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Chapter 87 - Chapter 87: Nero: Oh

Although Novia had no objections to soaking in the hot spring, both Sion and Manaka also expressed agreement.

However, the moment Melusine took the lead and dragged Novia toward the hot spring, she immediately activated her powers to isolate the other two before they could enter.

And so, it turned into this—

"Damn it, damn it, that dragon...!"

Due to some unknown magic enveloping the hot spring from all directions, even trying to peek was futile. Poor Miss Manaka could only squat in a corner, grumbling endlessly.

And when she thought of that silver-haired girl who had transformed from a dragon, her face contorted with a complex mix of emotions.

That girl was clearly shorter than her, and yet there, she had even more… curves...

At that thought, Manaka, still crouched in the corner, wore a thoroughly disheartened expression.

Sion, on the other hand, showed no signs of disappointment. After learning she couldn't enter the hot spring, she calmly continued to investigate the sun magic circle that had nearly destroyed the labyrinth.

She understood why Melusine wanted to bathe with Novia alone—after all, dragons typically acted like that. But as for Sion herself… well, let's just say she wasn't in any particular rush.

Being a being whose origin was Shiali, Sion had some understanding of Melusine. After all, it was she who had returned Melusine's body as per their contract a thousand years ago—not solely by her own power, but also with some assistance from the Roman Emperor, Nero.

To Sion, Shiali was like Amaterasu to Tamamo-no-Mae—a foundational existence. It wasn't possession; Shiali was simply a distant past version of herself.

From her analysis, it seemed certain areas of the sun magic circle within the labyrinth had been altered, but with the autonomous destruction of the pseudo-Holy Grail, the circle also disintegrated. The details were now unrecoverable.

Yet the more Sion examined it, the more suspicious it felt. The modifications bore traces of both Atlas Institute methodology and Holy Church influence.

Could the vampiric spirit experiment conducted on Wolfgang Faust have been authorized by both sides? What were they planning?

The purple-haired girl grew more and more uneasy as she thought about it.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Snapping out of her thoughts, Sion suddenly realized that Manaka was no longer squatting in the corner. Instead, she was now lying near the hot spring, hands folded over her stomach, as if she were Sleeping Beauty herself.

As Sion approached, she noticed the three Command Spells on Manaka's hand were being consumed one by one. A crimson blush the color of an apple bloomed across her cheeks.

Sion remembered that in the recent pseudo-Holy Grail War, Manaka had been Novia's Master—but it hadn't amounted to much. Why was she only using her Command Spells now? Could it be that they could grant access to the inside of the spring? Maybe Sion could peek too...

Driven by both curiosity and her own unfulfilled desire to bathe with Novia, all seven of Sion's cognitive fragments reached a consensus.

The fifth imaginary elemental ether line, at a micron scale and linked to her bracelet, slithered like a living thing into Manaka's brainstem, fully hijacking her neural signals.

She began reading what was currently surfacing in Manaka's mind—

'This is... the labyrinth's hot spring? Aerial view? So it's third-person perspective? Could it be the Command Spells have surveillance capabilities...?'

Just as Sion was sorting out her situation, her view began to shift downward toward the hot spring.

"I've never bathed with you before, Melusine."

"I like it. This is my precious first time too."

Boy and girl—or rather, human and dragon. Though in the dragon's eyes, there was something undeniably lovestruck.

And perhaps it was that very sight—Novia's body—that was reflected in the eyes of both Sion and Manaka.

"You've got such a great figure. Mmm, so nice... Let me get a better look, Novia."

The silver-haired girl's breathy voice spilled from her lips, and with a splash, she hugged Novia tightly.

Their skin, reddened from soaking in the magic-infused spring, pressed intimately together.

...

"Oh? After seventeen rounds, you still failed in the end? I thought you'd succeed. I even entertained a hint of expectation."

In a realm entirely enshrouded by blood-red mist, the sky was a thick, saturated crimson—as if drenched in congealed blood. No sunlight could pierce through. The ground, too, was covered in heavy blood, forming deep, dark-red swamps.

A seven-headed dragon lay sprawled within the blood. Something that should no longer exist—yet clawed its way back from the abyss nonetheless.

Waves born from stillness surged from the far shore, nearing the great city. This was a being who claimed the authority to profane all things: the King of the World, master of decadence and deception, a second desire born at the heart of the golden maelstrom.

"But I suppose the Counter Force intervened, hmm? Summoning some so-called saint, no doubt. But in the end, both quality and quantity were third-rate."

Amid this crimson world, a singular throne stood out prominently.

Carved from dark red stone, its surface flowed with vivid blood, as if seeping out from within.

Seated atop it was Nero, now fallen and known as Draco—a delicate figure, just as she had appeared when Novia first met her in her beastly form.

Her face was hidden in bloody shadow, only her crimson eyes gleaming with danger.

Though she supported Goetia's plan for Human Order Incineration, she had her own side project. For instance, the sun magic circle in the seventh labyrinth of Alcatraz had been her work—a trap laid in advance to see whether a vampire engorged on countless spiritual cores could bypass the Throne of Heroes and directly summon a Servant.

Otherwise, how could a mere vampire bind Servants in place?

Unfortunately, it failed.

But Draco wasn't particularly concerned whether it was the Counter Force's interference or not. In the end, the experiment failed.

After all, to her, the whole test had been a casual gesture—not even worthy of her full attention.

"Teacher."

She called out to that irreplaceable presence in her heart.

"...Teacher."

I miss you so much. Where are you?

The fallen Pope turned Beast would never say this aloud.

She knew that everything she had done was something Novia would never approve of. But still—

"...I've already become a sinful Beast. You'll have to come deal with me eventually, won't you?"

She turned her gaze away from the rippling sea of blood, hugged her tail close, curled up on the throne, and closed her eyes to remember the past.

And in that moment, it was as if the distant, cherished voice from long ago drifted once again into the Beast's ears.

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