AlexanderBishop
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Swordmaxxing — Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-06-06 16:56:24 +0000 UTCI stirred awake, cold seeping into my body, a dark, familiar-looking ceiling filling my view as I blinked slowly.
When did I…
A wave of dizziness made the room spin as I pulled myself upright, looking around at the dim-lit hall, mind awhirl. The school—
The image of a blood red spear flashed to mind, a sharp thrust, stabbing me in the—
My right hand moved to my chest, brushing the damp, sticky shirt and the small tear in the fabric, only to find normal skin beneath.
What…
I slowly pulled myself up, swaying on my feet as the room spun around me, and took a few stumbling steps, bracing myself against the wall. The cold tile cooled the sweat on my back as I breathed heavily, waiting for the room to stop spinning, memories that weren’t mine churning inside my head—
I squeezed my eyes shut, massaging my temples.
I went to sleep after another long day of work, and—
I was cleaning up in the archery club, and then I saw those two—
I breathed in sharply, the sound cutting through the flashing images like a sword. My thoughts…
The memories. My memories.
Shirou Emi—Emiya Shirou. My name.
But the other memories…
Shirou Emiya. Fate Stay Night. Archer. Saber. Medusa. Rin Tōsaka. Sakura—
Someone else—no. Me. Also, me. The other me.
The memories that were also mine.
I took in another lungful of stale air, slower, deeper, releasing a shuddering breath as I stared at the floor.
Fuck…
This was so messed up—
A shiver crawled up my spine, heart leaping in my throat as the image of a fierce man clad in blue flashed to mind.
Lancer!
I stumbled to the exit on shaky legs, cold sweat breaking all over my back.
As I rushed down the stairs, a chuckle bubbled in my chest, rising with a manic, skin-prickling wave. I clenched my jaw, biting back the half-mad peal of laughter as I ran outside, the cold air of night biting at my skin.
Oh god, I was so fucked…
_________________________________________________________________________
I rounded a corner, carefully looking at the empty street before hurrying my pace, an unpleasant knot in my chest. Not even a single car passed by as I kept power walking, the whole neighborhood eerily quiet.
God, this was so messed up.
Fate Stay Night, right at the start of the Fifth Grail War? As Shirou “People die when they are killed” Emiya?
I fought down a hysterical giggle, increasing my pace as the night air chilled my back. Good god…
May as well let Berserker use me as a fucking club…
I’d tried looking for my magic circuits on my way here, though without any luck. Maybe I was too high-strung and couldn’t focus properly, or maybe I was going about it wrong. I had no idea, but having to rely on makeshift circuits was going to suck.
My house soon came into sight, and with it, a sinking feeling in my stomach. A tense energy coiled every fibre of my body as my heart pounded in my chest.
One mistake and I was cooked.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I ran inside, making a beeline towards the shed. Subtlety was useless. If Lancer was around, he’d notice me even if I was crawling like a worm on the ground.
As soon as I stepped inside, a soft, white glow drew my attention to the middle of the shed. The circle. My eyes briefly went to my left hand, a faint outline of the command seals already there.
The light was slowly flowing around in a pattern, tracing the outline of a magic circle. Faster, c’mon…
Maybe I could speed it up?
I walked closer, closing my eyes and focusing inwardly. That sinking feeling returned in my stomach as I kept searching for my circuits, without success. My fists clenched, eyes snapping open as I swallowed dryly.
Fuck.
Head swiveling left and right, I spotted a pipe lying on the ground and quickly picked it up. Metal. Good.
I tightened my grip, shaking away the creeping doubt. I had to fight for my life; there was no other way. With a deep, fortifying breath, I steadied my shaky hands as I slowly exhaled, bracing myself for what came next.
Closing my eyes, I emptied my mind and focused inwardly as I usually did, imagining that tiny, ethereal channel gaining shape, like soldering a new pathway on a circuit board—
My breath caught in my throat as pain speared through my back, as if I’d just jabbed a molten rod straight into my spine. Squeezing my eyes as sweat pooled on my back, I opened my mind like so many times before and grasped at the structure of the pipe.
“Trace On.”
Strengthening the component materials.
Energy coursed through the makeshift circuit, flowing into the metal pipe as I did my best to envision filling all those tiny imperfections in the material. C’mon, work, you gotta work, please—
Like water suffusing a sponge, my Od settled inside the metal, filling every nook and cranny and strengthening it on a fundamental level.
A relieved breath escaped me. I did it.
With shaky arms, I held up the reinforced pipe, tapping it softly on the support pillar to my left. It felt sturdy enough—
The sound of footsteps drew my eyes straight to the entrance, grip tightening around the makeshift weapon as my heart sped up. A torturously long moment later, Lancer finally came into view, that wicked spear in his hand.
“Can’t believe I got stuck with killing the same person twice in one day,” he lamented, twirling his spear faster than I could follow and resting it lazily atop his shoulder. “I guess the world’s a bloody place, no matter the era.”
A shiver crawled up my back as he regarded me for a tense moment, eyes lingering on the glowing pipe in my hand. A quiet, intrigued noise escaped him as his eyebrows climbed up a fraction.
“It’s faint, but I can sense some mana in you. That’s how you survived a stab through the heart, isn’t it?”
I stole a quick glance to my left, stomach sinking even further. The summoning circle still wasn’t ready. I had to buy more time.
“Pretty sure it was my guardian angel,” I said, pushing a smile to my face.
A smirk twitched on Lancer’s face. “A funny one, are you?” he said, lowering his spear, one moment still standing there, then, the next, he moved, weapon flashing in a straight thrust.
I brought my pipe up on instinct, the deadly sharp tip sliding along the shaft, clipping my arm on the way down. I winced at the pain, slowly taking a step back as Lancer lowered his spear and straightened himself with a hum.
“This might be fun, after all.”
“Not for me, Lance-a-lot.”
“Wrong hero, boy.”
His arm blurred with a swing, and I barely had time to put my weapon in the path of his spear. My arms went numb, bones rattling with the impact, the force sending me down on my ass. Blood pounding in my ears, I scrambled back to my feet, raising my makeshift weapon just in time to block another strike that sent me stumbling backwards.
I managed to catch myself before falling, regaining my balance as Lancer twirled his spear while slowly approaching.
I clenched my jaw, teeth gnashing. He was just toying with me—
In the blink of an eye, he sprang forward, Gae Bolg opening another thin gash along my arm as I threw myself to the side. Rolling on the ground, I quickly pushed myself to a crouch, pipe held up in a clumsy guard. Lancer was already in front of me, leg swinging in an arc.
The kick hit me like a freight train even as I blocked it, the world spinning around me as I rolled across the floor. Picking myself up with a pained grunt, I scrambled back to my feet, cradling my hands with a wince, only to find them empty.
Fuck…
“I don’t get it,” Lancer spoke as he stalked towards me like a predator. “You think fast on your feet, but you’re hopeless at magecraft.” He gave me another look, head tilting slightly. “I guess there is some potential. Maybe you were meant to be the seventh.”
I took another glance at my left hand as he spoke, a cold feeling gripping my chest. The command seals were still not fully there.
I needed more time.
“Any chance to reconsider this whole murder thing?”
“Sorry, no can do.”
“What if I summon a Servant, and you get to fight them? If you win, you get to kill me anyway. Not a bad deal, right?”
“Oh?” Lancer made an intrigued sound, studying me for a moment. “So, you know something, after all.” He then paused, head tilting slightly. “Sadly, for you, my Master is quite the coward. He’d much rather that I killed you now.”
Fucking Kirei…
“Not cool, man.”
“It is what it is.” Lancer shrugged with a smirk, and I took a step back, chancing a brief glimpse at the magic circle from the corner of my eye. That shit was still glowing like a Christmas tree.
Anytime now, Saber!
“End of the line, boy.” Lancer slid into a loose stance, my legs tensing in anticipation. “Now show some pride when you go into the light.”
He blurred forward, and I threw myself to the side, grunting as my forearms hit the stone floor. The world seemed to slow down as I looked up, that wicked spear arcing down straight for my face—
No, I couldn’t die here! Not without fulfilling my dream! Not without—
The image of a golden scabbard flashed to mind unbidden, an empty sheath waiting to be filled—
“SABER! HELP!”
My left hand burned as if branded by fire, the magic circle glowing even brighter as a lone figure emerged from the light. The air displaced with a flash of movement, a clang of metal filling the place as an invisible force blocked that crimson spear. Saber swung again, the might of her blow sending Lancer barreling out of the shed.
I stared dumbly at the sight, heart pounding in my chest. Oh my god, I’d almost died again—
“I ask…” Saber—Artoria—spoke, voice sharp yet pleasant to my ears as she turned around, her poise regal and silver armor gleaming in the pale moonlight. “Are you my Master?”
Heart thundering in my chest, I looked upon the Once and Future King, her youthful face a stern mask, framed by golden hair pulled up in a braid, almost like a crown.
Beautiful…
A moment of silence stretched between us, those hard, emerald eyes pinning me with an expectant gaze, and that was enough to snap me out of the stupor.
“Yes,” I said, lifting my left hand for her to see. “I am.”
I quickly pulled myself up to my feet, Saber acknowledging me with a tiny nod. “I, the Saber-class Servant, have answered your summons. Master, your orders.”
My left hand throbbed with a spike of pain, and I cradled it with a wince. Artoria looked towards the yard, her sabatons clinking softly on the stone floor as she turned around.
“Henceforth, you hold my sword in your hands, and I hold your fate in mine.” Air gathered around her hands, revealing a glimpse of gold as it settled along an invisible length. “Our contract is thus formed.”
Gripping her concealed sword, Artoria tensed, ready to spring into action.
“Watch out for that spear, Saber. Don’t let him use it on you, no matter what.”
“Understood, Master.”
In the blink of an eye, she leapt out of the shed, a gust of wind buffeting my face as I inched closer to the entrance, the loud clang of metal filling the yard. A shiver trailed down my spine as I watched the two Servants fight, their movements a blur to my eyes.
Maybe if I reinforced them—
No. Bad idea.
Artoria leapt forward, her hidden sword impacting Gae Bolg hard enough to shatter the earth beneath their feet. My eyes never left that wicked spear, following it around as flashes of a would-be future surfaced to mind.
I clenched my fists, an anxious feeling stirring in my chest.
She was supposed to win, but… what if she lost? I was Emiya Shirou, but I wasn’t the Emiya Shirou. What if my presence had messed things up beyond repair and set the timeline towards a bad end?
This shitty world had plenty of those, even if reality couldn’t follow the same script of a visual novel of all things…
My stomach twisted on itself as I watched the two legendary heroes battle each other, my nails digging into my palms at my own powerlessness. Even if Artoria survived this fight, Gae Bolg could cripple her, and that wound would not heal, and we’d get wrecked by Berserker, and—
Fuck…
A cold feeling creeped over my spine, as if dunked in ice.
What could I do?
There had to be something, even if I had no training. Even if my circuits were meager and atrophied. Even if I could barely trace something as I was right now, barely make a sword. What difference could a sword even make right now—
My eyes flew wide, a sharp intake of air cutting through my thoughts as I stood there, rooted in place.
A sword.
I was a sword.
A Sword.
The duel became distant, fading away into the background as a memory played before my eyes. Of that terrible fire from a decade ago. Those unforgiving flames that devoured everything in their path. That melted me down. Hollowed me out. And forged me anew.
I was saved.
A new shape.
Kiritsugu.
A new purpose.
I was saved for a reason.
To be a Sword.
Something stirred deep within my core, broken fragments sliding into place, leaving behind a smooth, gleaming surface of steel.
My breath hitched in my throat, a vast, cloudy sky flashing before my eyes, meeting the earth on a hill of swords. Countless blades embedded into the ground like a forest of tombstones. Endless swords within a distant world.
A world of—
I took a step forward, eyes fixed ahead, back painfully straight, like a continuous edge of metal constantly sharpening itself.
Saber and Lancer leapt away from each other, ready to rejoin the fray, though neither of them making the first move. Artoria threw a brief glance over her shoulder, a deep scowl etched on her beautiful face.
“Stay back, Master! This is too dangerous!”
“One more question, Saber. Since this is our first meeting, would you be interested in calling it a draw?”
Their words rang hollow and distant in my mind. The yard went out of focus, colors and shapes twisting, blending away as the image from my mind’s eye slowly bled into the world around me. All I could see before my eyes was a field of steel reflected upon a clear sky.
A small, wry smile tugged at my dry lips, and I shook my head.
It’s been so simple. The answer has been there all along.
I took a deep, steadying breath, the world around me coming back sharply into focus.
I’ve always been a Sword. Ever since that night…
A clear image took root in my mind, the hammer of gun fired—no. A Sword emerged from its sheath, blade gleaming as it swung.
A choked gasp escaped my lips as my body seized, muscles twitching painfully. I gritted my teeth and pushed through. Deep inside, floodgates opened one by one, warmth flooding my body through tiny, immaterial channels.
One. Two. Three. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Sixty—
Wha—
I pushed that thought aside, eyes narrowing as Lancer took an all too familiar stance. Saber leapt at him a heartbeat later, forcing him to parry and buying me a little more time.
“I am the bone of my sword.”
Warmth flooded my veins, circuits thrumming with mana as that endless world deep within me began to unfold, like a sword forged in reverse.
Kiritsugu.
“Steel is my body, forged in my blood.”
With every word, it drew closer.
I finally understand.
“Countless blades emerge from within. The cold gleam of metal reflecting one ideal.”
My body heated up like a furnace, mind ready to forge.
This is my purpose.
“There are no regrets. It is the only path.”
A tiny, content smile came to my face.
I am a Sword.
“My whole life is… Unlimited Blade Works.”
_________________________________________________________________________
What the fuck…
EMIYA skidded to a halt, Rin clutched tightly in his arms as the wave of ethereal fire swept over them. For one, uncomprehending moment, he merely stared ahead, wide-eyed and mind awhirl.
Soil like glass stretched beneath his feet, a clear, endless mirror, meeting the horizon and reflecting a blue sky. A forest of nameless weapons littered the world, sticking out of the ground like gravestones.
It looked nothing like it should.
In the distance, Lancer and Saber stood at a standstill, both staring at Shirou Emiya.
How was this even possible—
A thought cleaved through his mind like cold steel.
A bizarro timeline where the idiot got properly trained by Kiritsugu?
But even so, how could the boy manifest a Reality Marble with those meager, twenty-seven circuits—
EMIYA’s blood froze. The family crest. Did the old man… but that should have killed the brat. The rejection rate without any blood relation…
What the fuck was going on here—
“Archer…” Rin’s shaky voice, barely above a whisper, reached his ears. “Is this…” she trailed off, not taking her eyes off the glassy field littered with nameless swords.
“A Reality Marble,” he grunted out, pausing as his own inner world suddenly flashed across his mind’s eye, as if struggling to emerge. He reined in the urge, brow furrowing deeply.
What the…
Far up ahead, it seemed as if Lancer had tried to remove the issue at the root, only for Saber to intercept him, once more clashing with her to a standstill. Shirou Emiya stood there, watching the fight, his stance sharp, like a gleaming sword.
The urge returned, growing stronger the longer he observed the boy, mind dissecting him, wishing to grasp his secrets, just like with any other sword, yet somehow failing at the very last step—
EMIYA sucked in a breath, eyes going wide as the pieces finally clicked.
Origin awakening…
A shiver crawled up his spine.
This could go wrong in so many ways…
He lowered Rin back to her feet, ignoring the questioning look as he stepped forward. His circuits flared with Od as a familiar weight appeared in his hand. He raised his bow, breathing out softly through his nose as he took aim.
“I am the bone of my sword.”
In his other hand, Caladbolg II appeared in a flash of light. He nocked the sword like an arrow, its shape turning sleeker as he pulled the string, lining up the shot—
“Stop!” Rin’s shrill voice pierced through his mind like a spear. “Archer, what the hell are you doing?!”
He froze, as if gripped by an invisible force, arms lowering against his will. Caladbolg broke apart in his hand as he turned to his Master with a frown.
That goddamn command seal…
“He’s dangerous, Rin.” Too dangerous to leave alive. The things he could do if he ever chose wrong—
“I don’t care,” she said, a deep frown etched on her face. “I didn’t use that gem to heal him just so you can kill him now!”
A quiet sigh escaped EMIYA as those aquamarine eyes kept pinning him with their glare. Perhaps he had overreacted a little…
He could keep an eye on the brat for a while longer and decide his fate another day—
He blinked and almost missed it. From one moment to the next, an army filled the world around them. A small army of Shirou Emiya, each of them armed with kitchen knives and nameless swords.
Projections. All of them.
Rin froze at his side, eyes wide and face pale like a sheet. “Archer…”
He stared, words stuck in his throat as the sky suddenly darkened, a kamikaze army raining down on Lancer like a human tide.
What the fuck…
_________________________________________________________________________
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, kid?” Lancer spoke with a shake of the head as he slipped in a familiar stance. His spear lit up an eerie crimson, but Artoria leapt at him in a burst of speed, the glow dying down as he had to dodge and parry her barrage of ferocious swings.
I let out a soft breath, left hand rising to aim at Lancer, a ripple coursing through my mind, like hammering steel. It was much easier than before and came all too natural to me, like remembering how to ride a bike.
Nameless swords appeared in a flash of actinic blue all around Lancer, hanging in the sky like guillotines.
“Saber, incoming!” I shouted, the blades launching in a volley as Saber twisted out of the way. Sadly, they did little against Lancer, his footwork easily letting him dance around the projectiles and his spear parrying what he couldn’t dodge.
A frown pulled at my lips as the last of the swords shattered into blue motes, Artoria quickly rejoining the fray.
It wasn’t enough. I needed more if I wanted to beat Lancer. Much mo—
I paused, eyes going wide with a sudden thought as I caught glimpse of myself in the mirror beneath my feet.
Ah… of course. How did I not see it before?
I looked closer at myself, deeper, my eyes dissecting and mind grasping everything in sight.
Judging the concept of creation.
Hypothesizing the basic structure.
Duplicating the composition material.
Imitating the skill of its making.
Sympathizing with the experience of its growth.
Reproducing the accumulated years.
Excelling every manufacturing process.
With a flex of will, an aurora of light flashed across the glassy field as countless copies of myself appeared around Lancer, armed with nameless weapons and kitchen knives.
The abrupt shift brought the duel to another lull as both Servants looked at the small army in surprise. With familiar, teal patterns crisscrossing their forms, the Legion of Shirou Emiya charged at Lancer in a burst of speed. It didn’t work, though, Cu immediately leaping high into the air, arm winding back as his spear lit up with a terrifying, crimson aura.
Gonna nuke everything in the area, huh?
A smirk twitched on my lips. Nice try.
Saber appeared in front of me, her sword raised, the winds around the blade slowly receding. My gaze lingered on the blade, before I forcibly tore it away, smothering the urge to steal another glimpse at Excalibur.
I had no idea what would happen if I tried, and this was a bad time to accidentally fry my brain.
“Master, defend yourself if you have the means.”
“Not yet, Saber. I got this.”
I breathed out softly, the image clear in my mind. A moment later, an aurora flashed across the sky before it darkened, an even bigger legion hovering in the air, weapons aimed at the front as they fell upon the Irishman.
Arm jerking upwards, Lancer aimed his spear at the army in the sky and threw. Gae Bolg flew like a fiery streak through the heavens, a bright flash of light blinding me for a moment as it detonated.
The shockwave swept across the field after a moment, wind buffeting my face as the dark spots cleared from my eyes. The sky was empty, but they’d served their purpose.
Lancer landed amidst the ground Legion, dashing around, spear flashing out with inhuman grace as he cut down everything in his path like a lawnmower. I might have underestimated this guy. Cu was strong—
“Master, your orders?” Artoria spoke up, frame tense like a coiled spring.
“Not yet.” I smiled, watching as the remaining copies leapt at Lancer all at once.
—but this was my world.
Bright lights flashed across the distance, the ground shaking as the Legion detonated like Broken Phantasms. A dark cloud of smoke rose up high like a mushroom, Lancer leaping out of it and landing some distance away, falling to a knee. He pulled himself quickly to his feet, only to pause as the sky darkened again with another human tidal wave, copies of Gae Bolg gleaming wickedly in their hands.
The heat in my veins became uncomfortable, but I ignored it. I was nowhere close to reaching my limit just yet.
Lancer looked up, and for a moment, just stared at the legion falling towards him like comets.
“FOR SABER!” A loud cacophony of voices chorused from above, the Irishman barely dodging around the rain of human projectiles that pelted the ground like artillery fire.
He could run, but he couldn’t hide.
“Jump him when you see an opening.”
“Understood, Master.” Artoria’s crisp voice reached my ears amidst the continuous sounds of explosions, and I felt a tiny smile forming on my lips.
I’d saved one person tonight.
_________________________________________________________________________
Author’s Note: SIrou with an awakened Origin. Let’s see how hard he can Sword through this timeline.
Comments
Bishop7053
Let the sword autist shenanigans proceed. And everyone else will have a massive fuckin headache
The storybook gigolo
Unfortunately I have literally never liked SIrou in any aspect. Including when I first watched fate type/moon I have just never liked him so good Luck with your story but this just isn't for me unfortunately
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