Chapter 246: Sajou Manaka Wants to Kill Rowe
Strictly speaking, this nation that called itself a hegemon in modern international society was not truly devoid of Servants.
Besides the "Great President" Edison, who had gathered the power of successive presidents and appeared under the name "Washington," there were other modern and contemporary heroic spirits as well.
But in an era where the Holy Grail manifested, Mystery solidified, and legends became real, heroes from older ages naturally possessed heavier Authority and greater output.
That was common knowledge to anyone with even a shallow understanding of the occult.
With the resources of a nation, it was not difficult to obtain such information. It was also not difficult to understand why they would gamble on summoning ancient deities with little emotional connection to the people living on this land, forcing those existences to descend in a degraded form.
The result was exactly what anyone sensible expected.
As the little girl who called herself "Abi" had muttered, they should be grateful they summoned a benevolent god rather than a malignant one. Otherwise, calamity would already be gnawing at this continent's spine.
Understanding did not make it reasonable.
At least, the golden haired figure standing there now, gazing down at the little girl before her, could not hide her confusion toward that particular brand of unreasonable.
Because of her identity.
And even more because of her origin.
"An envoy of an Outer God from beyond the universe?"
Abi blinked.
Her pupils clearly reflected the figure facing her.
A tall athletic woman, feathers crowning her head, dressed in ancient garments, her features not delicate but filled with a wild vitality that made her presence feel like sunlight with teeth.
"Big Sister knows me?" Abi asked, voice soft and bright.
"Of course I know you." The woman smiled with a bold ease. "I just did not expect those terrifying things to choose a child this cute as a Servant."
Her gaze sharpened, wary in a way that did not match her cheerful tone.
"With you here, why would they go to such lengths to summon me?"
Yes.
She was the deity this hegemonic nation had summoned.
Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent.
An ancient chief deity worshipped by the indigenous peoples of the Americas, a divinity rooted in the civilization that once existed on this very land.
Her true body was vast beyond imagination.
And yet, even a being like her could not completely suppress an instinctive caution toward the slender delicate little girl standing on the goddess statue's crown.
An envoy of an evil god.
An envoy of the Great Old Ones.
"I am also an existence from the cosmos," Quetzalcoatl said quietly. "Even if I was mistakenly treated as an object of faith, I can never forget what stands behind you."
She remembered the chill of it.
Because Quetzalcoatl's original nature was not purely terrestrial.
Her main body, in truth, was a divine fungus that had descended from the Sea of Stars. It nested within gigantic biological skeletons, controlled them, occupied them, and displayed power so overwhelming that humans had no choice but to call it godhood.
Abi tilted her head again.
"What is Big Sister talking about?"
Her bonnet swayed lightly. Golden short hair danced in the wind. She wore a black fluffy skirt, white delicate legs extending beneath it like a doll placed gently on the world.
Her smile was innocent.
Perfect.
"I am not from this country, you know. I just happened to have lived here."
Then she spoke, softly, like a prayer that had forgotten what it was praying to.
"I believe in the one and only Lord."
"I obey the unknowable and unnameable God."
A girl who had been the center of a witch trial incident in the eighteenth century, on the very land beneath their feet.
In that incident, a Puritan girl who believed in one Lord had called a demon.
And that act drew the attention of something that could not be seen.
The All in One.
The All Knowing and All Seeing.
Yog Sothoth.
Abigail Williams.
That was her full name.
She had lived on this land.
But she had never belonged to it.
"My heart has already been offered to the one and only Lord." Abi's voice remained tender, clear, almost affectionate. "I did not come here for you, Big Sister."
"I am going to play with Big Brother now."
"Goodbye."
The words echoed above the city.
Quetzalcoatl watched golden light scatter, the afterglow of a Servant dispersing into spiritual particles.
She crossed her arms, the long feathers on her headdress swaying with the motion.
"An unseeable, unnameable God…"
Her eyes narrowed toward the direction Abi had gone.
"Japan."
"Perhaps I should go and see as well."
She lifted one foot, paused, then glanced down at the land beneath her.
This country was not truly weak.
Even if its history was short.
But still…
"Modern heroic spirits are not necessarily weak."
"If they cling only to ancient ages, they will decline quickly."
The last words drifted away.
It was not a warning to anyone.
Only a sigh to herself.
Her people had been massacred by the people of this country. To Quetzalcoatl, they were invaders. She had no obligation to guide them and no reason to save them.
Not massacring them in return was already the restraint of a benevolent god.
Golden light dispersed.
Quetzalcoatl left this country.
Crossing the vast ocean.
…
Japan.
Clear sunlight illuminated Tokyo's bustling districts, reflections glittered between towering buildings.
Tokyo Grand Hotel.
Top floor luxury suite.
A valiant heroic voice sounded near the window.
"After such an intense night, you are still clinging to each other?"
Rowe opened his eyes.
He felt the soft exquisite warmth pressed against him, skin to skin. He exhaled, then looked toward the window.
Scathach stood there wearing only a thin shirt, long dark purple hair loose, the morning light painting her outline like a blade wrapped in velvet.
"Is that not your fault?" Rowe asked.
"That is not my fault," Scathach said, smiling as she sat by the bed.
Her gaze swept over the messy sheets, then the other "her" who was still holding Rowe tightly, apparently asleep.
"Were you not very proactive last night?"
"What was I supposed to do," Rowe replied flatly, "let you two play with me like a doll?"
He said it without shame.
If he could not avoid it, he could at least stop pretending he disliked it.
It was a debt he had created himself.
Rowe had never truly planned to run from it. He had never planned to dodge it forever.
This sort of thing was inevitable, sooner or later.
And that inevitability was exactly why they had left the Land of Shadows early. The rock and shadow world was cold and had no interest in romance.
"Or were you expecting me to get shy like a middle school boy?" Rowe added.
"Fragile hearts do not catch my eye." Scathach brushed a strand of hair aside, crimson lips parting slightly. "Well then."
She turned her gaze to the figure clinging to Rowe.
"My other me. Are you going to open your eyes?"
Skaði trembled.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
She did not open her eyes.
Shy.
Annoyed.
Last night's mixed doubles between Scathach and Skaði had gone late. From shyness to surrendering to the moment, the Snow Mountain Goddess, that pure symbol of Norse myth, had become startlingly wanton.
Now, remembering it left a lingering taste.
And an immediate desire to bury herself under the blankets and never face the sun again.
"I will not disturb you two anymore," Scathach said, waving her hand with an easy smile.
"Anyway, it has all been eaten."
"And I am not afraid you will run away."
She left those teasing words behind.
Then her figure dissolved like wind.
Rowe exhaled and looked down.
Skaði's purple hair spilled across the pillow, and she still clung to him as if her fingers could anchor the world.
"Time to wake up," Rowe said.
"Mmm… not awake."
"If you are going to pretend, at least make it convincing." Rowe paused and swallowed the stupid phrase that almost escaped him.
He very nearly killed the conversation by saying she was a grown up.
Then he felt the body in his arms stiffen.
Skaði lifted her face.
Crimson eyes shone, clear and earnest.
"Rowe."
"Yes."
"Why wake up?" she asked.
Rowe blinked.
"What?"
"If this is a dream…" Skaði's voice trembled with sincerity, "then I would stay immersed in it forever."
"Like this."
"Always with you."
The purity of a goddess was frightening in its own way.
Even after ages, she remained pure.
Rowe rolled over.
"In that case," he said, voice calm, "let us see this dream through to the end."
"Eh?"
A cry of surprise followed.
Before, it had been mixed doubles.
Now it became a one on one duel.
Of course, Skaði was not Scathach. She did not possess that hint of Origin potential. Her long years were not without progress, but much of her time was spent in slumber.
Even now, she carried the basic theoretical specifications of a divine spirit, output comparable to a top tier Servant.
So once the battle began, it ended quickly.
From sunrise until the sun blazed overhead.
"Rowe," Skaði whispered later, voice hoarse, "are you leaving?"
"No." Rowe adjusted his clothing. "I am just going to buy some food. I will be back soon."
"Mmm. I trust Rowe."
The same trust with which she had waited for him three thousand years ago in the Nordic era.
Rowe ruffled her hair, finished dressing, and left the suite.
After he left, a voice sounded in the room again.
"Did he just run off?"
Skaði froze.
"I was watching the whole time, you know. My other me." Scathach ignored Skaði's instant flare of embarrassment and crossed her arms.
"Your strength is still too weak. Just divine spirit specifications cannot bear his weight."
She spoke as if announcing a training regimen rather than a verdict.
"It seems that next…"
"I will have to give you special training."
…
Rowe was not aware of what was happening behind him.
He did know Scathach had returned. She simply had not said so directly.
So he did not worry about danger.
In his plan, he would be back soon.
He was only going out to buy food.
That was the original plan.
"Hello, here is your takeout. That will be five thousand yen."
Hotel first floor.
Rowe lifted his hand toward the box offered by a smiling waitress.
Then a dull thump rang out.
The waitress's face turned white with terror.
Rowe looked at the sudden bloodstains blooming across the box in her hands.
Then he lowered his gaze.
A blade protruded from his chest.
Rowe scratched his head.
"Are you trying to create a new Holy Grail out of thin air?"
He turned.
Behind him, a green long dress fluttered. Golden short hair swayed with the air's movement. A delicate faced girl stared at the small knife she had withdrawn.
The blood on it emitted an odd glimmer.
Her expression shifted from disappointment to excitement in a heartbeat.
"It is still useless, is it not?" she said, voice slightly sulky, yet thrilled. "I clearly coated this blade with a power meant to restrain immortality."
She stared at the knife, thinking hard.
Then she collected herself, lifted her skirt politely as if she had not just stabbed him in the chest, and smiled.
"We meet again, Mister Rowe."
"I am Sajyou Manaka."
"My memory is not that bad," Rowe replied. "It is just that this greeting is unique."
He waved his hand.
The wound vanished the moment she withdrew the blade.
Even his clothes restored themselves, without a tear.
He looked entirely unconcerned.
No pain.
And he was still very far from dying.
Still, unconcerned was not quite accurate.
There was a small regret.
Regret that she could not kill him directly.
Rowe pushed the food box back toward the trembling waitress.
"Please deliver this to the luxury suite on the top floor."
He did not plan to return immediately.
Manaka, the Princess connected to the Root, did not possess overwhelming direct combat power, but her methods were undoubtedly endless. They were trivial to him, yet even Scathach, who carried a hint of Origin potential, would have difficulty guarding against someone like this.
Skaði would fare worse.
So Rowe could not let Manaka stroll upstairs.
It seemed Manaka had decided to attach herself to him.
In that case, Rowe would take her around and give her more chances.
More attempts.
More failures.
"Let us go," Rowe said. "You came to find me. You must want something."
"That is natural." Manaka swayed gently, smile bright. "Does killing you count as something?"
"It counts," Rowe said, "and it is very important."
"I am only worried you do not have enough ways to kill me."
Manaka blinked.
"Why do you look so eager?"
"Because I am confident you cannot kill me."
"Eh?" Manaka tilted her head. "You are very confident, Mister Rowe."
"A master of technique is bold," Rowe said. "Confidence is healthy."
"I see…"
A soft thump echoed.
Manaka stabbed him again.
Rowe did not even flinch.
Her blue eyes widened slightly.
"It failed again?"
"Aren't you even going to change your knife," Rowe asked, tone almost helpful. "Try to be professional."
"What does it matter?" Manaka waved the knife lightly. "Is it not fine as long as I change the spell?"
Rowe stared at that familiar gesture.
"So next you will lick it and say the knife is poisoned?"
Manaka frowned.
"In Mister Rowe's mind, am I that stupid?"
"Sorry," Rowe said. "We just met. You are not in my mind yet."
"What blunt words." Manaka huffed, then smiled again, unbothered. "Mister Rowe must not be very popular with girls, right?"
Rowe's eyes narrowed.
"If only that were true."
"Well, it does not matter." Manaka clasped her hands, holding the knife hilt between her palms. Her pretty delicate face carried an effortless smile.
"Anyway, as long as I kill you, that is all that matters."
Her gaze brightened with a hunger that felt like curiosity and cruelty braided together.
"Now I really want to see what you look like when you die…"
"Mister Rowe."
.....
[Check Out My Patreon For Advance Chapters On All My Fanfics!]
[[email protected]/FanficLord03]