Chapter 356: The Burned Village
After learning that this was Shimousa Province, Shirou finally felt a bit more grounded. He just didn't know which era of Shimousa this was, or how far it deviated from the history he knew.
However, such things could be known with a little investigation. Thus, Shirou stopped focusing on Sasaki Kojiro, and the two bid each other farewell.
Kojiro headed straight toward the town, while Shirou decided to leave the mountain and find the nearest settlement. Although Alaya had said nothing, there had to be a specific reason for being teleported here.
Walking out from the foot of the mountain, though there was still no sign of people, he eventually found a bumpy dirt road with the ruts of people and carts. The dirt road split into three paths.
The only thing Shirou knew for now was that this world was in danger, a savior would appear, and he was to help said savior and lead them to rescue this world. Among them, the Master of Chaldea—Gudako—seemed to be involved as well.
However, since Alaya had dropped him in the middle of a desolate wilderness without a single hint, he could only take things one step at a time. In any case, he would head to a nearby village to ask around.
It wasn't that there weren't better methods. If he used that near-omnipotent power of creation to investigate—if he simply opened those Mystic Eyes where iridescent colors danced within white light—he could visualize the structure of the world, directly analyze the Source, and observe everything in this world. Nothing could hide from those Mystic Eyes.
Except, right now, Shirou truly could not use them.
Because he had fused with the divine power of his other self, he had become an entity similar to the White God. He was no longer just the Shirou who lived in Chiba, but a 1+1 fusion. That previous divine avatar had entrusted everything to him.
The White God, meanwhile, was a collective consciousness formed by all the Shirous across all parallel worlds to achieve true salvation—only now, he was missing one avatar.
His battle with the White God had officially begun, and there was no turning back. Although, in terms of original intent, they were actually the same person—this was a battle against himself—it was simultaneously a struggle to the death that would not end until one was gone.
Because the White God had strayed from the path, detached himself from the mortal realm, failed to understand humanity, and pursued blind salvation, he could not bring happiness to people. Instead, there was the hidden danger of a Great Collapse. Therefore, Shirou, who wanted to stop him, was not wrong.
And the White God, who had no selfish desires and acted only to save the world and rescue all who encountered disaster, had always done what he firmly believed to be right. He was not wrong either.
However, this was a clash of convictions. Between the one born as Emiya Shirou's longing for happiness and the White God who wished to save everything and eliminate all misfortune, only one could exist.
Now, if he were to use divine power, because its quality was higher than the other divine avatars, he would be easily detected by the White God. It was highly likely the White God would tear through space and come looking for him directly.
Therefore, Shirou would never lightly use the divine power of creation. Once used, he would have to transfer and leave this world.
However, if it was only to the level of Eagle Eye, there was no issue.
Relying on his exceptional eyesight, Shirou surveyed the landscape below the mountain, looking into the distance. Finally, about three kilometers away, he vaguely saw a place where several plumes of grey-black smoke were rising. It looked like a household using fire—perhaps for cooking—so there should be a village there.
Thus, Shirou ran along the dirt path at the edge of the road toward the direction of the settlement.
Maintaining steady breathing and running at a constant pace, he arrived at the village after about ten minutes.
The village was surrounded by a perimeter of hedges. Inside were thatched huts, separated from one another by wooden fences. It was easy to see into the neighboring courtyards; it was a standard Japanese village layout. The only thing missing was the presence of people.
Despite being a village that appeared to house at least forty families, the surroundings were excessively quiet. There were fields and vegetable patches, but no one was seen watering or fertilizing them. There was no livestock being grazed. There was only the unnatural black smoke rising from the interior of the village.
Walking further in, Shirou's expression changed as he saw the surroundings clearly. The houses were a mess; doors were either lying on the ground or windows had been smashed through.
Shirou hurried toward the source of the smoke and found a blackened expanse of ruins—burned-out thatched huts still emitting grey smoke. It turned out the grey smoke he had seen earlier wasn't from cooking, but the final embers of a fire.
"How could this happen..." Shirou looked around. Smoke was still rising in places, meaning the fire hadn't been burning for very long; it must have been lit last night.
"This place is even worse than Mikawa Province was. Although Mikawa suffered from the infestation of demonic beasts, at least the commoners in the city had the protection of the castle and could organize themselves to evacuate. But here, there's nothing left..." Shirou walked toward the blackened ruins; the houses were no longer recognizable.
Aside from a few houses near the entrance that had survived, over eighty percent of the village's homes had been destroyed. The wooden houses had been burned to nothing. Some houses with earthen parts remained but were stained black by soot. Some wooden pillars had been reduced to charcoal, causing roofs to collapse and crush the structures.
Shirou walked into the courtyard of a house and found traces of sticky, blackened blood on the ground of the threshold. There were many such traces; it was more or less the same in front of every household.
Peering into a collapsed house, he found a charred, blood-streaked arm protruding from beneath a half-burnt ceiling beam. He discovered charred corpses in other ruined houses as well.
It appeared this was no accident, but a massacre. It was a scene of utter devastation, dark and cold. It felt as if something even more sinister was about to appear—a ghostly realm that made one's skin crawl and made one wish not to linger.
Such a scene inevitably reminded Shirou of the time he had accepted a request from rural villagers and gathered companions to fight off mountain bandits. If no one had held the village then, it might have looked just like this.
Shirou felt fortunate for his past choice to help those villagers, yet felt immense grief for the people here.
'What on earth happened? A perfectly fine village, just gone?'
"Dammit... No! I have to investigate exactly what happened here!" Shirou composed himself and walked toward the houses near the entrance that hadn't been reached by the fire. The people inside were, as expected, dead—all killed with a single fatal blow.
The boxes and dresser drawers inside the houses hadn't been pried open; not a single valuable item was missing. It seemed the killers had left immediately after the slaughter, without touching any of the money or property.
'Not bandits? Not seeking wealth? Could it be a vendetta?' Shirou made a judgment in his heart.
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