"Honestly, Magic Circuits don't overload to this extent, do they?"
Scáthach lay on her side on the bed, watching Shiomi peel a mandarin. Morgan was tucked comfortably in his arms, looking utterly at ease.
Ever since they'd left the Lostbelt, Morgan had been using "Magic Circuits overload, body unwell" as an excuse to monopolize Shiomi during every waking moment. Whenever she wasn't asleep, she was draped over him, lazing in his arms and making him take care of everything from meals to sleep to baths.
Even for a great witch, this level of "helplessness" was pushing it. Scáthach couldn't stand watching anymore and couldn't help taking a jab at Morgan's behavior.
"My limbs are a bit weak, so I'll have to trouble my husband," Morgan said, perfectly content as she rested her head on Shiomi's chest, a book open in her hands.
"You're impossible," Shiomi said with a laugh, shifting his position so she could lean on him more comfortably.
As someone expected to eventually return to Chaldea, Shiomi had been given a private room aboard the Storm Border. Its furnishings and layout were almost identical to his old room back in Antarctic Chaldea.
After returning from the Britannia Lostbelt, he had naturally moved into this room as if it had always been his.
Originally, Shiomi had planned to put together a full report on everything that happened in the Britannia Lostbelt and give everyone a proper briefing.
But Director Olga Marie rejected that idea.
In his place, Baobhan Sith had taken on the role of storyteller, explaining the history of the Britannia Lostbelt to everyone in Chaldea. She had already been at it for three days, and the entire base was hooked. Because of that, the Storm Border hadn't immediately returned to the Wandering Sea or set out for the next Lostbelt, and was instead just lingering above the whitened Earth.
"When you really think about it, it's kind of absurd," Shiomi said, resting his chin on Morgan's head as he fed her a slice of mandarin. "The branching point between Proper Human History and the Lostbelt came down to whether the original six fairies felt like slacking off for a moment and ended up not forging the Holy Sword…"
"Or we could frame it this way: even if they're almost identical beings, the six fairies of Proper Human History and those of the Lostbelt still differ in subtle ways," Morgan said. "Namely, the Lostbelt fairies just happened to be the nastier sort."
Scáthach lifted a leg and settled her foot on Shiomi's shoulder, teasing his ear with her toes.
"That's a reasonable explanation. That tiny presence or absence of malice decided the outcome of the planet's history at a critical moment."
"Master, that tickles," Shiomi protested, though he made no move to dodge. "Still… it's a strange thought. If the original six fairies hadn't made that mistake, Morgan and I would never have met."
"That's what we call 'fate.'"
Enjoying being spoiled, Morgan declared their relationship as if stating a simple truth.
"But if we're being honest, if that so-called Alien God hadn't started the Whitening of the World, the history I lived in would have vanished as a pruned event a long time ago."
Artoria emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel barely covering her body, steam still rising from her damp hair.
"…You really know how to talk," Morgan muttered, shooting her a displeased glare.
"So what exactly is this Alien God, that it can dig up phenomena already pruned away by the cosmos and plant them on this planet as Lostbelts?" Scáthach fell into thought immediately.
Even she couldn't grasp that unknown territory. All she could do was reason from the information they already had.
"Alien worlds… outer space…" Artoria leaned against Shiomi, not even noticing her towel slipping loose as she murmured over the words. "Could it be that the God of Alien Worlds, like the Star-Eater, is an invader from outside the universe…"
"No. The 'Alien Star' didn't come from outer space. It was born on this planet—a system called 'Different Planet.'"
Morgan suddenly spoke, directly denying Artoria's guess. "And the answer lies within the sealed Antarctic Chaldea."
"You know about this?" Scáthach asked, surprised.
Shiomi considered for a moment. "After studying the structure of the Fantasy Tree, Morgan probably learned a lot she didn't know before."
"It isn't that complicated," Morgan said with a shake of her head. "I understood the principles and learned how to apply them. The additional information was vague at the time. If I hadn't completed the 'Refrain,' I likely never would have understood the rest."
"So the Fantasy Tree isn't something born of the cosmos, but something generated by the planet itself." Shiomi rested his chin in his hand. "If that's true, then who—and for what purpose—initiated the Whitening of the World, something on par with the Humanity Incineration?"
"Returning to Antarctica might be possible now," Morgan said, "but doing so would alert the Crypters of the other Lostbelts. They'd interfere immediately."
Scáthach gave a small laugh. "Whatever the reason, if we want Proper Human History to return, we must resolve the remaining Lostbelts. Even if we confront the Alien God, as long as the Lostbelts remain rooted in this world, they'll obstruct the restoration of Proper Human History."
At that moment, Shiomi noticed Artoria turning away, rummaging through pillows and clothing. He stared at her backside for a moment—then couldn't resist giving it a quick pat.
Artoria turned bright red and quickly sat back down, realizing just how short her towel was—and how much she'd just inadvertently exposed.
In her hand was the Storm Border's communication terminal, an upgraded device based on Chaldea's equipment. During the three months Shiomi was gone, she and Scáthach had familiarized themselves with and taken over many of his original responsibilities.
"This came in via internal comms this morning," Artoria said, opening the message for Shiomi. "There will be a strategy meeting after dinner to determine our next move. The situation in the Britannia Lostbelt developed too quickly. Storm Border's supplies are still plentiful—we can skip the Wandering Sea and go straight to the next Lostbelt."
"The Lostbelts closest to Britain are the Greek and Norse ones," Scáthach said, glancing at a map on the ship's screen. "Should we target one of those first?"
"No. We go to the Russian Lostbelt first," Shiomi said, offering the opposite choice. "The disappearance of the Britannia Lostbelt will definitely have caught Kirschtaria's attention. Those two will be heavily guarded. So instead, we use Imaginary Numbers Submersion and hit them where they aren't expecting it."
"But why the Russian Lostbelt?" Artoria asked.
"That's obvious. Because we have a score to settle with someone there," Scáthach replied.
"And during the battle at Antarctic Chaldea, that Caster called Kirei Kotomine 'Rasputin,' while Kotomine called her 'Princess,'" Shiomi added. "Which means the one commanding those soldiers who attacked Chaldea most likely came from the Russian Lostbelt."
"Then… our next target Lostbelt is decided," Morgan murmured in agreement.