The sounds of battle filled the air.
Shirou could feel the heat radiating through his chest as he dashed forward. His blades glistened in the faint light of the moon. It shone brighter than ever before as he reinforced them.
Atalanta moved swiftly in front of him, deflecting each incoming blow with her bow. As she drew it, a bright light enveloped the area around them, leaving a trail of green light behind.
Bakuya flew forward, slamming into the vampires in its path with incredible speed. A deafening crash erupted among the vampires. One vampire, an individual almost as powerful as an elder, was sent flying. His wings were mangled beyond recognition.
Shirou struck down another one that attempted to flank him, taking him out with ease. With a ferocious speed, Shirou turned his attention towards the vampires attempting to surround him, the blades in his hands gleaming menacingly as he swung them about.
He took down four opponents by mere inches. Blood splattered across the ground and stained his clothes, but he barely seemed bothered by it.
Shirou leaped to a nearby horde, thirty of them, and struck, cutting their throats open with his blade as they screamed.
He deals with the rest of them in quick succession. Their bodies fell to the ground without a sound. He landed gracefully on top of their forms and continued on his way. Blood coated his hands as he continued fighting. The married blades are slick.
The next wave of enemies approached him from different directions. He deflected their claws and spells from the right and left while avoiding the ones from behind. They would cut him if they got past all the obstacles between him and their target.
Another slash and another body tumbled to the ground. His head whipped to the other side where another vampire was charging. His jaws gaped wide. A cry cut through the night, loud and piercing. Another vampire lunged at Shirou.
He jumped backward and landed with both feet planted firmly on a broken bench, his arms moving fast and fluidly as he raised the curved blades. The tip met the vampire's neck with a sickening thud, not missing his jugular. Blood spilled over the ground below him, staining them red. The vampire gurgled and collapsed onto the ground beside Shirou, twitching.
He turned to find Atalanta engaged in combat against three more similar groups. Her arrows sliced the air as if it weighed nothing, and blood spurted from the puncture wounds in the vamps' bodies. The creatures howled at her with bared fangs. Atalanta whirled about, releasing another arrow as she did so.
She missed her target, but instead hit an unfortunate foe on the shoulder. The vampire cried out in pain as Atalanta responded with a kick to the one that evaded.
Arrows flew through the air marking fifty more vampires dead. She drew her bow again and again, arrows rapidly firing like a Gatling gun.
She quickly dispatched two more vampires that came at her. With one sweep of her bow, the vampires were struck with a bone pop. Two vampires went limp and fell limply to the ground.
A sigh escaped Atalanta's lips as her shoulders slouched forward in determination. She didn't look exhausted. Blood dripped down her face, soaking through the green dress. Ears twitching. Her long hair flowed down her back, shimmering in the moonlight. Her skin was pale and flawless, like porcelain. She looked positively beautiful in the silver moonlight.
Atalanta spun back around, her eyes locking with Shirou.
He averted his eyes as his neck flushed.
There was no moment to hesitate. His body moved on its own accord, swinging his blades wildly. His blades were swift, precise, and deadly. Blood flowed everywhere, and he got a kick out of the feeling.
YOU ARE READING
Fate/Counter Order
FantasyA human reborn in the fire of corruption, grew with a body of steel, and be the fated Hero of Justice he was meant to be. Yet, he became the Counter Guardian as he was not meant to be. In the end times, the World did not survive an eldritch onslaugh...
