At the hotel, Kayneth sat comfortably with his legs crossed, a cup of tea in one hand and a written report in the other. Because he and his wife had jointly paid the cost of magical energy, and since he had not been present for the previous night's battle, Kayneth — well-rested and refreshed — looked far more energetic than most others.
Why had Kayneth grown so uncharacteristically calm? The answer was simple: he had realized just how many people in this Far East city wanted him dead. And the more others wished for his demise, the more determined he became to live comfortably.
Early to bed, early to rise. Warm clothes. Wolfberries steeped in a thermos. That was the lifestyle befitting a man of his stature.
One must also guard against arrogance and impatience, remain calm at all times. Yes — never get angry. Migraines, wrinkles… all caused by temper.
Don't be angry. Don't be angry. Don't be angry, damn it!!
"Mr. Waver! I asked you to write about your thoughts on this Holy Grail War and your views on the future of magecraft. I expected maturity after such an experience, but what is this? A glorified eulogy to the King of Conquerors?!"
Slamming his teacup down, Kayneth rolled up the paper and smacked Waver across the head.
"Student Waver! You are a magus — where are your own ideas? Where is the courage you once had, the same courage you showed when you dared to debate me in class? How could you become like this the moment the King of Conquerors left the stage?"
His tone carried more regret than anger. After all, the student before him still owed him a great debt. Waver had stolen his relic in the beginning, and now he even owed him money. With a little guidance, the boy could yet become one of his own faction. His ideas might be questionable, but they were undeniably novel.
And if Kayneth dismissed that novelty outright, would that not mean dismissing the very judgment of the King of Conquerors himself?
Even so, as a teacher and head of a faction, how could he be pleased to see such a promising mind degraded to mere idol-worship?
With an exasperated sigh, Kayneth shoved the papers against Waver's face and shook his head.
"Think about it carefully."
Just then, a bird woven from threads of silk alighted on the window. Kayneth raised an eyebrow. A familiar. So soon after a great battle, someone was already sending messages again?
Meanwhile, Akuta Hinako, fresh from a bath, stretched languidly and smiled. At last, some respite. Surely no more battles for the time being — which meant a well-earned rest, perhaps even a trip to karaoke later.
She glanced toward the adjacent room. Aslan had slept soundly all night and was still dozing. She pursed her lips. A hands-off "Master," indeed. She went out late at night to handle matters herself, while the so-called real Master slept without care. A little unfair, really.
But Aslan had other priorities. At the moment, he was content to snuggle under the warm blankets, holding his dragon close. Melusine wriggled in his arms, poking her small head out from under the quilt. She stretched her claws and let out soft, contented hums.
Lately, Melusine had developed an obsession with weapon models. Nothing pleased her more than equipping herself with elaborate designs. With the Gundam series so popular in this era, she had inevitably fixated on their futuristic arsenals.
Her latest desire was a planetary-class cannon — one capable of leveling a city with a single blast. She begged Aslan to replicate it for her, powered by the magical pulse of her own heart. Of course, such a weapon would far surpass its animated counterpart. But there was one problem: for Aslan to forge such a thing, he would first need to understand its principles.
And the simple truth was that humanity's technology had not yet caught up. Even if Aslan's interest was piqued, the foundations simply did not exist in this world. Thus, if Melusine truly wished to wield such a weapon, she would have to wait until fate carried them to the world of Gundam itself.
When she tried to wriggle free, Aslan instinctively tightened his embrace, pulling her back against his chest.
Annoyed, Melusine rolled her eyes and retaliated with a sharp nip at the small mark on his chest, trying to wake him with pain. Then, stretching her little wings, she dragged a magazine out from under the pillow and began flipping through it for new model kits. After all, this was an era before the joys of international online shopping.
If she was in the Far East, she had to buy everything she liked while she could.
Unfortunately, real-world weaponry couldn't match her imagination. Only devastating one-shot cannons and high-powered rockets interested her. The latter, sadly, were disappointing in practice. Still, Aslan had promised to design a magical variant to mount on her wings someday.
Whether such enhancements would carry over when she returned to human form, however, remained uncertain. Perhaps she would even need a "transformation mode."
As for Hinako next door, neither Aslan nor Melusine worried. Everyone in their little faction was, after all, nearly indestructible.
Merlin had not arrived in person but had projected a body with his consciousness. Hinako was functionally immortal unless she wished otherwise. And the dragons themselves were of the highest order, capable of withstanding Noble Phantasms below B-rank outright — and perhaps even surviving those of A-rank.
In short, this Holy Grail War was theirs to play with as they pleased.
Just as Hinako was about to slip into blissful sleep, a silver-threaded bird fluttered through the window — another familiar. Her face twitched in irritation. Without hesitation, she yanked the drowsy Merlin up by the collar and delivered a sharp kick to his backside.
"The rest is yours to deal with. I'm going back to sleep."
-End Chapter-
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