14The boy stumbled into the shed, clutching the hole in his chest. He knew he should have been dead. The blue armored man had stabbed him through the heart. Through the heart and out his back. And the red spear he had used to do it had a power unlike anything the boy had ever Seen before. He should be dead. A Human dies when you kill it.
Part of his mind realized his thoughts were stammering. Babbling. Something. And that if he was going to survive, he needed to focus. The wound was, impossibly, closing. And with it his thoughts were coming together. He grabbed an iron pipe as he stumbled away from the door. Even if stab was healing, his feet were having trouble working. He bumped into a stack of cardboard boxes, knocking them over.
They were his father's belongs. He had moved them into his Workshop, so that Sakura wouldn't worry about him keeping them. Or Fuji-nee accidentally getting rid of them. He couldn't give them up. And there might be valuable information in there. But he hadn't been able to bring himself to go through them.
The top box hit the floor, and burst. Thin volumes of newsprint spread out across the floor. Each was wrapped in plastic. He recognized them as comic books. Not manga, American comic books. The figure on the cover was instantly recognizable, even to him.
Focus! He let his mind escape again. But a rush of adrenaline fixed that, when the doors exploded in. He raised the pipe in his right hand, his left still over his heart. He tried to reinforce the impromptu weapon, but the latest circuit he had created was on the verge of collapse. And there was the whole distraction and lethal injury thing.
"Well aren't you a tough one," the murderer said as he stepped through the door. His Japanese was slightly accented, but the boy could not tell from where.
"You don't look like an Acolyte or Ancestor," the man said, "Or one of us, either. But even if you don't need a heart, we'll see how you do without a head."
He stepped closer, raising the demonic red spear again. The boy retreated. His foot hit the slick plastic wrap of one of the comics. It went forward. He went back. The bloody hand instinctively flew back to catch him. When it touched, light flared out of the wood.
A seal, carved over a decade before by his adopted father, reacted to his blood. It pulled the od out of him. The murderer backed up a step, as a shining figure emerged from the circle.
"So that is why he wanted you dead," the spearman said, "Better nip this in the bud."
"Look out," the boy called out to the glow entity, as the murderer drive his spear into its heart.
The brilliant mana cleared, revealing a slender young woman. She was blonde and clad in a blue top and red skirt. The top had long sleeves, but left her midriff bare. As the skirt flapped, he saw blue spats underneath. She was also wearing heavy, thigh high red boots and a red cape with a hint of gold. Her face was lovely, sculptured, and stern.
He cringed as the spear hit her breast, slicing through her top. Then both men's eyes widened as the blade skittered to the side, leaving nothing more than paper cut level mark on her skin.
"What the fu..." the murderer exclaimed incredulously, "Ah, screw it. You'll both be dead anyway. No sense holding back. Gae..."
His eyes bulged and his jaw snapped shut loudly. Her hand shot up and caught the spear. There was only a trickle of blood where her fingers closed on the blade. It stopped cold. He tried to push it closer, and pulled it back. But it did not even move.
Her eyes lit from within, and a beam of blue light blazed out of each orb. They hit the spear, which began to glow white. The air warped around it, and the boy could feel the heat. The spearman grimaced in pain, as the burning weapon melted the skin on his hands. Then the girl's free hand reached up. She gently pushed his chest. He flew away with the speed of a bullet. He skipped along the ground twice, but managed to come to stop in a crouch. His eyes narrowed when he realized the girl still had his weapon.
"Screw this," he said. Then both he and the spear disappeared.
The girl looked around, her eyes narrowed and her pupils glowing black. Then she exhaled in relief. The coldness in her face faded, and her appearance suddenly looked more cute.
"That hurt a little," she flexed her fingers. As she turned to face him, and he noticed the cut on her breast was already gone.
"Okay, how did that go again?" she blushed in embarassment. Then her eyes lit, and she said, "I am Servant Shielder. By your summoning, I have come. I ask of you, are you my Master?"
"Huh?" Emiya Shirou gaped at her.
One might wonder, how a pile of comic books can outweigh a the presence of a Noble Phantasm and Conceptual Weapon. Well, if Lancer and Shirou had been a little faster, things might have gone differently. Instead, half a world away...
"Are you sure about this, Bob?" I asked, as I checked the circle again.
"Yes, Harry," the skull sounded annoyed, "For seventh time. The spell will not hurt you. It will not hurt the sword. Trust me."
"Right," I grimaced. That was the thing. Bob was a spirit of Intellect. A type of fae. So he couldn't lie. He could dissemble, redirect, and opine. But not lie. Still it was hard to trust him, even after all these years. On the one hand, he was perfectly willing to omit details if it would be funny. But on the other, if he got me killed, he would be stuck in here until someone came looking. And that would most likely be either Mab, or a White Council Warden.
Bob would not come out well in either case.
"So this ritual will find the proper wielder for Amoracchius?" I prompted.
"Umm, yes," he answered after a moment's hesitation.
"Bob?" I drew out his name threateningly.
"Of course, the spell might not work," he said, "I can't guarentee that the connection will go through, or you won't mess it up. But for what it's worth, the circle is perfect."
I sighed. I took the Sword from the workbench. I hadn't been sure about becoming its caretaker in the first place. And with the way things had been going recently, we needed the Knights back at full strength sooner, rather than later. So I freed the blade from the scabbard carefully, you might even say reverently. I placed it in the middle of the circle, and carefully stepped out of the mandala.
I steadied myself, and connected with the circle. There were no words, I just flooded my energy into it. The glyphs and runes and lines lit up like the noon sun. I could feel the spell pulling the power out of me. Then a flash from the seal blinded me, and I felt a tingling on the back of my left hand. A magical tingling.
"I am going to burn Bob's porn while he watches," I whispered and yanked my glove off.
There were three blue lines glowing on my burn scarred skin. They formed a sort of simple pentagram. As I turned to glare at the skull, I noticed the Sword.
Amoracchius had changed. The blade was shorter, and broader. Where it had previously been unadorned, now there was a series of runes down the fuller, and blue and gold enamel church window where the blade was connected to the hilt. The hilt was thicker, and gold, with blue enamel inlays. And the leather grip wrap was dyed blue.
That was when the hand reached down and picked it up. A small hand, in a heavy silver gauntlet. Connected to a tiny, skinny, young looking woman. She had refined features, powerful green eyes, and a braid in her golden hair wrapped around the back of her head almost like a crown. She was wearing a silver breastplate and hip guards over a blue and white dress.
She looked up at me. Even though I doubted she was Human, she looked Human enough that I did not meet her eyes. She frowned slightly. Then she spoke in a crystal clear voice.
"I am Servant Saber. By your summoning, I have come. I ask of you, are you my Master?"
I could only think of one thing to say.
"BOBBBBBBBB!"
