Roy's words caught Scáthach off guard for a moment before she let out a chuckle. "…Is there really a need to fuss over such a trivial matter? Though, I suppose keeping my face half-hidden like this does make people wary."
With that, Scáthach removed the mask from her face, revealing a breathtakingly beautiful countenance that seemed otherworldly.
Her slender eyebrows curved like distant mountains, her eyes gleamed like polished lacquer, and her delicate nose quivered faintly at the wings. Her flawless face was without blemish, her lips as vibrant as dawn's glow set perfectly within this living masterpiece. Combined with her captivating figure, which rose and fell like rolling hills, she left Roy momentarily stunned.
This was a woman who radiated gentleness and allure from her very core. Yet, recalling her ferocity and savagery in battle, the stark contrast sent a shiver through Roy's body, snapping him back to reality.
"This should suffice, yes?"
The Queen of the Land of Shadows tilted her head slightly, her smile playful, almost like that of a coy maiden.
"Yes, that's… enough," Roy nodded, a pang of regret in his chest. This wasn't some chivalric wuxia tale where glimpsing a heroine's face beneath her veil meant a vow of eternal devotion.
Though this woman cast a shadow over his heart, seeing her radiant beauty, those luminous eyes and flawless features, stirred an undeniable impulse within him.
Perhaps this was simply the nature of men. Even with reason intact, as long as they were human, fleeting fantasies were inevitable.
"Do you care much for appearances?" Scáthach asked, her feminine grace evident as she brushed a lock of hair from her temple. Her languid expression carried a hint of ambiguity, yet her presence exuded the sharp edge of an unsheathed blade.
Roy opened his mouth to deflect, but under Scáthach's piercing gaze, he found deceit impossible. He nodded slowly. "…Yes, I care a great deal about appearances." (T/N: At least he is honest)
Indeed, Roy knew full well he was a man swayed by beauty, there was no shame in admitting it.
He couldn't help but wonder if Cú Chulainn, in days past, had felt the same before Scáthach, compelled to speak only truth in her presence, no matter how embarrassing.
"There's no need for embarrassment," Scáthach said. "The ancient Celts, especially their warriors, lived for battle, for the revelry of wine, and for the pleasures of women. These were the core desires of a warrior, for they never knew when death might claim them in combat. Yet they faced it with a smile.
"…I don't dislike those who are honest and forthright. Speak your mind plainly, no matter how difficult the words. But be prepared to bear the consequences of what you say."
Roy struggled to discern her true intent. Was she warning him to watch his words, or genuinely encouraging him to bare his thoughts?
If I just said, 'You're stunning, and I want to sleep with you,' would you run me through with that spear? Roy mused wryly to himself.
"Your expression betrays your thoughts," Scáthach said with a knowing smile. "I'd pierce you clean through, not because your words offend or insult me, but to teach you this: words must be backed by strength. Without it, they're empty bravado. But if you possess such power, you may insult me, trample upon me, even act on your words as you please."
Her smile was radiant, the fragrance of violets wafting from her as her enchanting form exuded an almost overwhelming allure, leaving Roy's throat dry.
She seemed almost to hope he could rise to such a challenge.
Roy recalled what he knew of Celtic history. The Celts were an untamed, barbaric people, steeped in blood and cruelty. Whether Scáthach herself was truly Celtic was unclear, but her deep ties to their culture were undeniable. If so, her words now were no jest.
But such thoughts were pushed aside, for—
Gurgle—
Roy's stomach let out an untimely rumble. Since arriving here and enduring a fierce battle, he hadn't eaten in ages. Though a Campione could perform miraculous feats, they were still human. Prolonged hunger posed no mortal threat, but it sapped stamina and, consequently, combat prowess.
"Er… is there anything to eat here?" Roy asked, sheepish.
Scáthach blinked, then laughed softly. "…It's been ages since I've eaten, and no living soul has come here in just as long. I forgot you still require sustenance."
Her words dashed Roy's hopes. He glanced around, the Land of Shadows was a desolate, lifeless place. No animals roamed, no crops grew.
After a moment's contemplation, Scáthach rose. "…Follow me."
With that, she strode forward, her long legs carrying her gracefully. Roy hesitated briefly before following.
Trailing behind, Roy's eyes were drawn to her swaying figure, the curve of her hips, her slender waist, and those powerful legs clad in purple tights resembling stockings. His mind wandered to Mo Yan's famed novel, Big Breasts and Wide Hips.
After a fleeting glance, he averted his gaze.
Yet Scáthach, without turning, spoke. "…Be bolder. Don't shy away. I far prefer a gaze filled with desire over a furtive one. Let that desire drive you, fuel your ambition."
How could Scáthach, with her keen senses, miss his stare? But she was no blushing maiden. Instead, she urged him to embrace his desires openly, without hesitation.
At her words, Roy unabashedly fixed his eyes on her captivating form, though inwardly he grumbled. No wonder she's a Celtic woman who's lived millennia, utterly shameless, but with a sage's insight. It's like she sees right through me.
They walked in silence until Roy could no longer hold back. "…Lady Scáthach, is there no one else in the Land of Shadows?"
In his understanding, Celtic lore depicted the Land of Shadows as a realm of the dead, a place where heroes honed their skills. It should teem with restless spirits.
Scáthach paused, turning her head slightly with a teasing reproach. "…Don't call me 'Lady Scáthach.' You're my disciple now, you should address me differently."
"Then… Master! Is there no one else in the Land of Shadows?"
Roy didn't quibble over titles. To learn from a master was an honor, and if the Queen of the Land of Shadows was willing to impart her knowledge, he stood to gain immensely.
Pleased with his address, Scáthach nodded and resumed walking. "…Long ago, the Land of Shadows was filled with spirits and warriors. But when I attained enlightenment and the Land of Shadows followed me to the outer reaches of the world, those souls and heroes could not endure beyond the world's boundaries. They all vanished…"
Scáthach's tone was even, yet Roy could sense the profound loneliness and solitude emanating from the woman before him. For thousands of years, she had dwelt alone in this vast, desolate world of the dead. Roy asked himself if he were in her place, he would surely lose his mind.
"Master, have you never considered leaving the Land of Shadows? With your power, returning from the outer reaches of the world to the inner world should be within your grasp, shouldn't it?"
Roy asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
"Having 'graduated' from the world, one should remain an outsider, no longer meddling in its affairs… Besides, I am the gatekeeper of the Land of Shadows. This is my duty, my responsibility. Until my death, I will stand watch here, even if no wayward souls seek to escape and no warriors come to train under me."
Scáthach spoke with a faint smile, her words carrying the weight of her resolve. Perhaps this was the way of life for the Queen of the Land of Shadows. Roy had no standing to judge, nor the arrogance to dismiss her chosen path.
"To transcend the inner world and reach the outer reaches, it feels akin to the Taoist concept of 'ascension,'" Roy mused thoughtfully.
Whether Scáthach had attained enlightenment and plumbed the depths of the abyss, gaining its wisdom, or had simply crossed from the inner world to its outer fringes, Roy saw echoes of Buddhist and Taoist philosophies in her journey.
"That's a term from Eastern culture, isn't it?" Scáthach replied. "I grasp its meaning. It's not entirely precise, but it's close enough."
"We've arrived."
Scáthach halted before a stone house, its rugged design unmistakably Celtic in style.
"The Land of Shadows has no natural food. In the past, Celtic warriors who came here to train brought ample provisions with them. When the Land of Shadows shifted to the outer reaches of the world, those warriors perished, but their supplies remained."
"…This is a realm of the dead. Even after millennia, those ingredients remain as fresh and edible as the day they were brought."
With that, Scáthach pushed open the stone door.
The door was pristine, unmarred by dirt or grime. Scáthach didn't strike Roy as someone who bothered with cleaning, so it stood to reason that the Land of Shadows was untouched even by dust.
Ingredients, huh? Looks like I'll have to cook for myself, Roy thought glumly. In that moment, he found himself missing Liliana keenly. The notion of asking Scáthach to cook for him didn't even cross his mind, he wouldn't dare.
Yet Scáthach's next actions left him stunned.
A rune shimmered briefly across the Queen of the Land of Shadows' form-fitting attire, and in an instant, her battle-ready outfit transformed into modern, casual homewear.
"Master, what are you doing?" Roy asked, taken aback.
In her new attire, Scáthach appeared softer, more refined, her gentle elegance a stark contrast to the fierce warrior clad in combat gear.
"This look should feel more familiar to you, no?" she said, her lips curving into a subtle smile. "I can tell you're someone who's been pampered, untouched by mundane chores. So, let your master handle the cooking this time."
Scáthach's smile was restrained, her lips barely parting, reminiscent of a kind neighbor who always greeted you with warmth, a figure a younger you might have idolized as a goddess in your dreams.
In that moment, Roy forgot her ferocity entirely, captivated only by the gentle, water-like serenity of her smile.