Chapter 1: What Could Have Been

Hello everyone! Welcome to the new(and hopefully improved) Fate/Guardian Light. The polls have been closed, and therefore, the main characters will be Saber, Archer, and Lancer. I have a feeling that some of who who read the original are disappointed and angry(pleasedontkillme!) but worry not. I'm still keeping the original as is. I'm putting it in storage, and maybe after a year or two, I'll bring it out again once this story and White Dragon's Legend are more developed.

This chapter is basically a retelling of an alternate Unlimited Blade Works from Archer's perspective before we get into the actual story where the Knight-class Servants get thrown into the Destiny Universe, all condensed into one chapter. The reason this is an alternate UBW is because Archer will also be a little bit…different, but I'll explain that at the end of the chapter.

For now, ladies and gentlemen, sit back and enjoy the ...is Fate/Guardian Light.

Key:

"Speech"

'Thoughts'

"Arias/chants"

"Noble Phantasm"(incantation)

Chapter 1:

The Holy Grail War: a small-scale battle between seven masters, comprised of three magi from the founding families of the Tohsaka, Einzbern, and Makiri, along with four other magi randomly selected from all walks of the Twilight World, and seven Servants, seven heroes of legend from across time and space who fight under the command of the Masters.

There was the noble and chivalrous Saber, Servant of the Sword.

Then came the versatile Archer, Servant of the Bow.

And then there was the swift and agile Lancer, Servant of the Lance.

Together, these three Servants classes formed the Knights, oftentimes the most powerful players in the field when the Holy Grail War came about.

However, as powerful as they were, such vaunted abilities did not lessen the value of the silent and deadly Assassin, Servant of Stealth and Murder.

Nor the mobile and indomitable Rider, Servant of the Mount.

Should they be summoned from the right legend, and their master could supply enough mana, the murderous and insane Berserker, Servant of Madness, could also match up with any of the Knights.

And last was the Caster. The Servant of magecraft was weak in terms of fighting other Servants, yet thy were, just like Assassin, perfectly suited for ending the lives of Masters with their extremely potent Magecraft.

One Servant from each of these classes would be summoned to fight in the War, yet in the five times that it had occurred, not once had there ever been a victor with a wish granted.

The records of the First and Second Wars were lost to the annals of time, only a scant few ever remembering the exact events that occurred.

The Third War birthed an irregularity, the Servant Avenger, summoned by the Einzberns to replace the Servant Berserker, only for it to die in its first battle due to its abysmal parameters.

Although it died first, it would eventually have the last laugh by corrupting the Grail, allowing it to summon anti-heroes and villains and permanently twisting a victor's wish with All the World's Evils.

And it was thus that the Fourth War ended in flames, black mud embodying the aforementioned concept sprouting from the Avenger-corrupted Grail.

And it was from the depths of its hellfire, that a Sword was forged to defeat it.

It was broken.

It was distorted.

It was given salvation, and in turn, it granted salvation.

The Sword was saved by an equally broken shell of a man, whose ideals were shattered right in front of his eyes, whose soul had been tainted by All the World's Evils, cursing him to a slow and painful death. Yet by saving the Sword, the broken man was saved, if not in body, than in mind and soul.

Before drifting into unconsciousness, the last thought of the Sword was,

'I wish I could smile like that.'

Years passed, and the Sword grew up, hardening and sharpening its body, mind and soul to become an Ally of Justice and fulfill a father's dream. But alas, despite all he did, that training was not enough to be able to save everyone.

Until the Fifth Grail War came, fifty years too early.

And in the two weeks that followed, the Sword had become greater than it could have been had it followed a life of normalcy. It was here that it learned of the only power that would ever use, and ever be allowed to have.

Unlimited Blade Works: the Infinite Creation of Swords. A Reality Marble born from the Sword's distorted and alien view of the world that embodied a true pinnacle to the ability to give form to what was in one's mind and the Sword's ideal to save everyone and be an Ally of Justice.

The one and only thing that would ever define the concept known as Shirou Emiya.

So it was with great irony that All the World's Evils, Angra Mainyu, would be defeated by an embodiment of Justice that was birthed from the depths of its hellfire.

And it was thus that Shirou Emiya parted with his Saber in the War, as she disappeared into the dawn as Fate had it so, both now bound to wait and search for the other for eternity. For years after, he searched and for her, to be reunited with her, doing everything he could in his power to save everyone.

But like before, it was not enough.

He watched his older step-sister die, forever cursed to live her life trapped in a childlike body and die a premature death. He watched his friends and family drift apart, the strong bond they had severed as he continued to pursue his impossible dream. Even the twin-tail haired magus who tried sticking with him for as long as she could eventually gave out, unable to keep up with him. He continued to watch as his powers failed to save everyone, his ideal crushed over and over again every single time.

And when it came to saving himself and continuing to struggle to strive for his dream under his own power, or saving a hundred people from a nuclear meltdown with a power beyond belief at the cost of his afterlife with her for an eternity of servitude to an existence that was tasked with ensuring humanity's survival, it wasn't surprising that Shirou chose the latter, firmly believing that now, now he could save everyone with this newfound power.

Eventually he died, framed for being the mastermind of a war he desperately tried to stop. And he faced his death with a smile, holding no ill will towards the ones responsible for his execution, reasoning that if this what made people happy, then he would gladly accept his fate.

So when Shirou finally awoke as a Counter Guardian, he was eager to begin his duties to protect humanity.

But alas, his dream was not meant to be.

And the true hell began.

That meant everyone who had even the barest connection to the imminent destruction of humanity. It didn't matter who they were: innocent or guilty, young or old, ignorant or aware, they all died.

Slowly, battlefield after battlefield, he began to realize the true nature of those like him, and it drove him mad, twisting him and breaking him. Their duties were to save humanity, yes, but that was only when there were no options left. And when they were deployed as the last defense of humanity, they were to leave absolutely nothing behind. He fought on countless battlefields{neveronceretreatingneveroncebeingunderstood}all across time and space, his ideals continually being broken before him. And yet he desperately tried to hold onto them, still naively believing he could still achieve them once again.

But one day, it all ended.

Once again he was called to rescue{kill}humanity. And once again, he {answeredbeggedpleadedresisted}. And once again, he was deployed{Stop!}to save{kill}humanity. He was now one of the best of the best{Ineverwantedthis!}, his record completely spotless, so it was no surprise that he was chosen for this particular task.

But Fate can be cruel, and can reunite people sometimes in the most twisted of ways. For he was deployed to the one place he never hoped to ever step foot in. The one place he believed would never fall to something so dire that it would call upon the Counter Force to clean up the mess.

Camelot.

He had heard stories of its splendor from Saber, saw it in his dreams during the dream cycle while the Holy Grail War was still ongoing, but what he saw looked nothing like the descriptions he heard, nor the dreams he dreamt. The lush grasslands were all burnt. Trees that had once been bountiful in fruit now only bore death. Innocent, pure animals were twisted beyond recognition and belief, their fur charred as the fires tore away at their skin, revealing bloody red innards that bubbled and popped at the immensity of the heat before they too turned to ash.

And all the while, Shirou looked on in heartbreak upon seeing his Saber's beloved kingdom in flames. It just looked so desolate and corrupted that it simply couldn't be real. He hoped it was a dream, just a terrible, but intangible dream, but the heat that washed over his person told him that it was all too real. And his dread began to grow.

To his horror, his body began acting on its own. His great black bow suddenly fell into one hand, and the modified sword with the power to rip space apart and a payload greater than a nuclear bomb fell into the other. His horror grew when his body began to go through the familiar motions of drawing the bow and nocking the sword-arrow, his eyes looking at a burning village in the far-off distance, woefully unaware of what was to pass. Desperately trying to stop his body, he used every last ounce of willpower to take aim somewhere else, so that no one would have to die an unnecessary death. But against the Collective Will of Humanity, a collective made up of billions, if not trillions of souls past, present, and future, it was for naught.

The sonic boom created by Caladbolg II tolled the death of hundreds of innocents in one fell blow.

The next few days passed by in a blur. He, or rather, his body, eradicated villages and towns one after the other, its inhabitants no longer men, women, and children, but rather eldritch creatures horribly twisted and corrupted by some unknown force that he prayed he wold never meet. Each day his dread grew, each day he prayed that what he would see would be the opposite of his worst fears, but then he finally arrived in front of Camelot.

The outer walls were weathered and broken, a lone tattered banner hung on the top, the cloth looking like it was about to rip in two at any minute. The wooden draw bridge at the head of the castle was all rotten, the timbers cracked and split in twain, the broken pieces lying in moat waters so vile and disgusting he wanted to vomit. Waiting for him were all the Knights of the Round Table.

And above them all stood one Arturia Pendragon.

No longer did she wear the royal Pendragon blue battle dress nor the shining silver plate armor. No longer did she have shining green of her eyes nor the golden blonde hair. Hell, even that stray piece of hair, her ahoge, was gone, the memories of when he'd absently played with it at home coming back in full force. No, none of that was present.

Instead, she wore a dress even darker than the night sky, her armor of the same color with angry red veins snaking all across the chest plate. Her eyes were a cold and cruel pale gold, and the once lustrous golden hair was reduced to a weak facsimile the color of corn silk. Her sword, he could not see, hidden behind a black shroud of vile winds that seemed to how with the voices of thousands of tormented souls, screaming for release from the torture they were undergoing. And each and every one of her knights were the same, a pale imitation of their former selves.

His dread had reached an all time high. He wanted to yell, to scream at the knights, despite their corruption, to get away from him lest they die. He wanted to let what remaining citizens there were escape, so that they could see another sunrise, and rally together to kill him so that they would not have to face this hellish day ever again. He wanted to fall before Saber on his knees, so that she could kill him before his Blade Works could ever reach her.

But that never happened. With an expressionless mask worn and controlled by his accursed contractor, he was forced to watch as his own body killed each and every Knight of the Round Table.

Agravain fell first, cut down by an onslaught of dozens of low ranking Noble Phantasms.

Bedivere was soon to follow, and having no special ability to help himself was quickly cut down by Triple-Linked Crane Wings, a technique of Shirou's own making.

Surprisingly, Mordred was the third, as the dragon-slaying sword Balmung lopped off her head, her strength sapped by her draconic attribute inherited from Arturia. Irony at its finest.

Gawain and Lancelot were next, armor rent and shattered as the axe-sword of Heracles tore them asunder.

Galahad, his very existence a paradox, was crushed under the weight of mountain-felling sword Ig-Alima, which, despite only being a fake construct created from mundane materials pulled from Unlimited Blade Works, was more than enough to destroy the vaunted walls of Lord Camelot.

Tristan didn't even have time to scream as Hrunting found purchase in his throat.

And soon, all that was left was Arturia, her face cold and emotionless like stone as she watched each of her Knights fall one by one. Only when the last knight fell did she enter the battlefield herself.

For hours on end, the two fought. Despite the wounds she took, whatever was powering Arturia was powerful beyond what he initially believed. Wounds that would have killed even a high-ranking heroic spirit instantly regenerated, a sign that perhaps Avalon had not left her. Shirou took it as a sign of hope, that eventually, his body would tire out despite the nigh-limitless mana he was being sustained upon by his contractor. But it never did.

Eventually, she unveiled her sword from the vile wilds that it was sheathed in, and his heart broke even more upon seeing it and unconsciously reading its name with Structural Analysis.

Like it's owner, it was bathed in black. Unholy lines of angry red wove around each other like a double helix before coalescing together into one line that reached to the end of the flat. And unlike its counterpart, which radiated an aura of undying warmth and comfort, the corrupted holy sword radiated an aura of pure malice and bloodlust.

Its name was Excalibur Morgan, the corrupt Sword of Promised Victory.

And as the battle went on, it was becoming more and more obvious that Arturia, or whoever took a hold of her, was starting to grow more sluggish. There was a stumble here, and a slip there, armor stopped repairing itself, and her face, despite maintaining its cold and emotionless visage was adorned with multiple small wounds that never healed, which one again lead him to lose the hope within him. Avalon was gone.

And that fact was further waved in front of his eyes as he stabbed her in the chest with Caliburn.

Like water, the corruption washed away from Arturia and vanished into mist, leaving no evidence that it was there, except for the blackened sword that remained behind. Like water, the emotionless expression was wiped from Shirou's face, leaving only horror and denial.

Silence took over as the King of Knights lay mortally wounded by the very sword that brought her down this path, an odd sort of peace falling down like the mists of a dew fall. She stared at the embedded Caliburn, then at the scenery around the two, and then up at him, verdant orbs of green and blue shining, and he knew, that somehow, against all odds and impossibilities, she recognized him. She smiled, but there was no happiness within it, only relief at the end of her nightmare and forlornness at the scene that lay before her, and of what must happen again.

So slowly, using the last of her strength, she gave him her sword, entrusting it to him. Using the last of her strength, she kissed him softly, chapped lips wordlessly conveying her final thoughts and feelings. Using the last of her strength, she hugged him tight, showing her gratitude. Using the last of her strength, she professed her love once more, as she faded into the dawn.

"Shirou…aishteru..."

And then she was gone.

He stood there, unmoving, uncomprehending. Despite the reality of the situation, he desperately denied it, that Saber was actually still there, only in spirit form, and would just pop out laughing like nothing had ever happened. But it was not meant to be.

Numbly, he carried her body and Excalibur Morgan into Camelot, Caliburn having long since dissolved into prana, removing the need to pull it out of her and manually let it disappear.. The castle was now empty, the citizens that once occupied the marketplaces and courtyards had either fled or died. Onwards he walked, making his way into the central keep, past the famed Round Table, and stopping at the throne. There, he gently laid her body to rest. He stepped back and looked at her. She looked so peaceful, sitting there. Had it not been for the mortal wound ruining the appearance, one would even say she was sleeping, merely dreaming of happier times.

And at long last, did he fall to his knees and cry.

For the first time in eternity, tears fell like an unending torrent of water. All his grief, all his denial, all his sorrow, all his anger, and all his love were poured out in that one moment. For hours he knelt, weeping to a world that would never see the light of day again. And as the last tear dropped, it fell with a small, but audible splash onto the corrupted Excalibur that lay before him.

An odd sort of calm fell upon him as he picked up the corrupt sword from where he had dropped it. He held it with reverence, for, despite the evil that was now imbued with the former Sword of Promised Victory, it still held a twisted sort of beauty and elegance, and offered an impactful, yet comforting message to him.

By entrusting her sword to him, she assured him that no matter what form she took, and no matter where his path led him, Arturia would be with him, always. For she was forever his Sword, as he was forever her Sheathe.

And so it was with a sad smile that he stood up. As he faded away, he was filled with a sort of contentment, knowing that he would no longer be alone, and that she would be at his side, if only in sword and spirit.

As he returned to the vast wasteland of Unlimited Blade Works, Excalibur Morgan in hand, he recalled the foolish, idealistic idiot that he once was, and the trials he had to go through to get to this point. Had it truly been so long?

Idly, as he climbed up the hill that held his most sacred keepsakes, he wondered how his past self would react to who he was now. Probably with some awe, and then-

He stopped, frozen as an epiphany came to him. Then he fell down to the ground laughing, noting with some amusement that no matter what happened to him, he still ended up being the naive and dense boy who summoned the King of Knights on a desperate hope.

Of course. What if he got himself summoned to a Grail War and won? Perhaps then, could he escape this hellish afterlife. And as soon as that thought hit him, he remembered that, as a Counter Guardian, he basically existed outside of time and space, and such a wish would be impossible for him.

But then, that didn't mean he couldn't help his past self escape the same fate, now could he?

Because despite being a Counter Guardian, he technically was, by loose definition, a Heroic Spirit, one who transcended the Samsāric Cycle and entered the Throne of Heroes, albeit with the help of an outside force, or in this case, the Collective Consciousness of Humanity, Alaya. Therefore, with the right catalyst, he could be summoned into a Holy Grail War, so long as he had a wish. And with this newfound wish to save himself from the fate he was bound to, such a summoning could now be achieved.

With this information in mind, he waited patiently. He continued to be summoned to places where humanity needed the Counter Guardians all across time and space, but no longer would he be alone in this endeavor. Instead of the black and white blades of Kanshou and Bakuya, Excalibur Morgan took the center stage, not that he still used the married swords from time to time. It would never again become the holy sword that it once was, but its purpose had once again been altered. No longer would it needlessly kill any that stood in its way, now it would swing eternally in the name of Justice, and in memory of Arturia.

One day, his patience was rewarded. He was sitting in his reality marble when he felt his very being get pulled from the vast wasteland of blades. Expecting this as another deployment, he sighed, closing his eyes in acceptance, and stood up, preparing to exchange his Plain Red Mystic Code for the pale and tattered cloak he usually wore.

Therefore, his surprise was understandable when he found himself falling through a roof.

Slightly dazed from the impact, he almost missed the fact that he was standing, or rather, laying on the floor of a fairly large house, a mansion, almost. For some reason, the particular layout of the furniture, both broken and untouched, felt familiar, and the image of a red sweater and aqua-blue eyes flashed through his mind. 'Whose place was it?' He struggled to recall the name of the owner, but all he got was an 'R.'

He heard faint cursing, and the sound of someone climbing up stairs. Quickly, he got up, sat down in one of the partially destroyed couches, and attempted to look calm and dignified. The door to his right suddenly slammed open, and he got a look at the figure standing before him. His eyes widened only a tiniest of a fraction, but it hid the surprise his mind was feeling, and the memories that began to come back in full force.

Rin Tohsaka.

Oh, shit.

It really worked. He was actually in a Grail War as a Servant!

Inwardly, he rejoiced. If Rin was here, than that meant that his past self was most likely as well, and a master to top it off.

He shut that emotion down as he began to task his priorities. Trying to save his past self was paramount to him, but discretion was a must in this situation. He needed to act differently than what his past self would act like, lest Rin become suspicious and try to force a Command Seal on him to reveal his identity. Not to mention he needed to test whether his past self would truly be willing to stand by his ideals when he revealed the truth.

Fortunately, countless lifetimes of being a Counter Guardian with a shattered hero complex did wonders to change his personality. He had become more cynical and jaded, and, despite his still-apparent naïveté, was much more wiser and knowledgeable than his younger counterpart. He knew almost everything that could happen in this Grail War, thanks to the deployments he had been sent on as a Counter Guardian, and not a Servant, when the Grail War had been taken too far, and with such knowledge, he could both avert his younger counterpart's once inevitable fate and screw around with the other participants for his own amusement. It was a win-win situation in his opinion.

Now, back to the present.

He heard Rin complain, grumbling something about the 'clocks running an hour early,' or something like that, before she turned and asked something so dumb, so absolutely not-Tohsaka, that it was all he could do to hold in his laughter.

"What are you?"

Deciding to mess around with her, partly to mess with her, partly to keep his true identity a secret, he responded with, "That's the first thing you ask me? My, my, my, looks like I was summoned by one hell of a master," his voice dripping with sarcasm. On a whim, he added, "No, wait. It seems like I got the short end of the straw by getting summoned by a novice. How unfortunate."

Rin glared at him, but reigned in her composure and asked in a tone more befitting of her person, if he was truly her servant. With a bit of snark, he asked if she was his master, neither denying nor confirming if she really summoned him to be her servant. It was obvious she got the hint, seeing that she asked him once more to confirm or deny her claim, stating about how 'Servant and Master relationships should be established right off the bat."

Idly, Shirou wondered if his Tohsaka has somehow used the Kaleidoscope and drugged her past self unconscious, seeing as how this would have been something she would have loved to shove in his face back in his War, but once more, he evaded the question, this time asking where her evidence was, if her determination to be a part of this 'sacred' ritual was only for show,

Oblivious to his double meaning, she simply showed her command spells to him, as if that was all that was needed. He sighed, and realized that he may need to take drastic measures, even if it meant wasting a command spell. "Those little markings are meaningless to me. What I want," he said, getting up and walking over until he stood imposingly over the alternate version of his old friend, "is to know if you are truly worthy of my loyalty." Rin raised an eyebrow at his 'insolence.'

"Excuse me? Are you saying tha you're too good for me?"

'Now for the delicate part,' he thought. Either Rin's anger would cause his plan to go up in flames, or it would end up helping pull off the greatest(and most likely only) act of human defiance against Alaya in history.

"I'm completely dissatisfied with my situation. However, I will acknowledge you as my master, but only on one condition: from this point on, I will not listen to any of your commands, and will fight the war my way." He smirked at the hidden rage in her eyes. "Surely you wouldn't object to that, would you?"

He walked back to his landing spot and sat leisurely, as if he was sitting in some comfy lounge chair instead of broken wood and glass.

"I see. So you will reluctantly acknowledge that you are my Servant, but will refuse to listen to my advice. And why? You are my Servant, are you not?"

"Indeed, but as I said earlier, I will only obey you in form only. I will be 'calling the shots,' so to speak. So until everything's said and done, I suggest bunking down somewhere safe. If you do that, even a novice like you can survive the entire war."

Her rage was now visibly palpable, and the tension was so thick that one could cut through it like butter.

"Hoh? Have I made you angry, master? Please, do not worry. I hold much respect for the one who summoned me, even if they are a novice. My victory shall be your victory. I do not ask for anything in ret-." Rin finally snapped, and in Shirou's opinion, it. Was. Glorious.

"SHUT UP! I've had it with you and your attitude!" Raising her arm, she began to chant. He got up. 'Hook, line, and sinker,' he thought, although the words that came out of his mouth said otherwise. "Wait, are you serious?! You'd waste a command seal on something like this?!"

"Silence! Listen, you are my goddamn Servant! That means absolute obedience to me! YOU'LL DO EVERYTHING I SAY!" A great wave of mana erupted from the command seal, washing over him as the magic began to compel him to follow her order.

There was a brief bout of silence. And then…

"Gah! Are you kidding me?! I can't believe you wasted a fucking command seal as something as trivial as this!"

Rin looked away, obviously embarrassed at her outburst and rash actions. "L-let's take this elsewhere."

As he followed her to another part of the mansion, he felt a relieved and nostalgic smile on his face.

And the rest was history.

Well, sorta. Now that he was here, he could begin to change the timeline in his favor.

And so it was a day later that he faced Cu Chulainn, the Hound of Ulster, and the Servant Lancer at his school once more. But this time, he was ready. This time, he could fight.

In his hands, were Kanshou and Bakuya. Although he had mostly stopped using them ever since he obtained Excalibur Morgan, the swords still served as a reminder of what would lay in store for whoever tried to follow the ideals that he once did.

Not to mention the eyebrows raised at the corrupted sword. That, and getting killed by Saber before he could explain himself, which would be a painful subject either way, and he would fail in his objective to save himself.

And so once again he became the ruthless and broken Counter Guardian that he once was so long ago, his suicidal style of fighting flowed with the Chinese Dao of Yin and Yang like water flowing down a gentle stream.

Unfortunately, he got killed. Again.

Although, would it really count as dying if it was his past self, even if it was an alternate version of him, was the one who died? 'Time travel,' he thought as he followed Rin to where his past self lay dying, his heart yet again pierced by Gáe Bolg, 'was confusing.'

He watched in silence as Rin healed his past self with the red pendant, the exact same pendant that he held with him, the mana helping the wound close at a quick yet steady pace as tissue and muscle regrew, although a scar would remain from when Gae Bolg stabbed him in the heart. He should know, he still had his, after all.

They followed his past self in discretion as he walked home. Granted, it was more like he got up to a high vantage point in the neighborhood and had Rin look through his eyes, but that was beside the point. What did matter was his safety, although it was more so Rin worrying about Lancer coming back to finish the job he started, and Archer praying that his younger self would summon Saber in time.

They watched as Lancer came back, as expected, and Rin looked tempted to have himself come down to stop him.

But of course, as he had expected, that was rendered moot the moment they watched as a great wave of mana sent a small shock wave around the shed of the Emiya residence, and Lancer got himself kicked out of the building via the foot of one recently summoned Arturia Pendragon.

She was just as stunning as he remembered. Regal green eyes that shone with a fire of determination, tempered by the patience of a king of her stature. She stood tall, projecting an aura of sterness, her armor glinting under the bright moon as the plants seemed to dance in exultation at the return of the Once and Future King.

But one look at her and he could tell that she was not his Arturia.

From that point on, things went on as they had in his timeline. He and Rin went down to the Emiya residence, which resulted in almost getting himself sliced in half by Arturia's or rather, Saber's sword. They negotiated, went to the church, his younger self and Rin talked to Kotomine, who had the same insufferable smirk on his face, as usual.

Now, here was the first divergence: Facing Illya and Berserker. The last time, the Archer-class Servant in his war, which he now highly suspected to be himself, had died, facing Berserker head on, and alone, but not without taking six of his lives first.

This time? No thanks.

Instead, he split off from Rin, entrusting her, albeit reluctantly, to his younger counterpart. Normally, no sane Master or Servant would do something as idiotic as this, but this was his younger self that they were talking about. He wouldn't do something like stabbing someone in the back, now would he?

He materialized atop of a tall office complex, his sight unhindered. It's been said that an Archer's greatest weapon were their eyes, and in this case, such a statement proved true. His eyesight zoomed in on the large spikes of mana that he sensed behind him. Materializing his great black longbow and an altered sword, turned into an arrow to be launched. There was only one thing he could say in his situation, as he watched Fate begin to change its course.

"I am the bone of my sword."

He let go of the sword-arrow…

… And once again, Caladbolg II screamed as it hit the towering giant. The following explosion easily swallowed up the Greek Demigod as well as a good portion of the surroundings, though fortunately neither his master, his past self, Saber, and Illyasviel were harmed, safely out of the Noble Phantasm's range. The damage was fantastic, although he knew it was for naught as he had only managed to take out one of Berserker's lives.

Still, he couldn't help the ocular tic that developed when he watched muscles and tendons regrow from out of nowhere to reshape the one of the world's best known heroes. The Twelve Labors was such an unfair and broken Noble Phantasm.

Both parties soon retreated after, and only then did Shirou let loose a sigh of relief. The entire scenario had been way too risky for his liking, but he supposed that there was no use in crying over spilled milk. His objective had been completed regardless, and his younger self, as well as himself, would live to see another day.

And now came the hard part of his plan. Because he had just created a major distortion in this timeline, events were sure to not go the way they did in his. One wrong move, and it could mean game over. The subsequent clean-ups he went to didn't count either, as he was summoned after everything went to shit, so he had no idea of most of the events that had transpired leading up to the reason for his summoning.

Days passed with some progress. His past self had gotten himself captured by Caster, only for him and Saber to intervene. Well, it was more like Saber fought Assassin while he rescued his past self and resisted Caster, in more ways than one. It got to the point to where he was half-tempted to use Caladbolg II again when they got to a stalemate, but thought better of it, if only to help further his plans, and decided to let her go. His past self, being the naive idiot that he was, demanded to know why he let Caster be, knowing that she had been the one behind all the 'gas leaks.' He tried to reason with him, but as he expected, it was like trying to break through a stone wall using nothing but a pillow.

Realizing that his past self would not accept his decision, Shirou took out Kanshou and Bakuya, before cutting his past self's back open while he was facing away from him, then kicked him off the temple steps. He attempted to follow up with his assault, hoping that he would realize exactly how weak was if he wanted to hold up his ideals, but was stopped by Assassin, who allowed Saber and her master to escape.

Sometime after, Rider had been eliminated, although this time around it was Caster who had done the deed, rather than Saber cutting her down. He and Rin continued visit Shirou and said Servant of the Sword from time to time, and he had begun to drop more hints about the truth of their(or rather, his) borrowed ideal here and there for his past self to pick up and decipher. Meanwhile, it had seemed that Rin had begun to dream about his past, if the odd looks she gave him several mornings after the skirmish at Ryouudou Temple were of any indication.

He hoped that perhaps, this bit of 'free time' would give him some time to plan out what he should do next, assuming things went his way. Oh, how wrong he was.

Damned E-Ranked Luck. What the hell had he done to deserve such a low ranking in that department?!

A day later, Caster had the 'absolutely amazing' idea to hold Taiga, his old guardian and sister in all but blood, hostage. And in the process, his past self had given up his status as a master, albeit unwillingly and manipulated, giving Caster control of Saber.

Alternate timeline or not, that bitch was going to pay. No one touched Fuji-nee and got away with it.

But could he honestly betray Rin in order to make that work?

Well, considering he just willingly let Caster use Rule Breaker on himself? Yes, yes he could. He made a mental note to apologize later, though.

The days he spent with Caster and her master passed by with a blur, holding nothing of note. Usually, he spent his time checking on the status of the other masters, or checking in on Caster as she dressed Saber in feminine clothing to satisfy her… obsession.

As cute as Saber looked in a wedding dress, Shirou couldn't help but feel like he was intruding on something private, which he probably was.

And then, much to his relief, his past self and Rin came back, along with Lancer of all people. Guess he shouldn't be too surprised considering who he was, although he had a sneaking suspicion it was because of Kotomine ordering him to do so anyways. Manipulative bastard.

Two could play at that game, though.

He was promptly beat up by said Servant of the Spear two minutes later, in no part to his inferior parameters and E-ranked Luck, and then almost killed, courtesy of one Gáe Bolg and Rho Aias' physical drawbacks, but in the end…

"Rule Breaker."

Lancer was free from Kotomine's control, and Caster now had another Servant, albeit temporarily.

Sadly, as depressing as the Witch of Betrayal's legend was, he couldn't afford to take anymore chances. Not to mention, he still had a bone to pick with her for kidnapping his(former) guardian and foster sister.

And so it was with a few Traced swords and timing, he had ended the life of Caster, her master meeting the same end a few moments afterwards.

Unfortunately, there was still a couple more things he had to address, one of which stood before him now.

"What are you doing Archer?"

Rin stood protectively in front of his past self, her hands glowing with mana as she began charging up a Finn shot, despite its futility against him. Her reaction was understandable, considering he had just tried to 'kill' his past self. Again. Then Rin made a contract with Lancer while his past self contracted with Saber once more, and things snowballed up from there.

"Addressing something I should have taken care of a long time ago." Kanshou and Bakuya dropped from his hands as he raised his right to show them all the truth. His world, his war, his identity, his purpose.

"I am… the bone of my sword…"

Idly, he noticed his past self flinch as his words resonated with their souls.

"Oi, oi, oi." Lancer dropped down from the beam he perched himself on and held Gae Bolg in front of himself. "As much as I appreciate you freeing me from that bastard of a priest, I still don't trust you." The spear began to glow and emit an ominous red aura. "I suggest you stop whatever it is you're doing before I end up skewering you like I almost did last time."

He ignored Lancer's death threat, despite knowing fully well that the Hound of Ulster could have easily done so without much trouble. "Unknown to death, nor known to life." He looked up. "Sadly, I'm afraid this is something I cannot do. Don't worry, I only have eyes for one, and one alone. And no one is dying today, so rest easy, if that's what you're thinking."

"I have to agree with Lancer, Archer." A newly-contracted Saber held her invisible sword out towards him, Invisible Air ready to blow him away at a moment's notice. "I don't know what you have against my master, but I will not allow you to do anything to him."

Shirou could only smile sadly at his former Servant, visibly unsettling everyone, even Lancer, as he spoke again, his voice starting to become rough and scratchy, like thousands of tiny blades scraping together. "Despite my actions, not once have I ever held anything against your master, I assure you. There was nothing but... Unlimited… Blade Works."

And the world turned white.

When the light faded, Shirou was back where he belonged.

Everyone looked around his Reality Marble in shock and awe.

"A magus…"

Rin turned to face Shirou, her eyes wide in realization. "You're not a true Archer, are you. You're a magus."

Shirou nodded in confirmation despite not needing to. "Correct. In life, there was very little that I could do as a mage. I suppose you could call me a spellcaster, if anything. However, I took what little magecraft that I could utilize, and polished and perfected it to such a degree that no one, absolutely no one, could ever match me in what I could do."

He gestured to the sky, to the gigantic, turning cogs that slowly descended down from the dusty clouds. "And in the end, this world, this manifestation of my ideals was my reward. If a Heroic Spirit's symbol of authenticity is their Noble Phantasm, then this Reality Marble would be mine. A reflection of my soul, of the borrowed ideals that I inherited from my father, Kiritsugu Emiya, and the promise I made to him."

"These are the very borrowed ideals," Shirou pointed at his past self, who stood stunned, his own copies of Kanshou and Bakuya falling slack in his hands, "that you now strive to fulfill. Let me tell you, Shirou Emiya: our ideals are fake. They have and never will get us anywhere in life. What you see before you, is the culmination of decades of striving to fulfill that impossible dream. And when that wasn't enough, it led to an enslaved afterlife as a cleaner for all eternity. It is for that very reason, that I have come to test you in this farce of a war: to see if you can stand up to match those ideals, or die failing."

"A Counter Guardian, eh?" Lancer rested his spear upon his shoulder, slightly less wary but definitely not relaxed. "Can't say I've ever had the pleasure of meeting one before. Are all of them as cynical and bitchy as you?" Shirou snorted in amusement. "Some of them. Most are either bloodthirsty or just tired of their job. But that's beside the point."

With nary a thought, Unlimited Blade Works disappeared, and everyone was back in the abandoned church. "If you really think that you can uphold the ideals we strive for, then it is up to me to show you exactly how large the power gap will be between you and your enemies. But that will not be today." Shirou leapt up to the exit.

"If you have anything to say, then I would say it now."

Silence.

He turned to leave…

"Archer."

Shirou turned back to look at his past self as he spoke, and was pleased at what he saw in his eyes: determination.

"Our dream was not wrong. You know that. I know that. To be honest," his past self rubbed his left arm, looking a little uncomfortable, "I'm still lost on where to go. I still want to save everybody, to feel what Kiritsugu felt on that day when he pulled me out of that fire, but you've shown me something that makes me feel.

Shirou stood, his eyes closed, as he listened to the words of his past self. And for the first time, in a long time, felt hope for his past self's future. Perhaps there was a chance that one of them, even if it was just one of them, could truly reach a happy ending for themselves, to prove that their ideals were not wrong, and that the impossible could become possible.

But that was just a hope. He opened his eyes again, and turned to leave. "Einzbern Manor. Tomorrow."

"Why there?"

"...Because the Golden King has already killed Berserker and his master. We won't be interrupted." He heard Saber(not his Arturia, he forcefully reminded himself) gasp audibly. He wasn't surprised.

She was like him, in a way. Left in a perpetual state where time had no meaning, both contracted by the same Will of Humanity. Therefore, it made sense that she would remember the Fourth Grail War.

He dashed off into the night, heading straight for the Einzbern manor. When he got there, he was treated by the heartbreaking sight of the dead Illya, lying on the floor like yesterday's forgotten meal. Her eyes, although closed, were obviously destroyed, preventing her from seeing the world, twin trails of dried blood mixed in with tears as she

In a few strides, he walked to her corpse, and gently picked her up, holding her like one would lovingly hold a newborn babe. It was painful to see her go in his life, and that pain washed over him again as he picked up her dead body. He dug a grave for her, the manual labor help assuage some of the pain he felt, yet another kind of pain took its place.

No younger brother should ever have to bury their older sister.

The sun had begun to rise as he finished paying his final respects. He sighed in resignation. 'Some outcomes were just inevitable.' He thought. 'Although, it doesn't make them any less painful when they hit you.'

For the next few hours, he rested. The mana that Caster had supplied him with was plentiful, but he figured it was best if he conserved as much as possible for the coming fight. Especially if he had to use his Reality Marble.

He sensed the prana signature before he even opened his eyes. He frowned.

"May I ask why you only came with Saber?"

"Rin and Lancer thought it best if they stayed away from us. We're aware of the eighth servant you told us about, thanks to Saber, so the two of them are on the run, per se. For now, Saber's here to make sure things don't go awry."

Said Servant huffed her displeasure at her current job, and at what her master was getting himself into, but said nothing.

"Before everything's said and done... Archer, did you have any regrets, when you sold your soul?" Shirou's eyes widened at his past self's question, but he stared at him with resolution that had been born upon a hill of swords.

"Of course not," he answered, sincerity evident in his voice. "I could never regret the path I chose to walk down, no matter where it led me. Perhaps once, I would have, but not anymore. Even if I were to be consigned to a fate worse than the one I've been enslaved to now, I don't ever think that would change."

His past self smiled. "I see. I guess we're more alike than I once thought.

"Maybe so. Perhaps you can still escape the fate that would await us in the future." Shirou stood, each step down the stairs louder and heavier than the last. "Let me tell you something, right here and now." He began walking down the stairs. "From this moment forward, you are nothing more than enemy. I will show no mercy to you, not even for one second. I will beat you down into the ground, trampling on your fake ideals until they are nothing more than dust in the wind."

"I know." His past self began walking forwards, his steps calm, yet determined."But if that's what it takes to show that I will strive to be a Hero of Justice, then I'm ready."

"Hmph. We'll see about that.'

Like a spinning coin, only one side would come out on top. And now, it spun faster than ever, as past and future met and clashed.

"...Trace… "

"...On… "

Kanshou and Bakuya fell into their hands.

And the fight began.

They were back in his Reality Marble again.

They fought.

"Haaaahh!"

And they fought.

"Son of a bitch!"

And they fought.

Personally, it felt like it had been centuries since they first clashed blades against each other, but in reality it was probably less than five minutes ago. Idly, he checked his mana levels. Stable, but slowly draining with the Reality Marble taxing it at a large pace.

He would have to finish this soon.

Lashing out with an armored foot, Shirou kicked his past self back down the slope they fought upon. He struggled to get up, the chipped and cracked blade of Bakuya still clenched in his hands.

It did not repair itself.

"That's too bad," he called out. Your spirit outlasted your mana. Now it's all that you have left."

Personally, he felt disappointed. As more and more swords rose from the ground, his hopes that the existence known as Shirou Emiya could still hold up their ideals without selling their soul dampened.

"In any case, this battle between past and future has come to a close."

"Y-yeah, you're right, about that." His past self coughed and hacked out blood, but managed to stand up on steady feet. "But, just y-you told me, there's still beauty in our hopeless wish, isn't there?"

Shirou had no words for that.

"If that's the case, then I don't care how hypocritical it is! I won't ever give it up for anything in the world! 'Cause," the clouds in the sky began to move faster and faster, and they began to take on a lighter hue.

"I know my dream isn't a mistake!"

All of a sudden, a small portion of the Reality Marble turned sky blue, the clouds a pure white. The rusted gears disappeared, leaving the sky clear and open.

'His Reality Marble,' Shirou realized, 'he actually did it.'

static*

His mind suddenly flashed to a night sky, to a man in a grey yukata sitting alone as he stared up at the full moon.

'Kiritsugu…'

How long had it been since he had thought of his father? Or even of that night? The night where he swore to take up his ideals?

He shook his head free of those thoughts. "Trace Bullet...fire!"

The swords at his sides flew towards the running figure of his past self.

"It's not…"

One pair of swords deflected.

"It's not…"

Another pair projected. Another pair deflected.

"My dream,"

'Our dream…'

A third pair, larger than the rest. Deflected again.

"Is not a mistake!"

'Was never a mistake!'

His past self closed the distance between them, Bakuya in hand. He raised his own Bakuya, holding it in a reverse grip to stab at his back. In that moment, past and future locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

Shirou closed his eyes in acceptance, and pride. 'Well done.'

Bakuya fell.

Blood dripped off of a white blade. Saber gasped.

"It's over, Archer. I've won." His past self looked forward, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"Yes, so you have." Bakuya slowly slid out of his gut with a wet 'shlink,' but he barely even paid any attention the the wound as he focused on the one before him. In spite of himself, he could only smile in satisfaction at his success.

"Now that you've seen most of my memories, I think I don't need to tell you anything else." His past self shook his head.

"Yeah, I've seen what happened at the facility. I will not go down that path like you did."

Shirou snorted. "I should hope not. Otherwise my plans would have been for nothing. Live a happy life, Shirou Emiya. The road before you will be full of hardships, but you will not be alone. Remember that, always." Jesus Christ, he sounded like Gilgamesh.

Wait a minute…

"Archer!"

'Shlink!'

'Shlink! Shlink!'

'Shlink!'

He suddenly found himself staggering forward. Surprised, he looked down, only to see the ends of several swords sticking out of him.

'Well, shit.' He turned to look up at the perpetrator. There was only one other Servant out there who could casually spam weapons, much less Noble Phantasms, like he could.

"A meaningless battle between two Fakers. How utterly disappointing. Truly, this 'modern era' is far from appealing to a King who has seen much of the world in its former glory."

Atop the stairs stood Gilgamesh, a hand in one of his pants pockets and several portals signifying the activation of Gate of Babylon. Saber stepped forward as she unsheathed Excalibur from her sheathe of wind. "You!"

Gilgamesh looked down at her, his blood red eyes narrowing and he grinned. "Me."

"How are you still alive?! The Grail should have recalled you back to the Throne of Heroes!"

Gilgamesh laughed contemptuously, a hand on his face as he leaned back and released his amusement to the heavens. "Have you truly forgotten, Saber?" He looked down at Saber again. Despite the pain, Shirou felt himself twitching in anger at the lust in his eyes.

"Think back to ten years ago, when you and I were the least two Servants standing. Your holy sword, rather than causing the Grail to be purified, instead released All the World's Evils into the material realm, thanks to the mongrel that was your master. I suppose that the Grail's response to his command was a more than suitable punishment for him, although I would have preferred to kill him myself. But we are getting off topic. Being in the middle of it all, the blackened mud fell upon me. Under normal circumstances, I too would have been sent back, just like you. However, I am no ordinary Servant, and was thus incarnated into a real body."

Saber staggered back at the news. "N-no, that can't be! The Grail is corrupted?!" She looked at himself for any sign that Gilgamesh could be lying. He shook his head. Excalibur hung loose in her grip as she stared at the floor in shock.

"As for the two of you," the Gate of Babylon turned in conjunction with Gilgamesh as he looked at himself and his past self. "To see you create copies of my treasures is an insult of the highest magnitude." The Gate expanded. "Die, like the worthless mongrels you are."

The multitude of weapons flew at them, and a decision was made.

With an outstretched hand, Shirou pushed his past self away from the danger. He looked at him with a sharp eye. "Go. You're the only one who can stop him now." He turned back to the flying arsenal. "Rho-"

The weapons made contact with him, and everything went dark.

…

…

…

'Your time is not over yet, Shirou.'

All of a sudden, his vision returned.

He found himself lying in a forest. It was… peaceful, and offered him a brief sort of reprieve from what he had to do now. He got up and sighed, checking his mana reserves.

… Wait, what?

He was absolutely sure that they were almost empty by the time he dismissed Unlimited Blade Works. Now he had just enough mana to summon his bow, and Trace at least a couple of Caladbolg IIs and twenty normal sword-arrows and several pairs of the Married Blades. Now that he thought about it, he felt better than before, more complete, like he had taken a rejuvenating nap and woke up on a bed of feathers.

He looked round the forest again, realizing that it was much more familiar than he had initially observed. It was the forest that surrounded Ryuudou Temple. Bewildered, he began to explore, noting that although his armor had been repaired, his coat was still in tatters from the massacre against Gilgamesh, and his hair had fallen down from its usual slicked style.

'...!'

His ears picked up on the familiar sound of clashing steel. Interested, he headed towards the temple, stopping at the forest edge to find Gilgamesh being dragged into a swirling vortex, a chain on his wrist as the other end latched onto his weakened, yet determined, past self. 'The Grail.' he realized, looking at the vortex more closely. He could feel its pull from even here.

"Stay where you are mongrel," Gilgamesh yelled at him, "at least until I can get the the other side!"

His past self's feet slipped, then found purchase on the ground again as he desperately tried to unwound the chain on his arm.

"Fat chance! I won't ever let you get that opportunity, even if I have to sever my arm!"

At that moment, Archer knew what he had to do.

Silently, he summoned his bow and a sword, nocking it and Altering its shape. "Hmph. Go right ahead and cut off your arm, dumbass. But first take a step to the right." In his shock, his past self inadvertently followed his command, just as he released the arrow.

Gilgamesh's bleeding and broken form could only stare cross-eyed at the arrow in his forehead. "Damn… you…"

The chain, 'Enkidu', he noted as his mind immediately deposited the chains into his Reality Marble immediately slackened and let go of his past self's arm, slowly disappearing with the King of Heroes as the swirling vortex closed. Shirou slowly walked up to him, bow in hand, and a smirk beginning to form. "So, do I get a thank you?" He asked, savoring the shocked look on his past self's face as the smirk turned into a shit-eating grin.

His past self sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "Just seeing that expression on my face is very disconcerting. I'd prefer not to see that again."

The two of them stood there for a few moments, until he broke the silence. "Where's everyone else?" His past self stiffened, and then turned and ran.

"Hey," He reached out in a futile and half-hearted attempt to grab him, "where do you think… you're… go…ing..?" He slowly looked up, past the trees, and up into the sky, where a black sun lazily hung among the clouds, pouring out an endless torrent of black mud.

Oh.

Oh.

'Well, shit.' He thought, speeding after and picking up his past self, who cried out in surprise and protest. 'Of course things would be that bad.'

'Damn my E-rank Luck.'

By the time the two of them got there, the giant had almost finished constructing itself.

In his opinion, it looked someone had stuffed a giant purple doll incorrectly and smacked a glowing pink light on its face.

All around them, the blackened mud continued to flow out from the corrupted grail. He could see Saber standing at the ready, Excalibur unsheathed and glowing brightly like a star. Lancer on the other hand, was removing his spear from Kotomine's corpse, an expression of disgust on his face as he looked at his satisfied smile.

"Yo," he said, not bothering to turn around, "I was wondering when you would show up."

Before he could respond in turn, Saber let out a strained grunt. "If you would be so kind," she voiced, "to save the the banter for later, I think that it would benefit all of us. Not that I am relieved to see you alive and well, Archer." She raised her shaking hand for emphasis. "Now, will someone please help out Rin?" Said magus was currently struggling to get away from the Grail, a body-Shinji's body-leaning on her, but the mud was doing a pretty good job of stopping them from escaping

"Already on it. Just get back. As for you…" he looked at his past self, who looked exhausted. "Stay put." Without waiting for a protest, Shirou retreated back into the woods. He turned back towards the corruption, as twenty swords filled with prana came into existence. With but a single command, he sent them flying towards the Grail. They impacted the mud with small explosions of prana, creating a path for Rin and Shinji. Seeing the opening now created for them, Rin began the short, yet arduous task of getting across.

It seemed like an eternity, but they made it. And before she collapsed on the ground, Rin gave one final command to Saber.

"Saber, destroy the damned cup already! Destroy it until there's nothing left!" And with that, her final command spell vanished.

As for Saber, the previous command that had been imposed on her was lifted, and her aura exploded outwards as she gathered up all the latent mana surrounding the air. She raised her sword, her eyes alight with the fires of determination.

"Ex-"

The sword glowed a bright ivory as the mana compressed within the Holy Sword stirred, and for a brief second, just for one brief second, Shirou thought he could see another girl superimposed upon Saber.

She wore a light blue dress, was barefoot, and had no armor. She looked so out of place in this battle, so vulnerable that just a light touch would do her in. And yet, despite her apparent vulnerability, she exuded an aura that was just as potent, if not more, than the Servant of the Sword before him. An aura that made him feel that somehow, everything would be alright in the end.

He knew this girl. It was…

"-calibur!"

'Arturia…'

The specter vanished, leaving only Saber as she swung down her sword. The mana released itself in a streaking line of holy energies, its purifying touch eradicating the mud. Just when it was about to hit the giant, it released its own beam of corrupted energies. The two clashed, and stayed stagnant, neither willing to give in.

And then, slowly but surely, the light of the Sword of Promised Victory began to push back the darkness. Inch by painstaking inch, the distance between Excalibur's beam and the giant was getting smaller and smaller.

And then there was an explosion of light, and Shirou's vision went black.

The last thing he saw was a gloved hand reaching out for him.

Okay, now for some explanations.

First, I apologize for taking so long. Because this was a retelling of Unlimited Blade Works(from Archer's perspective(who I had refer to himself by his original name, so no EMIYA, Archer, ect.), I wanted to ensure I got most of what I left canon correct(This was mostly taken from the anime, not the VN), and what I didn't really leave canon I wanted to make a little more original. Honestly, the ending of this chapter feels like crap, but at this point I wanted it finished for you guys. If some things through out the story don't make sense or don't seem to flow not so well, please let me know.

As for Archer's slightly different personality, I tried to model it after his Fate/Extra counterpart, where he accepts the mistakes he made, and has made peace with his ideals. The only difference is that he's now determined to "save" his younger counterpart from his potential future of becoming a Counter Guardian rather than kill him and creating a paradox.

And please, leave only good criticism, so that I can make this experience enjoyable for all of you. As for those who ignore this message and leave ranting comments only on how 'it sucks' or whatnot, please find something better to do than just tear people down.

Thanks for your time!

Questoris