Multiverse's Holy Right

Roy swallowed hard—Scáthach's current outfit was simply too alluring.

A pure white vertical-striped sweater, her deep violet-red hair cascading like silk over her delicate shoulders, a few strands playfully clinging to her rosy lips. Her wine-red eyes were bewitching and seductive.

Even such a loose sweater couldn't hide her proud figure, revealing a pair of long, shapely legs.

What is this woman trying to do?!

Roy was momentarily dazed. He wasn't some inexperienced youth—even before becoming a Campione, as an ordinary person, he'd had two girlfriends. No matter how beautiful Scáthach was, she shouldn't have left him speechless. The main reason was her earlier display of ruthless brutality, only to suddenly shift into this tender, seductive demeanor. Roy already had psychological shadows about her, so this abrupt change left his thoughts in disarray.

'If you were really a schoolteacher, as the principal, I'd either have my way with you or fire you. Dressed like that, the teenage boys in class wouldn't be able to focus on studying at all!'

Roy grumbled inwardly but said aloud, "…How could I trouble Shishou to cook? This disciple should handle it!"

During his time in the Toaru verse, Roy had taken turns cooking with Laura. Back then, ingredients were scarce, and meals were simple, so he wouldn't call himself skilled—but passable, at least.

"Go sit over there!"

Scáthach glared at Roy, her tone brooking no argument, making him raise his hands in surrender and obediently take a seat on the stone stool.

She didn't use the domineering tone of a superior commanding a subordinate. Had she done so, Roy's pride and self-respect would never have allowed him to lower his head meekly. Instead, Scáthach spoke as a teacher instructing a student—firm yet caring, with the sternness of an educator. Roy considered himself someone who respected teachers and tradition. As long as she didn't insult his dignity, he was willing to play the role of an obedient student.

In the warehouse of the Land of Shadows, the stockpile consisted mainly of raw meat and a few seasonings. Scáthach skillfully cleaned the ingredients with her knife. Given her history as a human warrior who had fought countless battles, she was likely accustomed to survival in the wild.

However, Roy didn't hold high expectations for Scáthach's cooking. Food prepared during survival situations was usually just meant to fill the stomach.

The ancient Celts were known for devouring large chunks of meat and drinking heavily, without the variety of modern seasonings. Thus, the ingredients and spices stored in the Land of Shadows were quite monotonous.

Scáthach crouched by the fire, preparing the simplest of grilled meats, while Roy's gaze lingered on her snow-white, plump thighs. Her flawless jade-like skin reflected a faint, dewy glow under the firelight, making Roy unable to resist imagining the strength hidden in those legs.

Before long, Scáthach placed the grilled meat on a roughly made plate and set it before Roy.

Sitting across from him, she rested her cheek on one hand, her eyes tender yet teacher-like, as if pitying a starved student. She urged, "…Try your teacher's cooking."

Under her gaze, Roy had no choice but to lower his head and eat the perfectly charred yet tender meat. Scáthach's demeanor—part sister, part mother, part mentor—gave Roy the strange feeling that she saw him as nothing more than an "immature child."

Admittedly, given their ages, this dynamic made sense. One was an "ancient crone" who had lived for thousands of years, while the other, even with two lifetimes combined, was barely over thirty—and in this life, not even eighteen yet. Truly, an old cow feasting on tender grass.

As Roy took a bite, his eyes lit up. The meat melted in his mouth, though he couldn't identify the animal. Scáthach's skill far exceeded his expectations—she had flawlessly blended the simplest meat with the most basic seasonings, leaving no room for criticism.

"Your cooking is truly exceptional," Roy praised sincerely. After all, she was a woman who had lived for millennia—no doubt she had spent her free time mastering all sorts of useless skills. That explained her culinary prowess.

Scáthach seemed to read his thoughts and smiled warmly. "…This is merely knowledge granted by the Wisdom of Dún Scáith."

'Just what exactly does that Wisdom of Dún Scáith teach you? This is practically gourmet-level cooking—all that's missing is the food glowing.' Roy silently grumbled between bites.

The Celts had no custom of dining in silence. As Roy ate, Scáthach remarked, "…The Land of Shadows doesn't have much in terms of food reserves. I consulted Aiwass, but even she couldn't say how long you'd stay here. To ensure your training isn't hindered by lack of food, I'll use runes to fix your satiety after this meal—what Eastern practitioners call fasting."

Roy paused mid-chew, frowning. "…What did you and Aiwass talk about?"

He couldn't help but wonder what a bizarre angel and a sadistic queen from beyond the world could possibly have discussed.

"Just some questions about you. You can ask her for the details."

Scáthach seemed reluctant to mention the Holy Guardian Angel, so she answered dismissively.

"Runes have that kind of effect too?"

Seeing Scáthach unwilling to elaborate, Roy changed the subject.

"Runes are an extremely versatile form of magecraft, especially the primordial runes. They're highly effective whether in daily life or combat."

After a pause, Scáthach added, "...I won't teach you magecraft. I'll only instruct you in weapons and unarmed combat. Aiwass is more knowledgeable than me when it comes to magical theories—I'll admit that. Though I don't know how skilled she is at teaching, she strongly insisted I shouldn't teach you any magical knowledge. So I agreed—why not?"

Roy hadn't expected Aiwass to discuss this with Scáthach. But compared to Scáthach, he currently trusted Aiwass more, so he didn't object to her suggestion. Instead, he nodded and said, "...As the angel who governs 'the imparting of knowledge,' we can trust her ability to teach."

Roy didn't mention how his body, being a Campione, was highly resistant to magecraft. Odin's primordial runes likely fell under the category of Authorities, so it made sense they could affect him. Scáthach was experienced—if she said it was possible, then it must be.

"Good. From your tone, I can tell you've acknowledged me as your mentor and are ready to accept my guidance."

Scáthach's wine-red eyes gazed at Roy, shimmering like starlight.

"I don't want to go against my true feelings. In fact, during battles in another world, I'd already been longing for a teacher to guide me. Meeting you, Shishou, is my honor. So, Shishou, when do we begin?"

Having finished his meal, Roy looked for a napkin to wipe his mouth but realized there were no towels or tissues here. He had to make do with his sleeve.

He was eager to start learning immediately because Roy didn't know how long he could stay in the Land of Shadows. If the interworld gate opened again, he wouldn't hesitate to return to the Campione world.

There, he still had unfinished business—unresolved 'fate.' Now wasn't the time for him to remain in this Type-Moon world.

"Your training begins now!"

Scáthach smiled tenderly and alluringly, but as Roy froze in surprise, the warmth in her eyes faded, replaced by a wild, cold intensity. "...Even while eating, you must always stay vigilant against potential ambushes. This is the most basic quality of a warrior. This is... your first lesson!"

A blood-red spear materialized behind Roy like a flying sword, shooting toward him with lightning speed. At this distance, under Scáthach's control, Roy could barely avoid his vitals—only for the spear to pierce his shoulder in a spray of blood.

'Isn't this teaching method a bit too brutal?!'

Roy cursed inwardly, retracting all his previous thoughts about Scáthach being gentle. This woman was still a sadistic queen at heart, with the bizarre hobby of educating others!

***

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