“I-Illiterate…?!” Shirou, who had braced himself for some grand, mystical revelation, stood completely frozen in place.
It felt like playing an intense fighting game where you braced for the enemy’s ultimate cinematic finishing move, only for them to pull out a fluffy pink squeaky toy.
He instinctively looked up at the large bronze sign hanging above the entryway.
‘Fuyuki Municipal Central Library.’ “Calling him completely illiterate might be a slight exaggeration, but saying his academic breadth was sorely lacking is an undeniable fact.” Releasing the white dove into the sky—since pets were strictly forbidden inside municipal libraries—the two stepped into the quiet building.
Surtr led the way, her eyes scanning the neat rows of mahogany bookshelves as she posed a rhetorical question.
“As a modern high school student, do you genuinely believe that achieving world peace rests exclusively upon your solitary shoulders?” “Of course not…
that’s obviously impossible.” The answer required zero contemplation.
Even though Shirou harbored the desperate urge to save everyone in his sight, he wasn’t delusional enough to believe a single mortal could fix human civilization solo.
“Exactly.
Anyone who has sat through a basic middle school history class understands that principle.” Surtr pulled a thick hardcover from the sociology section.
“Now, here is the real question: when you are confronted with a grand, world-spanning ideal that vastly exceeds your personal capabilities, what is the first logical step you should take?” “I would…
look for like-minded companions, I suppose?” After a brief pause, Shirou offered his answer.
While the hint was blatantly obvious, if he were being brutally honest with himself, he had never once considered relying on others prior to this conversation.
Surtr wore the satisfied smirk of a teacher seeing a dim-witted student finally grasp basic arithmetic.
“Even comic book superheroes form teams.
Individual human strength has a hard ceiling, but collective unity changes the entire dynamic.” “Stubbornly martyring yourself over problems light-years beyond your current capacity is pure foolishness.
After decades of solitary struggle without positive emotional feedback, you’re practically guaranteed to devolve into a hollow, psychopathic fanatic.” She was, of course, directly referencing Kiritsugu’s grim fate.
If the man had understood the basic concept that ‘Unity is Strength’, he wouldn’t have decayed into a haunted, chain-smoking wraith.
In the end, Kiritsugu had only kept Hisau Maiya by his side, treating her as a disposable tactical tool rather than a partner.
To expect world peace from that kind of dysfunctional methodology would require luck stats higher than Taiga Fujimura.
Even that repulsive old worm Zouken had possessed a clearer vision than Kiritsugu in his youth—Zouken had established the Three Founding Families and rallied legendary allies like Justeaze and Nagato Tohsaka.
Even if he ultimately rotted into a parasite, his initial framework held genuine ambition.
Whereas Kiritsugu?
Watching Fate/Zero in her past life, Surtr had felt that the edgy mercenary truly brought his tragic demise upon himself.
“If you truly wish to inherit his ideals without repeating his tragedy, read more books.
You aren’t the only human who ever dreamed of making the world a better place.” Plucking half a dozen more tomes from various shelves, Surtr shoved a towering stack of literature into Shirou’s arms.
They were all curated specifically for an impressionable idealist: philosophical masterpieces by historic leaders, sociology treatises on collective action, and even a few light-hearted fairy tale collections to soothe his scarred subconscious.
Some were books Surtr had personally browsed others she only knew by reputation.
After all, she was an art major in her past life remembering this many foundational titles was already a miracle.
The selection was heavily thematic—covering topics like ‘The Power of Collective Unity’ and ‘Decisive Turning Points in Human History’.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t find a translated copy of Selected Works on United Fronts.
Still, this stockpile was more than sufficient.
For an obstinate boy like Emiya Shirou who prioritized abstract ideals over his own survival, ingesting these concepts would inevitably alter his future trajectory.
“This is…
a lot of reading.” Shirou grunted slightly under the physical weight of twelve heavy hardcovers.
“Also…
how did you know I inherited Kiritsugu’s ideals?” Shirou blinked, suddenly realizing he hadn’t shared that secret with her.
“…Isn’t it written all over your face?” Surtr paused for half a second, realizing she had let a spoiler slip.
She was supposed to be a mysterious stranger who had just met him an hour ago.
Though on second thought, it didn’t really matter the advice had already landed.
“That sounds terribly suspicious…” Shirou gave her a deeply peculiar look, though he chose not to pry further.
Regardless of her mysterious origins, the guidance she provided was undeniably profound, forcing him to confront ideological blind spots he had ignored his entire life.
Perhaps this was what people meant when they said ‘the spectator sees what the player misses’.
“Thank you for everything today, Miss Surtr.” Shirou bowed politely.
Perhaps what he truly needed was a friend to discuss ideals with.
Involuntarily, the image of a certain seaweed-haired classmate popped into his mind, but Shirou instantly banished it.
Telling Shinji about ‘saving the world’ would only earn him merciless mockery.
‘Speaking of Shinji…’ Shirou suddenly remembered an urgent obligation.
Shinji had desperately asked him to help pack and haul his belongings today—apparently, a catastrophic underground gas leak had blown the Matou manor to pieces last night, rendering it completely unlivable.
Glancing at his wristwatch, he had already blown past their agreed meetup time by over an hour!
“Ah!
I’m so sorry, Miss Surtr, I promised a friend I’d help him move today!
I have to run!” Giving a hurried explanation, Shirou bowed once more.
“I will definitely reflect on everything you told me today!” “Yeah, go on.
Don’t keep him waiting.” Surtr waved her hand dismissively, watching the boy sprint out of the library with his stack of books.
‘Helping a friend move after a mysterious gas explosion…
no prizes for guessing that’s Shinji.’ Surtr smirked to herself as she strolled out into the chilly evening air.
The Shinji of this world hadn’t committed any horrifying atrocities against Sakura, yet he had mysteriously lost his ancestral home in an overnight inferno.
Quite unlucky for him, though Surtr felt zero moral remorse.
‘System, when do I receive the settlement rewards for Shirou’s quest?
I don’t have to wait years for him to grow up, do I?’ [Once the host initiates world travel upon completing the main storyline, all pending character commissions will be automatically calculated and disbursed based on the final ideological timeline.] ‘Nice.
That works.’ In ten days or so, the Holy Grail War would wrap up, and she’d see the fruits of her mentorship.
Still, guiding stubborn shonen protagonists was mentally exhausting.
She preferred straightforward combat over lecturing debating philosophy had drained half her brain cells.
Stepping out onto the avenue, Surtr looked up at the twilight sky.
The winter sun was sinking below the western horizon.
Next up on her schedule: paying a visit to Fuyuki Church.
If Kotomine Kirei was lounging in his pews, she’d gladly incinerate him on the spot.
A twisted sadist who drained orphaned children for mana deserved to be converted into Primogems for the greater good.
Though if Kirei had already been offed by Bazett in this timeline…
dealing with Bazett plus Cú Chulainn would be an absurd headache.
Two causality-reversing Noble Phantasms at once was straight-up cheating.
Bracing for the worst-case scenario, Surtr walked down the quiet suburban sidewalk, looking for an empty cab to hail.
Fuyuki Church was situated on the opposite side of the massive suspension bridge in Shinto a taxi ride would save substantial travel time.
Yet before she could spot a single cab, a striking, ethereal figure stepped out from the evening shadows ahead.
“Good evening, Big Sister.” The girl glided forward with aristocratic grace, lifting the delicate hem of her violet winter dress to perform a flawless, angelic curtsy.
Framed by cascading snow-white hair and piercing crimson eyes, her face bloomed with a dazzling, innocent smile.
“My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern.”