The door clattered against the grey-damp concrete wall as Emiya fled from the morgues compound into a dingy alley. It was dark but he could see that the chain link fence in front of him was rusted and torn with holes giving a view of the waists of grass, thorn shrubs and gravel of the plot beyond it. He stepped fully into the alleyway and jogged towards the end of the collapsing fence, taking a right.

He moved following the footpaths incline, awash in the street's light, the warm yellow glow from the rust flecked lamps parallel to him, intermingling with the caustic luminescent white from the nearest, more modern streetlights.

Emiya took in the view of the tall whitewashed and monotonous four-story apartments lining the cobblestone footpaths. He could see through the allies which speared between them and, coming from over the roofs of the line of apartments in the street beyond, the dim haze of the coming sun. It would be early morning in just an hour or so. He had until sunrise to find somewhere to hunker down.

He pulled his coat closer as he slowed to a walk. It was a cold night, still damp from not long-ago rains.

Emiya forced himself to consider that he was not here by accident. That would then imply that magus who reincarnated him would have found a way to track him. However, as he searched his soul and body for the indication of a curse designed to amplify his mystic signature, he could not detect one.

It was yet more evidence to indicate that he was indeed an accident. Regardless, he would need to find a defendable position and fortify it; a minor stronghold to allow him to gather information and thoroughly plan his next moves.

He glared at the cobblestones under his feet as they were devoured by his striding gait. Each foot fall spreading his toes and highlighting his foots tendons. He shook his head and sighed, straightening his gaze to glare ahead.

His situation reminded him his brief time on Luna. Where he had infiltrated a former government sanctioned research facility, at the centre of the massive city-habitat 'lúa Stadt'.

It was then a private research facility.

He came only to find it had become the cover for a massive criminal organisation. They had named themselves for a hound of some kind… Of the Baskerville variety perhaps. During his investigation he realised that they had been preforming invasive experimental procedures on both the humans and non-humans vacationing in lúa Stadt without their consent, aiming to find ways to intermingle the alien's preferable genetic traits into human soldiers.

It was after he had exposed them to the military arm of the systems coalition, that they had scattered and reformed into independent cells throughout the human territories, within the city of stars, closer to the centre of our galaxy.

Disbanding into isolated and singularly focused cells did them some good, yet it became the downfall of many of them, the tracking curse Emiya had placed on the original research divisions head. It was laid lightly onto his soul and, like a virus transmitting the location it's host computer, it had led him to exposing many of their new cells. Had the Researcher been a magus, they would have founded with just some soul searching, and seeing as they were not?

Well, in any case, if the lead researcher had just stopped for a moment and calmed enough to just re-consider their foundational assumptions about the world in which they existed… then… Wait….

What?

I've never been to the Moon – theirs no habitats there, certainly not one the size of a mega-city.

But the memory was to visceral, to complex and rational and lived in, for all its impossibility. Come to think of it, he had an abundance of memories regarding time spent not just on Luna but planets in other solar systems, other clusters and nebulas, all of them teaming with nonhuman sentient life. How could this have happened?

He felt off balance. A car passed by and he flinched. He pulled his coat closer; his clothes where hanging off his hollowed frame. He thought about re-sizing them, but he really ought to conserve energy. He bit into the muffin and found it bland.

So, manifesting on worlds other than earth…

He could vaguely remember the involvement of Alaya, the manifested conscious will of humanity, and something that had required his independence… What could Alaya want with his independence?

Had he been summoned there?

Amongst a Republic of other alien beings? For what purpose?

He glared a little harder at the dark in front of him as the incline evened out and the street meandered right. A person walking towards him took in his visage and crossed to the other side of the street.

Confusion became clarity.

In that instance, that strange and wondrous time, he had been reincarnated by Alaya to provide aid to the alien the counter force had manifested within. But a thought struck him.

That's not how it – this life – works.

Counter guardians come only after the counterforce fails – always. Moreover, he had never thought it possible for the counterforce to manifest in something not born of this world. Although, he realised, they may well have been born here – some great event re-forging their very Origen.

Emiya sighed. The morticians had spoken English. He looked around him for a landmark, something to indicate which English-speaking nation this was, yet there was nothing in the damp haze sun-speared grey. He would likely have to steel some food and water in the next few hours, preferably from a supermarket, so he could make something nutritious to recover this withered body.

Regardless, something like his current situation had happened before and this gave him some template to apply now. He could recall in the first instance of reincarnation he had been provided with strict instruction from a phantasmal being, one who had represented Alaya, and provided instructions he had carried out with proficiency – as was his way. He and the manifestation of the counterforce, some young reptilian or perhaps amphibious woman, had been victorious.

Still…

Where these memories real? Well, he knew that Alaya could, without doubt, produce the power needed to reincarnate a phantasmal being like himself. And the memories… They were so real… And simply too complex to be falsified; stained with just enough consistency and that special brand of stupidity of sentient actors, that it could only be real.

So, what did this imply. That Alaya had reincarnated himself in in the past–future? He ground to a halt, coat and scarf swaying momentarily. Or… in that reality? Or… in that realities future's past. He ground his teeth glaring ahead of him just a little harder as he renewed his marching forward. His lips pressing into a firm line and becoming a pale white. He spied a paper out front of an apartment to his left. He reached down for it taking it into his left hand finally noticing his bare feet.

Right, shoes. There was nothing for it – reducing his feet to taters by stepping on broken glass would hardly be beneficial. He breathed in deeply and sighed letting his body, posture and expression relax. He projected some sneakers over his feet, taking the time to ensure they were to his diminished size.

So, it was perhaps Alaya who was responsible for this.

But no, that couldn't be right; there had been a clear mission then, provided by a phantasmal being who had overseen his reincarnation on Alaya's behalf. There had also been an explained necessity for his physicality. He could not remember any form of direction regarding the current case of his very real body.

Ultimately, his original hypothesis was still the most likely explanation given the evidence – or lack thereof.

At any rate, the how of his being here was not particularly important in Emiya's eyes, outside of its assembly of potential enemies.

What was important were his strange memories of other species and working alongside the counterforce.

It was very odd for him, an entity whose essence existed outside of time and space, who only manifested here once the counterforce had already failed, to accept that they had been present simultaneously here to combat the same threat. That in and of itself marked the occasion as 'special'. That he had been forced into a real body for the duration made it a fundamental exception to everything he had thought he knew about the entity who had tricked him into becoming a counter guardian.

So, how had this happened; what had made this necessary?

He knew that the counter guardians and the counterforce were ultimately just two aspects of the deterrent force, which was manifested by the will of the world: Gaya and Alaya. He knew that the deterrent force eliminated anything trying to harm – or indeed anything in a position to harm – the world. The deterrent force; white blood cells in the body of the world.

This had forced his existence when manifested here into something bloody and violent. Nothing to be proud of.

The reason why, as Emiya understood it, the counterforce manifested before a counter guardian was simple efficiency. It took less energy for the world to elevate someone to the level just that of a threat and then let them fight it, than it was to summon something like him into the world. As such, counter guardians only came into being here when the counterforce failed – and only in a phantasmal form, capable of physically manifesting over short periods. Never, so he had thought, as a purely physical being.

Considering this, it seems that the threat in that future instance was so beyond a single person, or perhaps even the world's power itself, that the world decided every aspect of the deterrent force was required at once. That the practice of conserving energy was now antithetical to its survival. The threatening entity must have been immense and utterly overwhelming for such a conclusion to be reached.

Emiya suddenly realised the world using that much magical energy at once could have very well destroyed it, or at least left it entirely depleted and vulnerable for a long time; tens of thousands of years, maybe hundreds of thousands.

Perhaps that was why he was here, some last dich attempt to prevent its death, flung into the void of time to prepare the world and humanity for the coming Rot.

A threat of that degree could never have originated from this planet. Well, that explains why I remember being off world and why the counterforce, an alien themself, had been amassing other lifeforms and civilisations. The coming hostilities had not just threatened this planet, but all in the galaxy. How else would that woman rally so many foreign civilisations – not to doubt her prowess as a negotiator, but the good will and sense of the masses. Crusaders answering the call of the crusade.

What could instil such desperation, what had been the threat?

Emiya could recall that it was biomechanical at least. That it was corrupting, decomposing and ancient. That it had come from beyond this galaxy.

Had it originated from a galaxy foreign to the Milky Way or squat between galaxies, a pestilence ridden insect wating for pray young and fat?

He tried to remember what it had been like to fight.

Unsettling, he recalled. Its effect on the amassed forces had often been moral shattering. Trying to use a magecraft, the nature of which revealed the essence of things, had been a revolting experience. Structurally analysing their large and exceptionally intelligent ships had hurt, had almost corrupted his very origin, unchanged even now after everything he had endured as a counter guardian. They had almost folded him from sword into tool.

Theirs were a distorting influence too every being on every world they came two. Turning comrade against comrade, before they had reduced to glass their captured worlds. They were a viral infection spreading viciously into the hearts and minds of those who sought to oppose it.

Emiya realised that, by the very nature of Thaumatology, of mystery and magecraft, that the planetary bodies themselves… it was likely the home worlds of every sentient species had combated this plague one way or another. With their own formations of the deterrent force.

He felt horrified, as he concluded that, as planets had been captured and occupied by the biomechanics, they would have turned to favour them – a counterforce forming to aid in their strength. It was, after all, what had happened here during the end of the age of gods. Gaya had come to favour humanity over the phantasmal constructions of their worship and Alaya had become one with the world.

A war of the worlds indeed.

He sighed again and looked at the paper in his hand, desperate for a distraction form his morbid thoughts.

The date read the 4th of February 2013 and Emiya stopped, bathed in the deep blue radiance of a humming advertisement overhead.

He suddenly felt sentimental. they had executed him today; back when he was still able to honestly call himself human. Before he had been a counter guardian, a being manifested periodically to clean up the messes of others throughout the width and breadth of time.

Well, executed yesterday, considering it was almost early morning. He had never been manifested this close to his time of death before, not outside of his attempt to end his existence by killing his younger self in the fifth Grail War. That had been a strange, if eye opening, manifestation.

But then, Emiya suspected that the heavens feel ritual was like this, always, for every summoned servant by a master. No heroic spirit, phantasmal through their legends, escaped it unchanged and so too the rule held for wayward counter guardians.

Being a counter guardian had made him dull and deaf to himself; at times he lost sight of his dream to save others. It was to be expected, he had told himself. But to be shouted down by a younger and resoundingly whole version of himself – basically shamed into doing his duty while standing steadfast in his ideals.

Dream to save everyone, exist only to annihilate. Compromise to save as many people as his manifestations could afforded him. The ends did not justify the means; but still, the means were often required.

He took a deep breath and looked up resting his eyes, his face awash in the blue haze. He let his mind wonder.

People he had known and loved where still here Emiya could not stop himself from noticing. Rin… A combatant in the fifth grail war and a true friend. They had not parted on good terms while he was alive. The man he had been, Emiya Shirou, had doggedly pursued his dream behaving as a hero of justice – that man had been single minded in his pursuit. She had declared him broken and had tried to help him mend, to change, but it would only have held that man – Shirou – back.

It would hold him back now, too.

He opened his eyes staring the glowing sign but not seeing it.

She had still provided aid, every while and then. She was a better person than many for that. Perhaps he could give her some closure this time at least, he smiled. if she lets me.

Wait…

Emiya squinted and read the blue advert above him. It was for a general psychiatrist in the north of Kensington.

I'm in London. Ah Shit. He finished the muffin in his right hand and lowered the paper in his left.

That was far too close to the headquarters of the mage's association. The clock tower – he was directly beneath their noise. There had been no bounded field in his vicinity upon his arrival to mask the massive amount of energy required to reincarnate him. The association would have felt it. They would know his rough location and they would be coming to investigate it.

Focus on the now; I need something defendable; I need a building.

He needed to move. Get to the other side of the Thames, without moving to far East from the airport. South west then.

...

...

It took Emiya close to two hours to find a suitably isolated apartment. It showed signs of only being inhabited for brief periods, no more than roughly a week every month. He had been forced to pilfer some food and bottled water as well as some various ingredients from a supermarket, but he recalled the name, so, if the world was permitting, he could leave a note explaining himself and re-pay them. After a search throughout the apartment he came to conclude it was an art gallery and studio; filled with rooms dedicated to negative space and wire frame hooks for hanging paintings at an adjustable hight.

It was a four-story building, the only entry point via ground was through a long narrow hallway on the first floor. Aside from this, the bottom two floors where open and airy; dedicated to the gallery. The third was a workshop, with two dedicated easels, shelves of old, leftover tubes of acrylic and oil paints and rows upon rows of paintings, sketches and pastel works – all in storage. There was even some works of calligraphy.

There was a stack of chairs in the corner. perhaps they teach classes?

The fourth floor was the least open, split into five rooms and a hallway. It consisted of a toilet, bedroom, guest room, living room and kitchen; whomever owned it clearly stayed for brief periods. He had stocked the fridge with the fruits of his theft and cooked some rice. At least there's a wok, not that I'll stay long.

Its isolation would be necessary should the Clock Tower find him. Then, if things truly fell apart, he could tun this place into a death trap and enact a counter ambush transforming the entire house into a kill zone. He could trap them within and burn the studio till it collapsed in on itself. It would deny the invaders the building as well as serve to hide his presence here.

A horrid and perhaps cruel way to die. It made him uncomfortable, considering inflicting this upon intruders. His experience in the Great Fire of Fuyuki City forcing it's way to the front of his mind.

It would be efficient if nothing else.

Further to his advantage were its hallways, which were narrow, and its only entrances, the front door, and a hatch to the roof. After rigging some simple trip wires with twine found in the studio's craft supplies designed to brake glass and make noise if tripped, stationed at the tops of the stairs and the entranceway on the ground floor.

Emiya separated one of the stacked straight back chairs and collapsed into it in the corner of the third floor. His earlier uses of magecraft caching up to him in his emancipated state. At least from this chair's angle he could survey outside of the studio without being seen himself.

His position was defended, he was fed, stocked on food and water for at least two days, and warm.

And he had a real body.

He hunched into himself sighing and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He did not fully understand how that made him feel. What to do next…

I could do anything – anything.

For the first time in a long time he felt hopeful in an honest way, tinged with only the slightest wariness and caution. Cynicism, an old companion, threatening to push it out of his headspace. Yet, even having a second chance like this, it did not seem right to make waves. To construct a legend to be recorded by the Throne of Heroes as if he were a true Heroic Spirit.

No, he had agreed to a contract drafted by Alaya, that after his death he would serve the world as a counter guardian, and in return he would be granted some power; enough to save the lives of those before him. While his essence, like a Heroic Spirit, resided within the Throne of Heroes, he was nothing like them. Instead, he was manifested again and again; unallowed to rest.

It was why his memories where so filled gaps. The Throne of Heroes my exist outside of time, but something stored in it constantly being forced to appear here – and at different points in time and space – had begun to erode parts of his essence. He supposed it occurred to all counter guardians.

Notoriety was not his path, had never been his path. In his soul Emiya knew he wanted to save others for the sake of, in fact the reward of, helping others. Nothing more, nothing less.

He pressed his palms a little harder into his eyes. It had always seemed so strange for Rin to call him broken when he was such a simple machine.

He took in a deep shuttering breath.

So, what to do.

His brow quirked up and his hands fell into his lap. Rather, what do I know? And how do I use this knowledge to maximise my ability to save others?

Emiya relaxed, straightening from his hunch, beginning a meditative exercise – breathing in deeply. The plastic-tart sent of the paints and dry powder of the pastel filtering throughout his nose. He raised his left fist to count on his fingers.

He has a body. One. Someone reincarnated him. Two. For an unknown reason. Three. With an unknown intent. Four. He was probably their mistake.

Five – a deep slow calming breath out as he raised his right fist.

He had memories of a time when humanity was spread among the stars like grain over a field. Six. Memories from when things had been better. Seven. Memories from when humanity had worked with other species in relative peace. Eight. Memories from when people lived longer. Nine. Memories from when people had been happier.

Ten – deep slow breath in. he returned his left hand to a fist to count anew.

They had been content. Eleven. They had been assaulted by a vastly superior force. Twelve. They had valiantly fought against their coming genocide, and billions had died, broken and defiled. Thirteen. They had won at immense cost. Fourteen. They were still coming.

Fifteen.

Their coming.

Such a small, simple and understated sentence making him feel so deeply anxious.

He breathed out steadily and opened his eyes, taking in the rising of the sun's brilliant orange-red flare from the west facing window. it was an unassuming beauty, and beautiful for its unassuming nature. Steadfast. Simple. Common. Yet beautiful all the same.

He would prepare for their arrival, then. He would work with the people here on this planet and motivate them to forge the means for their survival sooner than they would have otherwise. If he succeeded, billions more would live.

How long did he have to prepare for their arrival? It was 2013, so, roughly 150 years? Or perhaps 180? 190?

It mattered not; his work would have been so far in the past that no one would think him the arbiter of their survival. He would forge no legend. Perfect.

How best to prepare, then?

His hands fell to his knees, coming to rest in his lap. His overall goal ought to be to get Humanity onto the galactic stage as soon as possible.

That would reduce the friction between humanity and the other species. It would make it less likely that humanity would be perceived as invasive or bulling if they had been apart of the wider galactic Republic for some time – at least more than five decades. Therefore, when it was suggested they band together to fight as a cohesive force, the Republic would be more willing. Less time would be waisted and more planets and lives would be saved.

That would require getting into space, and then motivating the Republic to either allow them full membership or allow them partial membership in the form of a client state.

This could only realistically occur by ensuring that humanity had a resource the Republic desired yet could not take. Through having a large quantity of general resources – territories, population, skilled workers, armed forces – that the Republic was simply without the luxury of ignoring them. Power, prestige and resources. This could motivate them into agreeing to treaties which where mutually beneficial.

It would allow for cultural exchange.

Of course, this would ultimately be facilitated by the egos of the individuals and nations involved, human and otherwise. But that was nothing he could reliably influence, stuck so far in the past.

Not something to worry about.

One of the other aspects required for the galactic community to seriously consider humanity, which would also make colonising other worlds and wider systems an endeavour with a less risk, would be to unite the international community.

My, how simple my goals have become, Emiya thought with a sardonic pull of his lips.

Once we're in the Republic, how could we prepare for the coming biomechanics? He frowned, as he realised that this would simply have to be left to the person the counterforce manifests in. He forced himself to relax again. If they were anything like he remembered them to be, then the world was in good hands.

However, before any of this could take place, humanity had to get off Earth and onto other planets.

So, how to get off earth? And how to make that an appealing concept for colonists, governments and businesses alike?

The ability to travel throughout space with ease, to a desired location should be enough.

This would require accessible, affordable, reusable and reliant, space capable vehicles – the destinations would follow naturally from human curiosity, their need to know.

This would require research, experimentation and manufacturing.

That was going to be expensive; it would require funding.

Funding itself required interest. Or perhaps mountain of blackmail. Well, it'll be someone's interest one way or another. He smiled.

Now, onto the task of forming a single government. His smile melted.

Well… trying to merge any of the government which had land would be practically impossible without War, or the threat of war. So that left agencies such as the United nations and the European Union… agencies Like NATO. If it could be made so that these organisations led the space program that everyone wanted to be a part of, so that they were at the head of the colonisation, then in time they would simply become the face of Humanity – at least to the eyes of other species.

It would basically make what ever organisation was responsible for the push into space the most relevant governing body. Japan, Britain… they could keep their territories, their power, and become obsolete on earth.

Hopefully, somebody could be funded to organise that, or at least motivate it. Delicate manoeuvring within politics was not his expertise.

At any rate, there was no use re-inventing the wheel. How had humanity realised spaceflight and governmental-unity last time?

The European Space Agency had been at the head of exploration, which had led into colonisation – It had been difficult and cumbersome at first. Unwieldly. But with time and dedication and a… a discovery of some kind, a new technology. It had made most of these prerequisite aspects regarding vehicles moving off world much simpler. It had done something to… gravity?

Emiya sighed then stood, beginning to make his way up stairs.

his knowledge of these topics was limited. But he had time. All his natural life, really.

It would likely take it, too.

Would this mean that he could not, for the sake of maintaining this 'program', take an active role in saving lives? Perhaps… No, some things he could do, always. Some threats were needed to be put down. The more belligerent of the vampiric dead apostles came to mind. And he would always do what he could to stop the third magic – grail wars where simply too dangerous.

He stepped over the tip wire in the hall and entered the kitchen, going to the fridge, gathering some ingredients, beginning to prepare a meal.

These gaps in his memory where inhibiting, hopefully they would resolve themselves in the next few days. He turned on the stove, placing the wok onto it at low heat, pouring in some coconut oil.

He shook his head; He knew that whatever it was that had made space travel accessible, it was not on earth.

It had been on a planet in this solar system, and it was a gas? A mineral? He remembered that it was on Venus… or maybe Mars. Regardless, if humanity were exploring more planets within the solar system, they would find it eventually.

He finished mincing the mushrooms and chestnuts, moving on to cutting the green bell peppers and a cut of fillet stake into three-inch slices.

Ultimately, he needed more information and more people working towards this. As much as he might like, this could not be achieved alone.

He slid the bell peppers and stake from the chopping bord into the wok, adding a splash of soy sauce and turning the heat to high.

He supposed he could get both of those things at a university. A degree in some industry relevant field and contacts in the form of students and professors. Perhaps he could infiltrate the ESA itself; if he made himself valuable, he could act as a consultant, or perhaps an engineer. Structural analysis was, after all, exceptionally useful for understanding mechanical works.

He tuned the stakes over.

This could work… During the brakes he could work internationally hunting more the aggressive magi and phantasms of the moonlit world and re-network with his more illicit contacts.

He added a cup of the rice he had cooked earlier, then the minced mushrooms and chestnuts with a few pinches of thyme. It only took another five minutes to warm through. He ate at the counter.

He could consider these things some other time…

He finished his meal and moved into the guest room, removing his clothes – they would only remain for another day or two, before he would have to project them again.

He'd move around London for the duration of the next couple of weeks, throw potential chasers off his trail… continue to plan and re-build his strength.

He pulled the covers back and got into the bed. He felt his muscles relax. He closed his eyes. he was defended. He was hunkered down. There where warning systems.

Emiya dreamed of a hill of swords and the assault of cold monstrosities.