Once again, Shirou found himself standing before the familiar weapon shop. The sign above the door creaked gently in the breeze, and the warm glow from the windows bathed the cobbled street in golden light. This time, however, there was only one thing on his mind—he was going to get his first real sword.
Taking a steady breath, Shirou stepped forward and pushed open the sturdy wooden door. The familiar scent of polished steel, treated leather, and burning torch oil rushed to greet him, wrapping around him like an old, welcoming cloak. Inside, the shop looked just as he remembered: rows upon rows of gleaming weapons, each crafted with precision and care. Swords, daggers, axes, shields—they lined the walls and filled the display stands, each silently whispering promises of strength to anyone bold enough to claim them.
The old man who ran the shop—a gruff but sharp-eyed merchant named Master Holgar—glanced up from behind the counter. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and a knowing smile tugged at his lips as he stroked his greying beard.
"You've returned," Holgar said, his voice carrying a rough warmth. "Don't tell me you lost the dagger I gave you."
Shirou chuckled, stepping closer. "Of course not. You could say that dagger saved me on more than a few occasions."
"Is that so?" Holgar grunted, clearly pleased. "Good to hear. So what brings you back, lad?"
Shirou hesitated for a moment, then spoke. "I'd like to sell some weapons."
Holgar raised a thick eyebrow. "Let me guess—you found them lying on the floor again?"
Shirou rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "You could say that."
The shopkeeper chuckled and leaned forward. "What kind?"
"Knives," Shirou replied.
"Well, let's have a look, then."
Shirou pulled his cloak slightly aside and, with a practiced flick of his hand, summoned a sleek knife onto the table. It gleamed under the torchlight, its sharp edge hinting at the danger it carried.
Holgar took the knife carefully, examining its craftsmanship with a keen eye honed by decades of experience. Then he carried it to a side table where a faintly glowing magic circle was etched into the wood. Placing the knife at the centre, he activated the circle with a muttered incantation.
Soft light enveloped the weapon. After a few moments, Holgar nodded in approval.
"These are good ones," he said, inspecting the results on a small parchment beside the circle. "Well-made, high-quality steel. Mana-enhanced, too. Definitely not ordinary."
"How much can I get for them?" Shirou asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Holgar touched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, since it's a knife, the amount will be a bit low. Even though it's mana-enhanced, knives aren't exactly in high demand unless you're an assassin or a hunter. I'd say three gold aether and twenty silver aether coins for this one."
Shirou's eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he summoned four more knives from beneath his cloak and placed them on the table.
"These ones too," he said.
Holgar raised an eyebrow higher this time, glancing between Shirou and the newly placed knives.
"You really do have a knack for finding things, don't you?" he said dryly.
Shirou gave a sheepish smile. "Lucky, I guess."
Holgar picked up each knife one by one, repeating the same inspection process. As he worked, he spoke casually.
"There's been some nasty rumours floating around town lately. About a criminal... stealing money, belongings, even taking lives. Three dead so far. The city guards say the wounds were all clean—made with sharp knives, just like these." His eyes flicked up to meet Shirou's, sharp and calculating.
Shirou met his gaze calmly, offering no explanation. He knew better than to speak unnecessarily.
After a long moment, Holgar snorted and returned his attention to the knives. "Sixteen gold aether for all five. Final offer."
Shirou quickly calculated in his head. Sixteen gold plus the seven I already have... twenty-three gold aether.
He nodded firmly. "It's a deal."
Holgar counted out the coins into a small leather pouch and handed it over.
"And about Inferno Fang," Holgar said, his tone turning curious. "You planning to sell that too?"
Shirou shook his head instantly. "Of course not. I'd like to keep it. It's my first real weapon."
"Good," Holgar said approvingly. "Every fighter should keep their first blade. It's like a partner."
He leaned forward again, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Now, let me guess... you're here for a sword, aren't you? With that kind of money, you could buy a truly fine one."
Shirou smiled. He was right, of course.
"Can I see them?" he asked eagerly.
"Of course," Holgar said. "What's your budget?"
Shirou thought for a second. "Around twenty gold aether."
Holgar nodded. "Good. Follow me. The finest pieces aren't out here where just anyone can gawk at them."
He beckoned Shirou to follow, and together they made their way deeper into the shop. Past the public displays, Holgar unlocked a heavy door and led him into a more secluded, more sacred space.
Inside, the atmosphere changed. The air itself seemed heavier, thicker with magic and history. The walls were lined with racks of pristine swords, each more breathtaking than the last. Some hung inside glass cases, others rested atop velvet pedestals, all illuminated by soft, golden lantern light.
A heavy broadsword caught Shirou's eye first—its jagged, serrated edge looked designed to tear through armour and bone alike. Beside it, a slim rapier glittered, its silver hilt engraved with intricate designs, promising speed and precision. Then there was a twin-bladed longsword, with twisting engravings along both edges, looking both elegant and deadly.
They were all magnificent. Yet... none of them felt right.
There were also boxes of varying shapes and colours, each containing weapons with unknown mysteries. As they walked among them, Shirou's mind raced with possibilities.
"Are there any swords that can handle two types of mana?" Shirou asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
Holgar paused. "Inducing two types of mana into the same weapon? Dangerous business," he said seriously. "Mana tends to collide inside a blade if it's not crafted for it. Even the best mana-enhanced swords can lose efficiency—or worse, break."
"And normal swords?" Shirou asked.
Holgar gave a grim chuckle. "Damage happens even faster."
Shirou frowned thoughtfully. So he would have to choose carefully.
They continued walking until Holgar finally stopped in front of a long, red box placed on a central table. Golden patterns shimmered across its surface, and a small magic circle the size of a clenched fist was embedded at the top.
Holgar placed his hand upon the circle. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the patterns began to shift and move, like living veins of gold. The magic circle glowed softly—
Click.
The lock disengaged, and Holgar slowly opened the box.
Inside rested a blade unlike any Shirou had ever seen.
It was a longsword, yet it carried the unmistakable gentle curve of a katana. The hilt was wrapped tightly in deep crimson fabric, providing a firm yet comfortable grip. The blade was a polished black, minimalist yet elegant. The blade itself was neither overly wide nor too narrow, striking a perfect balance between speed and strength. It was a weapon made for precision, for power—and it called to Shirou.
As if it had been waiting for him.
"This one," Shirou muttered, stepping forward. His voice was filled with quiet certainty. "I'll take it. How much?"
Holgar chuckled, clearly pleased by his reaction. "Eighteen gold aether and seventy silver aether," he said, then added slyly, "but before you commit, sir, why don't you try inducing your mana into it first?"
"Oh, right," Shirou said, his excitement making him momentarily forget. "I totally forgot."
Stepping forward, he wrapped both hands around the sword's hilt. The moment his fingers touched the fabric, a sense of connection surged through him—something beyond mere ownership. It was as if the blade recognized him.
Closing his eyes, Shirou channelled a stream of fire mana into the sword.
The reaction was immediate.
Flames burst forth along the blade's edge, roaring to life with a fierce, hungry energy. The flames licked the air, swirling around the steel as though they were alive. Amazed, Shirou poured more of his mana into it—and the flames deepened, darkening into a sinister crimson that crackled and shimmered with heat.
The sword vibrated faintly in his hands, not with resistance, but with resonance. Like it was an extension of his very soul.
Holgar nodded in approval, his eyes gleaming. "This one has a name," he said. "It's called Emberstorm."
"Emberstorm, huh?" Shirou mused aloud, running his thumb thoughtfully along the hilt. "That's a good one."