Time in the Shadow Realm had dragged on for so long that Kay had given up counting.
All he knew for certain was that after that fierce encounter of the other day, the once cold, oppressive gray air of this demiplane had strangely become sweet and sticky.
Of course, as a master, Scáthach's harshness hadn't lessened by a millimeter.
"Your focus wavered! I told you to see right through not just the enemy's weapon but their very shadow!"
Kwaaaang!
The shaft of [Gáe Bolg] crashed mercilessly against Kay's shin.
"Ugh…! Hey, witch! Last night you… ugh!"
"Don't bring personal feelings into training. Does the enemy show you mercy on the battlefield?"
As Kay tried to retort, Scáthach delivered a brutal kick, sending him sprawling into the ash-gray dirt. Her red eyes remained as ruthless as any merciless instructor's.
"…Get up. That's enough for today."
Scáthach sheathed her spear and reached a hand down to the sprawled Kay.
Kay grumbled as he took her hand and hauled himself up. She casually wiped the sweat from his brow and dusted off his torn sleeve.
"Good work. Tonight, how about a roast of those ribs from the beast you like so much?"
"Since when do I like ribs? You just like tearing and chewing the meat raw."
"Same difference. Now hurry and wash up and get in the kitchen. I'm hungry."
The queen who had been exuding a chilling aura was nowhere to be seen. Instead she looked like a down-to-earth wife nagging her husband to hurry home from the fields.
That gap in her demeanor left Kay dumbfounded—and secretly smirking.
The most dramatic change in their relationship hadn't been on the training ground or in the kitchen, but in the bedroom.
After that intense first encounter, Scáthach had fixed Kay's sleeping place in her very chamber.
"Hey, there's a perfectly good bed over there—why do you keep kicking me out to sleep here? It's cramped."
Kay grumbled from atop the massive bed padded with a plush beast hide.
"Quiet. The nights in the Realm are cold. And… your warmth isn't half bad, you know."
Scáthach approached in a thin silk sheer nightdress, sliding into Kay's broad chest as if it were the most natural thing.
The chill of her skin against his fire-hot body sent an unexpected shiver through him. The rich, sweet scent of her hair tickled his nostrils.
"…If you're cold, light a fire or heat it with Rune Magecraft."
Kay grumbled, yet he wrapped his arms around the Celtic warrior as she settled into his embrace. His hands, rough but tender, stroked her smooth waist.
"Artificial heat and human body warmth aren't the same. Especially… your heat is a bit special."
Scáthach lifted her head and pressed a light kiss to Kay's jawline. With her red eyes half-lidded, she let her hand slide down to caress his lower body.
"And you know perfectly well that 'cold' is just an excuse."
"You beast of a woman…"
Kay's breathing grew ragged in an instant.
The witch's instincts, repressed for centuries, exploded uncontrollably the moment she opened her eyes.
At night, she shed the mask of Scáthach the instructor and became a ravenous leopard that lusted only after the man named Kay.
"Let's see how much the pathetic lump from Britain can please me tonight."
"Whether I'm pathetic or not, you can find out for yourself tomorrow morning when you're clutching your waist!"
Kay snarled and pounced atop Scáthach.
The brutal training of the day was long forgotten. The silent night of the Realm filled with their mingled, heavy breaths.
The next morning.
"…Ugh."
Kay clenched his sore waist and forced his heavy eyelids open.
The surrounding Realm was pitch dark, yet by his circadian rhythm it was morning.
Every joint in his body screamed in protest. It wasn't because of yesterday's training.
"Awake, my little cook?"
The bed sheets rustled as a smooth, cold arm wrapped around Kay's solid chest.
When he turned his head, he found Scáthach, wearing nothing, giving him a languid smile. Her red eyes gleamed with a sensual fullness unseen for centuries.
"…Hey, master. Have you no conscience? From dusk till dawn last night, how many times did you wring me out?"
Kay, with hollow eyes, glared at the ceiling and complained.
"Hmph. Didn't you provoke my competitiveness? You bragged about your stamina. A Celtic warrior must never yield, even in the night's battle."
"Since when did I say I'm a Celtic warrior? I'm just a man from Britain! And you use primal runes to recover when you tire—that's cheating!"
"Magecraft is skill, too. If you feel wronged, learn runes yourself."
Scáthach smiled teasingly and kissed the nape of Kay's neck.
The queen of the Realm, whose centuries of chastity had been broken, knew no restraint in the face of newfound pleasure.
By day she was a merciless instructor, but behind closed bedroom doors she transformed into a leopard eager to drink in every ounce of Kay's warmth.
"Ah, really. Feels like my bones are grinding. Get up—breakfast time."
Grumbling, Kay stroked Scáthach's smooth bare waist as she nestled closer in his arms. His rough but gentle touch soothed her.
Scáthach made a contented sound, as if purring, and burrowed deeper against him.
"Stay a little longer. Your body warmth… is the only stove that breathes in this cold, damp Realm."
"Your words are smooth as honey. Fine, five more minutes."
Even Kay secretly found the peaceful morning's warmth not unpleasant.
The two lay under one blanket, warming the cold morning air of the Realm with their body heat, relishing a rare moment of ease. They looked like a perfect couple—nay, something more akin to lifelong spouses.
Some time later, Kay finally slipped out of bed and stood before the hearth.
Today's breakfast menu was a fluffy soufflé omelette and special meat noodles simmered from beast bones.
"Let's see—a pinch of salt, and grind these pepper substitutes…"
Humming, Kay skillfully set to work.
He whisked egg whites into a meringue and cooked them with butter on a hot griddle.
Next, he ladled rich broth into the pan and added freshly made, springy noodles.
"The aroma is wonderful."
Scáthach, now clad in a sleek catsuit, approached from behind and wrapped her arms around Kay's waist, resting her chin on his shoulder as she peered into the pot.
She might never act so spoiled in public, but here it was just the two of them.
"It's hot—back off. Oil might spatter."
"My skin doesn't burn from oil. But what is this white, puffed thing? Looks like a cloud."
"That's a soufflé omelette. It will melt in your mouth. Your stomach—used to nothing but tough raw meat—needs a break."
Kay placed two steaming bowls of noodles and the bright yellow omelette on the stone table.
Scáthach seated herself elegantly and lifted noodles with her chopsticks.
Slurp.
The rich, spicy meat broth slid down her throat, washing away the fatigue of last night.
She then took a spoonful of the soufflé omelette.
"…!!"
Her eyes widened in surprise.
"It truly feels like clouds melting in my mouth. Fluffy yet richly savory—the egg flavor has reached perfection."
"See? What did I tell you. Without me, how would you eat? I've spoiled your palate too much."
Kay laughed across the table as he sipped his soup.
It was true. Scáthach, who for centuries had survived on dew or the occasional raw beast, had become a gourmet who couldn't last a single day without Kay's cooking.
"Hmph. Don't worry. Even if you return to Britain, I'll summon you with runes at mealtime, feed you, then send you back."
"You treat people like a delivery app."
"Just joking. I can't interfere outside anyway."
Scáthach cleaned the plate of omelette with playful humor.
Despite Kay's exasperation, Scáthach's red eyes shone with gleaming possessiveness and affection for him.
After their morning training, the two often relaxed side by side on the precarious cliff atop the castle walls.
"Stay still—your hair is a mess."
Kay sat behind Scáthach, carefully brushing her long, beautiful purple hair with a wooden comb he'd carved.
The dust and tangles from training were smoothed into silky waves by his deft touch.
"Your hands are sharper and more precise with a comb than with a weapon."
Scáthach closed her eyes and leaned back against Kay's knee, murmuring sleepily.
"Of course. How many times have I braided and combed my sisters' hair? Especially Alter—every morning I had to fix her bird's-nest head."
"Not about your sisters now. When you're with me, focus only on me."
Scáthach pouted and retorted in a slightly sulky voice.
"Jealous? The Queen of the Realm jealous of her sisters—everyone would laugh at that rumor."
"It's not jealousy. It's my rightful claim to my own property."
Scáthach tilted her head, nuzzled his thigh, and looked up at him.
"Kay. You've grown strong. You've surpassed physical limits, broken the mold of mediocrity, and matured. Though there's still distance to go, you're the only 'average' one to endure three years in this Realm."
At her praise, Kay paused his brushing and gazed down at her.
"What's with the sudden compliments? It makes me uneasy."
"Not a compliment—reality. If you returned to Britain now, you could beat most guild captains barehanded."
Scáthach sat up to face Kay. Her usual playful expression was gone, replaced by seriousness.
"But… no matter how hard you try, there are things you can't overcome. Like Noble Phantasms of the Divine Era, or sheer gaps in Magical Energy. As the Dream Demon said, your sisters have already reached a monster's realm."
"…I know. No matter my skill, one strike from Artoria's Noble Phantasm and mountains would fly."
Kay nodded bitterly.
No matter how much he honed his technique, innate differences in raw firepower were hard to bridge.
Even if Excalibur were placed in his hand, he'd exhaust his Magical Energy with a single use. He might collapse before he could even wield it.
"So I've thought it through—what you need to survive among those monsters and protect your family perfectly."
"What is it? Some secret technique?"
Scáthach shook her head.
"No. What you need isn't a special skill—those would take decades to master. What you need is not a special weapon or technique, but power."
She rose, pulled [Gáe Bolg] from the ground, and walked to an open plain, then began inscribing complex, massive runic characters in the air.
Red Magical Energy danced in midair, forming a vast geometric summoning circle.
"Do you know what this is?"
"…Looks like a summoning circle, used to call beasts?"
"That's right. But not just any beast—this is for summoning Servants. I rewrote the Sacred Runes to adapt it to the Realm."
Scáthach pointed to the scarlet-circle and spoke to Kay.
"Normally, even the Divine Era had trouble controlling Servants. But with this demiplane as a catalyst, summoning them is possible. Especially in Britain as it is today, maintaining the connection and calling forth a Servant is viable."
"Servant... you mean I'd command a Heroic Spirit?"
Kay blinked in disbelief.
Heroic Spirits—heroes of myth and history—summoned and bound?
"Yes."
Scáthach approached and gently cupped Kay's cheek.
"I don't want to see you return to Britain only to meet a senseless death. As my first husband and life partner, you should carry at least one legendary hero as a shield—that's only fitting."
Though her tone was brusque, her eyes held sincere concern and affection.
She couldn't follow him to protect him, so she planned to grant him absolute power to guard his back in her place.
"…Scáthach."
Kay read her heart and offered a small smile.
He didn't refuse. If it meant getting stronger, so he could return proudly to his family, he'd do anything.
"Ordinarily, you shouldn't summon Servants for this purpose. But Britain is an exception. With Vortigern's calamity-device in place, there's a perfect excuse. Besides, that monster is a power I'd relish battling. It's unfortunate I can't go myself."
"You want to fight it?"
"I grow tired of spirits of this Realm. At least if I faced a divine spirit it'd be interesting—but they're all degenerated fiends. An opportunity to face a powerhouse like Vortigern is rare."
"You're fittingly Ulster-like, as always."
Kay snickered at Scáthach's consistent traits, clearly not displeased by them.
Kay knew a bit about Servants from past knowledge, but beyond Artoria and AUO, he knew none.
"So, I can summon only one Servant, right?"
"Originally, one. But you could handle up to three by now."
"Huh? You said I have little Magical Energy. How's that possible?"
"It's called a shortcut."
Scáthach displayed a map of Britain and Ireland in runecraft before them.
"You don't have to supply all the Magical Energy yourself. Unless forced, a Servant needs an anchor in the world to remain—like the Holy Grail in the future's Holy Grail War."
"Jesus wasn't at war."
"Not that Grail. In any case, my job is to create the anchor. This Realm is that anchor."
Scáthach explained using the demiplane as the summoning anchor. Kay could only nod in puzzled agreement.
"What about when I go back to Britain?"
"You fool. I said it's only possible for Britain. This Realm sits geographically as the backside of Britain. It once overlapped with the mortal realm there. Britain is the navel of this world, the most direct link between front and back. Understood?"
"Ah, like Tír na nÓg or Avalon as fairy realms?"
"Exactly. Britain has direct gates to the fairy world. In Avalon's case, a dragon permanently carved a physical entrance."
Scáthach referred to the still-unknown Mystic Albion. Normally such shortcuts are complex and need many restrictions, but Britain is uniquely special.
This era was the last when such a shortcut worked; in the next century, the final gate of the Divine Era would close.
Thus it was only possible for Kay.
"Especially since Vortigern's forced opening twisted space. He even took the tower that fixes the world and turned it into a spear, so such shortcuts got easier."
"To think Merlin would be helpful someday."
Merlin had removed the tower that anchored Britain's surface to its backside, making interference easier.
"You can handle three Servants because I'll inscribe you with Sacred Runes that connect their Magical Energy burden to me and this Realm. Of course, if you—the anchor—disappear, the Servants will be released."
"Oh, is that so? But isn't it even easier if you do it for me?"
"You're the anchor, so three is your limit as a mediocre master."
"Ugh."
"If you were a genius, you might handle all seven classes—assuming the Realm and I bear the burden."
"Feels like I'm just a mediocre anchor, huh."
"You are mediocre. My praise of your cooking as a genius was just flattery—you reached genius level through effort. If you were a true genius, you'd master it in a year or two."
"You're harsh."
"Enough talk. Stand in the center of that circle. I'll link my power to your heart. Call out the wish that burns most in your soul. A Servant whose vibe matches that wish's color will appear."
As Kay walked into the circle, he asked one question.
"No catalyst?"
"There are plenty—my disciples like Setanta or Fergus. But a catalyst-free summon suits you best. You might get a weaker-than-average Servant, but as long as they support you, it's perfect. Summoning without a catalyst will bring the Servant best attuned to you."
"Thanks for considering me."
"Now, let's begin."
And thus the Servant summoning ritual for Kay began.