Fate: How About a New Savior?

When he opened his eyes again, the ceiling of his private room in Chaldea came into view.

The digits on the bedside clock changed quietly.

The dream was over.

That was his first thought—but his arms wouldn't move, as if bound.

Then Shiomi remembered: both Morgan and his master were curled up under the same blanket. Despite the presence of pillows, they were using his arms as cushions.

Ever since they returned from the Sixth Singularity, this had more or less become routine.

Even though his master had a room of her own, she always ended up sleeping here.

Shiomi didn't mind at all.

The soft warmth nestled against him beneath the covers made him almost forget the dream, tempting him to believe it was just a fleeting moment after waking.

If only the King of Magecraft hadn't shown up.

That bastard had no sense of decency—choosing that moment to show up in his dreams.

After grumbling to himself a bit, Shiomi glanced at the clock. It was just past six in the morning.

In Chaldea's South Pole schedule, early to bed and early to rise was the norm. Technically, it was time to get up. But considering they'd only just completed the Sixth Singularity expedition, he figured lazing around in bed a little longer with Morgan and his master wouldn't get him scolded for slacking off.

Still, his arms were going numb. Shiomi tried to gently ease them free.

At that moment, the room's communication terminal began to ring. A one-way message came through, the notification chime sounding repeatedly.

Feeling the pressure on his arms suddenly lighten, Shiomi slipped out of bed, threw on a robe, and hurried over to answer the call.

It was a visual message from Romani.

"Sorry to contact you so early, but there's an issue with the soil in the food crop cultivation room. When you're up, please come take a look as soon as you can."

Chaldea had a dedicated chamber for growing food crops. From the very beginning, it had been clear they couldn't rely solely on external supply lines. At the suggestion of several members of the staff and some Magus from China, Marisbury himself had incorporated the function into Chaldea's design.

Now, with the Incineration of Humanity underway and no outside aid to speak of, sustainable resource production had become a top concern—one that Romani, acting as Chaldea's interim director, had to monitor constantly.

The soil issue wasn't catastrophic, but it wasn't trivial either. In most cases, Chaldea's Magecraft-based systems could handle it. Still, Romani was constantly worried the soil might lose vitality, leading to something akin to the decline that followed the Age of Gods.

Shiomi's emerging authority had become something of a last resort for emergencies like these.

Of course, aside from the two people in his room, only Romani and Da Vinci were aware of that.

After reading the message, Shiomi tugged his robe into place—and noticed two pairs of eyes watching him.

They were both awake.

Morgan rolled over to lie on her side, gazing at him.

Furthest in, Scáthach sat up. Her long violet-red hair cascaded over her chest, and the view in front of her was completely unobstructed.

"Sorry, I've got to get up." Shiomi scratched his cheek. "It's nothing urgent. I'll run a bath, take my time washing up, then head to breakfast."

He said the same thing every morning, but his heart was a little uneasy.

After all, ever since returning from the Sixth Singularity, his nights had been… quite indulgent.

But he knew the real reason behind it better than anyone. The Lion King—or rather, Artoria's half-apology, half-peacemaking gesture—had brought him more trouble than comfort.

And the result was the string of nights that followed.

"No matter. Since you're up, we're up too," Morgan said lazily, pulling the blanket over her fair chest. "But from the look on your face, something's bothering you?"

From the bathroom came the sound of running hot water. Hearing her, Shiomi leaned out and explained:

"It's about food and survival. Can't exactly slack off on that."

Scáthach tilted her head slightly, smiling deeply. "Did someone visit while we were asleep? Merlin? Or maybe his sister?"

"If they had, I'd be asking you the same thing." Shiomi stepped out and began picking up clothes scattered around the room. "It was the King of Magecraft. He tampered with my dreams..."

Then he roughly recounted what had happened.

Nothing new—the King of Magecraft trying once again to persuade him to surrender, for reasons of his own.

"Sounds like solving the six Singularities has finally made him feel threatened," Scáthach said as she stepped out of bed and stood in front of the mirror to tidy her hair. "He's not even waiting for the seventh one to be repaired before making a move."

"The real issue lies with my husband," Morgan said, unfazed. "You're the only unpredictable factor the King of Magecraft can see. He fears you too much."

"It really is strange," Shiomi muttered, pausing mid-fold. "He can't see through my origins at all, yet treats me like a major threat… It's like he received a divine revelation or something…"

Scáthach chuckled softly. "Well, the King of Magecraft is said to have heard divine revelations before. He's the one who was given the Ten Commandments, remember."

"If that's true, then his 'god' is pretty biased—giving guidance to someone who wants to erase human history," Shiomi said, frowning.

"Then maybe you should become a less biased god, my husband?" Morgan teased lazily.

Shiomi nearly choked. "What are you even talking about…"

"All that aside, the King of Magecraft's attempt to stop you from reaching the Seventh Singularity has already failed," Scáthach said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Something huge might be waiting for you there."

"For us," Shiomi corrected. "It's only because we've all worked together that we've made it this far. Just because he sees me as the main threat doesn't mean it's all thanks to me. Master, you're being way too biased."

Scáthach's hand slid from his shoulder down his back, caressing him with playful ease. "Can't help being biased toward you."

"Mm…" Shiomi sighed in understanding. "But Master, could you stop touching me? We really don't have time today. If you keep going, things are going to get out of hand."

"No one's rushing you. You said yourself there's plenty of time."

Scáthach's left hand wrapped around his waist, slowly sliding downward, while her right hand curled around his neck, pinching his cheek and guiding his face down to meet her kiss.

Behind her, Morgan stepped into the bathroom.

"Not joining us?" Scáthach asked playfully.

"If I do, my husband's not leaving this room today," Morgan replied, turning on the shower.

"Oh? Then I guess I'll have my dear disciple all to myself—"

"Don't talk like I'm some kind of snack, Master…"

Even as he protested, Shiomi couldn't bring himself to refuse. Nor would he ever.