I had a dream.
The witch studied tirelessly, and the young man who called himself a sage spared no effort in teaching her everything he knew.
Magecraft, martial arts, tactics, political strategy... the sage held nothing back.
I had a dream.
The witch crossed an island surrounded by sea on foot—traveling, facing hardships, and offering salvation. Always by her side, never once falling behind, was the sage, his presence unchanged over a thousand years.
I had a dream...
Then came the sound of something breaking. The witch disappeared, and the sage vanished without a trace.
All that remained were the queen and the tyrant, and an endless war.
...
When Shiomi opened his eyes, he found himself lying in bed.
His sleeping posture was terrible—he looked like he'd been possessed by a vengeful spirit, sprawled out like a gecko under the covers, the bedsheets a complete mess.
Through his disheveled bangs, Shiomi spotted the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was just over thirty minutes before noon.
He'd slept for quite a while.
What a clichéd story.
Really... not funny at all.
"You don't look so good. Hungover?" came Morgan's voice.
Only then did he realize she was sitting at the edge of the bed, tilting her head slightly to peer down at him, as if admiring a pet.
"My tolerance is pretty bad, sure, but I only had a little last night—not enough to be hungover. Honestly, I slept pretty well," Shiomi replied. "You the one who put me back in bed?"
"Sleeping on the sofa isn't ideal," Morgan replied without denying it.
"Guess this is your return gift for last night." Shiomi chuckled to himself. "Still, that habit of yours—treating people like pets and watching them sleep—it's hard to compliment."
Morgan didn't mind. "It's nothing. Even when the Master's asleep, the mana flow doesn't stop. A Servant who doesn't need sleep has nothing else to do but kill time. I just didn't expect you to sleep in such a weird way."
"This is just how I look," Shiomi said with a self-deprecating laugh.
Though really, he was never usually like this. If anything, it was probably due to the string of dreams—vaguely connected yet utterly illogical—that left him feeling off.
Not that he could say, "It's your fault for showing me all that."
"If you're not feeling well, maybe we should cancel the trip to the Holy Church," Morgan said. "Being in less-than-perfect condition could cost you your life in the Holy Grail War."
"No need, I'm fine," Shiomi said, sitting up. "The longer we delay, the worse it'll get."
"I see. Good," Morgan didn't press the issue. "You don't need to worry about Sakura and Caren. Sakura reheated the food you made last night and shared it with Caren for breakfast."
Shiomi gave a quiet nod.
Sakura was a thoughtful girl. Still, Shiomi didn't want her dealing with household responsibilities at such a young age. He only taught her how to do housework—never actually asked her to do it. At most, she just helped out now and then.
They wouldn't be at the Holy Church long. He should be back soon.
It'd be fine to ease up a little on Sakura and Caren's routine today...
Having made up his mind, he dropped by a nearby supermarket to pick up a few lunch boxes and left them at home. After washing up, Shiomi decided to skip the car and instead used transfer Magecraft with Morgan to arrive near Fuyuki Church.
This area was always deserted, so even casting Magecraft during the day rarely attracted attention.
With just a few minutes left before noon, Shiomi and Morgan made their way up the slope leading to the church's main entrance.
"Come to think of it, Morgan, you're not just good at Magecraft, are you?" said Shiomi.
Morgan nodded. "It's expected for a Magus to excel at Magecraft, but thinking that's all we can do is far too narrow-minded."
"No wonder your magic spear never felt like just a close-combat weapon," Shiomi added.
"Something about it catch your eye?"
"At first glance, the design seems impractical. But once you actually wield it, it handles surprisingly well," Shiomi said, hands behind his back as he looked toward the church entrance slowly coming into view. "The weight distribution is perfectly balanced. Even for a weapon forged purely from mana, on par with a Noble Phantasm, it's remarkably well-crafted."
"Oh?"
"Most people, if they weren't proficient with spears, would probably overlook that in the forging process. They'd just treat it as a means of self-defense or an extension of Magecraft," Shiomi said, turning to Morgan with a smile.
"If you're that satisfied with it, feel free to use it whenever you need to on the battlefield," Morgan replied, eyes gently lowered to the stone path at her feet. "Unlike your weapon, my spear can transform as needed—into other forms, even into a longsword matching Artoria's Holy Sword in specification."
Shiomi noticed the faint smile tugging at Morgan's lips. He could tell his words had lifted her mood.
But—
"It's true, I'm the kind who prefers fighting on the front lines," Shiomi said, glancing away. "Still, if we end up in a split battle like the first night, wouldn't it be dangerous for you to face enemies unarmed?"
"In a situation like that, I'd handle it appropriately." Morgan's reply subtly conveyed her hope that Shiomi wouldn't rely on the Soaring Spear of Piercing Death.
"...Sounds like you've got a problem with that weapon of mine," Shiomi said bluntly.
"No, not at all," Morgan answered briskly—though her averted gaze betrayed her true thoughts.
Soon, they were standing outside the church doors.
Through the open gates, the chapel was clearly visible.
Even from where they stood, several auras filled with mana could be sensed.
Both Masters and Servants were present.
Tenkei Shiomi checked his watch. One minute to noon. Right on time.
"Good. I'm glad it's not like that," Shiomi said, lowering his wrist. "It's not like I insist on using it—but I've got a feeling, no matter how things unfold, the King of Heroes will be standing in our way. So..."
So, Tenkei Shiomi knew he'd need the Soaring Spear of Piercing Death.
A weapon honed to perfection, crafted solely for him—it would be indispensable in the battles to come.
"If the opponent is the King of Heroes, then it's understandable," Morgan said, looking at Shiomi. "Even I wouldn't be so nitpicky with my own husband."
It was the first time she'd referred to him that way, and rather than feeling awkward or resigned, Shiomi felt... happy.
Then, the two of them stepped into Fuyuki Church together.