Shirou Emiya — Doesn't Want to Work Overtime!

The sudden noise startled Emiya Shirou so violently that he lost his footing and tumbled down the stairs.

"Keh keh keh… What a coward. But this age, this muscular elasticity... I bet your flesh is going to taste divine!"

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Shirou forced himself up and looked toward the stairwell.

Bathed in blood-red moonlight that poured down from the sky, the figure above was fully illuminated.

Sickly pale skin, crimson lips twisted in a grotesque grin, and the horns sprouting from its forehead—there was no question. This thing wasn't human.

Drip. Drip.

The sound of liquid falling came from Shirou's right. That grotesque smile stretched wider as the creature lifted a severed head, gripped firmly in its hand, the eyes frozen in terror and despair.

It was savoring the fear. With a twisted glee, it shook the head for Shirou to see—then sank its fangs into it.

"Absolutely delicious! Don't you agree, boy?"

Shirou's fists clenched. His breath caught in his throat. Step by step, he backed away.

Fear.

Yes—at this moment, Emiya Shirou felt raw, unfiltered fear.

Faced with such cruelty, such horror, anyone would be afraid. Especially someone like Shirou—just a high school freshman.

And yet, alongside the fear... came something else. Something no ordinary person would feel.

Rage.

He didn't turn to run. His first instinct was fury.

If the monster before him could have read his thoughts, it might've thrown its head back and laughed. Rage? How laughable.

But what, exactly, was Emiya Shirou so angry about?

The squelch of his shoes in blood echoed beneath him, thick and sticky. The stench of iron assaulted his senses.

He knew now what he was standing in. And that—that was what made him furious.

How could it kill so many people like it was nothing!?

"You must be the last one still alive. Not bad—managed to hide from me all this time. But now, with so much time to kill, how about we play a little, keh keh keh…"

Before it even finished speaking, the creature vanished from the stairwell. All Shirou felt was a sudden burst of wind rushing straight at him.

He swung the brick in his hand with all his strength.

Squelch!

The sound of tearing flesh echoed into the night.

A spatter of blood hit the floor.

"Not bad… Looks like we can play for a bit longer."

The creature licked the blood from the corner of its mouth with a snake-like, forked tongue. Its grin widened—like a child who'd just found a new toy.

Shirou gasped for air. The moment the creature struck, the brick collided with its claws just long enough for him to dodge sideways.

He could feel those claws graze his cheek. The wall behind him shattered as they smashed through it like paper.

He didn't need to imagine what would've happened if his skull had taken that hit. His head would've exploded like a watermelon under a hammer—just another offering to the sea of blood.

Run!

That was Shirou's only thought now.

There was no way he could take this monster head-on.

"—Tch!"

The metallic taste hit him a split second before the pain. Without hesitation, he bit down on his tongue, the sharp sting shocking him back to full awareness.

Before the creature could launch another attack, he bolted for the door.

"Keh keh keh! Yes—run! I love watching prey struggle like this!"

Urgh—!

As he sprinted, Shirou slapped a hand over his mouth to hold back the bile.

The lobby of the inn—if it could even be called that anymore—was awash in blood. Severed limbs, shattered weapons, and heads contorted in terror and despair lay scattered across the floor.

Nothing remained but red. Everything was drenched in it.

They must've fought with everything they had—but the result was clear.

It was hell. A scene straight from the pits of hell.

Shirou's face had gone ghostly pale.

"So many lives... That thing!"

He cursed under his breath, his rage flaring up again—but he couldn't afford vengeance. Not now.

Revenge?

His eyes locked on a sword lying near the doorway. He reached out instinctively to grab it.

"Still not gone? Were you waiting for me, sweetheart?"

That voice—low, guttural, and sickening—came from right behind him.

Shirou didn't hesitate. He dropped low, pressing his body flat to the floor.

Whoosh—!

A blast of wind tore the air above his head. Shirou knew—it had been close. Too close.

But how long could his luck hold?

Still leaning forward in his sprint, Shirou tripped and crashed hard to the floor. This time, because the inn was built at a higher elevation, he went rolling straight down the hillside into the trees.

Thud—!

His back slammed into a massive tree.

But he didn't dare stop. A quick glance back was all he needed to locate the monster—and then he ran.

Did I lose it?

The forest was silent. Only the rustling of leaves and his own ragged breathing filled the air.

The silence was unnerving. Terrifying in its own right.

Shirou couldn't think clearly anymore.

Terror and exhaustion from the constant sprinting had drained him. He felt like he could collapse at any moment.

But he knew better than to hope. That monster wasn't going to just let him go.

Even if it hadn't caught up yet, he was certain—it could've killed him by now if it wanted to.

I need a weapon. I can't be defenseless.

He hadn't been able to grab the katana earlier. Now, he could only work with whatever was at hand.

His eyes fell on a thick tree branch lying nearby. He snatched it up.

"[Trace—On]."

The moment the words left his lips, glowing green runes spread across the branch like veins of energy.

"It won't do much... but at least I won't be completely helpless."

Under his [Reinforcement] magecraft, the branch took on the hardness of solid steel. Of course, Shirou knew—even steel probably wouldn't be enough against that thing.

"You're so slow."

Cautiously moving forward with the reinforced branch in hand, Shirou stopped dead at the impossible sight in front of him.

The inn—the one he'd barely escaped—was right there again.

And standing at its door, munching on a human arm like it was a chicken wing, was the monster. Its eyes glittered with amusement as it looked straight at him.

"Damn it!"

Shirou gripped the makeshift weapon tighter, his whole body tense. Across from him, the creature savored its meal—blood and muscle dripping from its fangs.

Even with a magically reinforced weapon in hand, even now—his stomach roiled, his legs felt like lead. And his eyes, fixed on the nightmare before him, were still filled with fear.