Danmachi- The Heroic Legend of Emiya!

Chapter 2 – The Rescuer and the Rescued

The ideal of being a "champion of justice" originated from a fire that occurred during Emiya Shirou's childhood.

At first, Shirou lived an ordinary life, no different from any other child.

But one day, when he woke up, the familiar scenery before him was engulfed in flames—everything he saw was covered by thick smoke and searing fire.

Faced with such a sudden disaster, Shirou's heart was overwhelmed with despair and confusion. He wandered aimlessly through the blaze, unable to escape its all-consuming reach.

Just as he collapsed in hopelessness, a pair of rough hands appeared before him.

A man named Kiritsugu Emiya found him amidst the inferno.

Had it ended there, it might have been a typical story of a hero saving a life.

But Kiritsugu, upon finding Shirou, cried as he repeated over and over, "Thank God… Thank God…"

Though Shirou was the one who had been saved, the joy on Kiritsugu's face surpassed that of the rescued—he looked as if he himself had been redeemed.

At that moment, a thought sprouted in Shirou's heart: "I want to be like this man." Thus began his dream of becoming a "champion of justice."

However, that resolve once suffered obstruction and collapse.

On that snowy night that devoured everything, Shirou's path of justice came to a complete end—he lost the right to call himself a hero.

Now, he was merely someone who retained a lingering idea of becoming a champion of justice, whose body still moved out of reflex, out of a stubborn instinct he could not shake.

Yet, even if it was only instinct, when he heard the cries of a stranger for help, Shirou couldn't stop himself from acting.

"I have to go."

Even though his body was nearing its limit, Shirou moved without hesitation.

He followed the direction of the voice, weaving his way through the complex and chaotic labyrinth of the dungeon.

Eventually, he reached a dead-end passage, where he saw both the person crying for help—and the reason for their desperate scream.

.

.

.

In the maze of the dungeon, a white-haired boy was being chased by a massive beast with the body of a man and the head of a bull.

The boy's name was Bell Cranel.

He was a fledgling Level 1 adventurer, a nameless beginner in the dungeon city of Orario.

He had dreams and fantasies about dungeon adventures and, driven by those desires, had recklessly embarked on what was destined to be a harsh and cruel journey. Overconfident, he had ventured into a floor far beyond his capabilities and encountered the worst possible foe.

"ROOOAAARRRR!!!"

Hearing the bellow of the massive Minotaur behind him, Bell wore a grim expression.

He never imagined a monster this terrifying would appear on just the fifth floor of the dungeon.

It was a Minotaur, also nicknamed the Rookie Killer—a nightmare for any Level 1 adventurer.

This creature was supposed to appear only on the tenth floor and beyond, but somehow it had shown up here.

As a complete novice who struggled even against normal monsters, Bell stood no chance. All he could do was desperately try to run.

"HELP MEEEEEEE!"

And so a strange scene played out in the dungeon.

The terrifying Minotaur chased after the white-haired boy, who darted about like a nimble rabbit, barely evading it by taking advantage of the maze's complex layout.

If things continued like this, perhaps Bell might have had a chance to escape.

But reality quickly dealt him a cruel blow.

In his panic, he made a wrong turn and ran into a dead end.

"Bang!"

With nowhere left to run, Bell skidded to a stop. Behind him, the Minotaur stomped its iron hooves into the ground, its scorching red eyes filled with fury and humiliation—for it had been toyed with by a mere rookie.

That fury was about to be unleashed upon Bell in a brutal assault.

"..."

Seeing this, Bell's face was filled with terror and trembling.

He had never imagined his journey to become a dungeon hero would end so soon—his fate reduced to mere Minotaur feed.

Still, his survival instinct kicked in. In that moment of desperation, he drew the dagger in his hand, ready to fight for his life.

But the gap in power was insurmountable.

"Thud!"

Before he could act, the Minotaur lashed out with its hoof like a steel arrow.

It struck Bell directly, sending him flying like a bowling pin.

He tumbled across the ground several times before crashing hard into a wall.

"Cough… cough…"

Bell felt as though his body had been reduced to tattered rags.

The intense pain left him unable to move.

The Minotaur slowly approached.

"Huff— Huff—"

The beast panted hot, foul breath onto its prey, its nostrils flaring near Bell's face.

"Ahaha…"

Looking up at the enormous creature towering above him, Bell's face twisted in despair. His teeth chattered, tears flowed, and his expression said it all: this was the end.

No miracle. No dream. Just the harsh truth.

He had foolishly believed that entering the dungeon would make him a hero, that he could start a grand tale.

But reality offered no heroes, no flowers, and no beautiful girls waiting to be rescued—only endless death and corpses of the unfortunate.

In the depths of despair, Bell couldn't even remember to shut his eyes. He simply stared ahead, awaiting death…

When suddenly—a faint light flickered in the distance.

"Snap!"

A blue flame of magical energy lit up the darkness, drawing the attention of both Bell and the Minotaur.

"What is that…?"

Before Bell could react, the blue light flared brightly.

From the shadows, a young man leapt out.

In the dim light of the dungeon, Bell caught a clear look at the newcomer—

He was a young man with fiery red hair, except for a strange white streak on his forehead. From his right arm shone a soft blue glow, and in a flash, a pair of twin half-moon shaped swords—black and white—materialized in his hands.

He moved swiftly, placing himself between Bell and the monstrous Minotaur.

"ROOOAAARRRR!!!"

The Minotaur, enraged that its hunt had been interrupted, roared and raised its hooves to strike.

"BOOM!"

To Bell and the Minotaur's shock, the red-haired young man simply raised his left hand and caught the blow with ease.

Then, without pause, he hurled the Minotaur aside and chased it down at lightning speed, twirling his twin blades like a dancer in a deadly performance.

"Slash!"

The crescent-shaped swords glimmered in the dark dungeon.

Bell couldn't even follow the movement of those blades—only see that, in a blink, they had pierced through the Minotaur's body repeatedly.

"Slash!" "Slash!" "Slash!"

The swords carved into its chest, arms, thighs, legs, shoulders—and finally, its neck.

The young man tore the creature apart with incredible precision and speed.

When it was all over, what lay before Bell was a shredded, mangled corpse—a heap of dismembered Minotaur flesh.

"BOOM!"

With a deafening crash, the Minotaur collapsed. Bell felt as though his heart had stopped.

"He… He actually…"

Staring at the red-haired figure, Bell was consumed by awe and an overwhelming surge of emotion.

Before he could even understand what he was feeling—what had stirred inside him—the red-haired young man suddenly winced in pain.

"Urgh…"

His face twisted. He clutched his right arm in agony.

Then, as if reaching some limit, the twin swords vanished into sparkling particles.

Finally, the young man himself, unable to endure the strain, collapsed unconscious.

"Sir… benefactor… what happened to you?!"

Bell didn't know his name. All he could do was call him "benefactor."

He rushed to his side and saw that the man had likely passed out from exhaustion and accumulated injuries.

Without time to think, Bell hoisted the man onto his back and ran with all his might toward the dungeon's exit.

At that moment, he had only one thought in his heart:

"I must save the man who saved me—I can't let him die for my sake!"