Jayr POV - Nasuverse, Moon, SE.RA.PH, Tsukumihara Academy - 2030 AD
For the third time in a row, I wake up to singing.
Not the trained, angelic, choir-approved kind, not something pleasant that eases you into consciousness.
No, I wake up to Nero belting out the Circle of Life at full volume, off-key in a way that should be physically impossible, echoing through our Private Room as steam pours out of the bathroom like a smoke machine at a theatre opening gone wrong.
"♪Nants ingonyama bagithi baba
Sithi uhm ingonyama
Nants ingonyama bagithi baba
Sithi uhhmm ingonyama
Ingonyama
Siyo Nqoba
Ingonyama♪"
My eyes crack open, and regret immediately follows.
I groan and roll onto my side, burying my face into the pillow as if that might somehow muffle the sound, but it doesn't.
The Moon Cell, in all its godlike power, has apparently decided acoustics are funny, or maybe it has just given up too.
I mutter into the fabric, my voice thick with sleep, "Why… Why did I let her watch Disney movies?"
The answer, unfortunately, is obvious. Because I said yes once, and Nero never forgets a yes.
Her voice shifts seamlessly into another song without pause as if the transition were planned. This time I Just Can't Wait to Be King explodes into the room, somehow louder than before, full of dramatic emphasis, wrong notes, and an alarming amount of confidence.
I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. The artificial sky above me is already set to morning mode, a soft gradient of pale blue and simulated sunlight. Too perfect, unfortunately, not so calm.
I blink slowly as consciousness fully returns while thinking, 'Today. Today is the last day before the Elimination Battles.'
The thought settles in my chest with weight, outside this room, SE.RA.PH is already sharpening its knives, Masters are planning, Servants are testing limits, alliances are fraying, everyone knows that tomorrow, people will start dying for real, cutting down the remaining number of Masters to half.
The thought settles in my chest with weight, outside this room, SE.RA.PH is already sharpening its knives, Masters are planning, Servants are testing limits, and alliances are fraying at the edges.
Everyone knows that tomorrow, people will start dying for real, cutting the remaining number of Masters in half without mercy and very little ceremony.
And here I am, lying in bed, listening to the Emperor of Rome massacre Elton John.
I exhale and murmur, "... This is my life."
The singing crescendos into Hakuna Matata, and at that point, I give up.
I push myself upright, stretch until my spine pops, and swing my legs over the bed.
The floor is warm beneath my feet, another unnecessary comfort the Moon Cell insists on providing.
I shuffle toward the bathroom and slide the door open just as Nero spins dramatically beneath the shower spray, completely naked, arms thrown wide, water cascading down her golden hair like a spotlight meant only for her.
"♪Hakuna Matata! What a wonderful phraaaase!♪"
Steam fogs the mirrors, the room smells faintly of soap and something floral, likely roses I don't remember owning, but without doubt the work of Nero.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and ask, "You realise it's seven in the morning, right?"
She gasps theatrically, green eyes lighting up the moment she notices me, "Umu! You're awake! Good! Come, come! This song demands an audience!"
Before I can protest, before I can even finish forming the word no, she reaches out, grabs my wrist, and yanks me forward.
The warmth hits first, then water, then Nero's laughter, bright and unrestrained, filling the small space as she keeps singing unabated.
She transitions into Can You Feel the Love Tonight with absolutely no concern for pitch, tempo, or dignity.
I sigh and let my forehead rest briefly against her shoulder, water running down my face as I mutter, "One day, you're going to get copyright struck by the Moon Cell."
She laughs harder, completely unbothered, "Then it shall learn to appreciate art!"
Despite everything, despite tomorrow, despite the war pressing in from all sides, I find myself smiling.
For a few stolen minutes, there is only warm water, steam, and Nero's terrible singing echoing off the walls, and somehow, impossibly, that feels like enough.
After the shower, we fall back into our routine.
Towels are exchanged, damp hair is dealt with, and clothes are pulled on without much thought.
Nero hums cheerfully the entire time, mercifully quieter now, her voice drifting through the room like background music instead of an assault.
She keeps switching melodies every few seconds, fragments of Disney songs stitched together into something only she could call a medley.
I move into the kitchenette and start preparing breakfast.
Croissants, warmed just enough to flake when torn, fresh fruit juice poured into mismatched glasses, coffee for me, strong and dark, something sweet for Nero, because of course.
The motions are automatic, comfortable, familiar in a way that almost feels dangerous.
We sit at the small table together as the artificial window brightens, sunlight filtering in at a carefully calculated angle.
It casts a warm glow across the room, softening the edges, almost convincing enough to forget that none of this is real, no sun, no sky, just data pretending very hard to be kind.
Nero swings her legs beneath the chair as she eats, utterly relaxed, crumbs collecting at the corner of her mouth.
She takes a dramatic sip of juice, sighs in satisfaction, and then looks at me with open curiosity before she says lightly, "So, what grand battles await us today, my Preator?"
I lift my mug, take a slow sip, and let the warmth settle before answering, "Only one thing on the schedule. We're meeting Aletha at noon."
She blinks, once, then again, surprised by the simplicity of it, "…That's it?"
I confirm, "That's it."
Her eyes widen, and then they sparkle. She leans forward, hands braced on the table as she asks, "Then the rest of the day is free?"
In response to her question, I reply, "Yes."
She slams both palms down hard enough to rattle the dishes, "Then we shall continue our exploration of the great Disney Epics!"
I groan into my coffee, "Nero..."
She cuts me off immediately, pointing a finger with imperial authority, "That tale about that thief... Aladdin. I demand it."
I consider arguing, I really do, then I remember tomorrow.
In the end, I'm unable to refuse her and say, "… Reluctantly approved."
She cheers like she's just won the Holy Grail.
We settle onto the couch, the screen flickering to life.
Aladdin begins, bright colours and upbeat music filling the room, Nero reacts to everything with complete sincerity.
She gasps at the Cave of Wonders as if it might swallow her whole. She cheers during the magic carpet chase, clapping her hands. When Jafar appears, she hisses with open disdain, muttering commentary about tyrants and poor leadership choices.
I watch the movie, but I watch her more.
The way she leans forward during tense moments, the way she laughs without restraint, the way she looks at the screen as if this story, simple and ridiculous as it is, matters.
For a little while, the war feels far away.
But it never fully disappears.
I notice the way the room remains too still, the way the clock in the corner ticks with perfect precision, the way my thoughts keep drifting, uninvited, to tomorrow.
To names that won't be called again, to Masters who won't get to sit and watch something stupid and comforting ever again.
Nero doesn't seem bothered by any of it, or maybe she is, and simply refuses to show it.
As the movie winds down, the moment stretches thin, the illusion cracks.
Nero exhales, content, and then straightens. Her expression softens, just a little, "It is time, isn't it?"
I nod.
She fades into Spirit Form, her presence still warm at my side even after her body vanishes.
I grab my jacket, take one last look at the room, and commit it to memory, just in case the situation becomes too chaotic.
We step out into the hallway together.
The hallway feels different today.
Not visually, SE.RA.PH never changes unless it wants to; the floors are still pristine, the lighting soft and evenly spaced, the walls polished to a faint sheen.
But the air itself feels heavier, like everyone is breathing just a little more carefully.
Masters passed by without speaking.
Some walk alone, shoulders tight, eyes forward; others move in pairs, murmuring in low voices that cut off the moment anyone draws near.
A few glance at me, recognition flickering in their expressions before calculation takes its place, measuring, guessing.
Who will be gone tomorrow?
I catch sight of a boy leaning against the wall, hands shaking as he pretends to scroll through a menu that isn't there.
Further down, a woman kneels, whispering furiously to an unseen Servant, her jaw clenched like she's already bracing for loss.
Nero remains quiet at my side in Spirit Form. I can feel her presence, steady and composed, but there's a sharpness to it now.
The carefree emperor from the morning is still there, but she's put something heavier back on, like armour.
We reach the staircase, and no one is following us.
The climb up is silent, and soon the doors open onto the rooftop, and the simulated sky stretches wide above us, blue, calm, indifferent.
Aletha is already there.
She stands near the railing, posture relaxed but alert, fingers resting lightly against the metal as she watches the horizon.
Her coat flutters faintly in a breeze that exists only because the Moon Cell decided rooftops should have wind.
She turns as we approach and gives a short nod before saying, "Morning."
I wave my hand and reply, "Hello there."
She wastes no time on small talk and says, "My attempt failed."
That gets my full attention.
She continues, voice even but tight beneath the surface, "I tried to locate an item connected to Ledram through various means. Direct divination. Familiars. I even used Felix Felicis to increase my chances."
I raise an eyebrow, "And still nothing?"
She shakes her head, "Nothing. Not even a false positive."
I grimace, "Even with liquid luck..."
Aletha says, turning to face me fully now, "Which means he's either deliberately shielding himself against detection at a level most Masters can't manage, or his connection to The Darkness interferes with probability itself."
That tracks. Too well.
I frown and say slowly, "Darkness tends to distort causality, and luck doesn't like blind spots."
She exhales through her nose, frustration slipping through for just a moment before she reins it back in, "Your turn."
At this point, I briefly explain what happened after we split yesterday: the AV Room, Julius' hideout, and the data cache he left behind like a dead man's confession.
Aletha listens without interrupting, her gaze sharp, her posture still.
At the end of my tale, I say, "I found a lot of names, and among them there was the last unknown Champion. Remember? The one you told me about... The one with the Omnitrix. His name is Biol."
Her eyes narrow, "So that's his name."
I nod, "It is. And he's the one who eliminated Julius and Leo."
Aletha clicks her tongue softly and mutters, "That explains a lot."
Then, I continue, laying out the fragments I pieced together, "I also found some more information about Ledram's Peerage. At least part of it. Using Julius' descriptions, I was able to recognise Chun-Li, the martial arts master from Street Fighter, Aika Kiryu,u someone from Ledram's home universe who has a notable magic talent, and Rumi Usagiyama, the Pro Hero known as Mirko from the My Hero Academia Universe."
Aletha lets out a low whistle, "Chun-Li and Mirko? That's… okay, I guess... I mean, sure, they may be somewhat troublesome in close combat, but it is manageable."
I look at her and say, "That's an understatement. Remember that you won't fight them alone."
She studies my face for a moment, then our surroundings, then she shakes her head and says, "We shouldn't discuss our plans here. Even if we are isolating the area, this place isn't 100% secure."
I nod, "Agreed."
She turns toward the exit and says, "Come to my Private Room."
Hearing that, I hesitate, "Are you sure?"
Aletha waves her hand dismissively and says in a light but firm tone, "Yeah... At this point, it is useless to hide. We are friends, and I trust you."
After saying that, she walks away, leaving me staring after her for half a heartbeat before I follow.
Moments later, we step inside her space. Aletha's Private Room feels different the moment we step inside.
Not just secure, but personal.
The space is larger than mine, but less decorative, with clean lines and muted colours.
Functional furniture arranged with purpose rather than comfort, it feels lived in, but not indulged in, like someone who treats this place as a base of operations instead of a refuge.
The door seals behind us with a soft chime, and the subtle pressure at the back of my skull fades.
Whatever Aletha uses to lock this room down, it's thorough, not to the level of my own Private Room, but very close.
She exhales, just slightly. "We're safe here."
Almost on cue, her Servant materialises in a burst of light and motion, "Bonjour~!"
The voice is bright, melodic, and unapologetically cheerful. She spins into existence with a flourish, skirts settling as if she's stepped onto a stage rather than a battlefield.
She is a young woman with fair skin, white hair, and bright blue eyes, wearing a distinctive red and black outfit; atop her head sits a large, stylized headpiece resembling a flower or hat with red and black detailing, she is dressed in a form-fitting red dress with sharp, geometric patterns and black trim, complemented by white thigh-high leggings adorned with silver accents, she also wears red gloves on her left hand, which she raises delicately near her face.
Her expression is pleasant, with a subtle smile that suggests confidence and warmth.
Long, white ribbons or streamers flow from her headpiece, giving her an ethereal quality.
She raises a gloved hand near her face, tilting her head with a knowing smile, the kind that suggests she's already assessed me and found me amusing.
Radiant, graceful, impossible to mistake for anything but royalty.
I instantly recognise her, she is Marie Antoinette, a Rider Class Servant.
Marie Antoinette beams, before she clasps her hands together, eyes sparkling, "Ah! Monsieur Jayr! How delightful to finally meet you in person!"
At the same time, Nero manifests beside me, arms crossed proudly, chin lifted with immediate recognition.
The air shifts.
Nero smiles. Marie Antoinette smiles wider before she hums, "Oh? Another queen?"
Nero scoffs softly, "Umu. I suppose even fallen monarchs may yet shine."
Aletha pinches the bridge of her nose, "Please don't start."
Introductions follow, names exchanged, titles acknowledged.
Somehow, despite the looming threat of annihilation hanging over all of us, laughter slips in.
Nero and Marie circle each other verbally, compliments edged with rivalry, jabs hidden behind elegance.
It's strange, watching two rulers from different eras measure one another like this, neither willing to yield an inch.
For a few moments, it almost feels normal.
Then Aletha's expression hardens, and she says, cutting through the chatter, "I had some time to think about it. About what you told me some time ago. About the various firearm-wielding Servants."
The room quiets.
She looks directly at me and says, "I gathered more data. Cross-referenced patterns. And given Ledram's behaviour… I believe that it is very likely that Ledram's Servant is Oda Nobunaga."
All eyes turn to me.
I nod slowly and say, "That's a strong possibility. And if it's her… she's dangerous. Especially against Riders Class Servants and the Divine."
Marie's smile fades into something more thoughtful. Nero's gaze sharpens, imperial confidence giving way to a ruler's understanding of war.
Aletha folds her arms, "Then explain."
So I do. I take a breath before speaking and then begin, "Oda Nobunaga is an Archer Class Servant. She is known as the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven and is called by many the Demon Archer. And considering who her Master is... I personally find it quite fitting since Ledram is an actual Devil."
Aletha's jaw tightens slightly.
Then I continue, "She's not just famous. She's foundational. Heroic Spirits draw power from Mystery and fame, and Nobunaga sits near the top of Japan's collective memory. The only figures who rival her are Sakamoto Ryouma and Ushiwakamaru, better known as Minamoto no Yoshitsune."
Marie tilts her head, "A conqueror, then."
But I correct her, "A revolutionary. And that matters."
Marie blinks, just once.
Then she laughs, light and musical, clasping her hands together as if she's been pleasantly surprised rather than unsettled before she says brightly, "Oh my. Revolutionary is such a strong word, isn't it? People are always so passionate when they believe something new will make everyone happier."
She tilts her head, ribbons swaying softly, "France had many passionate people as well. They loved change very much."
Nero glances sideways at her, expression unreadable.
Marie continues, utterly sincere, "It is admirable, really. To believe so strongly that tomorrow will be better than today."
She smiles, radiant and warm, "I think that kind of faith is beautiful."
There's a beat of awkward silence.
Aletha clears her throat and mutters, "…Right."
I resist the urge to rub my face.
Marie looks between us, puzzled for half a second, then claps her hands once, "But! If this Demon King is truly a revolutionary, then she must be quite dramatic, yes? All great change-makers are."
Nero snorts despite herself, "That is… one way to describe it."
The tension eases, just a fraction, before settling back into place.
Nero then hums thoughtfully, "Revolutions are always loud."
I say, "They are. Especially when they're armed."
Then I explain her fighting style next, "She's definitely no ordinary servant. Befitting of the name Archer, Oda Nobunaga boasts incredible power when fighting from a distance, but the fact that she's usually supposed to consume great amounts of Magical Energy makes her a difficult Servant to use. However, considering that her current Master is Ledram, the problem of mana consumption can be considered resolved."
Marie's brows rise at that, while Aletha mutters something under her breath that sounds like a curse that has something to do with Merlin's family jewels.
I continue, "Her armaments are matchlocks and a katana named Heshikiri Hasebe. She is shown to be able to levitate and surf on top of her rifles and fly at high speed enough to surpass and overwhelm a squadron of German Bombers and Fighter Planes."
After that, I also outline the various skills owned by Oda Nobunaga, starting with the Class Skills first, "Magic Resistance at B-rank. Anything below a three-verse spell barely scratches her. Even greater rituals struggle. This includes the Command Seals."
Marie clicks her tongue, "Charming."
"The next one is Independent Action, also B-rank. Even if she loses her Master, she can remain materialised for two full days."
That gets everyone's attention.
Then I move on to her Personal Skills, "Unifying the Nation by Force – Innovation. A-rank. This one's dangerous."
Aletha leans forward and asks, "How so?"
I explain, "It's conceptual. It enforces the new over the old. The more Mystery or Divinity an opponent has, the stronger Nobunaga becomes against them. Guardian spirits, divine beings, ancient heroes... She excels at killing them."
Nero exhales slowly, "How very her."
Then I add, "But the opposite is also true. Against modern, low-mystery opponents, the skill weakens. So do her Noble Phantasms."
Aletha's eyes sharpen, "So she's strongest against Servants."
I reply, "More or less. Some Servants are quite modern. But for sure, she is effective against someone like me."
I continue without pause, "Demon King. A-rank. It's similar to Innocent Monster, but she controls it. She called herself a Demon King in life, so she gets all the benefits without the drawbacks. She can alter her abilities and appearance at will."
Marie folds her arms and comments, "How unfair."
I smile wryly as I go on, "Nobunaga Tactics. B-rank. Pre-battle victory through logistics, deception, and surprise. She once won a war by attacking during a storm when no one thought she would."
Aletha grimaces, "I hate her already."
Lastly, I say, "And Charisma at B-minus. Enough to lead armies. Inconsistent, but dangerous in group engagements. And remember that Ledram can summon an endless army of Darklings."
This makes Aletha exhale loudly and mutter, "Naturally..."
I pause before the last part, and then, I say, "Lastly... Her Noble Phantasms."
The room stills as I continue, "Nobunaga's main Noble Phantasm is Three Line Formation. It deploys and fires three thousand matchlocks at once. Their attack power increases against Heroic Spirits with the Riding skill."
Marie's smile tightens, "So I should avoid standing still."
I conclude by saying, "Her second Noble Phantasm is Demon King of the Sixth Heaven."
Nero's expression turns grave as I explain, "The true Noble Phantasm of Demon King Nobunaga, destroyer of gods and Buddhas. A Reality Marble that transforms her into an existence wielding an absolute power against those possessing Mystery and Divinity. For those possessing a high divinity, it is hard to even maintain their existence within it. However, those with low divinity would, as expected, only feel a little hot. That's it."
Silence settles.
Finally, Aletha clicks her tongue, "So direct confrontation is suicide."
I say, "Unless it's controlled. You can't fight her on her terms."
Plans are adjusted. Assumptions challenged. Counters refined. Aletha probes for weaknesses. Nero offers insight from a ruler's perspective. Marie suggests mobility and misdirection. Bit by bit, something workable forms.
Not a guarantee, but a fair chance.
By the time we're done, the room feels smaller.
Not because of the walls, but because of what's been said within them. Every angle explored. Every weakness probed. Every contingency was weighed and found wanting in one way or another. It isn't despair that lingers in the air, but something colder.
Acceptance.
Aletha straightens, rolling her shoulders once as if physically setting the discussion aside before she says, "That's as good as it gets. Anything more would just be wishful thinking."
Marie gives a graceful nod, hands folded, "Then we shall simply have to perform beautifully."
Nero smirks, "Naturally."
There's nothing more to add.
The door seals open, and we step back into the corridor. The pressure returns faintly, like background noise you only notice when it's gone.
Aletha pauses just long enough to look at me before she says, "I'll see you tomorrow."
I reply, "You will."
She leaves without another word and closes the door.
Nero and I walk in silence toward our room. The artificial sun is already dipping, the sky shifting into warm hues of orange and red. It's almost convincing enough to forget that it isn't real. Almost.
We pass other Masters along the way.
Some are surrounded by Servants, speaking in low voices. Others walk alone, eyes unfocused, hands clenched. A few laugh too loudly, as if daring the world to take their courage seriously.
Looking at them, I grimly ponder, 'I wonder which of them won't be here tomorrow.'
The thought sits heavy, unwelcome but unavoidable.
Nero remains quiet beside me, her presence steady, regal, grounded.
She doesn't fill the silence with jokes or bravado this time; she understands what this is. What tonight represents.
When we reach our Private Room, the door slides open with its familiar chime.
The space greets us exactly as we left it, untouched, preserved, waiting.
As Nero settles back into Spirit Form, I linger for a moment at the threshold while thinking, 'Tomorrow, Aletha will fight. And I won't.'
The realisation sharpens into clarity, 'Which means I'll be there. Watching. Ready. If Aletha falls. If her energy drops too low. If the Moon Cell prepares to erase her existence as cleanly and impersonally as deleting corrupted data... I can stop it. I don't know what will happen tomorrow. But I won't let her disappear without trying. Not like that. Not after everything we have gone through together.'
The door closes behind me, sealing the room in quiet.
Tomorrow will come soon enough.