Hunter of The Red Plains

PROLOUGE CHAPTER

 Ah... This again...

 As the raindrops were falling from his white, messed hair as droplets, the man was standing under the rain, hoping that those drops would clean his sinner soul. With his twin blades, whose colours were opposite as white and black, falling from his hands and sticking in the ground, he turned his gaze to the dark, rainy sky from the corpses on the plain. With their blood painting the place to red, the foul scent of their boddies spread through air and wind.

 I am a sinner, aren't I? Yes, I completely am. My sin was not something as basic as taking some other's life, I did it so much I couldn't even count. My sin was to lie myself, to lie others I tried to save. I was told that saving someone meant giving up on one other, yet I was too naive to understand such thing. I thought I could save everyone, which was the biggest lie I ever had faith in. Well, I bet it is a bit late for it, right?

 He kept his head raised up to sky, as if he was praying for something even he didn't know. If he ever was to pray for something, it would be either the safety of the ones he tried to save or a smile to see. It must have been ages since he saw a sincere smile. It was all normal to be so, though. Who would smile to a killer, he wondered.

 He lowered his head to look at those he saw before. They were running free from those men, whose life were already taken by the Guardian. As his blades, Bakuya and Kanshou, disappeared within a blue mist of mana, he raised his palm up to the sky, just like the that day years ago. He was reaching out right at the blue ring spliting the sky, which was his call of 'come back'. The gate began to open when he crouched to take the blade of a victim of this slaughter, and the moment he took the blade in his hand, he already was at his own reality marble. Being surrounded by limitless blades, and being pierced by them at the very end was his destiniy, he knew it. For each blade presenting a life he could not save, it surely was ironic.

 In the very end, I fail unlimited times, huh? This thought of his made him grin. A sorrowful, saddened grin. He sat down on a bulge of rock, with the latest blade, latest grave in his hands. I never was at any place, I have no name nor a proper reason to exist. I have just become a nameless ghost. But it's alright. If it is what it takes to save lives, to become a hero of justice, I shall gladly become a phantom! He stood up and pierced the ground with the blade he had, and took off the white cloak he was wearing since it was all red now. He liked the colour of red, since it was the colour of blood. It might be construed as if it was presenting death, whereas it could present the life itself. His twin blades, Bakuya and Kanshou, appeared in his hands with a mana mist, as well as his clothes. With a new white cloak on his shoulders, he started to train himself once again, in order to become a hero of justice properly. While having a duel against the three blades attacking him as if they were wielded by a blademaster for each, he didn't know what could wait for him during his journey. Nameless Ghost, Emiya, was yet to meet his bane.

"His body was made out of swords

With a skin of steel, and a heart of glass.

He has overcome countless battlefields.

Not once leaving with victory

Nor once being understood clearly.

He was always alone, staring at his despair among countless gravestones, on a red plain.

Thus, his life had no meaning, nor needed it.

Because his whole life was Unlimited Blade Works."