Fate: I Will Eventually Become the Hero of Justice

Chapter 90

The 5th century CE was a time of great unrest in the island of Britannia. The West Roman Empire on the mainland was facing continuous uprisings and foreign invasions, with the Gaul's Bagaudae Movement and the North African's Agonistes Movement destabilizing the empire's regime. This turmoil spilled over to Britannia, causing the decline of its forces under imperial protection and attracting a dangerous foreign enemy in the form of the Saxons.

Britannia was home to a diverse range of ethnicities and kingdoms, and despite the ongoing disputes among them, the kings of each kingdom worked together to defend against the invading Saxons and the Picts who were eyeing their lands in the north.

However, one king's actions would shatter this fragile unity. King Vortigern, born in Britannia, used the Saxons to further his own aims of unifying the island nation. He was known as the white dragon incarnation, and legends spoke of his destiny to destroy Britannia.

The Saxons, under King Vortigern's leadership, had wrought destruction on the once-thriving city of Londinium and defeated the revered King Uther Pendragon. They now set their sights on the rest of Britannia.

It was a rainy day when a badly injured boy stumbled onto a muddy road in the forest near the kingdom of Logres. He had black hair in disarray, and his white shirt was stained with blood. Three deep claw marks marred his back, and the rain was washing away the black and red blood as it flowed down his skin.

Despite his wounds, the boy was still alive. The mud near his wounds was churning, attempting to heal them using what little magical energy remained, but it was quickly running out of energy. Escaping with his life was already a stroke of good luck, but it seemed like his journey would come to an end here, on this muddy road.

But was this to be the end of his life?

No, he had to return. He had to go back to his family!

His battle wasn't about winning or losing, but about being able to smile and see the people who mattered to him again. This was a belief the young man held dear.

So,

Please, someone, come and save me!

Footsteps echoed in the young man's ears as he struggled to lift his head. Blood flowed from the wound on his forehead, mixing with the rain and trickling into his eyes, but he could still make out the figure approaching him. It was a princess, with long black hair and soldiers in tow, who had come to his aid.

"Goodness! How could his injuries be so severe? My knights, quickly lift him up!" The princess instructed.

The black mud, sensing the evil of humans, began to absorb it, and as it did so, the exhausted magical energy started to replenish. The mud began to heal the wounds, repairing the damage done.

"Thank you!" the young man whispered before he lost consciousness.

The story begins ten days prior to this moment...

...

On the afternoon of April 5th, 1994, a Tuesday, the sky had started to darken as Shirou practiced the pole vault. He had only been practicing for a short while when suddenly, he reached up to roll up his sleeves and wipe the sweat from his face. It was then that he found himself surrounded by dozens of towels of all different colors.

"Fujimaru-senpai, use this one!"

"Fujimaru-san, use this one!"

"Fujimaru-senpai, I heard you like pink, so please use this one of mine!"

Boys and girls alike stood before him, offering towels and staring at Shirou with shining eyes.

He was starting to feel overwhelmed. "No, no need. Thank you for your kindness, but I don't need a towel,"