Before she even understood what was happening, Aesc Shiomi, standing shielded behind Shiomi, watched the youth calling himself Grímr ascend the bell tower.
"Human? No… his magical energy is incredibly strong…" she whispered to Shiomi. "Who exactly is this person?"
Not only that, the youth even addressed Shiomi as his junior disciple. Yet Shiomi was clearly much older than Grímr.
"A Servant," Shiomi realized.
This fairy isle had leylines capable of summoning Servants, and the magical energy in the air was at the level of the Age of Gods. But this was a Lostbelt. With no proper human history, the basic conditions for Servant summoning couldn't exist. Without human history, the very idea of Heroic Spirits was meaningless.
On the night the Rain Clan was destroyed, he had tried to summon a Servant to aid in battle, but no Heroic Spirit had answered. A sealed world, a severed history—that was the nature of this Lostbelt. It was also the part that had always weighed most heavily on Shiomi's mind.
"Servants… what are they?" Aesc asked, slightly confused. "Are they like familiars for magi?"
"Exactly right," Grímr answered casually. "You've guessed it, miss. A Servant is essentially the highest-grade familiar—an aspect of a hero engraved in human history, a reflection projected into the world. What we call the Record of the Realm."
Shiomi, however, pressed him. "That's not the point, is it, Sétanta? This world can't summon Heroic Spirits from Proper Human History. So how did your summoning even work?"
"I told you not to call me that! Here, I'm Grímr," the youth grumbled irritably at Shiomi.
But there was no hostility in him.
Confirming Grímr's attitude, Shiomi slowly lowered his guard, and Aesc behind him relaxed as well.
"Grímr? If I'm not mistaken, that's one of the names of Odin, the chief god of Norse mythology." Shiomi fixed his gaze on Grímr's face, then suddenly realized. "Don't tell me—"
"Heh, quick on the uptake, aren't you?" Grímr looked genuinely surprised, his eyes sharpening. "Should I say, 'As expected of Scáthach's disciple'? Or perhaps, 'The one favored by that great god'?"
At that point, the answer was obvious. For Grímr to manifest as a Servant in this age—around 3700 BC, in this Britain Lostbelt—it could only have been through Odin's influence.
And if that was the case, Shiomi wasn't especially surprised. This wasn't Odin's first indirect contact with him through Cú Chulainn. The only surprising part was that this time, he'd chosen Cú Chulainn's youth—before he took that name—back when he was still Sétanta.
"Last time, he entrusted Gungnir to me. What is it this time?" Shiomi asked with a hint of jest. "Or is he here to take the spear back?"
"Not at all. That god has no intention of reclaiming it now," Grímr waved his hands quickly. "I'm here as Odin's representative, a Saber-class Servant. In a sense, I've come as a messenger."
"A messenger?" Aesc repeated softly, a little taken aback.
She already knew this world and this age were both pruned phenomena—things cut away by the cosmos, never meant to exist. By contrast, Shiomi belonged to Proper Human History, to the compiled events that were meant to be.
If Grímr and Shiomi were connected as fellow disciples, then was Grímr here to deliver a message to Shiomi… to tell him to return to his birthplace—back to Proper Human History?
The thought made Aesc quietly tug at Shiomi's sleeve. Was it because she didn't want him to go, or… because she wanted him to take her with him?
Aesc herself didn't know the answer.
"Who am I delivering a message for? The great Odin?" Shiomi retorted.
"That deity is merely one among many," Grímr raised his arm as he explained. "Before you came here, you should already have known what happened to the world, right? You've lived in this world for over three hundred years now—longer than the time you spent in Proper Human History."
"What happens if I do? Will I lose my status as a resident of Proper Human History, unable to return there?"
Shiomi's tone was strikingly calm, as though becoming part of a pruned phenomenon was no big deal.
"It won't come to that. You weren't born of a Pruned Event. As long as a Compiled Event recurs, your existence will remain secure," Grímr replied. "But that's only one side of it. The real issue is this: you had already slipped free of the Alien God's designs, no longer bound to become a Crypter. Yet you chose to enter this Lostbelt of your own accord. You know full well what it means to remain here."
His voice grew increasingly detached, his words cutting like a judge prying into Shiomi's very soul.
"So the gods want me to go back, obey their orders, and shoulder the burden of saving the world?" Shiomi frowned. "How convenient. What an honor. So not only Mooncell, but even the gods who've long since gone beyond the world all know about me? Then where were those gods when Yahweh blocked my path, when divine punishment tormented me?"
Grímr's expression didn't change. "Stopping Him from erasing you, of course."
"Oh?" Shiomi raised an eyebrow. "Then what exactly am I? Why am I so special? Since you're Odin's representative, surely he told you before sending you here!"
"Sorry. I can't say. It's not time yet." Grímr refused flatly.
"Tch…" Shiomi could only click his tongue. He knew that even if he tried force, it was useless. As a Servant, Grímr would simply retreat rather than answer.
"You did indeed come here on a one-way trip, but Odin has prepared the power to send you back." Grímr extended his hand toward Shiomi. "I had hoped to reach you before the fairies of paradise rang the Pilgrim's Bell, but without being able to track your movements precisely, I was still a step too late."
"..." Shiomi stayed silent.
Aesc waited nervously for his answer.
Grímr furrowed his brows, a faint edge in his tone as he pressed, "So you refuse to accept your destined role as a savior?"
"Don't be ridiculous." Shiomi's voice steadied into calmness. "Destiny? I don't even have memories from before the Land of Shadows. From the very beginning, I've never known what my destiny was."
He turned, taking hold of the hand clutching at his sleeve.
"My 'destiny' is right here, Aesc… Morgan is my 'destiny.'"
For a brief moment Aesc froze, then she gave a silent smile and gripped his hand even tighter.