A clamor of voices echoed from ahead.
After syncing with Guinevere's memories, Will slowly opened his eyes—only to find himself once again standing before the gates of Scotland Yard. The noise was clearly coming from inside the building.
"So that's it... someone's entered the dream. No wonder my location inside the dream shifted so suddenly."
He stroked his chin and murmured quietly.
Just a moment ago, he had still been outside, continuing his hunt for monsters and tracking down Bavanzi's Nightmare fragment. But in the blink of an eye, he'd found himself back at Scotland Yard.
"Wait... Nursery Rhyme came looking for me? How come I didn't notice?"
Will frowned slightly.
Even if she had merely poked her head in and then bolted in fear, that still didn't make sense. Given his current level of sensory perception, there was no way a Servant could just sneak around him unnoticed.
—No. At this point, that doesn't matter anymore.
Thinking that, Will lowered his head and looked at the girl snoring softly at his feet.
"Hey. Wake up."
He considered giving her a little kick, but thought better of it. Instead, he crouched down, grabbed her shoulder, and gave it a vigorous shake.
"Time to get up, Mordred."
"Mmm... just fell asleep and you're waking me again... Didn't I have the day off from duty...?"
Mordred mumbled sleepily and rolled over, eyes still closed. But a moment later, something in her expression shifted.
"Wait a sec. That voice... Jekyll?!"
She suddenly sat bolt upright and looked at him with wide eyes and a joyful smile.
"It is you! I haven't seen you in forever!"
"...What?"
Will's brow furrowed.
"What do you mean 'forever'?"
Mordred blinked. "We haven't seen each other in, like, over half a year, haven't we?"
"Half a year?" Will froze. Then realization dawned. "You mean... from your perspective, it's been months since our last encounter?"
"Exactly." Mordred nodded rapidly. "You told me this place was a dream, right? Well, after I got swallowed up by that black hole, I woke up and went back to my normal life. I've been training hard... Oh! And Mother finally let me join Father's army! I just became a newly minted guard of Camelot. It won't be long before I become a true member of the Knights of the Round!"
"So that's the mechanism... I see," Will muttered.
"What mechanism?" Mordred cocked her head, then crossed her arms with an annoyed huff. "There you go again, talking nonsense."
"..."
Just like the others' dream manifestations, Mordred's dream-self was quite different from her current self. Some became who they once were, some who they might become, and others were overlaid with entirely different identities, unable to recall their true selves.
Just like a dream—some dream of the future, some are haunted by the past, and others endlessly chase their wishes.
And Mordred? She had returned to the past—a version of herself still full of hope, longing for her father's approval.
Will wondered silently whether she subconsciously knew what her eventual fate would be. Did she sense that all dreams inevitably marched toward that final day? Each time she re-entered this dream, her memories seemed to advance just a little further. One day, perhaps, she'd reach the point of no return: the moment she became the Knight of Rebellion, forsaking all hope.
Will thought of that future and said nothing.
He wanted to say something—anything—to her. But the words stuck in his throat.
"Anyway, what you need to know is: from my perspective, it's only been a few days since you vanished. We've got enemies here now. Stay on alert."
"Huh?" Mordred's eyes widened. She instantly looked around warily. "Enemies? Where? Jekyll—is it those people inside that building?"
"No. They're allies. Don't make any rash moves," Will said calmly. "Also... I'm not Jekyll. I'm Hyde."
"There you go again." Mordred rolled her eyes. "You seriously think I wouldn't recognize you just because it's been a while?"
"I'm his other personality. We share a body, but I'm not him... You'll understand soon enough."
But just then, Mordred looked up at the sky and gasped.
"Whoa! What the heck?! The dream changed again?! What's all this?"
Will frowned and followed her gaze, then instantly understood.
Though it should have been daytime inside the dream, the sky looked as though a blood moon had risen—a deeply ominous sight.
London had always been shrouded in thick fog, its sun barely visible, but there was usually still some trace of daylight. Now, even that faint light had vanished. A solar eclipse dominated the sky, the sun swallowed into shadow, leaving only a pale white ring barely shining through.
Red lightning flashed across the heavens, like scars torn open by some monstrous claw. Between those lightning rips, bloodshot eyes seemed to stir, as if a demon from hell were gazing down on the world.
Will, however, felt nothing.
After all, he was the cause of this.
Perhaps because his Noble Phantasm affected dreams, or perhaps because his second Noble Phantasm had already been activated, the dreamscape had changed to reflect his own nightmare—the same vision that once only appeared to those who had seen his Noble Phantasm now dominated the entire dream.
Moreover, despite not having shown himself to the citizens of London yet, his second Noble Phantasm, Doom of the Demon King, was already at full power—likely from all the fear this sky had inspired.
With that thought, Will casually opened his personal interface:
[Player ID: Will]
[Heroic Spirit Possession: Blood Demon Lord]
Strength: Normal A+ (Bloodstained Butcher +1), Demon Form A++++ (Doom of the Demon King +3)
Agility: Normal B (Bloodstained Butcher +1), Demon Form A++
Endurance: Normal A (Lone Avenger +1), Demon Form A+++
Mana: Normal C, Demon Form A+
Luck: Normal F (Bloodstained Butcher -1), Demon Form C
Whatever the reason for the power boost—it certainly wasn't a bad thing.
"Hey! Jekyll! Why aren't you saying anything? What's going on here? Got any clues?"
Mordred's voice pulled him back to reality.
Will stepped forward, pushed open the doors to Scotland Yard, and said over his shoulder:
"Follow me."
—The sooner we end this, the better. Let Guinevere handle Mordred next time.
He really wasn't good with this hyperactive version of her.
And since Paracelsus had dragged them into the dream for battle, there was a good chance the guy was nearby—perhaps even inside Scotland Yard.
As that thought crossed his mind, the doors opened—and standing dead-center among the bustling officers, he saw him.
"Ah, finished catching up, have we?"
Amid the chaos, Paracelsus gave them a gentle smile.
"Well, as much as I dislike violence, it seems we've reached the part where we must fight."
"What the... That's Lord Tyre's friend, Mr. Hyde?! And that other one—"
The police had noticed them too. One officer cried out:
"Attention, everyone! That man is the High Priest of Nauthoba! He's the mastermind behind all this!"
"Go get Prince Adonis!"
"He's the enemy?!"
The shouts rose from all directions. Fully armed officers quickly surrounded them, while others scrambled to put on gear.
Meanwhile, Mordred—who'd been dazed by the sight of the busy Scotland Yard—suddenly snapped into action. She raised her sword and stepped in front of Will.
"All right! Since I'm here, you don't have to worry, Jekyll. No matter who the enemy is, leave it to me! I'll protect you—"
But before she could finish, a sudden gust of wind blew past her, making her stumble. She turned reflexively—and was stunned to see no sign of Guinevere behind her, only a deep footprint in the marble floor.
"Jekyll?!"
She whipped around in confusion—then gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.
Guinevere—who'd been behind her just a second ago—was now standing before Paracelsus, gripping the mage by the throat and lifting him off the ground.
"Wha—" Mordred's jaw dropped.
"This can't be!" Paracelsus's face was equally pale. "How?! Your base stats... they've far exceeded a standard Servant's parameters!"
He'd barely said they'd be fighting—and now he hadn't even had time to activate any of his Nightmare abilities before being completely overpowered.
"Standard Servant stats?" Guinevere sneered. "You kidding? You think even a Grand Servant could walk away from me without a few slaps?"
With that, he casually reached out and ripped off one of Paracelsus's arms. As the mage's face twisted in pain, Guinevere said coolly:
"Tell me where Artoria is. Now."
But even as he spoke, white tendrils sprouted from Paracelsus's shoulder, writhing and weaving together until they reformed his arm.
"Oh?"
Will raised a brow.
"Impressive trick. I was going to be careful not to kill you too fast—but now I guess I don't need to hold back."
"You..."
Paracelsus's expression shifted rapidly. He suddenly raised his sword—but Guinevere was faster.
Before Paracelsus could even lift it, Guinevere had already caught his wrist.
"Seriously, officer?" Guinevere said flatly.
"You think you can pull that kind of stunt... on me?"