Chapter 1200: Two Fakers Are Better Than One!

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Black sat beside the bed where Shirou still lay unconscious, a full week after the boy had drained himself of the very last dregs of his Mana.

Despite devouring the Harry Potter Bubble’s unique Excalibur and experiencing a monstrous surge of renewed vitality and Mana, the strain of deploying Unlimited Blade Works, firing a Broken Phantasm, rocketing across continents to reach the Hogwarts Grounds, and ultimately plunging Rule Breaker into his foe had completely drained him dry.

Had this been the Fate Bubble, he still would have needed at least a full day to regain the strength to walk and channel Magecraft.

This was the Harry Potter Bubble, however.

It had no concept of the Root.

Much like the Force from the Star Wars Bubble, a Character like Shirou carried Concepts tied to the Root from his native Fate Bubble, bound directly to his very existence.

It wasn’t that Shirou had become completely useless.

However, when it came to replicating the feats he had performed against Villanelle and the Ultramarines, he was effectively out of commission.

Fortunately, whether Shirou was useless or not depended entirely upon one person.

Not Cash, who had outright ignored him since the ceasefire began.

Certainly not Pillar Villanelle and the Order of the Immortal Lotus, who had launched a timeline-wide manhunt to reclaim Excalibur.

They wouldn’t find him, though.

Black had already seen to that.

So, being the only one capable of putting Shirou to use, he casually flipped through the pages of the Daily Prophet.

...

— VOLDEMORT ASSUMES COMMAND OF PILLARS: WOUNDED VILLANELLE REPLACED AS DARTH KARS FORMALLY ENTERS WAR

— VANISHING AT MALFOY MANOR: DARCIE FINDS ANCESTRAL SEAT DESERTED, PARENTS MISSING

— TREASON IN THE SHADOWS: SNAPE CONFERS WITH DARK LORD UNDER THE GAZE OF BLACK PHOENIX

— HOGWARTS WEEPS FOR THE FALLEN: FUNERAL LAMENTATIONS TURN TO CLAMOR FOR REVENGE

— ANCIENT TERRORS BREACHED: POTTER AND ALLIES UNEARTH TWO MORE CURSED VAULTS

— MATERNAL CRISIS: ABNORMAL CONCEPTION LEAVES BELLATRIX AND WINKY IN CRITICAL CONDITION

...

Black’s eyebrows shot up at the last headline.

"... Black?"

Black allowed the newspaper to return into his Inventory.

Ever since obtaining the Heroic Item from the Mirror Timeline, he had made it a strict habit to read it thoroughly.

The Daily Prophet possessed living characteristics.

Once activated, if he failed to read it completely, it would begin printing absolute drivel that bore no relevance to Kai whatsoever.

Despite that quirk, Kai had found it invaluable to his broader plans, particularly when switching between worlds.

Once the third year at Hogwarts officially ended and the Marauder’s Map became an Item, the two combined would be a truly terrifying asset.

Ad Infinitum had already mapped out thousands of permutations where Kai could use the two together, plugging the blind spots in his strategies — blind spots he was currently powerless against.

But that was a matter for the future.

For now, Black smiled. "Awake at last?" he asked, helping Shirou sit up. "How do you feel?"

"... Like I’ve got a gaping hole in my stomach..." Shirou winced.

"Haha..." Black chuckled, gesturing toward a maid who had just stepped in, bearing a tray of food. "Believe me. There are worlds where you really wouldn’t want to utter those words."

Shirou offered a wry smile, his stomach letting out a ferocious growl a second later.

Half an hour later, once he had slowly eaten his fill, Black led him outside.

"Another Bounded Field?" Shirou gasped, squinting up at the vast, desolate clearing beneath an open sky. "Just how long was I out?"

Because this war was only destined to escalate, Kai had decided against constructing a full-fledged HQ with specialized laboratories and a White Serpent Tower, only for the Pillars to tear it down again.

Instead, the Bounded Field within Azkaban housed nothing more than a hut, surrounded by grassy fields.

As there was nothing of value to protect, it didn’t require many resources to remain operational for an extended period.

"A week," Black answered.

Shirou froze, his eyes widening. "... A whole week?!"

Black summarized the events that had transpired during the boy’s slumber.

With every sentence, Shirou’s expression darkened, his fingers slowly curling into tight fists, his knuckles turning pale.

"I was there... only for a few moments..." Shirou murmured, the memories burning behind his eyes. "But I saw it, Black. I saw the slaughter. So many innocents... dead. And I didn’t even finish the job on my end, did I? That Witch is still breathing. She broke clean through my Reality Marble right before my final blow. That’s... not something easily done. She is terrifyingly strong. As strong as Medea. Perhaps... even stronger. And now you’re telling me I’m completely sidelined..."

"I didn’t say that," Black corrected calmly.

"There’s little difference," Shirou countered, scowling.

"There is an enormous difference," Black said. "If an army consists solely of soldiers who know nothing but slaughter, it is destined to lose every war it fights. Even if you cannot take the vanguard, you can still assist me, Shirou. Tremendously."

"How?"

"Tell me," Black said, "in that brief glimpse you caught before using Rule Breaker, what did you see?"

"I already told—" Shirou broke off abruptly.

No.

Black wasn’t asking about the carnage.

He was asking about the behavior of those who were fighting, dying, and panicking.

Compared to the Witch and the armored giants Shirou had clashed with, the combatants on Black’s side were... crude. Desperate.

"Exactly," Black said, his lips curling into a grin. "The magic of this world is medieval compared to your Magecraft, Shirou. But... what if we hand them the weapons to bridge centuries-worth of evolution in a single stroke?"

Shirou’s eyes widened, a sudden spark igniting within them.

He saw it now — a way to continue shielding these people, to fight for justice.

"I’ll take you to meet the Supreme Commander of this world’s allied forces," Black added. "There is just one minor complication... I operate under the alias of the Yellow Warlock here. And... my reputation isn’t exactly heroic."

Shirou stared at Black before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Why doesn’t that shock me in the slightest?!" Shirou asked, shaking his head, laughing. "Is playing the villain some kind of incurable addiction for you?"

Black brushed off the sarcasm, his expression turning sharp and solemn. "It won’t be simple, Shirou," he said. "This war... might just be the trailer."

In silence, the two Fakers tilted their heads up to stare at the fake sky.

"Good," Shirou said, a resolute smile returning to his face. "What good is being a Hero if you aren’t part of the trailer?"

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