The port was a mess of motion—sailors shouting, cargo creaking under strain, soldiers preparing for war. But amid the chaos, Shirou and Kurono moved like shadows.
Their eyes were on a sleek skiff moored near the far end of the harbor. It was small—barely a patrol craft—but it was fast and nimble. That's all they needed.
Kurono adjusted the strap of his cloak, sharp eyes scanning the nearby guards. "That one's our ride. No flags, no marks. Looks civilian."
Shirou nodded. "We take it and go. Quietly."
He reached into his core, into the forge of swords buried in his soul. Unlimited Blade Works opened briefly—just enough.
Rule Breaker formed in his hand, cold and humming with cursed purpose. As always, it felt wrong. A dagger forged not just to cut, but to sever the intangible—the bonds, the contracts, the trust.
It pulsed with history, its own memories bleeding into Shirou's understanding through UBW. He grasped it firmly.
"This won't hurt," he said, mostly out of habit.
Kurono gave a short snort. "Liar."
A clean slice—one to Kurono, one to himself—and the contracts dissolved like mist under sunlight. Unbound. Free.
Shirou flung Rule Breaker back into his Reality Marble before it could poison the air around them. There was no time to bring out UBW fully, but once they were away from this cursed land, he'd do it. He had to.
"Invisibility," Shirou said, already beginning the chant.
"On it," Kurono replied, activating a dark mist of concealment.
Together, they dashed toward the ship.
No one saw them. No one heard them.
In one motion, they vaulted aboard the skiff. Shirou's telekinesis flared—lifting the unsuspecting sailors and tossing them overboard like scattered dolls. No harm. Just removal.
Kurono was already conjuring swirling black energy. With a wave of his hand, jagged shadow-propellers formed at the rear of the ship.
Shirou added his own force, shaping a bubble of kinetic energy to push them from behind.
The ship lurched, then flew forward—silent, invisible, and cutting through the sea like a wraith.
Kurono let out a low chuckle as they slipped into open waters. "You always this dramatic when you steal things?"
"First time," Shirou muttered, eyes fixed on the waves. "Not proud of it."
"Heh. Well, you've got taste. At least it's a good ship."
They left the port behind in minutes. No alarms. No shouts. Just the emptying skyline and the glimmer of freedom.
Shirou didn't relax.
"We're not safe yet," he said. "Semiramis will notice. But she'll cover it. Pride won't let her admit someone escaped under her watch."
Kurono nodded. Shirou's grip tightened on the rudder. The sea stretched ahead, and beyond it—the Pandora continent. Danger. Secrets. War.
----------------
The moment their ship surged forward, chaos erupted behind them.
Cannons roared. Spells shrieked. Beams of divine light and cursed magic chased them like hounds—but none reached. Kurono, ever the silent sentinel, weaved his dark magic into a web of absolute defense, shattering incoming attacks mid-air with bursts of shadows and precision counterspells.
Then it happened.
A voice, cold as winter steel, slipped through the wind and into Shirou's ears.
"Stop the ship."
His instincts screamed, reacting before thought. He snapped his head toward the sound and unleashed a kinetic burst.
Something—someone—crashed into the ship's railings, but she landed on her feet, unharmed. The impact didn't even slow her down.
She stepped out of the shadows.
A masked figure cloaked in black, form-fitting armor that clung to her like living ink. White hair framed a porcelain face marred with stitched scars. Green-yellow eyes stared at him through the mask's gaps—innocent, curious, and deathly still.
She looked like a child in some ways. In others, she was anything but.
Her name hit Shirou's mind like a hammer: Jack the Ripper.
Clad in her infamous garb—black vest, black stockings, mismatched gloves, with rows of sheathed daggers strapped to her back—Jacky looked like a specter from a child's nightmare, born from blood and sorrow.
Shirou froze for a heartbeat.
She warned me. If not for that… I might've died. No—Avalon would've saved me. But Kurono… he would've been killed.
"Kurono! Don't stop! Keep going!" Shirou barked, already drawing his weapons.
In a blur, Gáe Dearg and Gáe Buidhe materialized in his hands—twin cursed spears reborn as short swords, glowing with crimson and gold.
He snapped his fingers, and Enkidu, the golden chains of heaven, burst from the air beside him. They lacked the true Enkidu's divine judgment, but they were still deadly and reliable.
Jack stood still, eyeing the arsenal with eerie silence. Her magic-resistant elven blood trembled from the presence of so many noble phantasms.
She didn't fear them.
But she respected them.
She could've killed me—but she didn't. That wasn't an attack, it was a warning.
She showed me mercy. I won't repay that with death unless I must.
Though she was centuries old, Jacky had the fractured soul of a broken child. A once-pure elf, tortured into madness and shaped into a weapon. She served only one: Semiramis—the Queen of Assassins, who treated her like a daughter.
And she would never disappoint her mother.
A hiss filled the air as thick mist burst from her form, engulfing the ship like a creeping phantom. Visibility dropped to zero—and even magical perception was cut off.
Shirou narrowed his eyes. Mist-type sensory fog. She's made it her domain.
Jacky moved. Faster than sound. Her daggers glowed faintly—aiming for nerve strikes that would cripple without killing.
Shirou barely reacted in time.
"Rho Aias."
The shimmering seven-petaled barrier bloomed into existence, catching her blow. Sparks flew as her enchanted blades clashed against the legendary shield.
Instantly, Shirou retaliated—Enkidu surged like a golden serpent.
Jacky jumped back, trying to retreat into the fog—but she struck the barrier instead. The momentary pause was all Shirou needed.
His dual blades came down with ruthless speed. Jacky blocked, her tiny body straining against the force.
The chains coiled. In a flash, they wrapped around her, suppressing her mana and binding her limbs.
She froze.
Not from fear.
But from confusion.
He wasn't finishing her.
Shirou stared into her eyes, calm and resolute.
"Don't struggle. I'm not going to kill you."
His voice was soft, almost kind.
"Deliver my thanks and apologies to your master. I have my own path. One that doesn't allow me to serve anyone. Tell her this—live a good life… or I'll have no choice but to cut her down."
His eyes shone with power, purpose, and unwavering belief.
"I am the Hero of Justice. Just remember that."
Jacky's eyes widened—childlike wonder flickering within the assassin's fractured mind.
Then, with a flick of his hand, Shirou launched her skyward—Enkidu's golden coils hurling her like a comet back toward the harbor.
The mist faded.
The sea opened before them.
Shirou exhaled, standing tall on the deck as Kurono kept the ship flying.
Pandora awaited. But so did everything else…
------------------
With their invisibility still intact and the ship blazing across the skies faster than any conventional means, even Achilles—the fastest hero of the Age of immortals—found himself at a standstill.
His sharp senses caught the blurred motion in the distance. Then, a shadow fell.
Jacky.
She spiraled through the air like a wounded bird, and without a second thought, Achilles leapt and caught her mid-fall.
Her body trembled—bruised but alive. Mana suppressed. Chains gone. The mist dispersed.
He exhaled in relief.
From the air, he gazed in the direction the ship had vanished. He could sense their general path. If he really wanted to, he could throw a immortal-killing spear or kick the wind itself to intercept their flight.
But he didn't.
They hadn't killed Jacky. They had let her go.
"That means something," he thought, adjusting her gently in his arms.
He landed softly on the harbor's edge.
"I wonder who they really were… We might end up as enemies someday," Achilles mused, his gaze distant.
The upcoming expedition was drawing closer—an event that would shake the balance of power. He had no doubt they would cross paths again.
With Jacky unconscious but stable, Achilles headed back toward the towering estate where Semiramis awaited.
The doors flung open.
A palm cracked across his cheek before he could speak.
SLAP!
"You let them go," Semiramis hissed, her crimson eyes blazing.
Achilles rubbed his cheek, unfazed. "They didn't hurt Jacky."
"That's not the point," she growled. "If you had stalled them—even a little—I could've sent reinforcements. That ship was loaded with power. There were artifacts on board I could feel from here."
Achilles remained quiet. No excuses. No defiance.
Semiramis turned away, fists clenched. Her long black gown rustled as she walked to Jacky's bedside, the cool edge in her voice softening.
The assassin girl slept soundly now, breathing evenly under the protective enchantments.
"…Still. They didn't kill her," she murmured.
Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed a lock of hair from Jacky's face.
"Thank you… Gilgamesh," she whispered, a name she now etched in memory.
He had spared her daughter.
Had he killed Jacky, Semiramis would've declared a blood war.
But now… she was curious.
This "Hero of Justice" intrigued her deeply.
However, not everyone was as forgiving.
The doors burst open again—this time with fury unlike any storm.
Salome.
The mad prophetess strode in, her expression manic and grief-stricken.
"What were you THINKING, Achilles?!" She screamed like a tempest, her presence making even the shadows crawl. Her anger was unhinged, and her desire to own everything ran deep. She had wanted Shirou and now he had escaped her hands.
Before he could reply, guards entered—silently gesturing.
Semiramis raised a hand.
"Take him to isolation."
Achilles didn't resist. He simply nodded.
Days later…
Locked in a solitary wing, Achilles stared at the stars through a narrow window.
They spared her. That has to count for something…
But he knew the world wasn't built on kindness. Mercy was often a luxury for fools.
He had chosen to be one.
For now.
The expedition is coming. We'll meet again, Shirou... Let's hope you're still that same man when we do.
---------------
The candles flickered softly, casting long, dancing shadows on the grand walls of Semiramis' chamber. It was a room that seemed to breathe with power, filled with ancient tapestries depicting grand battles, the subtle hint of mystery hidden within every fold of silk and stone. Semiramis herself sat upon her throne, a seat so ornate it could have been carved from the very bones of forgotten kings. Her fingers, delicate and unnervingly graceful, traced the armrest with the slow precision of someone who had all the time in the world.
Jacky, standing before her, was still slightly breathless from the encounter. She had returned from the battle, the narrow escape, the strange encounter with the Hero of Justice—Shirou. She had almost died, had almost been torn apart by his blades, but he had spared her. And for that, there was gratitude in her heart, mixed with confusion.
She recounted everything, her voice steady but haunted by the strange pull she felt toward this man who had called himself a hero. She told Semiramis of the way Shirou had moved, of the power he wielded, but also of the kindness in his eyes. The hesitation before the kill, the refusal to end her life when so many others would have done so without a second thought.
"He called himself a Hero of Justice," Jacky said, eyes lowered as she relived the memory. "He didn't want to kill me, Semiramis. Even after everything… he spared me."
Semiramis' lips curved into a cold, calculating smile at the mention of those words. A Hero of Justice—the kind of fool who believed in ideals, in something higher than the very real and brutal world they inhabited. She leaned forward, her voice soft, almost too soft, a snake's whisper against the night's silence.
"The Hero of Justice," she repeated, her tone dark and amused. "How… quaint. How utterly predictable." She chuckled, her laugh both musical and chilling. "A child playing with power, unaware of its weight. He thinks he can save the world. But the world isn't some fairy tale, is it, Jacky?"
Jacky hesitated but then nodded, though the discomfort in her chest made it hard to completely agree with Semiramis' words. She was confused by Shirou, torn between what she had seen and what she had heard from the woman who had raised her, shaped her into the weapon she was today.
Semiramis straightened, her fingers still resting on the arm of her chair, now cold and firm, like stone. "You see, Jacky, he's like every other fool who believes in 'justice'. A child in a land of monsters. He has no idea how the world truly works." Her eyes gleamed, blood-red and piercing as she met Jacky's gaze. "But that's what makes him useful."
The words hung in the air, heavy and full of meaning.
Jacky swallowed hard, the weight of her mistress' words pressing down on her. There was something in Semiramis' eyes—something cold, something calculating—that made Jacky shiver despite herself. She was used to being a tool, a weapon, and yet the way Semiramis spoke of Shirou unsettled her.
"But… he's kind," Jacky ventured, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "He doesn't want to hurt anyone. He could have killed me, Semiramis, but he didn't."
Semiramis' smile turned sharp, a predator's grin. "Kindness, Jacky, is a luxury the weak indulge in. And it is precisely that kindness, that foolish sense of justice, that will make him so much more malleable." Her voice dropped, now edged with an icy certainty. "We can give him what he wants. All the power, all the treasures. We can shape him into something more than just a child with a dream. He will be a hero, yes, but a hero who understands that might makes right."
She rose from her throne, her cloak flowing around her like a shadow, dark and dangerous. "Shirou will fall into line, Jacky. We'll show him that there is no 'justice' in this world. There is only control, only power. Once he understands that, he'll be mine—he'll want to be mine."