou! I've told you numerous times the harsh truth: some people must die to make this world a better place... and... that night, you promised me that you would become the hero this world needed, isn't that so?" She told him, wearing a genuine yet sly smile and wide eyes, fully aware of just how much that promise meant to him and the effect its mention would have on him.

Shirou gazed at her with disbelief, feeling the weight of her words and the manipulation of his sincere promise weighing on him.

"Are you my little hero... or not?" She asked again.

"I... I made that promise because I wanted to make you happy! I wanted you to be proud of me! Because I wanted to be just like you!" Shirou finally lost his composure, and anger surged within him. He had reached his breaking point. This level of stress was something he had never been prepared to face. How could she dare to manipulate him? How could she twist such a pure promise filled with happiness and childlike naivety for her twisted and selfish purposes?

"I've always been proud of you. So there's no need for any of that," she coldly rebuked, concealing from him the fact that he would, in some way, become like her whether he liked it or not.

"How... How can you be so selfish to ask me to do something like this?!"

"...You think that what I desire now is selfish? Hah! Then what were all the other things I ever did?"

"..."

"I know that the truth is hard to hear, Shirou. But it's time. I'm all that's left. And we can't live this lie forever."

"...But we-"

"SHUT UP, SHIROU! MAN UP! AND DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO!" Medea suddenly screamed, her voice wild and hysterical.

Shirou remained shocked, his mouth agape, unable to respond. In that moment, he realized that never in the past ten years had Medea ever shouted at him. Even in comparison to what had happened just minutes earlier, he had never seen her reach such a breaking point.

As Shirou reflected on the earlier moment when Medea had smiled while declaring that it was her time, he finally grasped the depth of her emotions. Never before had he seen someone exhibit such a mix of delight, anger, and desperation, all in the pursuit of their own death.

How could he help her? What could he possibly do for her?

Lost in his thoughts, Shirou didn't notice when Medea walked away and approached the door. However, as she stopped just short of leaving, he turned to look at her and saw the shame in her eyes, along with the clear hurt she was experiencing.

"Look... if... if you truly want to save someone who's worth the effort, you should know that two weeks from now, in the forest near the Ryuudou temple, there will be someone who will need your help... and I ask you to take care of her to the best of your ability, as she's someone who truly is not guilty of anything," Medea said, hesitating as she prepared to leave.

Shirou's eyes widened as he comprehended the gravity of her request.

At that moment, he wanted to chase after her, to ensure she wasn't left alone. But he questioned what he could achieve, what he could accomplish, and his legs felt as if they were weighed down, immobilizing him.

And so, Shirou remained frozen in the midst of his tumultuous emotions, watching as Medea departed. But before she disappeared from his sight, she glanced back at him one final time, her expression filled with sadness, leaving a haunting image etched in his memory.

The echoes of that unexpected violent episode reverberated in his mind, each thud of his racing heart mimicking the chaos that had unfolded just moments ago. The world around him seemed to blur, his surroundings fading into an abstract mix of colors and shapes, as his thoughts swirled in a maelstrom of doubt and fear.

He replayed the violent episode in his mind, the way his Medea's eyes had lost their warmth, the harsh words that had escaped her lips, the lack of hesitation in casting spells that would have maimed him, and the sense of helplessness that had filled the air.

Now, she had departed, wearing that same heart-wrenching expression she had worn ten years prior. Shirou couldn't bear to see her like that; he couldn't endure that expression. It was something he had never been able to tolerate.

…But he also feared the unknown path that lay ahead. What if he chased her and only made things worse? What if his efforts pushed her farther away?

Shirou's chest tightened as he battled the torrent of questions flooding his mind. Could he truly make a difference? Would his presence be a solace or a burden to Medea? The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him, holding him captive even as his heart pleaded for action. He wanted to be her anchor, to ease her pain, but the path forward was shrouded in uncertainty.

As he stood there, lost in the storm of his emotions, a distant voice within him began to surface—a voice that whispered of resilience and courage. Memories of Medea's comforting embrace, the laughter they had shared, and the warmth of their bond began to seep through the cracks in his doubt-ridden mind.

He realized that even if he couldn't foresee the outcome, taking action was better than succumbing to the inertia of his own hesitations.

With a surge of determination, Shirou's mind sharpened as he passed his right hand across his body, bringing it in front of his eyes.

His right hand was tainted with blood, a vivid proof of the brutal conflict he had just endured. And as he examined his own battered form for the first time since the fight's conclusion, the extent of his injuries became painfully evident.

It was a testament to the cost of Medea's unwavering pursuit of her objective.

But now, it was his turn to reveal the depths of his resolve.

Shirou's expression hardened, his countenance steeling against the tumult of emotions.

Her voice, dripping with spite and hatred, continued to reverberate in his ears, serving as the fuel for his unwavering determination. It was a haunting reminder of the task that lay before him—an endeavor that allowed no room for hesitation. He understood that he could not falter; he could not permit her actions to remain unanswered.

In this pivotal moment, Shirou's mind transformed into an unyielding fortress, his thoughts resolute and unwavering. He had pledged to do whatever was necessary for her, and his conviction in those words was absolute.

His iron will hardened, and he pronounced his verdict.

"...You leave me no choice, then," Shirou declared aloud, the edge of his determination slicing through the shroud of uncertainty and doubt like a blade through the darkness.

Confronted with adversity, he unearthed his unyielding resolve. It was a path he had sworn to tread, one that demanded unflinching determination.

With every fiber of his being, he was committed to fulfilling that vow, and his iron will fortified him to face the daunting mission through to its bitter end.

'...Oh, Shirou, if only you could understand me…' Medea thought as she exited her home and walked to the middle of the backyard.

Medea walked slowly, her steps filled with determination, heading toward the very spot where she had witnessed her own destiny unfold. As she reached that precise position, she understood that her vision had been realized, and that her fate had been sealed. That was the moment. Soon, everything would come to an end.

'...You already saved me. Not that night. But in these 10 years, you saved me. My heart had become stone, a cold monument to my sins. I never thought that I could ever love again, that I could be redeemed in any way possible. But through you, I've found my redemption: I finally regret.'

In the tranquil garden, she stood motionless, the stars above casting a mournful glow.

'...I know that you may hate me for pushing you into doing it… But you have to understand… how can I prove it to everyone… to everything… to the world… to myself… that I actually regret what I did… if not through death? It is my only way. The only way to redeem myself.'

Her words carried a weight that mirrored the darkness that enveloped her. The breeze whispered secrets of her past, chilling her to the bone as she continued her vigil.

'...How funny. I always deemed that Jason was a weak-willed man when he killed himself… But now I understand the sorrow and the genuine regret of one's actions that would lead to that. And yet, compared to him, I'm too much of a coward to take my own life… and I had to resort to you, Shirou.' Medea thought, her eyes growing heavy.

Poor child. Just what was she pushing him to do? He would ultimately be the one to bear the consequences of her actions, enduring the most profound of sufferings...

From the center of the backyard, she surveyed her surroundings. The garden felt like an abandoned realm, and the burden of her past pressed heavily upon her.

'But this had to happen. I do not belong here. Not in this place… not in this time… not anywhere…' Medea's thoughts whispered into the night, her words swallowed by the all-encompassing darkness, as if the very universe conspired against her.

"But I always dreamt about it. I always wanted a life like this. And I never cared for what I had to do to have it. I alone deserved it because of everything I've lost..." Medea said, her voice carrying the weight of years of longing and sacrifice. Her words hung heavy in the still night air.

As she paused and turned around, the garden around her seemed to wither, mirroring the forsaken realm within her heart. The burden of her past, like an unbreakable chain, bore down upon her, a relentless weight that threatened to crush her very soul.

"...And I've done everything I could to obtain it," she finished, her eyes meeting Shirou's unwavering gaze as he stood on the veranda, a steel resolve etched into his eyes, a cold steel sword gripped tightly in his right hand.

"...You sure took your time," she remarked, her voice trembling with anticipation.

In the depths of her thoughts, Medea acknowledged her earlier doubts about her divination. Everything was unfolding precisely as she had foreseen, yet, and her heart ached with the inevitability of it all.

"...You left me with no choice," Shirou replied dryly, his footsteps echoing as he advanced toward her.

Her heart quickened its pace, and she took a hesitant step forward. "...I'm glad that you have finally understood."

"Yes. I understand what I have to do." Shirou's voice held unwavering determination as he continued to close the distance between them. "I understand that I have to save you…"

"Stupid, you can't-!" Medea's words were bitten off sharply, her teeth gritted, as she contemplated stepping back to flee from him.

"…From yourself." Shirou's voice was unwavering, his words piercing through her defenses.

Medea froze, her heart seizing in her chest. She had heard those words before, knew their implications, but now she hesitated. Did he truly mean it? …Would he genuinely go to such extremes to grant her desire?

"...After all the things I've done… Do you still want to… save me?"

"Of course." Shirou's voice was gentle but resolute as he drew closer.

"…Why?" Her voice trembled with vulnerability, though she already knew the answer deep inside of herself.

"Because I love you." His words hung in the air, a confession of the deepest emotions, as he stood before her.

Tears welled up in Medea's eyes, and she began to cry, overwhelmed by a mixture of happiness, disbelief, and relief.

She had always wondered how she would face the end. But now, in Shirou's embrace, she felt only peace.

"Thank you Shirou. I'm so glad that it was you."