Chapter 42 – The Fire That Burns Shadows

Four masked figures dashed forward, their movements synchronized like trained wolves encircling prey. With sharp metallic clinks, each of them hurled a kunai toward Shirou from a different angle.

Shirou didn't flinch.

His eyes narrowed, catching the glint of metal in midair. With a calm breath, he shifted his weight and twisted—dodging the incoming projectiles with effortless grace. The kunai clattered harmlessly to the ground behind him.

But then, all four enemies spoke in eerie unison.

"Bind."

For a split second, nothing happened—then something caught his movement. Thin, nearly invisible threads attached to the kunai suddenly pulled taut, snapping around his body like wires. They bound his arms to his torso, legs together, and even looped around his neck, tightening like a snake coiling around prey.

Shirou blinked.

So, that was the plan.

The threads dug into his flesh, biting. But there was no fear in his gaze—only rising heat.

"Ashbringer…" he whispered, closing his eyes. The sword responded.

"Phoenix Burst."

A searing wave of flame exploded from Ashbringer's core, enveloping Shirou in a brilliant vortex of heat and fire. The threads hissed and vaporised instantly. From within the inferno, a figure stepped out, slow and unstoppable.

Shirou's golden eyes glowed through the smoke, flames licking along the edge of his blade.

He raised Ashbringer, and the fire coiled tighter around it, hungry.

"Ashbringer-flame edge."

He vanished in a blur.

One of the masked enemies barely turned before Shirou appeared behind him. A single horizontal slash flared in a brilliant arc—his body collapsed forward before he even registered it.

The second figure reacted faster, spinning with a blade of his own—too slow.

Shirou thrust Ashbringer forward like a spear. The fire-infused blade pierced his chest, searing flesh and armour alike. The man gasped, collapsing.

[You have defeated the enemy.]

[You have defeated the enemy.]

[You have levelled up.]

The digital screen blinked across his vision, but Shirou ignored them.

The final enemy hesitated. His feet shuffled back. His body trembled, and for the first time, his stance broke.

Shirou turned his head slightly, just enough to meet the man's eyes. His voice was quiet, cold, and unrelenting.

"Still want to continue?"

Flames still danced along the edge of Ashbringer, glowing brighter as Shirou took a step forward. The air itself shimmered around him.

The masked man's fists clenched. Then—puff—he vanished into shadow.

"Shadow Step," Shirou muttered, eyes sharpening.

Instinct kicked in. He ducked just as a dagger came slicing through the space his neck had been. He twisted, raising Ashbringer to parry—steel clashed against steel, sparks flying.

The man was fast.

But Shirou was faster.

He pressed forward in a flurry of strikes. Every swing of Ashbringer sent waves of heat forward, forcing the assassin back. Their feet dragged against the ground, struggling for grip. The shadows around him flickered—but Shirou wasn't done.

He released his sword with one hand and clenched his fist. Lightning surged around it.

"Let's end this."

The punch landed square in the gut. The masked man's eyes widened as his body lifted off the ground from the impact. Electricity danced through his muscles, paralysing him.

Shirou grabbed the man by the collar, twisted, and slammed him into the cobbled stone path.

Cracks splintered outward.

[You have defeated the enemy.]

Silence.

The alley was still now—smoke rising, blood pooling, embers cooling.

Shirou exhaled. He glanced at his arm, where one of the threads had cut deep enough to draw blood.

"Tch. Guess I let my guard down."

Then his eyes turned, sharp again.

Someone else was still there.

A fifth figure—a younger man with a different mask—was standing at the edge of the shadows, shaking like a leaf in a storm. His weapon was lowered. His knees were knocking.

Shirou walked forward slowly, golden eyes locked onto him.

"What do you want with me?" Shirou asked, voice calm but dangerous.

"N-Nothing! Actually—nothing!" the man stammered.

"Was this revenge? For killing one of your own?"

The man took a step back, tripping over his own feet and landing hard on the ground. "I-It was the boss's orders! I swear, I didn't want this! Please—don't kill me!"

Shirou's expression didn't change. He knelt down, crouching in front of the trembling man. His presence alone felt like a sword pressed to the poor soul's throat.

"Boss, huh?" Shirou murmured. "Who is he? Where is he?"

"I... I can't tell you that!" the man whimpered.

Shirou narrowed his eyes. "You should really reconsider. Because if you're scared of what he'll do to you—just imagine what I'll do if you keep wasting my time."

The man's breathing grew ragged. "I... I'll die either way!"

Shirou gave a dangerous smile. He summoned Inferno Fang, the smaller flame dagger stored in his inventory. It crackled with heat.

"You've got two choices," Shirou said, voice cold. "Tell me what I want and walk away. Or stay silent—and I'll make sure you regret every second of it."

The man's eyes widened.

Before he could answer, Shirou slashed.

The dagger sank into his thigh.

The man screamed in agony, rolling on the ground as flames scorched the wound.

"Still not in a talking mood?" Shirou asked.

"OKAY! I'LL TALK! PLEASE!"

Shirou remained crouched, eyes fixed on him.

"K-Kael! Boss Kael! That's his name!" the man cried.

"Where is he?"

"26th Street! Down the old road—there's an abandoned building at the end. That's our hideout. He's there! He never leaves! Please—please, that's all I know!"

Shirou tilted his head. "And?"

"And... and... he's from the Stoneheart Clan."

Shirou's gaze sharpened. "Stoneheart... so he's an Earth-element user."

"Yes! Yes, that's right!" the man nodded rapidly.

There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes now. "I told you everything. You said you'd let me go... You promised, right?"

Shirou smiled and placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Of course," he said softly. "I never go back on my word."

A look of relief washed over the man's face.

Then—

[You have defeated the enemy.]

—

Far away, inside the large room of an abandoned building on 26th Street, a man stood alone in a dimly lit room. His jet-black hair hung around his shoulders as he stared silently at a cracked photograph pinned to the wall.

Footsteps echoed behind him.

He didn't turn.

Kael spoke in a composed, almost disappointed tone. "I take it they've failed."

Another presence emerged in the room. Shirou.

"You should've sent someone stronger," Shirou replied, stepping into the light.

Kael finally turned. His eyes were steel grey and sharp. "It seems the reports about you were inaccurate," he said, lips curling into a half-smile. "No matter. Looks like I'll have to dirty my own hands."

Shirou took another step forward. Ashbringer flared to life in his hand, fire blooming around its edge.

"Sorry to break it to you," he said coldly, "but dying today isn't on my to-do list."

Kael's expression sharpened. "Then maybe it's time we update that list of yours."

Flames surged along Shirou's blade as he lowered it into a ready stance.

"You can try."