Triple Kill

From the hole in the wall, he stepped inside. The head of the Kajiamena Family sat upright in his Magic Workshop.

To his left was a middle-aged woman around his age; to his right, a young man. Shirou guessed they were his wife and son.

But what the hell did that matter to him?

"O mage of Kajiamena, I've come to kill you. The evening bell of fate has tolled. Hand over your heads and return your lives to the gods!" Shirou said with a bright smile, spouting chuunibyou nonsense.

On any normal day, the Kajiamena family would've thought this kid had a screw loose. But now, with their barrier shattered in three moves and their century-old Magic Workshop's defenses utterly failing to stop him, they couldn't afford to underestimate the young man before them—no matter how stupid or cringey he acted.

"You are the assassin sent by El-Melloi?" Most mages were nobles, clinging to their dignity—but in practice, they valued their lives more. After all, death meant nothing left. Yet cornered like this, with no way out, they naturally hoisted their pride back up.

"From a certain angle, that's exactly right. Lady Reines of El-Melloi paid, and we acted. As long as you ignore the prey's opinion, it's a pretty neat outcome," Shirou said.

His expression was as casual as if he were discussing how to dispose of pigs, not the life-and-death authority over living people.

"You were hired by El-Melloi?" The Kajiamena patriarch immediately latched onto what he thought was the key point in Shirou's words. "Sent" and "hired" might sound similar, but the difference was huge. The former meant a trained killer or recruited expert from the main family—someone with fixed loyalties. The latter meant someone bought with money or valuables, with little real loyalty to the employer. Turning coat wasn't out of the question.

"Whatever El-Melloi gave you, Kajiamena will pay double!" the patriarch said without hesitation.

"Ahh—I have to say, that's a really tempting offer. I'm almost tempted," Shirou drawled like a child.

"But," he paused, shifting tone, "as they say, a man entrusted must see it through. So, proposal denied!"

Before Shirou said "but," the Kajiamena patriarch still clung to a sliver of hope. Now that hope was gone.

"Must you be so ruthless? The Kajiamena Family has no grudge against you. There's no need for this!"

The patriarch's face twisted with bitterness. He'd barely steeled himself to accept his fate and die, but in just a few words from Shirou, that hard-won resolve crumbled.

No matter how bravely people talk, they're still afraid of death.

"Yeah, I've got no deep hatred for you, and no reason to fight to the death."

Shirou's words let the patriarch breathe a little easier. But the next moment, Shirou appeared behind him, drove his hand through his chest, and pulled out a blood-soaked hand clutching a crimson heart.

"But you got one thing wrong, old man."

Under the patriarch's pained, horrified gaze, Shirou spoke in a tone as cold as Ulquiorra's: "Killing between people doesn't need any reason. I kill you because you're in my way. That's what 'human nature' really is."

Thud. The unsupported body collapsed limply to the floor. Even in death, the Kajiamena patriarch's eyes were filled with terror.

"If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being reborn into the human realm!" Shirou flicked the blood off his hand, addressing the already-dead patriarch.

Then he turned to the remaining two. Under their terrified stares, he spoke in a madman's tone:

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard this express train to the abyss. My name is Emiya Shirou, your conductor. The final stop is hell, and the fare is—your lives!"

The moment the words left his mouth, Shirou activated Sonido, appearing before the young man. His left hand pierced through the man's chest like a blade. At the same time, his right hand projected a short knife and hurled it at the middle-aged woman, burying it in her forehead.

"For the finale, let's have some fireworks as a glorious curtain call for my first hunt!"

Trace On!

Shirou crouched down and used Projection Magecraft to manifest countless blades. They were just ordinary swords—if he'd had the nuclear-grade swords from later on, one would've been enough.

Hands in his pockets, Shirou strolled unhurriedly out of the Kajiamena estate.

Broken Phantasm.

The magical energy composing those blades detonated like gunpowder. Flames and shockwaves filled the space behind Shirou. But true to the principle that real men never look back at explosions, he walked away without turning around.

Shirou's first commission was complete, exactly matching the creed-style assassination he'd described to Natalia.

Burst through the front door, charge straight to the target's Magic Workshop, smash through the wall, announce that fate had arrived, demand their heads, kill everyone he saw, then blow the place up to cremate the target and send any trace of their existence skyward.

Yep. Assassin's Creed: Explosive Carnage.

"How'd I do, Natalia-san?" Back at Natalia's side, Shirou asked casually.

"Absolutely gorgeous, practically perfect! Just one tiny problem," Natalia said with an amused smirk. "Kid, you didn't leave any proof of Kajiamena. How are we supposed to report to El-Melloi?"

Shirou's explosion had been so thorough, he'd probably saved them the funeral costs. Why? Because he'd blown them so hard not even ashes remained.

Sure, magecraft existed in this world as a black-art technology that defied mathematics, but restoring someone blown to dust was impossible—that was already in the realm of magic.

"If that's the issue, I actually kept a little something." Shirou pulled out a preservation bag—the kind that often appeared in Conan—and showed it to Natalia.

"A friend of mine told me: when you fight mages, if you kill them, you have to take the Magic Crest."

Inside that small bag was the Kajiamena family's Magic Crest, passed down for centuries.

"With this, it should be fine, right?" Shirou said.

Natalia raised an eyebrow. "Not bad, kid. You're way better at this than that brat Kariya."

"Hehe, thanks for the praise."

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