I Will Eventually Become the Hero of Justice

As Shirou emerged from the rubble of the collapsed warehouses, the servants he encountered looked upon him not with the contempt he had expected, but rather with a mixture of disgust and fear.

He was confused as to why they would react this way.

But–

'I'd rather you all look down on me!' Shirou bitterly laughed in his heart.

Among the group, only Gilgamesh's gaze stood out as different.
He looked at Shirou with a predatory glint, as if he were a mere plaything, like a cat watching a mouse.
This caused Shirou to shiver with unease.

“Oh, this King,” Iskandar remarked, glancing towards Gilgamesh, “is this the servant you had to use your Noble Phantasm to draw out? If he was hiding around, he'll be quite troublesome.” He shook his head.

Gilgamesh responded to Iskandar's comment with a disdainful “Hmph.”

Troublesome?

I'm troublesome?

No, no, no, no, I am just a commoner with an attribute E, don't give me any deadly labels!

Shirou's heart was filled with panic upon facing Iskandar's seemingly brainless evaluation.
He thought if he could make Iskandar, a top-notch servant, feel troublesome, he wouldn't have to suffer so much.

However, inadequacy can be deadly!

“Even though you probably won't tell me, I'll still ask – who are you?” Iskandar fixed a serious gaze on Shirou.
“To be honest, my initial plan was to let Lancer draw all the heroes in this world together and then launch a non-elimination form of conquest.
But you…you've made me consider eliminating you directly.”

Shirou's face was blank under the disguise, what is this situation? No way?

“Perhaps this is simply the king's innate disgust for traitors,” Iskandar shook his head.

Traitor?

How did he become a traitor all of a sudden? And the most deadly thing is that he even caught the attention of Iskandar, a top servant in this war.

Shirou instinctively wanted to step forward and explain himself, but before he could even say the words “You're mistaken,” Artoria tightened her grip on the invisible holy sword in her hand, her expression becoming serious as if she would attack him if he took one more step forward.

Shirou's heart was filled with sadness as he was forced to come to a halt.

In theory, Shirou should be her master in the fifth Holy Grail War, shouldn't he? She had made a vow to protect him with her sword, but now she was pointing it at him.

Despite understanding that it was morally wrong to define someone based on a potential future event that may or may not happen in the future and knowing he was not Emiya Shirou, the sight of Artoria holding a sword toward him evoked feelings of sadness.

He just wanted to go home.

He wants to run to the dream and find his big sister for comfort.

Shirou couldn't help but feel a bitter taste in his mouth.
Was it his youth or the fact that he now had someone to share his pain with that made him feel so vulnerable?

Shirou never considered himself particularly strong, especially compared to the heroes around him who had faced life-and-death struggles.
His biggest concern had always been how to make a living as an ordinary person, which hardly qualified as strength.
But now, as he stood before the horrors ahead, he knew he couldn't go any further.

He halted, feeling a bit flustered as the servants, for some unknown reason, were labeling him as a traitor and showing hostility towards him.

Shirou felt a sense of cowardice towards these mythical warriors, but his black cloak and leather suit concealed it, leaving no one the wiser.

Despite his fear of heroes, Shirou couldn't help but glance at Gilgamesh, who stood tall atop a street light.
This man had assisted him at the Matou mansion and convinced Scathach to aid him as well.
Gilgamesh had even claimed that Shirou had become a source of amusement for him, so Shirou reasoned that at least he wouldn't be eliminated on the first night, right?

Shirou believed that as long as he could survive the first night, he could devise his own strategy.
But the mocking gaze that Gilgamesh directed at him suggested otherwise, making it clear that the king had no intention of helping him.
It was as if he was looking at a clown.

Ah, right.

That's right.

Unconsciously relying on Gilgamesh had been a mistake from the start.
It only served to confirm his own weakness and the mistakes of a mortal.

This man, Gilgamesh, only did things that brought him pleasure, and what gave him pleasure at the moment was probably watching a mortal like Shirou struggling on the stage of heroes and walking into a dead end.

Shirou felt a deep discomfort in his heart.
The feeling of being alone in a vast world with no one to rely on was truly unsettling.
It reminded him of the years he spent struggling alone in a big city, without friends or family, feeling helpless.

No.

It's even worse than that.

In the real world, if one fails to make a living, one can always return home and find refuge.
But if he fails here, there's only death!

Fortunately, it seems that due to mutual fear, no servants have yet attacked him.

This made Shirou feel relieved despite his fear.

However…

“Since neither the Conqueror King nor the Knight King has any intention of taking action, I shall,” Lancer Diarmuid declared as he stepped forward, wielding the Crimson Rose, a spear capable of severing magical energy.
He pointed it at Shirou and proclaimed, “This servant who defiles the glory of heroes.
I, Lancer, shall punish you!”

Shirou's heart trembled.

“You intend to punish me? Will your Master approve? Don't forget that there are still many other servants here,” Shirou tried to suppress his fear and steady his voice, but his words lacked conviction.
It was clear to anyone listening that he was lacking in confidence.

“My Lord?” Diarmuid looked directly at Shirou and called out to Kayneth, who was hiding nearby.

“I-I agree.
Lancer, punish this servant!” Kayneth's voice came out.

Shirou was filled with anxiety.
He looked in the direction from which Kayneth's voice came and spoke, “Lancer's master, you should think carefully.
Lancer may not be able to defeat me, and there are at least three servants nearby, no, four servants, and there is also an assassin watching you.
If Lancer continues to attack me, how will you fare? I don't need to say more, do I?”

Is there an Assassin nearby? Artoria became even more vigilant and protected Irisviel closely.

Iskander crossed his arms and laughed: “It's fine.
This King welcomes the battle of heroes.
In the name of this king, anyone who interferes will be treated as an enemy of this King.”

You!!!

Shirou clenched his fists under his sleeves, his heart filled with anger.

The most harmless-looking Servant, the Conqueror King, now became the blade that would kill him.

It's ironic!

“So you are Caster…
Lancer, defeat him and bring glory to me.” Kayneth issued the command.

“Yes, my lord.” Lancer's face became serious as he stared intently at Shirou, exuding a terrifying killing intent.

This is crazy!

This is crazy, crazy!!!

Shirou silently cursed Kayneth in his mind.
He had already made his stance clear, so why did Kayneth still insist on defeating him in this way? Shirou couldn't understand Kayneth's motives and likely never would.
They were both human, but they had different brains and perspectives, making mutual understanding impossible.

The other Servants present, however, could understand the fear evident in Shirou's words.
The fear of Lancer attacking him was not something that could be easily concealed.

No.

He struggled.
He worked hard.
He hid.

But for Shirou, as an ordinary person, a common social youth, an unremarkable oppressed social insect, who had always watched leaders or social elite give speeches, and never had the opportunity to speak in front of others, it was impossible for him to overcome the psychological fear, and it was impossible for him to conceal his fear in front of a group of murderers.

Moreover, these mythical murderers, all of whom have emerged from a sea of blood and corpses, have an even more acute ability to detect the scent of fear than a hunting dog!

What should he do?

What can he do?

Should he fight?

Can he fight?

Shirou remembered the words that Scathach-nee had spoken to him, “My training will prepare you to face Servants, allowing you to die in a way that is both honorable and beautiful.”

The gentle yet playful words echoed in his mind.

Yes.

The six-year-old boy named Shirou, facing a genuine Servant, had no means of resistance.

What should he do?

What can he do?

The situation had surpassed expectations.
The ordinary person, who should have retreated, now had to confront death head-on due to the powerful's oppression.

What should he do? What can he do?

It was like the cry of a drowning person.

Even the most arrogant, self-important, and powerful individuals, when facing the threat of death, would make a plea for their life.

Who will -,

Save me?

It's just a beautiful illusion, no one responds, and no one answers.
The dream world has everything, but in reality, who is a hero? Who would be willing to risk their own lives to save others?

However, this is a world where heroes exist.

Someone…

There is such a hero, who responded to Shirou.

“I am the sword of the weak, the shield of the oppressed.
My sword cuts through the chains that bind them, my eyes gaze upon the light of freedom, and my feet walk the road of freedom.
Can you see it, the weak? The road to freedom!”

With a towering and massive body, like a chariot breaking through, the warrior of love stands tall as a giant, supporting the crumbling blue sky for the weak.
With a smile like a maiden's, he turned his head back, casting a reassuring gaze toward Shirou.
“Fear not, the weak one.
For I am here!”

The abuser who once almost took Shirou's life now stands as a shield in front of him.

…