The Holy Man of The Church Creek

49

It was terrible. There was too much death in the world.

The Gods of the Heavens, the Earth, and the Underworld could only watch in helplessness at the situation befalling the mortal world. Many had already sent forth their forces to combat the Evil Dragons, but in comparison to the human population, there were far from enough to save everyone.
The mood in Heaven was incomparably heavy.
Michael sat in his throne within the sixth Heaven and clasped his hands together while in the presence of his brothers and sister. His brows were set into a deep furrow, and the way he constantly sent his divine sense through the clouds and into the mortal world indicated the urgency of the situation.
"How many more Angels do we have in reserve?" Michael's tone was grave, his shoulders hunching over.
"Not many," Gabriel answered. She was seated across from Michael and was grasping tightly onto the hem of her dress. Upon word of what had transpired in the mortal world, she had rushed back to Heaven in the midst of her dignitary assignments. "Hardly any Angels are left from the First heaven all the way till the fifth. Our numbers are not as large as they used to be even with the implementation of the Brave Saints system." Gabriel sighed.
This wasn't good. Not in the slightest.
Michael could feel the apprehension in suffusing the room, not that he could blame anyone but the suddenness of the situation. He had to keep strong as a leader until God returned to take his rightful place in the Seventh Heaven.
"Has Sandalphon returned?" Michael looked up at the current members of the Four Great Seraphs around him.
"He has," Raphael informed the rest. "He's currently rallying the remaining Angels as the voice of God to mount a defensive in the human world despite regulation."
"Regulations can no longer be considered at this point," Uriel sat up on his seat and crossed his arms. He was the current arbitrator of Heavenly Law and was generally unbending when it came to policy. However, he was not unreasonable. "Heaven dictates that we can not send forth too many Angels into the Human World at once. This is to prevent knowledge of our existence from spreading and influencing human culture, albeit, this was the pact shared between the pantheons in a time of peace." Uriel raised his head, his eyes mirrors of truth. "We are no longer at peace."
"The Seraphs can no longer remain idle. I call for a vote to assemble."
"Seconded."
Uriel and Raphael had come to a decision. The two were only waiting for Michael's discretion as Gabriel was not fond of debate or conflict. She always sided with Michael as God himself had deemed Michael in charge of the Seraphim.
"Many of us will die," Michael unclasped his hands and leaned forward. His brows were furrowed and it was impossible to hide his pensiveness. Heaven's population was not as it used to be and therefore, he could not act recklessly. The Angels were one thing, but Heaven could not afford to lose anymore of its Seraphim who govern the realm. "We are the balance that keeps the integrity of Heaven from crumbing in our father's absence. We are the laws, aspects of faith that uphold the Kingdom in the Sky, but we too are Heaven's strongest. In the hour of need, the Angels will descend, was that not our father's promise to the heirs of Abraham who maintain the holy faith? We must save them."
Yet with what power?
Heaven was still weakened, not as it used to be.
Then what was he to do?
Michael had his principles. He was the kindest of Angels, the most forgiving, and unbiased. He knew good from evil, and he'd never just stand aside in such circumstances. It was not what the Father would have had done, but God had intrusted him with the Kingdom. The Kingdom was not the structure of Heaven itself, but the people who inhabited the land. This concept represented the true kingdom which was why he could not be impulsive and send Heaven's people to war.
He needed a sign.
An answer.
God would have had known what to do by now.
In the end, he was not meant to be a ruler. The responsibility known as expectation was pressing down over his shoulders like a vice that he could not free himself from.
The room within the Sixth Heaven fell into silence, Gabriel and the others waiting on Michael for a decision. The Evil Dragons were existences of supreme power whose means were more than enough to contend against the forces of the world's pantheons.
Crom Cruach.
Grendal.
Niðhöggr.
Ladon.
Apophis.
Aži Dahāka.
The Evil Dragons even had wyverns that followed their commands. This was the reason why even though the other Pantheons had dispatched their forces to suppress the Evil Dragons on earth, none of them had been entirely successful.
There would be deaths. There was simply no helping it.
Michael shut his eyes tight in thought when suddenly, all throughout the world, energy shifted. It was subtle at first, but soon became impossible to ignore like a streak of lightning in the darkest of nights.
Ars Almadel Salomonis. The bands of light that stood aloft throughout the horizon.
Divine energy swelled from within Michael's body, his power of light magnifying several folds through the miracle of a parallel God.
Michael's eyes opened abruptly in wonder, staring at his palm as he opened and closed it. A hazy luminous ball encircled his fist, manifesting faint silhouettes of doves. He looked around him.
Uriel was increasingly solemn, in his hands, divine energy formed in the shape of the tablet of Heaven's laws.
A flame-like shroud covered Gabriel from head to toe, amplifying her power.
Raphael carried his scepter of healing, the entwined branch blooming with leaves and rosebuds.
The energy they could sense encompassing the globe was entirely familiar. It was a bit different from what they were used to, but there was no denying whose power it was that was bolstering them.
Father, was this your answer? Michael stood up from his throne.
What good was a Kingdom if all that mattered was the safety of its people? There was a time and place for everything, but losing one's purpose just to survive was not 'living' in the slightest.
Be free, like the doves that sing and dance through the sky.
"Assemble the Seraphim," Michael made his decision. His voice was firm, and there was a steadiness in his gait. The shoulders that were once hunched were now broadened and resolute.
Uriel left silently to complete the task.
Raphael and Gabriel followed Michael down from the Sixth Heaven to reach the borders of the Kingdom overlooking the earth beneath.
"How long has it been Michael? You've lost your frown lines." Gabriel walked to stand by Michael and Raphael's side.
Michael's expression was impeccably calm.
This was the Michael that had overseen the battles of the first Great War of the Angels, it's chief commander of Heaven's armies.
"Will you bring my armour?" Michael turned to look at Gabriel.
She nodded firmly. "I already have." From an interdimensional space on her person, she produced a simple yet plain Romanesque-like armour whose back allowed wings to stretch forth freely. "I was wondering when you would ever ask for it back. I've been keeping it maintained all these years."
Michael remained stoic and allowed Gabriel and Raphael to help him place the armour on. In the mean time, Uriel soon returned fully armed while followed by a contingency of Heaven's most powerful. They all assembled in one place.
Raziel, Keeper of Secrets.
Remiel, the Thunder of God.
Sariel, the Ferrier.
Raguel, the Righteous.
Sandalphon of Power.
Raphael, the Kind.
Uriel, the Arbitrator
Gabriel, the Right Hand.
And Michael of the Throne of the Sixth Heaven.
The Ten Seraphs of the Bible, Sons and Daughters of the Eternal and One God. They only ever had a single goal, and that was Salvation. They stood as one, their expressions varied yet resolute. Behind them, the remaining armies of Heaven stood in lines of several thousand, donned with cloaks of white and silver that reflected the heat of the morning sun above.
The clouds parted to reveal the ever-distant utopia and promised land of the Faith connected by a dimensional magic.
Michael peered down, his thoughts a blur in order to best determine the most efficient distribution of Angels across the globe. The other pantheons were already on the move. Hade's Reapers were ferrying the large influx of dead human souls while the Gods of the Hinduistic Faith were spurred into action at the world-wide crisis.
In the lands of Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Iceland, and Norway, the Valkyries were descending led by Hildegard.
In the lands of the Great River Nile, the Egyptians were confronting the Evil Dragon Apophis.
In Greece, Ladon.
The Humans with their fragile constitution could not endure the clash between the supernatural. Media crews and governments were all in a state of panic and chaos.
"Have all the Angels assembled?" Michael did not turn to look behind him.
The Angels hardened their resolve, but paused as black feathers gently floated up from below.
"Not all," A different voice answered Michael's question.
Michael turned his gaze.
Fallen Angels. Their numbers made up for any deficiencies that Michael had in terms of man power. They were the gathered army of the members of the Grigori.
Those cast aside for their sin had made their way back to the Heavens once more.
"Azazel," Michael only gave a curt acknowledgment.
Azazel grinned. "It's been a long while since I've seen you like this, brother." Azazel gestured for the Fallen Angels behind him to get into formation. They lined up beside their Angel brethren who despite being uncomfortable, did not complain.
"Regardless, I've come to help." Azazel flew to take his place by the Four Great Seraphim followed by Baraqiel and Shemhazai. The Grigori's other Cadre fell in line with the other Angels, Kokabiel near the front.
For the slightest of moments, Michael's calm disposition broke, his lips curling upward.
The Heaven's faction had gathered just as they had eons before, united under a single banner. The time to act had come, and this time, Michael wouldn't allow anymore of his brothers and sisters to die. He would not be careless.
Michael stepped forward, pushing his feet off from the clouds to descend over the earth followed by the rest. His bearings were firm, the absentness and geniality of his face turning solemn as he radiated the divine power of his stature. In his hands, a simple spear whose steel channeled the purest form of light.
The Angel of War.
"Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name."
The voice echoed; the Angels plunging down from the Heavens grasping tightly onto their weapons of light. Feathers of black and ivory drifted through the air. They were comets burning bright across the horizon.
"Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is Heaven."
The Chorus of Angels began to sing. Gabriel, Raphael, Azazel, the Angels, the Fallen- the children of God spoke as one.
"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us."
Angels and Fallen, at this moment, the distance between them seemed to vanish altogether. Past grudges, personal hate, it no longer mattered. Everyone was different, but they too came from the same origin. In the name of the Father. Why else would the power of light remain even in those that had strayed?
Not Fallen, not Angels, but Family.
Light from Light.
"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
The Lord's prayer.
The forces of Heaven, former and otherwise, were united in a solidarity not seen since the original Great War between Heaven and the Underworld.
Michael led the way. Fierce zephyrs whipped across their faces, but as if bound by a greater law, their garments and armours remained entirely pristine. Gabriel acted as the rear guard, donned in a regal battle dress and golden shoulder pauldrons, her scepter held aloft acted as the beacon to guide the way.
"We shall walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death, but we will fear no Evil."
It was their strength of faith. They flew on pinioned wings under the circle of light radiating outwards from the sky, diverging to the countries over the earth.
In battle they may fall, but in faith they would conquer.
For the spirit of their Lord was with them in the name of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Reach out for Salvation.
What was a King if not the embodiment of an ideal?
What was a prophet without the insight of faith?
Shirou was neither. All that mattered to him was saving those that he could see in front of his eyes. That was simply who he was as a person, though admittedly, he hadn't always been this way. In the past, he had saved others to fulfill the selfishness of his own heart which yearned for the same kind of happiness that he had seen in Kiritsugu's smile. Now though, it was different.
He had found a bud of happiness while looking into the faces of those who cried for him, those who loved him. To protect their happiness and well being, was good enough of a reason to act for anything.
He wasn't just an empty shell anymore.
The aspect of wisdom surrounded him, making all mystery clear.
Ten rings flitted lightly across his fingers, the gleaming pale silver unable to be smothered by either dirt or grime.
He trod carefully around the gravel his steps incomparably smooth and filled with purpose. Fires were spreading around him; a side effect of the sheer destruction that snapped telephone wires which ignited the fuel cells of nearby cars and factories.
The flames burned an idle orange, a startling reminder to an experience that he had once lived through before. People buried beneath the dirt and debris were reaching out towards him, calling out for help.
There was once a time where he had walked past them, unable to do anything but stare as their corpses burnt to ashes. Now was not such a time.
With a thought, he pushed away his lingering doubts, and directly began to aid those around him.
He reached out with his hands, finding purchase over the steel frame of a car, and lifted, freeing the people trapped beneath. It was a family of three, a mother, a father, and a daughter.
"Hurry and run. It's not safe here," he could see the confusion and terror in their eyes, and it gave him all the more reason to act.
"I can't, my leg's broken. Please just take my wife and child to safety," The father grabbed him by the ankle, looking up at him pleadingly.
He could see the father's desperation, and the howled anguish of the wife and child who refused to leave on their own. The daughter was clinging onto her father, and the mother didn't have the heart to pry her child away and lie that 'everything would be all right.'
They were looking to him. Hoping, praying.
What was the point of all this?
He found himself growing angry.
All of the death, all the of destruction, all of the ruin, what did it achieve? Nothing but anguish and grudges. The calm of his face, shifted into an impeccable frown.
He placed the car away, and gradually knelt down to place a hand over the father's back. "Light from light." His hand shone with an ethereal glow, the singing of doves echoing outwards. By accepting the power that God had granted onto him as a prophet, he in turn could act as a medium of God's miracles.
He closed his eyes.
"Believe. Faith is your strength."
He had always been a Faker. A man who's only defining point was re-enacting the glory of others through the experience of the weapons that he Traced. The strength of his projections was based not only on the integrity of his knowledge, but on his belief of their make and on the steps of visualization.
To believe in the faith of the One God was no different in believing in the capabilities of his own Tracing.
The light stemming from his hand visibly began to mend the wounds that the broken leg before him. Bone mended, and skin seamlessly knit back together under the astonished gazes of the family in front of him.
"W-Who are you?" The mother's voice was trembling. Just as before, the family had seen people with superhero-like abilities, but the feeling that he had given them while healing the father was different. "Do you know what's going on right now?"
He didn't answer. There wasn't much time, and he still had others that he needed to rescue. He looked up to the sky, and in that moment, the family too looked up to the heavens.
A smile made it way onto his lips before he moved and rescued every survivor in the area using a Holy Light of protection. The people were entranced in the warmth; many mirroring the family of three and staring up to the horizon, at the white gates of a Kingdom bearing the banner of the cross.
In Italy, in France, Canada, America, all throughout the world, they could see a similar sight while the pious clasped their hands over their chest.
"Rally to the Angels," Shirou said nothing more and began hurriedly making his way forward.
He had been scattered from Xenovia and the rest from the moment that Ayakoji had instructed them to jump out of the vehicle, but he could now see them clearly.
Rossweisse had shot out a magic circle as a flare to draw everyone to a single location while Niðhöggr ignored them in favour of killing other. To his surprise, it wasn't just Xenovia and the others who had travelled towards the signal. He could recognize a few faces via the members of the Hero Faction. Herakles and Siegfried were the two that stood out the most to him as he had once confronted the both of them before, but it was evident who Cao Cao was just from a glance. He was the one actively protecting his group.
Shirou moved to approach.
Siegfried and the other members of the Hero Faction were incapacitated, but Cao Cao had taken the time to gather his comrades to somewhere safe despite his injuries. Across from Cao Cao, a Miko-clothed girl with golden blond hair tied into a pony tail was directly pointing her clawed hands at Cao Cao's throat. There were tears in the girl's eyes, and her hatred and grief were palpable from the way that she sobbed while carrying the unconscious figure of a woman over her shoulders. The features of the woman were near identical to the girl's own other than the chest area, making it clear that the two were related. However, the woman was drenched in blood. So much so that she was hardly recognizable. Worse, parts of her skin were still being corroded by a putrid purple.
"Bastard! I'll kill you!" the girl bit down on her lips so hard that she drew blood. Behind her, the remnants of the Kyoto Yokai group stood protectively. "W-What did my mother ever do to you?!"
Cao Cao scoffed before coughing out a mouthful of blood. He wouldn't admit that a part of him actually started to feel guilty while staring at the snivelling brat in front of him. He spat the remnant traces of blood in his mouth onto the ground. "Go ahead, kill me. However, can you really afford to do so in this kind of situation? If I don't get healed and fight that Dragon, Kyoto is done."
Cao Cao was not a fool. He was perhaps the most rational only in the worst of situations and that mainly had to do with his origins from a remote village in China. Admittedly, his pride in his personal abilities had caused his temper and decision-making abilities to wane over time otherwise he wouldn't be in this situation.
Hard as it was for him to admit, the sneak attack that had incapacitated him was a humbling experience that he never wanted to occur again. He didn't enjoy his current feeling of helplessness that his life was in the hands of a brat that he could have killed without a thought mere moment before.
His mind whirred into action. In a time where he could not use his strength, his intelligence was all that he could rely on.
He directly turned his attention away from the crying girl and towards Rossweisse and the rest.
Kunou, the crying girl was infuriated, but helpless at the same time. She gingerly placed her mother on the ground and wept silently to herself. The other members of the Kyoto Yokai group directly moved to attack Cao Cao who was the cause of everything in their eyes.
It was at this moment that Cao Cao called out.
"Will you just stand there and watch all this?" His gaze was sharp; the grip that he had over his spear ready to strike out at a moment's notice despite his blood loss from the wound that was still bleeding on his side.
Irina hesitated. Neither she, Xenovia, Rossweisse, or Ayakoji understood the full scale of Cao Cao's conflict with the other party, but they could infer roughly what Cao Cao had done to warrant such a reaction.
Seeing the situation escalating, Ayakoji decided to calm both groups first.
"Enough with this. Can't you see that this really isn't the time?" Ayakoji smiled while fumbling for an old-fashioned cassette tape and recorder that he kept on his person. "Now lets all calm down and just listen to some calming sexual moans. I assure you this is genuine quality."
Ayakoji hit the play button, and for a moment, the entire area really did settle down at the shear incredulity of hearing high pitched yet sensual moans echo out.
"What an idiot," the Yokai pushed past Ayakoji who simply shrugged in response.
Cao Cao no longer bothered with Ayakoji and just stared at Irina and the others. "The enemy of my enemy, is my friend. If I'm attacked, I will not just stand back and refuse to retaliate. Injured I may be, but weak I am not."
"You brought this onto yourself," Rossweisse was quick to point out. She was the most intuitive of the present group and had a deeper understanding of the situation by piecing everything together.
Cao Cao glared. "The only reason my team and I were injured was because we chose to save the innocent as descendants of Heroes. Or did you fail to see what had happened?"
Rossweisse fell silent and pursed her lips. Cao Cao was not lying.
"You're not a Hero! You're a monster!" Kunou burst out in a rage. "L-Look what you did to mommy! You forced her to fight even knowing that she couldn't win!" She sucked in a breath and began weeping while clasping her mother's hand.
Cao Cao turned away. "Look how many lives I saved in doing so," he muttered back lowly. "A Hero must decide what's best for the given situation in order to save the most."
Kunou gaped at Cao Cao's words before she fell completely silent in her grief.
"My my, a true gentleman." Ayakoji pushed down the fedora over her his head. "I think you made that child cry harder. Truly talented you are."
Cao Cao didn't respond, but was inwardly thankful that for all of Ayakoji's sarcasm, the man had still impeded the murderous strikes of the Kyoto Yokai group.
Ayakoji wiped the smile off of his face. "Now is not the time to fight amongst each other. That Dragon is ignoring us right now not because we are not worth it, but because we're providing entertainment. Isn't that right?"
A pair of eyes crinkled up in amusement in the distance. Niðhöggr had been watching since the beginning. It was a sadistic Dragon who enjoyed both brutally beating its enemies to death and employing underhanded schemes for its own pleasure.
Niðhöggr opened its maw. "Pity," it spoke. "It was just getting to the bloody part."
Niðhöggr made its way over on lumbering limbs of black before suddenly stiffening. It narrowed its eyes and focused in on the individual gradually approaching the area. Its senses were warning it of danger.
Doves flew through the air, catching everyone attention just as much as the opening of Heaven in the sky.
"Step back."
Xenovia, Rossweisse, Irina, Ayakoji, Cao Cao, Kunou, and the Kyoto Yokai group all stared in a single direction.
It was Shirou. He was the same as he had been before, and yet different. There was an auspicious holy aura around him that emanated reverence. His steps were light as if unhurried, and yet his speed carried him forward in large bounds.
The spear of Longinus in Cao Cao's grip began to tremble which didn't escape Niðhöggr's eyes. The spear of Longinus would only truly react to one individual.
Niðhöggr's bearings shifted entirely, fully understanding just who it was that stood opposed to it. The Ruler of the Kingdom in the sky.
"Crom Cruach!" Niðhöggr roared. Unfortunately, it did not get a response back. "Damn it."
Niðhöggr knew that it was no match for someone of the One God's stature. This was Crom, the strongest of the Evil Dragon's job, but his colleague appeared to have left for elsewhere long ago.
Escape. This was the only thought in Niðhöggr's mind. It unfurled its wings, crouched low, and immediately soared out into the distance. Its instincts were screaming at it with an ill premonition.
Ultimately, it proved right.
"The Evil Dragon will fall as the world reaches its twilight."
The voice that reached its ears caused it to shudder. It was a Dragon of Avarice, of insatiable Greed such that it hungered even for the roots of the World Tree Yggdrasil. Its muscles tensed, scaled appendages uncaringly sweeping out at all the tall buildings that obstructed it. There once was a dwarf with a Greed akin to its own who betrayed his own brother in order to acquire riches. That dwarf was cursed and became a Dragon by the name of Fafnir, Lord of Glittering Gold.
Niðhöggr knew that Fafnir was currently sealed within another Sacred Gear like the Twin Heavenly Dragons, Ddraig and Albion, but even so, it knew of a legend.
The song of the Nibulunguns.
Niðhöggr did not turn around, but it could see the deep blue that illuminated the area around it. It was a Holy, yet Demonic Sword.
The sword strapped over the unconscious Siegfreid's body thrummed as if in resonance, reacting to a call.
"Fall."
The word was resolute. Finite in its certainty.
Fueled by the power of the Divine, a cracking noise echoed out in overload. That which was pristine became Broken.
Niðhöggr knew that sword. How could it not when it existed within the same Norse pantheon?
A torrent of blue in the shape of a blade stretched to the heavens.
The Phantasmal Great Sword Felling the Demon of the Sky, "Balmung!"
The Jewel of the Demonic Holy sword Balmung shattered in an unending torrent of blue, fully enveloping Niðhöggr in an instant. Niðhöggr panicked, and in a bid to survive, cast a high-speed teleportation spell. Even then, its body was nearly cleaved entirely in two, pieces of its wings and scales atomized into ashes. "Crom Cruach you bastard," Niðhöggr groaned out before falling unconscious through its own teleportation magic. Where Niðhöggr ended up, even Shirou did not know.
What mattered was that the area was now safe.
Shirou dismissed the traced copy of Balmung and stared back at his friends and allies who were staring back at him.
"Irina, Xenovia, Rossweisse, Ayakoji," he called out while approaching them. "Please help evacuate the people around."
"R-Right," Irina and the others snapped themselves out their daze and immediately got to work. Too many people were involved int eh battle of Kyoto and many were still panicked and pointing. The many whose first response had been to take out their cell phones were left heavily injured for their carelessness. They needed treatment.
"Are you not going to help?" Rossweisse brushed off the dust that had layered over her armour.
"There is a place that I need to go," he stared back at Rossweisse with a wry smile. "You may not know this, but it's not just Kyoto that's being attacked right now."
Rossweisse's eyes shifted to a damaged T.V. still broadcasting the world news on channel three. Her face paled along with Xenovia, Irina, and the rest. Attacks were occurring everywhere across the seven continents.
"That's why I have to go." Shirou nodded at Irina and the others before they eventually took off to aid in Kyoto's evacuation.
Subsequently, the only few people left in front of Shirou were Cao Cao's group, and the Kyoto Yokai group who did not dare to act recklessly before him.
Cao Cao didn't speak a word of thanks, while Kunou couldn't stop herself from whimpering over her mother's body.
He approached them, careful of the way that Cao Cao was eyeing him with hostility. He ignored the animosity.
He raised a hand and gently tapped Cao Cao's shoulder. Cao Cao was far too injured to even react before it was too late, and even then, he could only stiffen in bafflement. The wounds on Cao Cao's body began healing at a rapid pace, such that Cao Cao felt as if he had more energy than he did before.
The Kyoto Yokai group was immediately on edge, but relented when he walked over to Yasaka and healed her with the same process. Kunou was left unable to even express her thanks through words. She just hugged tightly against her mother's legs and pressed her face over her mother's stomach.
"Thank you," the older members of the Kyoto Yokai group expressed their thanks.
"No problems." He turned his attention back on Cao Cao whose spear was now leveled towards him. "Though you might want to leave this place for now."
"Right." The Kyoto Yokai took Kunou and Yasaka away to reach a safer location.
Cao Cao stared him in the eyes, his expression contorting in doubt and confusion.
"We are enemies," Cao Cao advised naturally while placing himself in a battle stance. "You had no reason to heal me now that the Dragon had been dealt with. Even worse is that I wield your bane." Cao Cao pulled back his spear. "Why?"
"Is it really that hard to understand?" Shirou gestured towards the people that Cao Cao's group had saved earlier. They were only alive thanks to Cao Cao and his Hero Faction's efforts. These people were already attempting to run up towards Cao Cao to express their thanks. "To those that you saved, you are their Hero. Personally, I don't consider you one because you've failed to understand what truly matters."
"And that would be?" Cao Cao's brows perked up.
"A Hero saves all, and above all, a Hero needs character." Shirou pointed at Cao Cao. "That's where you fail. You instigate others to fight for your cause but cast aside those who were weak. You're intelligent, but your plans do not take account the personal feelings of others."
Cao Cao thought about how real, how human it was when Kunou had wept in front of him. He grimaced. "Enough with the lecture. I don't need it. So, spare me the details. You helped me, so you must want something in return?"
It was good to deal with smart people.
Shirou nodded his head. "The person who attacked you. Do you know who it was?"
"The true leader of the Khaos Brigade, Rizevim Lucifer." Cao Cao crossed his arms and frowned. "He got me when I wasn't paying attention. Knowing him, the bastard was probably the cause of all of this."
"I'll keep that in mind," Shirou turned to leave, but paused as he watched Cao Cao pick up his allies in retreat. "One last favour. You're strong, right?"
"Confident enough to take you on," Cao Cao didn't hesitate to answer.
"Then while I'm gone, save all the people that you can. You're the descendant of one of China's most renowned war lords are you not?"
"I'll consider it," Cao Cao picked up his allies while contemplating a safe place to leave them. "This isn't over between us though. We are enemies."
"Then I look forward to your challenge." Shirou didn't even turn around. He could hear Cao Cao leave in a burst of speed. In which case, it was also time for him to go.
The normal humans were quickly making their way over. He even spotted a media crew desperately trying to run towards him for answers.
He had to leave, and now.
He knew that the fastest way to save everyone was to reacquire the Sephiroth Graal.
His true objective in healing Cao Cao was not only to get the man to owe him a favour, but to sense the presence of the energy unique to Cao Cao's attacker.
Where did he run?
Rizevim Lucifer.
He closed his eyes and began to sense out.
The rings over his fingers shook lightly at the answer.
The Underworld.
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