The Chosen of Tengri(Fate Stay Night)

The dream returned as it always did.

Shirou stood on the endless steppe, the stars above blazing brighter than any he had seen in the real world. The air was still, heavy with an unspoken challenge.

Genghis Khan was already waiting for him, standing atop a nearby hill with his arms crossed. His silhouette was imposing, the faint light of the stars casting sharp shadows across his features.

"You've survived the trials of the body" Genghis said as Shirou approached, his voice carrying easily over the distance. "But strength alone will not carry you far. Now, we test your mind."

Shirou frowned, his steps slowing. "Test my mind? What does that mean?"

"It means" Genghis said, descending the hill with slow, deliberate strides, "that leadership is not about swinging a sword. It is about the decisions you make. The lives you save—and the ones you don't."

Shirou felt a cold knot form in his stomach. "I don't want to lead anyone. I just want to protect people."

Genghis stopped in front of him, towering over the boy. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with intensity.

"Then you are a fool" Genghis said bluntly. "You think protection comes without leadership? Without decisions? The moment you decide to protect one person, you condemn another."

"That's not true!" Shirou protested. "There has to be a way to save everyone!"

Genghis raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "We shall see."

He clapped his hands once, and the world around them shifted.

The steppe dissolved, replaced by the chaos of a battlefield. The clash of steel and the cries of warriors filled the air, the acrid smell of smoke and blood stinging Shirou's nostrils. He found himself standing in the midst of the chaos, a sword in his hand and a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Ahead of him, two groups of warriors were locked in combat. One group was smaller, their weapons and armor ragged, their movements desperate. The other group was larger and more disciplined, their banners fluttering in the wind.

"These are your people," Genghis said, appearing beside Shirou as if from nowhere. He gestured toward the smaller group. "Weak. Vulnerable. They look to you for salvation."

Shirou swallowed hard, gripping the sword tightly. "What do I have to do?"

"You must decide," Genghis said simply. He pointed toward the larger group. "You can lead your people to charge the enemy and save the day. But the cost will be high—many of your warriors will die."

He paused, his gaze hardening. "Or you can retreat. Abandon the battle and preserve their lives, but leave the weak to fend for themselves."

Shirou's chest tightened. "That's... that's not fair."

Genghis shrugged. "Leadership is rarely fair. Now, choose."

Shirou hesitated, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on him, the silent plea of his warriors waiting for his command.

"We can't retreat," Shirou said finally, his voice trembling. "If we leave, the weak will be slaughtered."

Genghis nodded, his expression giving nothing away. "Then lead them."

Shirou turned to his warriors, his heart pounding. "Charge!" he shouted, raising his sword high.

The warriors roared in response, their ragged voices rising above the din of battle. They surged forward, following Shirou as he led the charge into the enemy ranks.

The clash was immediate and brutal. Shirou fought with everything he had, his movements instinctive and precise. Around him, his warriors fought valiantly, their desperation driving them to incredible feats of strength.

But one by one, they began to fall.

"No!" Shirou cried, his voice breaking as he saw one of his comrades struck down.

"You made this choice," Genghis said, his voice calm despite the chaos around them. He stood off to the side, watching impassively. "This is the cost of your ideals."

Shirou gritted his teeth, tears stinging his eyes as he fought harder, desperately trying to protect the people around him. But no matter how hard he tried, more warriors fell.

By the time the battle ended, the enemy was defeated, but Shirou's forces were decimated. He stood amidst the carnage, his sword slick with blood, his chest heaving.

"You won," Genghis said, stepping closer. "But at what cost?"

Shirou dropped to his knees, the weight of the battle pressing down on him. "I... I didn't want this."

Genghis crouched beside him, his gaze sharp. "Then you must learn to bear it. Victory is never clean, boy. Leadership means accepting the price of your choices."

The battlefield dissolved, returning them to the quiet of the steppe. Shirou sat on the ground, his head in his hands, the echoes of the battle still ringing in his ears.

"I don't want to make choices like that," Shirou said, his voice hollow.

"Then you will never save anyone," Genghis said bluntly. "The world is cruel, boy. You cannot protect everyone. But you can choose who you will protect. That is what it means to lead."

Shirou looked up at him, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "And what if I make the wrong choice?"

Genghis's expression softened, just slightly. "You will. Again and again. And you will carry those failures with you. But if your will is strong, you will learn from them. That is what it means to grow."

When Shirou woke the next morning, his chest felt heavy, as though the weight of the battlefield had followed him into the real world. The details of the dream were gone, but the sensation lingered, a dull ache that refused to fade.

Later that day, when he stood before a difficult decision, he didn't hesitate. Somewhere deep in his subconscious, the lessons of the dream had taken root.