Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

Chapter 118 Guilliman: I'll take on seven!

"So, as Chaldea's Master, Fujimaru-senpai, do you think we have a chance of winning?"

Fujimaru Ritsuka remained silent for a moment, pondering. Following her intuition—which had saved countless people and Chaldea from dire straits—she reviewed Sigismund's words, actions, and underlying personality. Finally, she looked up, her tone resolute yet revealing an unconcealable worry.

"I think the chances of success are very high, Shirou, are you really going to do this?"

She understood Shirou Emiya's kindness, which was etched into his soul, at a glance, and even felt a strong resonance with it.

They were all people who were desperate to protect everyone, and because of this, she knew better than anyone what kind of internal struggle this plan meant for this "partner of justice."

After all, he needed to leverage his personal relationship with the future Emperor Locke to make him hesitate and create an opening for victory in this desperate situation. This involved both a reckless courage to risk everything and disregard life and death, and a difficult choice where one wrong step would question his conscience.

But at the same time, she could also see that Locke was probably really, really important to her.

"It's not that I want to choose this path, it's that I have to take this path."

His words were firm and resolute, without the slightest wavering.

After he finished speaking, he relaxed his hands hanging by his sides slightly, the resolute look in his eyes faded a bit, and a layer of warm memories filled his eyes. He then softly began to talk about their ten-year friendship.

"I've known Locke for almost ten years. We are each other's most trusted friends. But in all these years, he has always been the one to pull me up and always the one to cover for me. I have never really done anything decent for him."

Thinking of how Rin Tohsaka had argued with him before because he and Locke got too close, and how Rin had often stood with her hands on her hips and complained that Locke was just a lazy bum who came to freeload, Shirou Emiya's lips, which had been taut for a long time, finally broke into a genuine smile for the first time.

Rin always thought Locke was after his cooking skills, but only he knew that he was able to make those heartwarming meals all thanks to Locke teaching him little by little.

Aside from the foundation of magic being left by Kiritsugu, most of the things that enabled Shirou Emiya to live a good life were taught to him by Locke.

As the thought crossed his mind, Shirou Emiya was instantly pulled back to that rainy afternoon, the day that completely changed the course of his life—the day Kiritsugu Emiya left him forever.

The last family member he was most connected to was gone, and his world collapsed instantly, leaving only boundless confusion and emptiness. Like a soulless shell, he walked to the empty school track and field, adjusted the high jump bar to a height he could never clear, and then, again and again, took a run-up, soared into the air, and crashed heavily onto the mat. Knowing it was impossible, he still did it, failing repeatedly, yet with that almost obsessive stubbornness, he got up again and again, never giving up.

The confusion and despair in his heart, like the rising tide, gradually overwhelmed him. His body had long been completely drained, so tired that he couldn't even lift his legs, yet he still mechanically repeated the movements, as if trying to find a foothold for his crumbling life in this way.

Just as his consciousness began to waver, a figure blocked his way.

No, Locke arrived long ago.

He sat quietly on the bleachers by the playground, silently keeping him company for the entire afternoon, but he was trapped in his own world and never noticed.

Only when he was completely exhausted, collapsing heavily onto the mat, too weak even to lift his arm, did the person who had been silently watching him finally get up, dragging their limping leg, and walk step by step to him. Looking down at his disheveled state, they softly said, "How about we make a bet?"

Shirou lay on the cushion, almost exhausted, and when he heard this, he could only twitch the corner of his mouth, his voice hoarse and deep: "Locke, I've never won a bet with you—all the pocket money I saved up last holiday was lost to you."

Kiritsugu even told me to stop playing these games with me, saying I can't beat him.

"But he's gone now, isn't he? There are always things that only you can decide."

Locke's voice was soft, yet it was like a fine needle that gently pierced the hard shell of confusion that had enveloped him. After speaking, he turned and walked to the high jump stand, raised his hand and lifted the bar up a lot again, directly reaching a level close to that of a professional athlete.

After doing all that, he turned to Shirou on the mat, raised an eyebrow, and asked, "You deliberately adjusted the bar to a height you couldn't jump over, knowing from the beginning that you definitely couldn't win, right? Now I've raised it even higher. Do you think I can jump over it?"

Shirou finally managed to sit up, and his brows furrowed instantly as he looked at the ridiculously high horizontal bar.

"How could this be, Locke? You must be joking, your leg—"

Faced with his blunt denial, Locke's eyes gleamed with cunning. He took two steps forward, squatted down, looked at Shirou's disbelieving face, and solemnly concluded the bet: "Then I'll take your bet. I'll bet that I can jump over it."

Having said that, before Shirou Emiya could stop him, Locke had already dragged his limping leg and limped towards the crossbar. His running start wasn't fast, and each step was sluggish due to his injured leg, yet it exuded a do-or-die determination.

Until the last step was firmly planted, he suddenly used the cane that Shirou had stayed up all night to sharpen and make for him, and with a completely unconventional pole vault, he soared into the air, his clothes brushing against the bar, and landed steadily on the other side of the mat.

The moment he landed, his injured leg couldn't withstand the impact. He groaned, curling up on the mat, his forehead instantly covered in cold sweat, even his lips turning white with pain. Shirou Emiya's mind went blank. He rushed over like a madman, frantically pulling out his usual ointment from the man's pocket. His fingertips trembled as he massaged the injury, his voice trembling with anger and anxiety: "You cheated! How could you do something like this?!"

"What's wrong with me?" Locke gasped in pain, but still smiled, his eyes crinkling. "I'm a cripple. Isn't what makes us human what we are—the ability to make and use tools?"

"No wonder there's no high jump event for disabled athletes in the Olympics. If everyone were as unreasonable as you, the referees would go crazy." Shirou retorted irritably, but he didn't use any force on his hand, afraid of hurting him.

"Haha, that's because the Olympics is a game of relative fairness. But for us, when has fate ever been fair to us?" Locke's laughter slowly subsided, and the boy's voice held a clarity beyond his years. "So-called fairness is never something we wait for; it's something we create ourselves to fight against fate."

At this point, he gritted his teeth, enduring the pain as he propped himself up. The smile on his face vanished completely, and he stared intently into Shirou's eyes, each word striking deep into Shirou's confused heart: "And for me, I skipped it. It's just that I didn't follow the rules you set. The result I accept myself is the most important. That's exactly what you lack right now."

"Shirou, your heart is too barren."

These words struck Shirou like a thunderbolt, freezing his movements instantly. Locke, however, raised his hand and gently patted his tense shoulder, soothing him with a tender tone that could calm any confusion: "But it's okay, you still have me."

Having said that, he turned his head to look at the horizontal bar that still lay across the high place. His voice was as soft as the wind, yet it carried a power that could take root in the ground: "Perhaps you can't jump over it today, no matter what. Perhaps you'll remember this insurmountable height for a long time, and spend your whole life trying to cross it. But when you finally cross it, you'll find..."

He paused, then turned to look at Shirou, his eyes shining: "It's no longer important."

Seeing the resolute and determined look on Shirou Emiya's face, Rin Tohsaka, who had long regarded him as her life partner, instantly saw through what he was about to do.

She lunged forward, grabbing his collar tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced herself to maintain a fierce expression, gritting her teeth as she threatened, "There must be another way! I absolutely will not allow you to risk your life like this!"

What she didn't know was that Shirou Emiya's surging memories had stirred up such intense emotional turmoil that even Archer, as a Servant, was forcibly drawn into his thoughts and clearly saw the scene from that afternoon: a physically disabled boy gently comforting a boy with a desolate heart.

That scene struck Red A like a thunderbolt.

He was deeply shocked, and the first thought that surged into his heart was jealousy. He was jealous of Shirou Emiya in this world, jealous that in his most confused and empty moments, there was someone who held him firmly, preventing him from taking the path that would lead him to gamble everything and ultimately burn out his life.

Even so, he absolutely did not want to see himself, who had been redeemed and would always have someone by his side, so easily cut off by fate.

The next second, Red A made a decision.

Without the slightest hesitation, he raised his hand and delivered a precise chop to the back of Rin Tohsaka's neck, watching her collapse from exhaustion. Then, he grabbed Ganjiang and cleanly severed his own left arm.

In the instant blood gushed out, he steadily presented his still-warm arm to Shirou Emiya.

This sudden turn of events left everyone present frozen in place.

Only Shirou Emiya, after a moment's hesitation, quickly recovered. He looked at the Servant before him who shared the same face as him, and said softly with utmost solemnity, "Thank you, my other self."

Red A was instantly shocked and blurted out, "How did you know?"

Shirou Emiya simply shook his head and calmly said, "None of that matters anymore, does it?"

Meanwhile, Fujimaru Ritsuka, who was standing to the side, also understood what the two of them were thinking. If Archer compressed his Spirit Origin power into this hand and then transplanted it to Emiya Shirou, then with the same origin, the opponent's strength would be close to the Servant level. Although defeating the opponent was still a pipe dream, at least they would have the strength to fight him.

If we add the support of enhancement magic, it might actually work!

However, just as they were preparing to take the next step, a communication from Chaldea came through their ears.

"Hey, Ritsuka?"

"Da Vinci? Excellent! I need someone skilled in enhancement magic right now! Wait, listen to me! The Counter Force sent an accomplice, but he appeared directly in Chaldea. We've already used compensation magic to help you form a contract with him, and now we're going to teleport him there!"

The moment she finished speaking, the Command Seals on Fujimaru Ritsuka's wrist suddenly emitted a dazzling light.

The next second, a towering figure, four meters tall, appeared out of thin air beside everyone.

When Fujimaru Ritsuka saw the armor on the other person—which shared the same origins as Space Marines but was completely different in form and imposing presence—he took a deep breath. All the negative emotions in his heart vanished instantly, and he roared inwardly, "Haha! I've been updated!"

As Primarch Robert Guilliman landed steadily on the smoke-filled interstellar battlefield, he looked up at the war-torn void, his gaze instantly locking onto the colossal flagship etched with betrayal and bloodshed. In a single glance, he recognized the ship and the blood-stained history behind it.

"The Soul of Vengeance? I see, it's the first Black Expedition."

Having said that, he slowly turned his head, and the light fell on Sigismund not far away. In his deep blue eyes, as deep as the starry sea, a complex emotion that spanned 30,000 years passed. His voice was steady and deep, with the unique majesty of a Primarch: "Sigismund, it's been a long time. I never thought that we would meet again in the past, 30,000 years ago."

When he saw the face of the newcomer and recognized the identity behind the diamond-blue power armor and laurel wreath, Sigismund was shocked. Without the slightest hesitation, he immediately knelt heavily on one knee, the kneeplate of his power armor slamming into the metal plate full of spent cartridges with a dull thud.

He bowed his head, his tone filled with absolute loyalty and undisguised astonishment and apology, each word ringing out firmly: "Please forgive my lack of courtesy, Your Excellency Regent, Primarch Guilliman! I never imagined that you would personally come here!"

Gilgamesh was the first to react when he saw Sigismund, who was known for his unruly nature and dared to fight even the oldest kings head-on, suddenly adopt such a submissive posture.

He abruptly rose from his hastily chosen throne, his wine-red pupils suddenly contracting as he stared at the scene before him that utterly shattered his understanding of the world. He blurted out a furious shout filled with complete disbelief: "Impossible!"

Meanwhile, Red A, Illya, and the others looked at each other with blank expressions.

They looked at Sigismund kneeling on one knee, then at the towering, mountain-like, diamond-blue figure, their eyes filled with bewilderment, as if silently asking: Who is this?

Just then, Fujimaru Ritsuka gripped the Command Seal on her wrist, which still glowed faintly, took a deep breath, suppressed the tremor in her heart, and clearly reported the true identity of the visitor based on the information that Da Vinci had urgently relayed earlier.

"He is the Primarch of the future Thirteenth Ultramarines Legion, the Lord of Atlas, the ruler of the Five Hundred Worlds, and one of the twenty offspring of the Emperor of Man."

She paused, looked at the quietly standing figure, and solemnly pronounced the name, word by word: "Robert Guilliman."

Next, Robert Guilliman slowly stepped forward, looking down at Sigismund, who was kneeling on one knee. His bright blue eyes, like a frozen starry sea, were completely calm, displaying only the absolute and unquestionable majesty inherent in the offspring of an emperor.

His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly drowned out the surrounding roar of artillery fire. Each word was like a declaration engraved on the stone tablet of imperial law, striking everyone's ears: "In the name of the Primarch of the Thirteenth Ultramarines Legion and the Regent of the Empire of Man, I declare that the rules of this duel of honor are hereby changed. From this moment on, you are the challengers in this duel."

He slightly raised his eyes, his cold gaze sweeping over the seven Space Marines present. His tone was calm and even, yet it carried an absolute confidence capable of turning the tide of battle: "I will fight all seven."

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