"This is my praise to you. In this era, it is fortunate indeed for a hero like you to appear."
With just a glance, the white-haired man instantly recognized that the pale-haired youth before him would undoubtedly become a hero in the future.
Whether it was Shirou's swift evasion or the fact that, even when struck, he'd managed to avoid fatal injury at the last possible instant—
Though he hadn't used his full strength, he certainly hadn't held back either. The mere fact they were conversing now was proof of Shirou's skill and tenacity.
The very first spike hadn't even counted as a real attack—it was nothing more than a casual release of power, something even the squad of magus he had previously slaughtered could have dodged. Not every spike emerging from the ground bore a corpse.
Only the second attack, the three coordinated black spikes, had truly tested the young magus's abilities.
Though Shirou had used flight to evade the deadly attack, not everyone capable of flight could react quickly enough to avoid such an assault.
Thus, the white-haired man praised Shirou sincerely.
Yet, he showed no interest in recruiting him or cultivating his talent. Shirou might possess heroic potential, but currently, his strength was still insignificant to him.
At this stage, if Shirou became his subordinate, he'd merely serve as high-level cannon fodder.
Splurt—!
The black spikes that pierced Shirou abruptly withdrew, and Shirou fell heavily from the air, crashing onto the ground below.
The white-haired man disliked looking up when speaking to others.
Yet, despite the intense pain, Shirou's expression didn't change at all.
He had long grown accustomed to agony—truthfully, even this level of pain paled in comparison to the searing torment of projecting Incursio. Thankfully, projection only caused that excruciating pain for a brief instant. Had it persisted, Shirou wouldn't have been able to concentrate on fighting at all.
"Who…are you?"
Shirou asked weakly, voice strained as he stared at the two figures in front of him.
"You don't know us? Could you truly be just some rogue magus?"
The blue-haired man in a pristine white suit frowned, tapping his staff thoughtfully against his arm as he stepped closer to Shirou.
"Why did you come meddling in these muddy waters, magus?"
Darnic couldn't understand. Magus were fundamentally selfish creatures driven solely by their own interests. If it wasn't for some personal gain, he couldn't imagine why any magus would voluntarily throw themselves into such danger.
"Magus?"
Shirou hadn't heard that familiar word in a very long time; magus certainly didn't exist in the Empire.
His pupils shrank suddenly as he realized a possibility.
Could he have returned to his own world, just in a different location?
Shirou looked back up at Darnic and replied honestly:
"I heard someone calling for help, so I came."
There was no point hiding this—his motives had indeed been purely to save whoever had called out.
"Look me in the eyes, magus!"
Darnic suddenly seized Shirou's chin, forcing him to meet his piercing gaze.
He refused to believe any magus would risk their life simply because they'd heard cries for help.
"Darnic!"
A mature, commanding voice echoed from behind him, stopping him immediately.
"Forgive me, my King. I was rude."
Darnic quickly stepped back and bowed respectfully to the white-haired man, then shifted his attention toward Shirou.
His eyes fell upon Shirou's shattered armor, the winged "Mystic Code" he'd worn moments before. Had Shirou faced anyone but a Servant, that armor alone would have granted him an overwhelming advantage against other magus.
Flight capabilities alone provided significant superiority, not to mention whatever additional defenses it possessed.
"A Command Spell?"
As Shirou collapsed fully onto the ground, Darnic noticed a distinctive crimson mark prominently displayed upon Shirou's left hand.
"You're a Master?"
Before Shirou could respond, Darnic immediately grabbed his hand, closely examining the emblem.
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, confirming it wasn't some hallucination.
"My King, allow me to bring this magus back to our castle."
Darnic swiftly confirmed the authenticity of the Command Spell through his magecraft, excitement visibly rising in him as he turned to the white-haired man for permission.
The white-haired man nodded slightly, granting his approval.
All the Masters of the Black Faction had already been selected. Thus, this unexpected magus appearing here could only belong to the Red Faction.
Though they were enemies, nothing prevented Darnic from forcibly taking control of an enemy Master—or even transferring their Servant's contract to their side.
Gaining another Servant out of nowhere excited Darnic immensely.
An additional Servant increased their odds significantly, bringing them one step closer to victory in the Great Holy Grail War. How could Darnic not feel exhilarated?
And if this magus refused to cooperate, Darnic could simply transfer his Command Spells to someone else.
No—!
Darnic paused thoughtfully.
With Avicebron present, he could transfer Shirou's Command Spells directly—no need to negotiate or control a difficult magus. More simply, Avicebron needed a core for his Noble Phantasm; a magus would be far superior to a mere homunculus.
By stripping Shirou of his Command Spells, they could still find a suitable use for him, handing him over to Avicebron as a core component.
This significantly improved their odds of victory.
Though excitement surged within him, Darnic carefully concealed his emotions. Still, those around him sensed his rising satisfaction.
With a simple healing spell, Darnic stabilized Shirou's condition—keeping him barely alive, unable to move freely, yet just conscious enough to transport.
It wasn't distrust toward the white-haired man beside him; rather, caution when dealing with magus was always wise.
Especially since Darnic himself was one.
As Shirou was picked up and carried off by those lifeless puppet-like soldiers, a tiny worm unnoticed by anyone quietly crawled out from Shirou's shoulder and fell silently onto the grass.
And upon that small worm's back, three crimson Command Spell marks glowed faintly in the moonlight.