ful of losing the Angel's trail.

Magical energy travelled through his body, enhancing his abilities as he maneuvered towards his targets from the treetops that surrounded the area at the base of the high cliff. Perhaps they were feeling particularly assured of themselves, but the Devils dragging the two Angels didn't appear to be very cautious in their actions. However, this behaviour could be in part due to the fact that they were in a separate dimension that no enemies should have had gotten into.

His expression steeled.

It was all the better for him.

Following closely behind, he waited just outside the outskirts of a tattered residence and watched as the Devils imprisoned the two Angels within.

One breath,

Then two.

He counted, concealing himself within the shrubs as the Devils passed by.

It was only when he had mentally counted to twenty did he begin to move, his steps not making a sound and only the wind rustling the leaves. There were no guards to speak of, let alone any traps to stop him. Everything pointed to the absolute fact that the Khaos Brigade was confident that no enemy would be able to infiltrate the dimension.

Unfortunately for them, they didn't consider the whims of a Dragon God.

He arrived by the entrance of the tattered building, the curious gaze of a twin-tailed black cat all there was to greet him. Oddly enough, it was the same cat he had seen in the alley with Irina before being dragged into the current dimension.

"It must have had been hard on you," he said sympathetically to the cat as he moved it aside, assuming that it had inadvertently been brought here due to meeting him.

It meowed in response, but it didn't do anything else after he had coaxed it to the side. Instead, all it did was watch him, a twinkle in its yellowish eyes that he didn't notice.

With no security, he was quickly able to enter the room where the Two Angels were locked unconscious in, their bodies sprawled on the floor.

It was there that he realized that he was at a loss.

He had nowhere to bring them, let alone find them somewhere safe to stay.

He clicked his tongue, his eyes scanning the room for anything he might be able to use and inadvertently stopping on the cat that suddenly appeared in front of him again.

He raised a brow, certain that he had left this cat outside.

Perhaps noticing his confusion, the cat seemed to grin at him before nudging its head on the bodies of the two angels. At first, he wasn't sure what the cat was trying to tell him, but it became evident when the cat shifted from nudging the two Angels to dragging them with her mouth. Still, this process had taken a lengthy amount of time.

"You want me to carry them?" He finally said, feeling a tad awkward talking with a cat.

The cat's mouth twitched, pale-yellow irises rolling in exaggeration before nodding its head in approval.

Although he was feeling odd about the situation, he chose not to question anything further and simply picked both Angels up. However, the moment he did so, the Two Angels, one male and one female, clung to him like a magnet; the small amount of God's aura he was using to heal them drawing them closer.

He sighed, more so when the both of them wrapped themselves around his legs and arms and made it difficult for him to move.

He stared at the cat, and the cat stared back at him before motioning for him to follow.

Still though, either he was going crazy,

Or the cat had actually laughed at him.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Irina paced anxiously, gaze periodically shifting towards the direction Shirou had disappeared from and a sensation of panic beginning to overwhelm her. Yet she couldn't help it.

He'd been gone for too long already.

She paused in her pacing, turning towards the crowd of Hero Faction members that she had inadvertently attracted in her worrying, and took in a breath. Now wasn't the time to panic, not when she had others relying on her.

From the moment Shirou had saved theses members of the Hero Faction, many of them similarly viewed her as a saviour due to her relation alone. This was even more so for the young children brought in unwillingly by the Hero Faction who found it more comfortable to deal with her. Therefore, she couldn't let herself look weak.

She straightened her back, consciously willing her body to stop trembling.

"Where did he go?" Someone asked referring to Shirou.

"He had something to deal with," she said truthfully. "He should be back sometime soon."

The crowd murmured to themselves after she had finished speaking, but at least they were appeased. She didn't know if she'd be able to calm them down if she said that there was a chance that he may not come back should he get caught. After all, they really had grown reliant on Shirou's presence, for he was the one who had saved them.

Her lips pursed from beneath her mask, the weight of the task before her pressing down on her shoulders.

What's more, she felt a bad premonition from the moment she spotted a two-meter tall man with shoulder length grey hair approaching from the distance. A sneer was over his face, and the Greek-styled warrior armour he wore over a blue uniform only spoke of trouble.

"So, this is the place," the man spoke, eying everyone around as his arms crossed together.

Irina sensed that something was off about the situation but couldn't back down when she felt the hands of one of the children forcibly brought by the Hero Faction grasping onto her clothing. She coaxed the child to let go, and moved to stand at the front, unspeaking and resolve set. She had to protect them somehow, and this statement extended towards those who were still weakened after just recently recovering.

Out of everyone present, she was probably the strongest at the moment.

The man's gaze fell on her in an instant before his hands uncrossed.

"You're the one with the mask?" the man questioned absently.

It was more of a statement than a question, as Irina clearly stood out from the rest who were still pale and feeble, crowding around her for protection. The mask itself was even more evident as other than her, no one else wore one.

Before Irina could answer the question, her senses began flaring at her.

"Everyone, move!" She yelled, body reflexively bending as a fist came near her peripherals, yet her movements suddenly stilled as she caught sight of the fear and despair that flashed across the eyes of those behind her.

Men, women, children, all those brought by the Hero Faction that had failed to pass whatever test was imposed on them. Should she move, the strength of the attack in front of her would annihilate them.

Goosebumps traveled down her skin, the hairs on the back her neck tingling as she made a decision at an instant while clenching her teeth.

The fist struck her in the middle of the gut, the sound of her bones grating within her causing her expression to contort in pain that she muffled by gritting her teeth.

The strength of the blow was astounding, her body flying back with a burst of tail wind that uplifted a cloud of dust due to her sudden acceleration.

"Ergh," she grunted out while tumbling uncontrollably on the ground, pieces of rock and gravel stabbing into her skin that stung with every movement. If not for the fact that she was able to draw her sword out and use it as break to stop her momentum, she would have had flown far farther than she had. Still, the fact that her body was growing increasingly numb was a bad sign of her current state.

She swallowed, the action causing a pain that spread down from her temples and disorientating her. Yet, she didn't dare allow her attention to leave the enemy before her.

"You're nothing special," the man said pridefully. "I can't understand how Siegfried could be so cautious against a weakling."

His words were like sparks to her indignation.

"Y-You, how could you!?" She yelled out in fury despite the pain. "There were children behind me!"

Blood pooled in her mouth, the pungent taste of copper filling it, but she was too distracted to notice.

Too infuriated upon hearing the only response the man gave her.

"So?"

It was only one word, but it was enough to show just what kind of a pugnacious person she was dealing with.

Even if she was far from the image of the Hero she wanted to be,

For the sake of those watching anxiously behind her.

She might as well be one.

Her sword was drawn between her hands, her legs wobbling even as she forced herself to her feet. She knew the difference between her and this man's strength from the moment the man had acted.

She simply stood no chance.

She wasn't an Angel, nor a Devil, but just a human without even a powerful Holy Sword.

Yet she stood up anyway, because no one else could.

The man raised a brow, a part of him somewhat impressed while looking at the woman in front of him.

The twin-tailed hairstyle Irina generally wore had long since become unbound, her hair left to freely fall behind her in a smooth wave that reached the small of her back. Her clothes were in tatters, large holes and gaps cut into them dyed red by the wounds scattered across her trembling body. It was unimaginable how she was even able to stand. The punch she had endured had left her completely breathless, numerous fractures running across her very bones that caused the tissue in the nearby area to swell with a flaring purple.

Yet still she stood.

Because it was exactly what he would have had done.

The Hero in her heart.

She panted for breath, her eyes glaring even though she knew that it was impossible for to move.

It didn't matter.

She closed her her mouth, all the pain accumulating inside her turning into her strength, keeping her awake.

Her will was enough.

"You have courage for daring to face me," the man shrugged at her display. "If anything, the least I can do is tell you my name before I put an end to this supposed uprising."

The man shifted into a hard stance, his arms raised in a grand gesture.

"I am Heracles, descendant of the mightiest Hero in all of Greece."

"And you are nothing compared him," a voice interrupted, plain and monotone.

Heracles furrowed his brows, irritation evident.

However, that voice carried a phenomenal weight to it that caused the faces of those present to brighten, and Irina to sob in relief. Moments before, the thought that she wasn't strong enough to protect anything was simply too difficult to bear.

She felt a hand press down on her head, fingers gently ruffling her hair in a protective gesture. More than that, she felt the warmth of his light seeping into her, alleviating the pain of her injuries.

"It was hard on you," his voice trailed into her ears like the sweetest of honey. "I'm sorry for being late."

She fell onto her knees, her body breaking down on her as she watched his figure walk by.

Tall.

Confident.

And protective.

It was utterly sickening in the eyes of Heracles who couldn't comprehend how a single addition of another fool could change anything. Still, he was smart enough to understand that this masked individual was probably the target Siegfried was actually weary of. The one that thought himself a Hero.

Heracles glowered, the opponent in front of him nowhere near as formidable as Siegfried had described, making everything a waste of time. He came for a fight, not a slaughter.

"Another one with a mask?" Heracles said mockingly. "Can't you see that this is all a waste of time?"

Shirou didn't answer. There wasn't a need to.

Heracles grunted, arms once again raised into a guard in front of him as he then lashed out with a fist.

A simple action, the raising of a palm.

A shockwave exploded outwards, a fierce wind blowing away and uprooting even the nearby trees, fissures forming in the ground that led into newly formed chasms.

"!"

Heracles's eyes widened in surprise, his fist caught squarely in his opponent's palm.

"You called yourself Heracles?" Shirou spoke, expression blank as he recalled that particular monster of the Holy Grail War. "You are nowhere near his level."

The level of that towering Giant of Greece was unimaginable. To even compare the two's attacks was like comparing a stick to a sword.

The Son of Zeus.

The Hero of the Twelve Labours of Olympus.

None would be able to match him in his life time, let alone a mere descendant too caught up in his own pride and arrogance.

A reinforced fist punched Heracles squarely in the jaw, blowing the man off of the ground and tumbling him through the trees that snapped under his weight.

"Ghe," Heracles grunted, righting himself before digging his feet into the ground and halting his speed. There wasn't even a hint of pain on his features, simply an indifference as expected of one said to be the descendant of the famed Hero of Greece.

Heracles durability was surprising, but it wasn't unexpected.

Shirou stared calmly, watching as Heracles found leverage with his hands and pulled himself out of the pile of rubble that he had formed, piles of bark and wood splintering beneath his feet.

"Strong as you are, your attacks will never affect me," Heracles boasted, a hand rubbing at the spot he was struck, unwilling to admit that he had actually felt something.

A part of him even considered using his Sacred Gear, but he was even more reluctant to grant Shirou that honour.

It would be Heracles's downfall.

"You're correct that punches alone will not hurt you," Shirou said, raising a hand; a stone sword appearing instantly.

Ancient, and lined with jagged black shards shaped like teeth, it was massive in size and still appeared to be a one-handed weapon. The sheer bulkiness of its body denoted just how heavy it was, and yet that wasn't what caused Heracles to falter for even he could lift boulders with a single arm.

It was the fact that his body began to tremble as if instinctively knowing what was to come.

The myth of one man against a beast,

And a technique that was able to slay it.

Heracles's expression turned grim, his blood pumping furiously. There was just something about the weapon before him that was screaming danger. Yet at the same time, he couldn't help but find it familiar, almost as if he had seen the particular sword from a document he had read.

"Punches will not hurt you," Shirou began again, his body springing forward. "But this will."

He appeared in front of Heracles in an instant, sword drawn.

Nine strikes to kill.

Nine vitals to pummel.

The images flashed though his mind, the power of Godspeed propelling the actualization of the power of a myth. A Noble Phantasm created by drawing out the maximum potential of a weapon alone.

The skill of the Hero at the pinnacle of weapon mastery unleashed.

"Nine Lives Blade Works: Shooting the Hundred Heads!"

An immense pressure weighed down, and for a moment, all were left stunned as what seemed like nine strikes simultaneously struck down on Heracles.

No matter how Heracles tried to defend, it was impossible; his only saving grace being the sudden use of his Sacred Gear Variant Detonation to offset some of the force.

He was blasted away, left in a state where all he could do was stand, blood trailing from his forehead.

Variant Detonation was a Sacred Gear that allowed Heracles to create an explosion upon physical contact. To survive, Heracles had been forced to use his Balance Breaker form and detonate missile like objects from all over his body before the nine strikes truly struck him.

Silence filled the area, Heracles unable to believe he had lost in a confrontation, and the others too stunned to react.

"You haven't won," Heracles gritted out through his teeth, attempting to force himself back into battle. "A Hero who hides behind a mask isn't even a Hero!"

Veins bulged over Heracles's arms and legs, blue colored and pulsing, but his limbs simply refused to move.

Shirou approached step by step, the sword in his hands fading away into mots of magical light.

"True, I'm a man behind a mask, but if hiding one's identity was grounds to disqualify one as a hero," he said slowly. "Then why are you the one looked at as a villain?"

Heracles's mouth closed, finally taking the time to realize all the glares leveled on him by those he had considered to be weaklings; ironic that now any single one of them could probably beat him in his current state.

Heracles kept silent, but he couldn't endure the stares of those around him.

"A Hero doesn't need recognition," he said forcibly.

Shirou shook his head. Although he knew that Heracles words were true, there was still one point that Heracles was missing.

"I don't doubt your words, I even agree with them," Shirou said, stopping in front of Heracles. "But it's because you've said such words now that indicate that you don't understand."

Justification was all Heracles was looking for, a means to defend against the blow to his own self pride and arrogance. The only thing Heracles truly fought for.

Shirou glared, his eyes piercing bronze orbs that burned into Heracles's memory.

If Heracles didn't understand, then he would make him understand.

"A Hero needs purpose," he spoke strongly, voice unwavering. "Something that allows them to surpass their own limits."

He glanced at Irina.

She who was beaten, injured, and exhausted, yet was still able to stand when no one else could against an adversary she knew overpowered her.

Her courage was exceptional.

Her example one to exemplify.

His gaze turned back to Heracles.

"And you Heracles,"

He raised a hand, lightly tapping against Heracles's body and watching it crumble to the ground without support.

"You have none."