Shirou Emiya — Doesn't Want to Work Overtime!

At this point, even if Emiya Shirou didn't want to fight, leaving this place wasn't an option.

He hadn't been running in a straight line, true—but no matter how disoriented he was, there was no way he could have looped back to the same spot so quickly.

And judging from what the monster had said, it was obvious: returning to the inn was its doing. If he kept wasting his strength like this, he really would die here.

"A stick? Keh keh keh! Such a desperate little gleam in your eye!"

In the blink of an eye, the creature appeared before Shirou like it had teleported.

Its claws came crashing down toward his face without hesitation.

"—!"

Shirou's pupils shrank. His body reacted on its own.

Clang—!

A metallic crash rang out in front of him.

A moment later, a tremendous force rippled through his arms. The impact knocked Shirou clean off his feet, along with a chunk of dirt beneath him.

Boom!

Leaves rustled down through the trees above.

The pain was enough to make Shirou clench his eyes shut. But remembering the monster still stood before him, he forced them open again, glaring with all the defiance he had left.

"Dead yet? No? C'mon, give me a little squeak if you're still alive!"

The humanoid creature grinned, rows of sharp, crimson-stained teeth splitting its mouth. Blood ran freely from its lips, but it didn't seem to care in the slightest.

Its mouth claimed ignorance, but its body was already lunging toward where Shirou had landed.

"That stick was tougher than I thought. Hah! What a pleasant surprise."

It showed no interest in how Shirou had made an ordinary stick that strong. To it, Emiya Shirou was already as good as dead.

"Ghk... That strength… Definitely not mage-friendly."

Shirou muttered through clenched teeth, trying to make light of it—but he was already rolling to the side again.

Another vicious crash sounded behind him. The tree he'd been leaning against moments ago was shattered clean through by the creature's strike. That alone made the monster's strength clear.

He glanced at the reinforced stick still clutched in his right hand—it had bent under the force of that blow. If he hadn't blocked with it and braced with his left hand too, that strike probably would've snapped it in half. Just like that.

"Dodge, dodge, keep dodging! Let's see how long you can last! Hahahahaha!"

The monster wrenched its arm free from the tree and howled with laughter, watching Shirou scramble to his feet.

I'm no match for its strength. Or its speed.

Panic twisted in Shirou's gut. He could feel it—this thing could crush him like a rat underfoot. Killing him would take no effort at all.

Thankfully, in this forest, sticks were hardly in short supply.

And his prana reserves were enough for a few more [Reinforcements].

Rolling upright, Shirou snatched another branch from the ground with his left hand.

Maybe he'd meant to dual-wield all along. Or maybe he'd just forgotten the stick in his right hand.

Either way, he suddenly planted his foot and dashed straight toward the demon.

They weren't far apart. With no formal training, Shirou's roll had only carried him a few meters at best.

For someone who trained regularly and was now fighting for their life, that was more than close enough to cross in the blink of an eye.

But for a non-human opponent, a blink was more than enough time to kill him a dozen times over.

Whish!

The wind split as the stick in Shirou's right hand tore through the air.

The faint rasp of friction made its speed all the more apparent.

And yet—the monster didn't move.

For it, Shirou's speed was nothing. It could dodge, block, counter—take its pick.

But it stood there, smiling wider, like it knew something.

Crack.

Half the stick in Shirou's hand flew skyward, tumbling like a shooting star. Its glow faded as the [Reinforcement] ended.

Shirou's pupils contracted again.

The strike he'd aimed directly at the creature's head—somehow, inexplicably—ended up veering sideways, hitting nothing but air beside it.

He hadn't pulled the blow. The monster hadn't moved.

It was as if his target had simply… shifted.

Thrown by his own momentum, Shirou hit the ground hard. The stick in his hand snapped with a harsh crack.

"I clearly—!"

He hadn't felt anything redirect the blow. He hadn't seen the monster move.

It was like he'd meant to swing at empty space all along.

The monster's smile stretched wider. Its claws suddenly lengthened—sharp as icepicks—and stabbed straight for Shirou's head.

Thwack!

The sound rang out. But it wasn't blood that sprayed—it was woodchips.

Just in time, Shirou had twisted his body, bracing the stick he'd picked up earlier with both hands. He caught the claw mid-strike.

Green light pulsed across the stick from the magecraft woven into it.

Of course, the monster couldn't see the flow of prana. All it saw was an ordinary stick stopping its blow.

The monster's hand trembled—then it pressed harder.

The claws inched forward, now hovering at Shirou's brow. Blood welled from his forehead and trickled down.

"Hraaahhh!!"

Shirou screamed, throwing every ounce of strength into resisting. His arms burned. The pressure was relentless.

I can't keep this up!

Gritting his teeth, he twisted his wrists.

The claws raked across his forehead, leaving a deep gouge—but instead of piercing his skull, they stabbed deep into the earth beside his head like nails driven by a hammer.

The creature loomed above him, momentarily off-balance from its own momentum.

Just like Shirou had been moments earlier.

Don't waste this chance.

Without hesitation, Shirou swung the stick at its head.

But again—

SWISH—

The stick curved in mid-air, following a bizarre arc and missing its mark entirely.

"Again?!"

Shirou didn't wait around to see what would happen next.

Using the swing's momentum, he rolled to the side—just as the monster steadied itself with an outstretched hand, halting its fall.