At the very top floor of the towering building that had become the battlefield, after the True Berserker Group and the descended goddess Ishtar withdrew, thunder still roared endlessly around the sky—an open declaration of war to all Servants remaining in this Holy Grail conflict.
No doubt, the surviving Servants had already witnessed Ishtar's might together with the Bull of Heaven, and they knew: to step into this storm of lightning meant to face Novia at his full strength, in a battle where both sides could unleash their perfect powers.
To Novia, it was only natural that others would still come—perhaps even banding together in uneasy alliances—to challenge him.
"Wow, you really are incredible, Novia."
The blonde girl, who had witnessed everything from beginning to end, once again—without asking permission—threw her arms around Novia's waist at dazzling speed, her smile blooming like a field of flowers and radiating fairy-like brilliance.
"You know… honestly, I didn't want you to be here. If you'd been caught in that danger just now, there was nothing I could have done. But… it's a good thing you're so strong."
Manaka Sajo tilted her head slightly, smiling. "But now… now I'm actually a little scared."
"Scared?" Novia asked, puzzled.
"Because, the way you were just now, you were really cool. I want to see more of that… so much so that even if it meant bringing back the Age of Gods, I wouldn't mind."
"…Restoring the Age of Gods… that's not good, Manaka. You really shouldn't be thinking like that. Nothing good would come of it."
The silver-haired young man spoke with an honest sincerity.
"I don't care. If you want me to give up on that idea, then—" Manaka's cheeks suddenly flushed red, her lips pouting as she puffed up her cheeks. "Give me a reward. Yes, a reward, from my Master."
At this moment, Manaka was like a radiant schoolgirl who, having realized there was no real danger left, decided to treat everything like a carefree summer vacation—asking for dates, rewards, and playful affection.
From her vantage as a spear, Melusine could only watch in exasperation. This Manaka was deliberately mimicking her—acting coy, pressing Novia into granting her wish.
Throwing herself at Novia so shamelessly? Well, in the end, it was harmless. After all, she was just a weakling, hardly worth concern.
No, what really gnawed at Melusine was something else entirely—
Why, when Novia destroyed the Bull of Heaven earlier, had he drawn forth Typhon's form instead of her true self, Albion? And worse—why did he have another weapon in hand besides her?
Though her dragon's body felt no chill, when Novia held her she still felt his warmth. Quietly, she brooded: she needed to make him abandon that sword. Because—
If the title of "the one and only dragon" was denied her… and even "the one and only weapon" was gone too… then what remained?
Tch. She'd make sure, later, to demand from Novia "a day that belonged only to me." Perhaps then, she could find another "only."
Yes… perhaps "only sister" could work too.
But that sword… it seemed like the Primordial Holy Sword, and yet not. Black patterns crawled across its surface, and its conceptual power carried the potential to restore the Age of Gods. Melusine considered herself the strongest, but even she begrudgingly admitted the weapon's ability earned it a place in her eyes.
"…Hmph. At least it's just a sword, and not some divine incarnation."
Melusine finally breathed a sigh of relief—
Only for Typhon, now serving as Novia's armor, to speak words that froze her stiff.
"Mmm. This sword… does that mean Merry is coming?"
To Typhon, that "flower magician" was one of the few beings who had ever treated her kindly, and one whom Novia trusted deeply. Why else would he have let her take Typhon out back then?
"…Huh? Typhon, who is this 'Merlin'? Male or female?"
At that name, Melusine felt a prickling unease. Whoever this Merlin was, just the thought made her uncomfortable—like no matter how tightly she clung to Novia in bed, this Merlin would creep in and steal something away.
"Uh… Merlin's a fae. Or a nightmare… no, wait, maybe a succubus. Anyway, this sword was something she looked after." Typhon tilted her head as Melusine's face grew darker and darker, not understanding but continuing anyway. "Oh, and she always liked to say she was Novia's little sister. Even though it's not true."
Each word Typhon uttered weighed heavier and heavier on Melusine. Just from this description, it sounded like she might be facing a challenger on par with Nero herself.
In her mind, Typhon was an idiot, Manaka an old hag in disguise, Sion some inscrutable oddball, and Nero—a shameless rival whose curves she hated admitting were bigger than hers. And now… another "sister"?
Perhaps sensing Melusine's boiling temper, Typhon drifted into nostalgic chatter, completely forgetting how furious Albion had been when she first discovered there were others besides her by Novia's side.
"Oh right, there's also Eltrouce. She's a Dead Apostle–True Ancestor hybrid, but she looks kinda like us. And Attila, with that bronze skin… wouldn't it be fun if we all just, you know, slept with Novia together? Way better than just you and Albion hogging him."
Melusine bit her lip so hard she nearly bled. Calmly—too calmly—she spoke:
"Typhon… no matter how I look at you, you're the same as ever. Stupid. Absolutely, unbelievably stupid. Ahhh, why don't you just die of stupidity already!"
"…"
For once, Typhon fell silent. Melusine thought her barb had finally landed—only to see the armor peel away, Typhon reverting to her humanoid form.
As Manaka blushed and pouted, demanding Novia kiss her, the red-haired girl instead lunged forward, clinging to Novia's waist. Her once-golden eyes, tinged with black-red dread, now shone with tears.
"Waaaah, Avia! Albion's bullying me again! She called me names, she always pushes me around because she's 'the strongest!' Waaaaah!"
Howling, Typhon jabbed an accusing finger at Melusine, now standing once more in human form.
Melusine ground her teeth. Of all the tricks she expected from Typhon, she never imagined the idiot would pull her own crying-act routine against her.
What the hell?! That was my move! Since when did Typhon get clever enough to use it?!
"…Alright, alright. It's not a big deal."
Novia, of course, wasn't fooled. He'd observed them long enough to know: though Albion usually held the upper hand, at worst she'd only ever call Typhon an idiot. And with her limited vocabulary, that was the harshest she could manage—aside from endlessly repeating, "I'm the strongest."
"It's true! She called me names—"
"She only called you an idiot, right?"
Novia gently stroked Typhon's fiery hair.
"Yes! She called me an idiot! But I'm not an idiot! I'm the Father of Monsters in Greece, the Primordial Dragon, the Great Forefather Dragon, a dragon born to slay gods!"
Growing more boastful by the second, Typhon cast a triumphant glance at Melusine.
"…Heh." Melusine's face went cold, her voice flat. "I wonder what Echidna would say. Or Ladon, the Hundred-Headed Dragon. Or the Hydra. Or Cerberus, the three-headed hound. Or Orthrus, the two-headed dog. Or the Nemean Lion, Chimera, Sphinx, Scylla… Tell me, Typhon—would they call you mother or father?"
"Whoa. That's pretty amazing, huh? Truly the Father of Monsters, the Primordial Dragon, the Great Forefather Dragon, the god-slaying wyrm…"
"N-no! I don't know them! They're just errors—data anomalies! Nothing to do with me! I don't know them, I swear!"
"Sure, sure. You don't know them. Got it."
And so, faced with Typhon now crying in earnest, Novia could only keep comforting her.
"I've never done anything with Echidna, not like that! Never touched her, never leaned close, never smiled at her that way… uuuuuh… Avia, you made that promise to me, didn't you? You have to take responsibility…"
"I know. I've said it many times—I'll take responsibility."
Yet even as he soothed her, Novia suddenly felt a gnawing concern.
Since Ishtar's defeat, why had no other Servants come?
With some, it was understandable—the storm might be too great a barrier. But beings like Gilgamesh and Alcides should have been able to cross.
Then realization struck him: Gilgamesh's presence… had vanished.
---
At that same moment, when Novia drew forth the Primordial Holy Sword—
Far away, in that land foreign to humanity's history yet deeply tied to it—Avalon.
On that desolate isle at the world's end, by the riverside of a forgotten land, stood a structure of heavy stone, walls rising without roof or ceiling, a tower without end. Within its narrow chambers—no larger than five square meters—waited the flower magician, imprisoned for countless years.
Merlin peered through the lone window, gazing at a single blooming flower, the breeze carrying a fragrance so warm it seemed capable of melting even the coldest seas.
By rights, she should never have been imprisoned. Avalon was supposed to be "the ideal future within human hearts," not a cage. But Vivian, one facet of the Lake Fairy, had trapped her here, refusing to let her leave.
Merlin had stepped into the trap knowingly, because she believed: so long as she lived in this age, she could still see the world, no matter where she was. And besides… there was only one dream she wanted to see anyway.
So she endured. She became like a forgotten dream—neither summoned as a Heroic Spirit nor permitted even death.
Only those who accepted death could be called forth by the Throne. Guardians, too, were souls summoned by despair. But Merlin had neither died, nor fallen. She simply… remained.
In her boredom, she tossed out the white hound she'd once raised.
"Off with you, three-eyed cat. I can't keep feeding you—you're fat as a pig already. Go back to your true master before she boils you for stew. And lose some weight first!"
Laughing, she'd thrown the beast from the tower.
And so she lingered, taunting Vivian whenever possible, staring endlessly at that lone flower on the lake. Waiting.
And at last—after countless years—the flower vanished.
From the depths surged the Primordial Holy Sword, fused with the Demonic Sword of the True World.
Her eyes blurred with tears, but she still waved madly at the light of the sword—the star-born brilliance she had long awaited.
"Oi! Holy Sword! Hurry and shatter Vivian's barrier for me!"
Light exploded across Avalon, breaking the seal.
Freed at last, Merlin gazed at the ruined tower she had once chosen as her cage, and with a mocking smile—half aimed at Vivian—licked her lips.
"Finally found you. Don't you forget—you still owe me a promise. And this time… I'll make you wish for death~"
***************************
Read advanced chapters ahead of everyone else on my P@treon.
P@treon/GodDragcell