Fate: How About a New Savior?

Nitocris was a Magecraft queen who reigned briefly during the Sixth Dynasty of Ancient Egypt. The scepter she held, "Was," was the same as those wielded by the Egyptian gods—both a symbol of authority and a powerful Mystic Code imbued with Mystery.

Blessed by the gods for her unwavering will and glory, she was granted dominion over the sky and the underworld. These divine gifts elevated her into a Magus adept in the arts of ancient Egyptian Magecraft, and she became known throughout history as the Magus Queen.

The thick black fog engulfing the temple hall was a surge of magical energy summoned from the underworld, steeped in the scent of death. For any human who came into contact with it, their life force would be rapidly drained. They'd lose the will and strength to fight or resist, and in the end, their soul would be drawn by Nitocris into the underworld. Even human Magi lacking in skill had to devote their full strength just to defend against such an attack.

Having acted first, Nitocris stood with confidence, waiting for Morgan's reaction—only to be caught off guard when her opponent shattered the magic through sheer brute force.

"A summoning spell that draws the underworld's aura into the present world..." Morgan kept her finger extended. "That's a rather novel approach. Looks like volunteering for this fight wasn't such a bad idea after all."

"...She dispelled it in just one move..."

Nitocris slowly lowered the arm shielding her eyes from the blinding light. Doubt swiftly overtook her heart.

Just moments earlier, she had brimmed with confidence, ready to engage Morgan in a top-level battle of Magecraft. But now, she realized the gap between their talent and mastery was overwhelming.

"Not planning to attack? Then it's my turn, Pharaoh Nitocris."

Morgan gracefully raised her palm, and in the vast empty hall, countless slender, pale blue magic spears began to manifest, all aimed directly at Nitocris.

The female pharaoh was taken aback, alarm bells ringing in her mind.

In the next moment, Morgan's fingers curled slightly, and the spears launched all at once toward the center—toward Nitocris. The resulting explosion sent dust and smoke billowing through the temple.

Shiomi raised his hand. Runes formed a spell array, manifesting a protective barrier that surrounded the three onlookers.

Though the attack seemed deadly at first glance, Shiomi remained completely unfazed. Whether or not Morgan held back didn't matter. If something like this could actually kill Nitocris, then Morgan's decision to fight would seem unnecessarily dramatic—and the pharaoh's role in the trial would become a farce.

Morgan didn't even glance at the explosion. Instead, she casually looked upward, smiling as she gazed at the temple's domed ceiling.

A black mirror hovered there—and from its surface, Nitocris slowly emerged. It was the same type of Magecraft that had been used to transport Olga Marie outside the temple.

Without a word, Nitocris's expression regained its composure. She raised her scepter and swung it toward Morgan.

A strange, rustling howl came from within the smoke—

Mummies.

Nitocris had summoned a horde of mummies charging toward Morgan. Alongside them, golden scarabs burst through the dust, their wings buzzing furiously as they too flew straight at her.

Ancient Egyptian summoning Magecraft. This was Nitocris's specialty—calling upon bizarre familiars born of the sky and the underworld's blessings to overwhelm her foes.

Whether their limbs were torn or their chests pierced, the mummies showed no reaction. Still howling, they charged at Morgan, intent on tearing her apart and devouring her.

Morgan moved swiftly through the temple hall, weaving between the mummies. She dodged attacks while luring the sacred scarabs to collide with the mummies, striking down those that missed.

Each golden scarab was packed with immense mana, like a small, self-guided missile.

"I've always hated bugs. But the kind infused with sacred mana... not so much."

Morgan landed gracefully, her finger pointing at an oncoming sacred scarab. The beetle, which should have been charging with tremendous force, suddenly froze without warning.

Just as Shiomi began to wonder what had happened, the scarab split open. Morgan's Magecraft reversed its control, using the beetle's internal mana as a ready-made catalyst to trigger a wide-area Magecraft that swept through the temple.

The once-fast-moving mummies slowed, reduced to hoarse growls. With every step, bits of their bodies crumbled away. Soon, they could no longer stand and disintegrated into dust.

Despite her proud summoning Magecraft being turned against her, Nitocris remained unfazed.

"How naive. You've only dealt with the scarabs and mummies. Come forth—"

"Hm?" Morgan raised an eyebrow as the Nether Mirror Tome opened beside her.

From within stepped familiars clad in white cloaks, each with two eyes and human-like legs. Unlike the previous summons, these bore traces of divine power.

"That is..." Shiomi muttered in fascination.

"—The god Medjed," Scáthach nodded slowly. "Though they're much smaller than in the temple murals. Miniature versions?"

The miniature Medjed circled Morgan, distorting and compressing the space around her, attempting to twist her and the surrounding space apart.

But just as the distortion was about to reach her body, she vanished—melting into the air like water.

This was another reason Morgan had agreed to the battle.

As a fellow Magus who utilized mirror-type Magecraft, she couldn't deny a certain affinity with Nitocris. The Water Mirror and the Mirror of the Underworld did share some resemblance.

...

What began as a precise exchange of Magecraft had now devolved into a chaotic clash that overwhelmed the senses. Morgan and Nitocris tried to predict each other's next move, exchanging spells as they reappeared and vanished in rapid succession.

The once-elegant temple hall quickly fell into ruin. Cracks spread across its surfaces, and even the massive marble columns began to collapse under the strain of their battle.

"Isn't this going a bit too far?" Shiomi muttered, concern creeping into his voice.

"Miss Morgan... she's going to be okay, right?" Olga Marie asked nervously.

Both combatants were Magi far beyond her reach. The scale of the battle unfolding before her exceeded anything she'd ever imagined—it was an experience she'd never forget.

"Noble Phantasm."

Nitocris, knowing that continuing would only drag things out, chose to end it decisively.

"Mirror of Corpses, Mirror of Darkness. Become a doorway and bring terror here. Anpu Neb Ta Djeser!"

A golden mirror appeared, its handle shaped like the statue of Anubis. The mirror's surface reflected nothing—only pitch-black darkness. From within its depths came the roars of vengeful spirits from the underworld.

Even more deadly and overwhelming than the initial surge of mana.

Unlike the wounded Nitocris, Morgan remained pristine. She brushed the dust from her cloak and leveled her magic spear at Nitocris.

"Then as a return gift, fall here—Pharaoh of the Sky.

'Roadless Camelot: The Now Unreachable Utopia.'"