IBHJ 1381

“Answer my summons—Tiamat!”

Shirou shouted loudly.

The summoning circle beneath the starship pulsed red—and in an instant, the vast vessel vanished like a mirage. In its place stood a child, no older than six, her violet eyes wide with confusion.

Tiamat blinked, staring down at her small hands. “I… I stopped functioning. So how am I…?”

She turned them over slowly, as if they didn’t belong to her. “I look like Master…”

There was disbelief in her voice, soft and shaken. The idea that she had transformed—from an integrated starship system to a living, breathing body—left her reeling.

“What did you do to me, Master?” she asked, her tone tight with something between fear and awe.

He crossed his arms, unfazed. “I just removed the shell. Summoned your system core independently. That’s all.”

She stared at him like he’d said he merely adjusted her hairstyle.

“That’s all?” Her voice pitched up, incredulous. “Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

She stepped closer, eyes searching his face for some hint of awareness.

“You cracked it… You cracked the foundational logic of the Gaia star region’s systems. That’s impossible. It’s supposed to be impossible.”

Her breath caught.

No wonder she was shaken—what had just happened defied the most fundamental laws of the cosmos. A starship system, an information construct tied to Gaia’s root infrastructure, could not, should not, exist apart from its vessel. Let alone take on physical form. That was reality. That was fact.

Even beings like Tethys were bound by the same limits.

But now?

That reality had been turned on its head.

All because of him.

Because of Fujimaru Shirou.

This man hadn’t just bypassed restrictions. He’d rewritten them. Nullified the Gaia region’s governing code. And summoned her—not as a program, not as a phantom echo—but as something living. Tangible. Whole.

The implications were staggering.

Even Origin Gaia would be floored if she saw this.

Yet Shirou stood there, calm as ever. Like this was nothing. Like he hadn’t just broken the universe’s rules with his bare hands.

“For something like this to happen…!”

Tiamat’s voice trailed off. Words failed her.

She simply stood there, trembling slightly, her expression a mix of awe and helpless disbelief.

Shirou tilted his head. “Is that so?”

Only then, hearing her stunned explanation, did the weight of what he’d done start to sink in.

Apparently, it was a big deal. But to him, it hadn’t felt that way at all.

No fanfare. No thunderclap of realization.

He had just done what seemed logical at the time: reframed the concept of the Tiamat starship as a "Hero"—and summoned its core system like any other Servant.

Simple. Efficient. Obvious… to him.

“Let’s set that aside for now,” he said, brushing the issue away. “Tiamat, does your database have any records on this planet?”

The chibi girl—his ship’s soul in miniature form—shook her head slowly, her expression clouded with concern.

“No, Master. Nothing at all. And my energy levels are critically low… Most of my functions are locked down. I… I can’t go back.”

Shirou’s eyes narrowed.

—That’s not good.

The only way back to the present world was through the Vortex Gate—anchored in the Gaia star region. And the only thing that could reach the Gaia star region… was Tiamat starship.

But now the starship’s energy reserves were bone-dry. Restarting her, let alone navigating interdimensional folds, was out of the question.

There were two theoretical ways to refuel.

The first was direct magical transfer. He could supply Tiamat with energy manually. But her system’s capacity was immense—an ocean compared to his tiny stream. No matter how much he poured in, it wouldn’t even ripple the surface.

The second was more drastic: mimic the Origin Civilization’s approach—create artificial connection points across divergent timelines, and burn them. Sacrifice entire world lines for energy.

That method was out of the question. Not just because of the technical demands… but because of what it required. What it cost.

Which left one option: steal power from the Golden Universe’s own infrastructure.

But here, on this forgotten, dust-choked planet?

There were no energy grids. No supply stations. Nothing.

Just dead stone.

“So we’re stranded,” Shirou muttered, his brow furrowing.

He glanced up at the sky—a bleak, starless expanse stretching in every direction.

“Trapped on a ghost world.”

“M-Master, I’m picking up a massive life signature!”

Tiamat’s alarmed voice rang out.

“What? That’s impossible—I didn’t sense any—” Shirou cut off mid-sentence. His eyes narrowed in sudden realization.

“Wait… it evaded my detection system? Where is it, Tiamat?”

“It’s—right beneath us!”

The moment the words left her lips, the ground trembled violently beneath their feet. A deep, bone-shaking boom cracked the earth open like shattered glass.

A shadow burst out of the fissure.

A black, chitinous blur streaked past them, and then it rose.

Massive. Segmented. Alive.

A towering, centipede-like monstrosity erupted from the ground—its armored body stretching dozens of meters long, its hundred legs slicing the air with unnatural speed.

“Hiiisssssss—!”

The creature shrieked as it reared its head. Its mandibles snapped open, revealing dripping mouthparts that oozed gold-hued slime. The liquid hissed as it hit the dirt, instantly melting through the ground with a furious sizzle.

A steaming crater blossomed beneath it.

Shirou grimaced. “Of all things… why did it have to be a bug?”

He raised his hand and steadied his stance.

A flash of light gathered at his palm—an ether cannon surged with a deafening boom, tearing through the centipede’s skull in a clean blast.

The beast’s screech cut off in an instant.

Its massive body shuddered once, then collapsed with a thunderous crash. The legs twitched and curled in death spasms before going still.

“Good. Its strength’s about on par with the magical beasts from the Age of Gods. Manageable.”

Shirou exhaled, lowering his hand.

Tiamat tilted her head. “Age of Gods… magical beasts? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He glanced at her, then gave a small shrug.

“Nothing. You’ll figure it out someday.”

No need to explain. After all, Tiamat was the greatest magical beast of that age—though she didn’t know it yet.

But before the dust had even settled, a faint rustling echoed from the nearby cave wall.

Shirou snapped to attention, turning toward the sound—and froze.

At the mouth of the cave stood several figures, dressed in ragged hemp robes, staring wide-eyed in his direction. One of them raised a trembling hand, pointing straight at him.

People.

Real, living people.

Shirou blinked.

“Peo…ple…?” he murmured.

No strange mutations. No signs of artificial origin.

They looked like him.

No—

They were like him.

Earthlings.

Even in the vast Gaia star region, there were no humans. And yet—

Here, on this forgotten, barren world deep within the Golden Universe…

Shirou had just come face to face with people who looked unmistakably human.

Not artificial constructs. Not biomechanical hybrids.

Real humans. Ordinary in form. Familiar in every way.

It was surreal.