Jayr POV - Nasuverse, Moon, SE.RA.PH, Tsukumihara Academy - 2030 AD
Different from my usual mornings, this time I woke up to Nero singing. Loudly. Painfully loudly.
"♪The snow glows white on the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen♪"
Her voice hits a note so sharp that I jolt up, convinced for a split second that the reality itself cracked. I blink blearily, stare at the ceiling, and groan into my pillow while thinking, 'Of course she's singing that song. Of course, she's doing it without Imperial Privilege. And of course she's doing it in the shower where the acoustics amplify the disaster threefold.'
She continues, absolutely butchering the rhythm.
"♪A kingdom of isolation
And it looks like I'm the queen♪"
To Nero's credit, she puts her entire soul into it. To reality's detriment, her soul is apparently tone-deaf unless she cheats with skill Imperial Privilege.
"♪The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried
Don't let them in, don't let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know
Well, now they know!♪"
The water stops. For a moment, I hope she's done. Then the volume doubles as she steps closer to the bathroom door.
I drag the blanket over my head while thinking, 'Yup. I definitely created a monster. I hope the Omniverse forgives me for this mistake.'
She reaches the chorus with the enthusiasm of someone trying to summon a Noble Phantasm.
"♪Let it go!! Let it go!!
Can't hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door
I don't care what they're going to say
Let the storm rage on
The cold never bothered me anyway♪"
It is so legendary bad that some people theorised that if Nero were capable of using Elizabeth Báthory's Noble Phantasm, Báthory Erzsébet: Fresh Blood Demoness, the resulting power would be enough to at the very least destroy the world if not the whole universe.
"♪It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me can't get to me at all
It's time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me
I'm free!!♪"
The floor vibrates, not metaphorically; I'm ninety per cent sure a Servant-sensitive seismograph somewhere just panicked.
"♪Let it go! Let it go!!
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go!! Let it go!!!
You'll never see me cry!
Here I stand, and here I stay
Let the storm rage on
My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiralling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallises like an icy blast
I'm never going back; the past is in the past
Let it go, let it go
And I'll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone
Here I stand in the light of day
Let the storm rage on
The cold never bothered me anyway♪"
At some point, she loops the song, then loops it again and by the third repetition, my soul leaves my body and watches from the ceiling.
When it becomes obvious the suffering won't end on its own, I accept my fate, get up, and walk toward the bathroom while thinking, 'If I don't intervene, SE.RA.PH itself might step in to silence her for public safety.'
She's midway through the bridge when I open the door.
Steam rolls out, Nero stands under the showerhead with the confidence of someone convinced the world adores her voice.
"Praetor!" She beams, water dripping down her face, "Have you come to greet the dawn with me?"
"Something like that," I mutter before stepping in with her.
She takes this as approval and continues singing, inside my ear.
I briefly consider cutting off my hearing, but then she smiles up at me, bright and proud, and… 'Fine, I'll endure. This is my life now. My eternal punishment. I've been through worse... I think...'
By the time breakfast is ready, Nero has calmed down enough to stop trying to reenact the entire movie soundtrack, mostly, she's still humming under her breath, fingers tapping the table in that same dramatic rhythm she's convinced matches the song.
She eats with regal enthusiasm, back straight, posture perfect, as if even toast must be conquered. Between bites, she looks up and declares, "Praetor, we're watching more of those plays. They nourish the soul in a way I never knew I missed before. Truly, they've awakened something in me."
I pause halfway through my drink, a small, cautious pause before I meet her expectant gaze and say, "I'll… keep that in mind."
Truth is, her eyes are shining with such uncomplicated excitement that it's impossible to say no. I make a mental note to find a way to keep her from discovering modern musicals. Or at least delay it until after the Moon Cell survives whatever's coming.
But she's happy, so I let her enjoy the afterglow of her chaotic morning concert. Besides, if it gets too bad, I can always temporarily turn off my sense of hearing, a perfectly reasonable coping mechanism.
Inside, I whisper a prayer to any Concept still listening, [Please don't let her discover karaoke.]
Nero doesn't pick up on my internal panic. She sets her utensils down with a flourish, satisfied and says, lifting her chin, "A fine breakfast. A fine morning. A fine start to victory."
At this point, I say, "Speaking of victory, we should focus on today's schedule."
She gives a crisp nod, instantly slipping into the sharp, composed form of an Emperor preparing for war. Nero might be dramatic, loud, chaotic, and theatrically unhinged in her own charming way, but she switches gears faster than anyone I know.
Seeing that, I continue, "We have the rooftop meeting with Aletha. We need to share everything we learned yesterday and help her prepare for facing the Champion of Darkness."
Nero leans forward slightly, elbows near the edge of the table, eyes intent, "Your friend will need clarity. She has strength, but she lacks certainty. A commander who hesitates invites defeat."
I agree with her and say, "Exactly. And she can't afford to underestimate her opponent."
Nero smiles at that, not a smug—pleased smile, but a gentle and proud one, "Then let us lend her our guidance. An Emperor aids those she favours."
Hearing that, I grin and say, "Pretty sure you're doing it because I'm doing it."
She tilts her head with exaggerated contemplation and says, "Perhaps… but only perhaps. You're quite convincing when you decide to act like a proper Praetor."
I snort, "I'll take that as a compliment."
She shoots back, "You should. It was one."
We finish eating and clean up the table, Nero handles her dishes with a surprising gentleness for someone who treated a Disney song like a battlefield anthem, she hums again as she works, a softer melody this time, a wandering tune instead of a sonic weapon.
Once we're ready to leave, she shifts into her Spirit Form, making her body dissolve into golden particles, drifting up like fireflies before fading; however, even unseen, I can always feel her presence, a warm, sharp pressure right behind my thoughts, like someone resting a hand lightly on my shoulder, familiar, steady.
The hallway feels strangely peaceful after surviving the morning. Almost still.
SE.RA.PH feels different today, the air is thicker, the background hum sharper, like the system is holding its breath, somehow word spreads fast around here even without people talking, fear, anticipation, speculation, emotions ripple through the student body in a way the Moon Cell can't quite hide.
Nero's voice echoes in my mind, [The tension suits a battlefield. A kingdom before dawn.]
I murmur aloud, "Yeah. Something like that."
We walk through the campus, well, I walk; Nero floats unseen beside me, and the tension only grows stronger.
Students pass by, some whispering, some quiet, some pretending nothing has changed. Everyone knows the preparation period won't stay peaceful for much longer. Masters are becoming increasingly more ruthless each round they survive.
When we reach the stairwell leading up to the rooftop, I pause for a second, hand on the metal railing, the door above rattles softly in the wind.
Then I ask, "Ready?"
Nero answers without hesitation, [Always.]
And with that, we push forward.
The staircase up to the rooftop is colder than the halls below, the air shifting from the controlled warmth of the academy to something sharper, thinner. The higher we climb, the more the wind leaks through the gaps around the door at the top, and it carries that very faint digital hum SE.RA.PH never fully hides, the quiet reminder that this place is made of data, not bricks.
I push the rooftop door open, and the wind greets me with a sudden rush against my face before I notice that Aletha is already there.
She stands near the railing, hands braced against the metal, leaning forward slightly as she stares at the sky.
Her hair lifts and falls with the breeze, her posture tight with the kind of tension someone only holds when their thoughts won't settle. She is muttering something under her breath, likely to her Servant, who, like Nero, lingers unseen in their Spirit Form.
For a second, she doesn't notice me; she looks small in the half-coded light, but not fragile, more like someone coiled, gathering herself.
Then she spots me and straightens quickly, relief flashes across her face, the honest kind she doesn't bother hiding, before she says, "Oh, good. You made it."
I lift a hand in a casual wave while replying, "Wouldn't miss it. We've… got a lot to talk about."
Her expression shifts at once, wariness mixed with expectation and that bracing-for-impact look she does when she expects bad news.
She doesn't say anything, but the look is basically: Just tell me before my stomach flips again.
So I do.
I begin without circling around the issue, "Aletha, I can now confirm something important about your opponent."
Her shoulders tense, not dramatically, just a small, controlled tightening. Then she takes a breath that's sharper than normal and says, steady but strained, "Right. Tell me."
I meet her eyes and say it plainly, "As we thought, Ledram Vassago is indeed the Champion of Darkness. No doubt left about it."
She doesn't explode, she doesn't panic, she just deflates a little before she mutters in a flat voice, "Seriously…?"
I nod, "Yeah. And before you get worked up..."
But she interrupts me, and she blurts, hands lifting for a second, "I'm not getting worked up!"
I lift an eyebrow at her reaction.
She crosses her arms, then uncrosses them, then crosses them again, making me almost smile wryly while thinking, 'She's definitely getting worked up.'
However, I continue anyway. "He's not evil."
Aletha blinks. Twice. Before she asks, "He's not?"
I shake my head and add, "No. Powerful? Absolutely. Overwhelmingly so. But not malicious. From what I sensed, he's more stable and morally grounded than most Masters in the whole Nasuverse."
She takes that in slowly, her expression shifts, the tension in her jaw easing just enough to show she's actually processing it instead of fighting it.
Then I add, "And... there's something else you need to know."
She gives a strained half-laugh while asking, "More?"
I nod, exhaling lightly and say, "Yeah. One of the people beside him, probably a member of his Peerage, is Elsa."
Aletha tilts her head and asks in a confused tone, "Elsa? Which Elsa?"
I hesitate just long enough that she notices, my lips twitch a bit as I say, "Elsa of Arendelle."
Her mouth opens a little, not shocked—just confused before she starts to gesture vaguely, "…Like… Frozen Elsa? 'Let it go', Elsa? That Elsa? The Disney Princess?"
I nod and answer. "Yep, that one."
She stares at me, then lets out a short exhale, "Jayr. Come on. Be serious."
I meet her gaze with the flattest, most unimpressed look I can manage and say, "I'm very serious."
She opens her mouth again, then closes it, then opens it once more, seemingly unable to decide what to say in response.
Finally, she says, "Well... I guess that's not the weirdest thing in the Omniverse. But she's a Disney Princess. She can't be that big of a threat."
She says this with the confidence of someone who has no idea she just poked a beehive.
I almost choke on air before I slowly say, "Aletha, do not underestimate her just because she's a 'Disney Princess.'"
That gets her attention; she straightens, eyes narrowing slightly.
Seeing that I've got her full attention, I continue, "Elsa is not limited by her original universe. Her magic is powerful, versatile, instinctive, and it grows fast. She's a walking natural disaster with a crown and perfect pitch. And honestly? Even the movie version of her is already scary if you take her feats seriously."
Aletha swallows hard.
I soften my tone a little and add, "I'm saying this because I care about you. Don't take Elsa lightly, especially not now that she's part of a Peerage tied to a Champion."
She holds my gaze, then lowers hers, ashamed before she admits, "... Yeah. Okay. You're right. I jumped to conclusions."
I say with a shrug. "It happens. Better to correct it now than in the Coliseum, where no second chances are given."
She nods once, fewer nerves, more focus this time.
A breeze sweeps across the rooftop, her hair shifts with it, but she doesn't flinch or look away. She's steadier now, grounding herself. Nero lingers beside me in Spirit Form, silent but observant.
The wind shifts again, brushing past us with a faint metallic undertone; it always sounds a little artificial up here, like the sky is pretending to breathe.
Aletha is still absorbing everything: Vassago's identity, Elsa's strength, the implications of facing a Champion. all this when her Servant hums beside her, a thoughtful, musing sound.
And just as Aletha is settling back into herself, behind her, her Servant hums thoughtfully, the faint sound drifting on the wind.
Then the voice appears in full, warm and feminine, carrying a touch of mischief, "Aletha, you got carried away with something many rulers do. You treated something familiar as harmless. Power doesn't stay soft just because it looks sweet. I've seen jesters outmatch generals when the moment demanded it."
Aletha blinks at the empty air next to her before she blurts out, "…That's surprisingly wise. Especially for you."
Her Servant gasps, offended, "Hey! I am always wise."
I hear Nero scoff quietly beside me in Spirit Form before she mutters privately in my mind, sounding unconvinced, [Always.]
Aletha crosses her arms, "If you're so wise, why are you talking out loud right now? Jayr is standing right here."
There's a beat of silence, then her Servant goes, "Eh? Ah! I forgot... Tehee!"
Aletha presses a hand against her face while muttering, "Unbelievable."
Then her Servant insists, voice bright again, "But it is fine! Even if Monsieur Jayr deduces my identity, it hardly matters. You're friends. Rivals, yes, but loyal ones. Being secretive around someone who consistently helps you feels like wasted effort."
Aletha opens her mouth, probably to yell, but the words die before they form. Instead, she lets out a long, deflated sigh before she reluctantly admits, "... I hate that you're right."
As the two of them settle, I turn over the single word the Servant let slip, monsieur. The accent, the cadence, the way she carries herself, even while invisible. All of it fits together neatly, making me conclude, 'Yeah. I have a pretty good idea who she is.'
But I don't point it out; if Aletha wants to tell me, she will.
Instead, I step back into the conversation before they drift too far from the topic, "Aletha, listen. Elsa is strong. Even her original version is no joke, and this one is stronger. A lot stronger."
She turns toward me fully this time, shoulders squared, she's listening now, not just reacting.
Seeing that, I continue, "Elsa's abilities grow with emotional liberation and acceptance. If she's past her canon fears, and it looks like she is, then her power spikes fast. And she's had time to adapt her abilities outside her original universe."
Hearing that, Aletha swallows, "So she's stronger than her movie version."
I nod and confirm, "By several magnitudes. But remember, she's not your actual opponent."
The words hit with more weight than I expected. She blinks once, twice, then nods slowly.
Right on cue, her Servant murmurs beside her, "And do not forget, Aletha. Power is not the same as intent. Even the darkest title can belong to a noble soul."
Aletha exhales through her nose, "Yeah... That's what's messing with me. When you said he was a Champion, I imagined someone, cruel, monstrous even. Like the Champion of Power."
I offer gently, "But the way I talk about him makes him sound human?"
She nods again, more firmly this time, "Yeah. Human."
I smile wryly and directly tell her, "That's because he is. Well, not really technically, as he's from the Devil race, but he has feelings, desires... Basically, the whole package that one expects from a living being."
Another long breath leaves her. She turns back toward the railing and rests her elbows on it, her expression wavers between worry and concentration, less overwhelmed now, more grounded.
After a few seconds, she asks quietly, "So what do I do? I mean, besides the obvious 'don't underestimate the ice queen who casually breaks thermodynamics' and 'there might be more overpowered monsters hiding behind the curtain.'"
I smile a little and say, "I've got three suggestions."
Her eyes sharpen, she angles her body toward me, ready as I say, "First, remember who the real opponent is. Ledram Vassago. The Champion of Darkness. His Concept empowers him in ways unrelated to Elsa or anyone else he may have on his Peerage. He's the centre point. Don't let the Peerage or the Servant distract you."
Aletha nods slowly, "Right… the Concept."
Then I continue, "Second, if Elsa joins the fight, treat her like a top-tier caster. Huge range. Massive battlefield control. No warm-up time. Think... a natural disaster with precision aim."
Aletha winces, but the understanding settles behind her eyes.
At this point, I finish, "And third, try to get your hands on something he's held for a while. Doesn't matter what it is. If we bring it to Rani, she can use Astrology Magecraft to dig up details we can't get on our own because of the limitations imposed by the Concepts to make this competition more 'fair'."
Aletha blinks in surprise, "I didn't even think of that."
I raise my chin and smugly say, "That's why I'm here."
She gives a small, grateful smile, not a forced one, not a tired one, just honest.
The rooftop quiets again, the digital sky above flickers subtly, lines of light bending like liquid glass as the simulation continues its slow shift toward midday while the wind wraps around us, cool, clean, and a little too perfect to be natural.
Aletha draws a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she says, "... Okay. That helps. A lot."
I nod and say, "Good. Then you're already better prepared than you were ten minutes ago."
Her Servant hums again, this time more cheerfully, "And we will prepare more, oui? I will not allow my Master to fall behind."
Nero, still unseen, answers in my mind, amused, [Her spirit is admirable. Loud, but admirable.]
I huff out a quiet laugh while replying, [If her Servant is who I think it is... Then she is more admirable than you think...]
Aletha glances between us, even if she can't see Nero, she can sense the mood shift, and then she stands straighter, the tension in her posture giving way to focus rather than fear before she says, "Alright. I'm going to dig into everything I can find about this Vassago guy. And I'll prepare for the worst while hoping for the best."
Hearing that, I smile and say. "Good. That's the spirit."
Aletha gives me one last nod, focused, resolved, steady in a way she wasn't when I first walked up here. The tension hasn't fully left her, but it's shifted; she's no longer bracing for bad news, she's planning, thinking, moving forward.
She steps back from the railing and heads toward the door, her Servant drifting behind her in an invisible but unmistakably enthusiastic aura.
Before she opens the door, she glances back, and a small, grateful smile forms on her face as she says, "Thanks. For everything."
I wave lightly and tell her, "You're our friend, Aletha. Of course, we'll help."
Nero chooses that moment to let her presence shimmer faintly beside me, just enough for Aletha to sense the shift in the air before she says with her usual regal tone, "And, because Jayr has decided to aid you, you also receive my imperial support. Rejoice."
Aletha snorts softly while her Servant squeaks joyfully, "Yes! We are all friends now! This is magnifique."
For a second, Aletha looks like she wants to correct her, then decides she doesn't have the energy, she just shakes her head and mutters, "Sure. Friends."
Then she disappears down the stairwell, the door closing behind her with a quiet metallic thud.
The next moment, the rooftop settles into silence.
The wind brushes past again, cool, crisp, carrying the faint electric pulse of the digital sky.
I take a look down below and see that the campus is alive with distant footsteps and murmured conversation, but up here it's just the two of us and the low hum of SE.RA.PH's core.
Nero materializes fully beside me, stepping from Spirit Form into physical shape with a flare of golden light that scatters like dust in the breeze, she folds her arms and tilts her chin upward, surveying the campus like an Empress assessing her domain while she says through our bond, though her expression already shows her approval, [You handled that well, my Praetor.]
I smile. [Thanks. You helped too.]
Nero smiles back, brightly, [Obviously. I am always helpful.]
She says this with the confidence of a woman who just performed a war crime against music this morning.
I laugh under my breath and lean against the railing, for a moment, silence stretches comfortably between us, the artificial sky shifts overhead, its colours smoothing into a brighter gradient as the digital "day" advances.
Meanwhile, my mind starts to wander, 'Aletha has a hard fight ahead of her. Ledram Vassago isn't just another strong Master; he's a Champion. Someone whose presence alone bends the narrative of SE.RA.PH. Someone who moves like the system's rules don't fully apply to him. And Elsa... She's a wildcard. Beautiful, dangerous, endlessly evolving. And only one of the fourteen allies he could potentially have at his side. The Moon Cell wasn't built for opponents like that. Well, neither were most Masters. The real battles are only beginning. When all the ones that are left are Champions, then this Holy Grail War will become even more intense and brutal.'
Nero nudges my arm with the back of her hand, pulling me out of the spiral, her eyes shine with a confident fire, the morning sun catching in her golden hair before she asks in an almost timid tone, "Praetor... When do we watch the sequel?"
I groan, pressing a hand to my face, "Nero... Please."
In response, she gasps theatrically. "Is this a refusal? Rebellion? Mutiny!?"
I look at her, and while smiling wryly, I say, "I'm still recovering from your morning performance."
She beams and declares, "Then we shall practice the songs together! A duet!"
I stare at the sky while thinking, 'There is no escape. SE.RA.PH might survive the Champions' battles. I… am not sure I'll survive Nero's incoming obsession with Disney movies.'