Over the next few days, Mashu made a little bit of improvement in her training. Power-wise, she was still close to her base-line, but she now had better battle awareness, which was the important thing. She was supposed to beat down enemies to a pulp; rather she needed to protect her possible team-mates from harm, like a living, moving barricade.

After a few battlefields summoned by his Casters, Dr. Roman then reported that the simulator had gathered enough data. The man had been incredulous at the type and strength of the recreations.

"You didn't really fight any of these fellows, right…?" he asked.t

Shirou'd given him a flat look. "We haven't even gotten to the 'hard' parts yet." Dr. Roman grimaced and shook his head.

Thanks to Chaldea's efforts, the simulator had been configured enough so they could use it next, allowing them to recreate certain scenarios for Mashu's training. The aim was to hone her aforementioned battle instincts, which normally would have been accumulated over time as she gained experience in fighting. But with the current situation, it became far more important that she gain as much advantages as she could.

She was still unable to use the Noble Phantasm available to her. She claimed she knew its name, but something was blocking her method of activating it. Shirou supposed that was the consequence of the lack of a Master she could rely on. Even with her current attachment to him and his training sessions, he knew she treated him differently than from if he were her "Master". This block was not something he could easily fix; in fact, he didn't even have a plan for that. With so many unknowns it was better to focus on what they currently had, and use that to the best of their ability.

"Hyaah!"

"Mashu, keep your eyes on the real enemy!"

"Yes, Master!"

The wyvern screeched and thrashed its mighty wings, kicking up a cloud of dust. Its massive jaws nipped and snapped at Mashu, who narrowly avoided it with her nimble footwork.

A small figure darted through the dust. It headed straight for Shirou, punching through the air like a bullet. At the last second, Mashu intercepted it, the enemy's spear embedding into the shield, before she bucked it off with a swing.

"Good job."

The smaller enemy withdrew as the wyvern attacked again, making Mashu move to block it once more. Shirou's gaze went to the figure, who was once more angling a shot for him.

Today's exercise was training Mashu to work on multitasking. At a given situation, she had to ensure Shirou's safety, while doing her best to fend off two separate enemies, each trying their best to get at Shirou, while not necessarily being allied to each other. There was the wyvern, helpfully provided by the simulator, and then there was "shishou", the legendary Scathach, now clad in the futuristic cybernetic suit stolen from an old singularity. Her spear glowed neon-like as she aimed her thrusts at him, though not without her full force—if she were any more serious, she would have already reached Shirou. But she took her time, allowing Mashu to keep up.

Scathach along with many other mentor-like Servants had been godsends for Shirou, along with his powerful, imaginative Casters. They had the expertise to advise him on training regimens and concepts that would help him train up Mashu as best he can. Scathach, who had trained the majestic Cu Chulainn, was one of these.

He was grateful for the fact that he could call upon a large host of her, enough to create his own little squadron of shishous. He had already called upon most of them to help teach Mashu. This Scathach was the latest—a Scathach equipped to hunt in the cybernetic world. Still, even without that specialty, she was still a fearsome Lancer.

(The only problem currently, with summoning this many Scathachs—along with the dozens of Servants he'd summoned besides—was the fact that nearly all of them "drained" him one after another by demanding sex as payment. Not that he minded the sex part, but it was still kind of hard to do quickies for thirty minutes with a different Servant every time, each session adding up to a whole night.)

Shirou crossed his arms, then cried out, "Cut! Doctor!"

At his cue, Doctor Roman, who was keyed remotely into the simulator from outside, paused the ongoing battle. The wyvern froze, suspended in time while Shirou approached Mashu.

"Mashu, we're going to try the survival run again, using the same time limit and limitations. Are you ready?"

She nodded grimly. Shirou glanced at Lancer, who readied her lance in response. Mashu would need to defend him from attack within a set duration of time. The stipulation this time would be that Shirou would pretend to be some VIP, who could not dodge or run as a Servant could. (Ironically this description best fit Shirou as a Master, who often found his combat magus skills outmatched by threats in the Singularity) At this stage, the time needed to complete would be very low.

"Will Lancer be participating?" Mashu asked.

Shirou thought about it, then shook his head. "Nah, she'll just be observing you this time." The odds were very against Mashu's success in this. She could survive, true, but her ward wouldn't.

"Please allow her to join!" Mashu said, surprised.

"Mashu, that's…"

"Even if it's a low level…" she continued, insistent. "I want to continue practice multitasking."

He looked to Lancer, who nodded almost imperceptibly. He knew shishou would be modulating her own ability without his prompting, handicapping herself down to Mashu's current level. While Shirou admired her earnest desire to train, there were limits that needed to be overcome first.

"Very well. Good luck, Mashu," Shirou said.

"Yes!" she cried, turning towards her enemies. The wyvern was lifted from the simulator pause, roaring and frothing at the mouth. At the same time, Lancer sped forward, spear poised to strike.

"Senpai, go!" she urged. Shirou took this as his cue to start running, albeit at the slow pace of a normal human. Behind him, he could sense the thunderous clash of the wyvern's large maws and Mashu's shield. He felt a rush of wind, and felt Lancer's charge stopped just in time.

Five seconds.

The earth surged beneath him as he continued to jog along, praying in his heart for Mashu to succeed. The wyvern shrieked, as it continued to be frustrated by Mashu's agile counter-attacks. The real problem here was Lancer, who was herself a smaller, agile force. Even with the wyvern in the way, she could simply dodge the larger enemy's attacks and wait for just the right moment when Mashu was distracted to strike decisively.

"Haah!" Mashu cried, deflecting another attack. Shirou continued counting down in his head.

Twenty-seven… twenty-eight…

From the corner of his eye, he could spot shishou ascending to the heavens like a rocket, making a beautiful arc in the air, before allowing gravity to guide her down with the force of a meteor. Her spear was glowing.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. She was activating one of her Noble Phantasms. Lancer wasn't fucking around. He could warn Mashu, but letting her handle it was better. He was supposed to be just the hapless VIP, running for his life.

The impact came, and with it a shockwave struck him flat on the back. Shirou allowed his legs to stumble, before he fell to the ground. He felt the sharp sense of certain doom, as from an incoming attack. Then there was a clash of steel, another roar, then silence.

Thirty.

The exercise was over. Shirou was about to stand when he felt steel brush against his back. After a beat, the feeling was gone, and Shirou stood to see Mashu's disappointed look. Behind her, the wyvern was frozen yet again, mere inches from her head. Then he saw shishou standing there, expression still hidden. But he still knew what had happened.

Mashu had failed, somehow. In the last second of the exercise, Scathach had managed to break through her defenses, and would have killed him.

"Sorry… senpai."

Shirou sighed. "That's alright. Don't be discouraged, Mashu. That you lasted so long is admirable in itself. See, Lancer agrees." At his prompting, Scathach nodded.

"'m sorry…" she continued mumbling. Her shoulders sagged, her bangs hiding her crestfallen expression.

Shirou raised his head. "Doctor, let's call it for now. Come on, Mashu, let's get you cooled down. Then we can try again, if you'd like."

After a long moment of hesitation, she looked up. There was a fierce look on her face. "I won't fail next time, Senpai."

"That's the spirit," he said, smiling. "It's just a mere bump in the road. And like I said, twenty-nine seconds is already pretty impressive." He knew these were just empty words of encouragement, clichés uttered many times before. But he knew, he genuinely believed, she could do it. In his mind, Mashu was capable of anything. She just needed a little more time, to grow. To ascend.

He glanced at Scathach, who was already walking off into the distance. She waved, and then disappeared. As expected of shishou, she could dismiss herself from service even before the thirty minutes were up. Still, her intent was clear: it was Shirou's responsibility to watch over Mashu, and he didn't—or shouldn't—rely on Lancer for this.

After he dropped of Mashu in her room, Shirou went to another empty room. In there, one of his Casters was already waiting, ready to shape something for him.

"Realistically," she said, as soon as the door closed behind him. "There's nothing you can do to train yourself."

"I know that," Shirou said.

"The laws governing a Servant's saint graph are ingrained. If you are weak, or strong, there's nothing much you can do to improve it—aside from calling upon the assistance from others. Or, most importantly—"

"From a Master," Shirou finished. But he didn't have a Master. He could only rely on this frail body, as well as the Servants he could summon.

In this form, he had lost much of what defined Emiya Shirou. His combat abilities, his magecraft, all honed from an early age of working as a rogue mage, had been stripped away. He knew he should possess them, but, like a phantom limb, it only existed in his mind as a memory.

His Reality Marble, which should have been a core part of his identity as a human, was absent. No matter how much he molded his mana, it would never come out, as if he had forgotten how to walk. Then again, he thought wryly, he knew he wasn't the measure of someone who would qualify to be a hero enshrined in the Throne. He was just some nobody who managed to keep things together as he and Chaldea worked to undo Goetia's machinations. He didn't do it out of obligation to his fellow man, nor from some ideal of heroism. He was just in it to survive, him and everyone else in Chaldea.

His physical abilities as a Servant were improved, but only by a few marks. For a while he'd had his Servants test his reflexes, which ended just as he predicted. Higher class Servants or those with certain tricky Noble Phantasms would be able to kill him effectively, no matter how hard he tried. Anyone else would need a good chase before catching him, but they'd get him in the end. He hadn't tried on all the Servants he could summon, but as someone who knew his everyone's abilities well enough, such a thing was apparent.

Even as a Servant he was only barely as able as his Master self. And he didn't even have Unlimited Blade Works to help him tip the scales anymore.

Before he realized it, a cup was pushed into his hand. Then, Caster started to pour him a drink from a bottle she produced from somewhere.

"… What are you doing?" he asked.

"You looked like you needed a drink, Master," she said.

"I don't know how it'll help. I won't get drunk," he said. At least, he was relatively sure. There were some Noble Phantasms who could make one drunk, but that was generally a potent magical effect, and not authentic inebriation. But he did take a sip of the burning liquid. It was thick and earthy, mixed with something like honey.

"Ah, and if we're having a drink, why not have a meal to go with it?" came a voice behind him. Shirou nearly dropped his cup.

"What the heck? I didn't call for you, Nobu."

Oda Nobunaga, in the form of the local onsen worker, had appeared, bearing a tray of food. It smelled deliciously fragrant, though he felt no pang of hunger. She grinned and placed her hands on her hips.

"What're you talking about? Any good meal deserves a nice drink to go with it, and if you're drinking, may as well get it with a drink."

He stared at her. "That's not what I meant. I was asking why, or rather, how you're out here, when I didn't call for you."

She puffed out her chest. "Who do you think you're talking to? Nothing's impossible for the great Fool of Owari—not that I didn't cheat and beat everyone else out here, no," she added in a low mutter.

"What?"

She cleared her throat. "As the modern saying goes: All is fair in love and war, oh great honorable Master!"

"What she said, Master," Caster said from the side, her expression sour, "Is that she willed herself here, using your body as a sort of summoning circle."

"Is my body a summoning circle?" Shirou asked, uneasy at the thought.

"Well, no, not exactly," Caster replied, furrowing her brows.

"Why drown yourself in thought, egghead?" Nobunaga said. "Just attribute it to Master's generosity, and our own tremendous skill that I managed this feat! Nothing is impossible for one such as I! Fuhahaha!"

"No, really, I'm curious. How did you manage this?" Shirou asked, a little more seriously now. If his Servants could just summon themselves without him, then that made things a lot more complicated. The basic rule of his new Noble Phantasm was thus: they only lasted for thirty minutes, he could only summon up to six of them, and that they could not willingly remove themselves if needed. Shirou therefore had begun planning around those restrictions.

Now he discovered that they could just summon themselves without prompting. Who else aside from Nobunaga was capable of that? How could he convince those who could that this was a bad idea? Some of his Servants were notoriously self-centered, and barely listened to his advice on combat. It was fitting for their class sometimes (as Berserkers) or it was their own nature that gave them a wild, frivolous spirit (like Atalante), and it was overall a pain to manage.

Nobunaga didn't seem to be forthcoming. It was either that, or she honestly didn't know how. And judging by the cramped look on her face, the latter option was quite likely.

"S-s-such matters of the mind are but frivolous pursuits, Master. Surely you can woolgather some other time..?" she said.

"Munch, munch, munch. You could tell the truth, you know. That you don't know," came another, newer voice, belonging to the Servant that was now gobbling up Nobunaga's roasted meat. Then she got to chugging down Caster's drink.

"What the—Artoria?"

Artoria Saber, the first Artoria who heeded his summons, had now somehow appeared. The blonde King of Knights helped herself to the meat with much gusto.

"Mmm… Now that's really delicious. Should you not be digging in as well, Master?" she asked.

"No…" Shirou sighed, exasperation coming to him. "Where the heck did you come from? I didn't call for you either, Saber."

"What do you mean? Your heart called to me, Master, and I answered. Just in time for meals, I gather."

"What the hell are you doing, dumb foreigner?" Nobunaga now said, grabbing the tray. It seemed she, too, had been paralyzed by shock. "That's for Master! And me!"

"I do not recall your saying such an assertion when you appeared," Saber returned coolly, still eviscerating the steamy meat with her greasy fingers.

"Guh… Hands off the meat you glutton!"

"Could everyone please stop eating for a second and answer me?" Shirou said. But both Saber and Nobunaga had descended into a full-blown argument, completely ignoring him. He felt rather like a failure of a Master; unable to properly control his Servants.

"Perhaps I shall have an answer for you later, Master," Caster said, taking away her bottles before either of the brawling pair took it for a weapon. It was somewhat of a needless action, as those bottles would disappear along with her. But Caster gathered them to herself just so, and after a quick peck on his cheek, she disappeared.

"Heh? Where'd all the booze go?" Nobunaga said.

Shirou sighed. He stood, and gestured to his Servants. "Since you're here, you may as well help me train up at the simulator. Come along."

Nobunaga of the onsen mumbled under sullenly under her breath, shooting her opponent a dirty look. Saber dutifully stood up after him, ignoring her enemy, while also taking one last strip of meat. She clapped her hands together, once.

"Thanks for the meal."

Shirou sighed again.

Overseeing a battle with his life on the line was a feeling he was more than familiar with. Shirou stood behind Rider, with the both of them positioned on a relatively safe portion of the battlefield. He watched his two main Servants charge into the fray.

"Are you really sure about this?" Dr. Roman had asked, when Shirou had told him of the settings he wanted to input. The doctor was surprised, fittingly because the settings were at a level quite higher than normal. The simulator would create a monster with frightening power.

"It's fine," Shirou had replied. Though they were high, the simulator still couldn't quite grasp the enormous strength that the enemies in his life had possessed. The simulator was "capped" at a level that would not also destroy the very thing that powered it. But it would do, for now. He had to flex his muscles, and hone skills that might have rusted through the passage of time.

"Are you sure about this, Master?" Rider whispered. Her long, distinct hair reached down to her legs. Taut black leather wrapped around her slender body, allowing her unrestricted movement without compromising her combat effectiveness. An eyemask covered half her face, shielding the world from her infamous gaze.

"Yes, why?" Shirou responded.

"I'm usually not the one who gets chosen for escort labor," she said.

"Nonsense, you'll do fine."

"If you say so, Master," she replied in a no-nonsense tone, though she still sounded skeptical. It was understandable. In terms of relative strengths, this Rider was average at best, and logically speaking occupied certain niche situations. She wouldn't be the first, nor the second, nor the third choice when it came time for maximum firepower, or for widespread team support, or even for assassination.

But in the current fabricated situation she was more than adequate. Though he wouldn't mention to her how she was just one of the "handicaps" he'd put on himself.

The opposing monster that the simulator had birthed was a fearsome, insect-like gargantuan, looking like a giant scorpion with menacing pincers and too many stingers to count, each flailing about like so many venomous whips. If the wyvern testing Mashu from before was a difficulty 5, then this one was a 30, showcasing the relative difference in scale.

His battle plan had been thus: Saber and Lancer, each high-quality Servants, would serve to engage the monster. Caster and Berserker would stay to the side, and the former was commanded to do nothing else than empower the latter with her spells. Then there was Shirou and Rider off to the side, with him overseeing everything.

The monster was commanded to hunt him and him alone. That was the first challenge—he was the loss condition. Second, Saber and Lancer were forbidden from unleashing their Noble Phantasms. Normally he would not issue such a command: when applicable he would always require use of a Noble Phantasm if it could advance an objective. But there were times when they needed to hold back, when energy needed to be reserved, or whatever else reason. And sometimes using a Noble Phantasm was a loss condition unto itself.

The third handicap was for Berserker: no matter, what she would not attack the enemy, and would only act to unleash her Noble Phantasm on the enemy when the time was right. She would be required to rein in her instincts to obey Shirou's commands until he wished it. This was an equal test of Master and Servant: he would place his trust that she would obey a command; and she would have to choose between loyalty to her Master or to her instincts.

In the meantime, she would act to defend against the small fry summoned by the simulator to attack Caster's position.

Lastly, it fell to Rider to keep watch on the situation, and act accordingly. She had the necessary agility and strength to bring the both of them out of dangerous situations. But it would still be somewhat of a burden on her: he wouldn't tell her, but she was herself a handicap. That was cold, harsh truth, not that it needed to be said.

It did not take long for things to begin. Not five seconds from when combat began, Shirou saw Lancer's form drive over their heads, knocked back from a tremendous blow.

"That idiot!" Saber was shouting. "And I told her to engage together!"

"Master!" Rider said, already seeing what Shirou also saw. The monster had exploited the opening, and was now barreling towards them at high speed. He took Rider's hand and felt himself fly high, then descend once more, putting considerable distance between them and the monster.

But the monster was made to cover large distances so this didn't seem like that much of an escape. The arena was also deliberately made small—as per the simulator's inherent limitations, as well as another handicap. It fell to all of the Servants here, working as a team, to overcome the challenge.

"Hyaaargh!" Despite being the first to screw up, Lancer stood and charged right back into the fray.

"She's been hurt," Shirou muttered to himself. But something was strange—he could tell her body had been hurt, like an instinctive thought, like knowing the identity of an object just by simply feeling it.

He could not do that as a Master. Back then he would use a magecraft technique on his eyes to analyze the structural integrity of his Servants' corporeal forms, thereby clueing him on their present conditions. But now, even that simple technique was lost to him.

In exchange, he had this "feeling", as if Lancer were his own hand that had gotten bruised somewhere. He knew that she was hurt, but still capable, eager even. But he could not know exactly what, if anything had been damaged. He had replaced precision with instinct—and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing.

"Master," Rider now said. "I could support their defense. My—"

"No, Rider. We need to simulate as if your mana reserves were depleted."

"My mana reserves can never be depleted, Master. Not in this form," Rider replied.

"What do you mean?"

She cocked her head, turning her blindfolded gaze at him. "Did you not realize, Master? Our mana output is directly linked to yours. And yours seem as an infinite pool that is impossible to deplete."

Rider's description disturbed him. His other Servants thus far had not described such a thing; but perhaps they'd assumed that he knew. He had at first assumed that he was summoning them wholesale, with their own reserve of mana like a device with a battery pre-installed. But now Rider told him they were inexplicably linked to him still by that invisible, untouchable wire that allowed him to feed them with his power. That… changed certain things.

He shook his head. He would ruminate later, perhaps with those who might seem knowledgeable about it, like some of his Casters. He therefore told Rider, "Well, still for this exercise we need to act as if your usage of the Noble Phantasm must be minimized. Whether through necessity, or if some enemy disabled it or made it impossible to use—let's just go with that."

"I understand," Rider said. "A handicap, then."

"Precisely."

"Now I see why you summoned them together," Rider said, her voice oozing amusement. She indicated Saber and Lancer, who spent half the time feuding with each other as with the monster.

The two shared a sort of rivalry with each other, for whatever reason. Ordinarily it was something to be addressed off the battlefield. Servants were like people that way, loving and hating in equal measure.

He wasn't expecting a miracle to happen in this simulation. But the challenge was for them to work together just enough to get through it, answering the same question that was posed for every other Servant present: did they trust and obey their Master enough to make the difference?

Shirou winced, feeling the blow the insect giant made when an ill-timed assault allowed it the opportunity to swat Saber aside, nearly knocking her straight into Caster's position. It was like he'd been punched in the gut, which was perhaps an interesting aspect to this whole Servant business. If that blow felt bad then what would termination feel like?

In the meantime, Berserker over there was snarling, annoyed at Saber for interrupting her evisceration of the small fry swarming their position. Saber mouthed off something he couldn't hear; as Rider had immediately evacuated their position once the enemy was now free to ignore Lancer in favor of hunting him.

"Don't underestimate me you stupid—" Lancer said, hurling herself to land right on top of the insect. She loped over its thick, serrate carapace, and reached one of its eyes. She lost no time stabbing downward, causing the monster to screech loud in an eardrum-shattering pitch.

The insect flailed around, trying to throw off Lancer. As its claws attempted to swipe her, a small shape darted in front. In a flash of steel, Saber's blade neatly slashed through the claws, enraging the giant even further.

"Master, it is ready," Caster announced in his head.

"Do it," he responded, watching the creature flail about.

Off in the distance, the magical glow surrounding Caster and Berserker's location surged, peaking into a supernova flash that briefly illuminated the area. Then came the roar of something like a tiger, or a lion, or some other predatory creature. Suffused with Caster's potent energies, Berserker jetted forward and up like a bullet, and at the apex hovered just above the insect.

"Nyahuhuhu! Thanks for filling me up, woof! Time for the finishing touch, woof!"

Berserker's form was now suffused with a strange energy, vaguely taking the form of a beast with many tails. She uttered a terrifying, echoing howl. Twin limbs extended outward, ending in large, monstrous claws. Saber and Lancer darted away from the monster as Berserker's Noble Phantasm hit home, the claws slashing through tough carapace with the same ease of a cat crushing a roach beneath its paws. Squealing helplessly, the insect could do nothing as Berserker swung those monstrous limbs, slashing over and over again, reducing the giant to smaller and smaller chunks.

The energy faded after a while, with Berserker falling back to the ground. Lancer jumped up to catch her, before she went over to his position, along with Saber and Caster.

"Target eliminated, Master," Saber reported.

Shirou looked at Berserker, who was sleeping off the debilitating effect of her Noble Phantasm. In fact, he knew in his bones that she could no longer act, as if she were like his limb suffering a cramp. But aside from that, the exercise was a relative success. It seemed that his Servants had retained their strengths prior to his Summoning. There were a lot more questions to answer, but for now he was confident in their combat ability.

He nodded grimly. "Good work, everyone."

Apocrypha: The Faculty (Scathach) available below (mature content). In addition, be able to choose the Servants to be dredged into Apocrypha.

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