5
The basement of the library was damp, but the heat radiating from the burning city above made the pipes act like a giant, urban radiator. It was a hellscape, sure, but as Ritsuka discovered while scrounging through a miraculously intact breakroom, you didn't need a stove when the air itself was at boiling point.
"Look at this," Ritsuka muttered, pulling out a dusty but sealed crate. "The Lord provides indeed. It's a ramen stash. Spicy seafood flavor."
He sat on the floor, waiting for the water to heat up over a small, controlled ember Cu had kicked into a metal trash can. He looked over at Mash, who was currently trying to buff a dent out of her shield.
"Mash... I need to ask," Ritsuka started, his face turning a slight shade of pink as he gestured vaguely at her outfit. "I mean, I appreciate the view—truly, 10/10—but can't that armor be... more respectable? You're a young woman! If my mom saw you in that leotard-shield combo, she'd try to cover you up with a tablecloth and a prayer."
Mash blinked, her large eyes wide with innocent confusion. "This is the manifestation of the Heroic Spirit's Saint Graph, Senpai. It's designed for maximum mobility and magical conductivity."
"It's designed for a heart attack," Ritsuka sighed, slurping his noodles. "When we get back to Chaldea, I'm asking Da Vinci for some leggings. Or a cardigan. Something."
The Christ-Servant looked up from where He was sitting, watching Ritsuka's frantic attempt to preserve Mash's modesty with an amused glimmer in His eyes. "Purity of heart, Ritsuka, sees the soul before the garment. Though," He added, glancing at the tactical cutouts of the armor, "I do agree that a little more wool wouldn't hurt in the Antarctic."
The Bridge: The Exhibitionist Parade
After their "Last Supper" of instant noodles, the group made their way toward the Great Bridge. The fog was thick, smelling of salt and corrupted mana.
"Movement ahead," Cu warned, his staff crackling.
Two figures emerged from the mist, blocking the path. One was a tall, hauntingly beautiful woman with lilac hair, wielding a wicked-looking scythe and wearing what could only be described as "combat lingerie" (Medusa Lancer). Beside her stood a fiery-haired woman with a presence that screamed "command," wearing even less armor and a very intimidating cape (Boudica).
Ritsuka stood frozen for a second, his brain short-circuiting.
"Great," he groaned, throwing his hands up. "Is every Heroic Spirit an exhibitionist? Or is the Throne of Heroes short on its clothing budget? Is there a fabric shortage in the afterlife? Lord, please tell me Heaven has a dress code, because if I have to save the world while being constantly distracted by 'tactical' skin, I'm going to need a lot more Rosary time."
The Lord walked forward, His simple, modest robe a stark contrast to the two Shadow Servants. He didn't look at them with lust or even judgment; He looked at them with a profound, paternal sadness.
"The Queen of the Iceni," He whispered, looking at Boudica. "And the youngest sister of the Gorgon. Both driven by a love that turned into a cage."
"Wait, you know them?" Ritsuka asked, slipping back into his role as Master.
"I know every hair on their heads, Ritsuka. Even the ones they are currently... choosing to show," the Lord said, His voice regaining that authority that made the wind die down.
The Confrontation
The two Shadow Servants didn't speak; they were hollowed out, puppets of the Grail's black mud. They lunged—Boudica with a roar of suppressed rage and Medusa with a silent, serpentine grace.
"Mash-malow, stay close!" Ritsuka yelled, the 'mushy' nickname slipping out in his panic.
Mash froze for a microsecond, a deep blush dusting her cheeks. "M-Mash-malow?! Senpai, that is highly irregular!"
"Just hit them with the shield!"
Cu Chulainn laughed, leaping over a strike from Boudica. "Kid's got a point! Focus on the fight, not the fashion show! Counselor, you taking the lead?"
The Christ-Servant stepped between the two women. He didn't raise a fist. He simply stood there, an immovable mountain of Peace. When Medusa's scythe swung toward His neck, it didn't hit. It slowed, the metal vibrating as if it had struck a bell made of pure Light.
"You are not monsters," the Lord said to the Shadows. "You are tired. Lay down your burdens."
For a heartbeat, the "Dommy" energy of the Shadow Boudica faltered. A tear of black mud ran down her cheek.
The Aftermath
The skirmish was short. With the Lord acting as a literal "Holy Tank" and Mash providing the defense, Cu was able to dissipate the Shadows.
"Two more down," Cu panted. "But the big one is waiting. The King of Knights is at the center of the crater. And she isn't going to be as 'peaceful' as these two."
Ritsuka looked at the Christ-Servant. "Can you... can you do the thing? The 'cleansing' thing? Or is Arthuria a different story?"
"Artoria," the Lord said, looking toward the horizon where a black light pulsed, "is a King who thinks she failed her people. And a King who cannot forgive herself is the hardest soul to reach. But..." He looked at Ritsuka. "You have your Rosary. I have My Word. We shall see."
"Right," Ritsuka muttered, checking his pockets. "I'm out of noodles. Let's go finish this."
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