["Yes. But how should I put it... the likelihood of her manifesting as a fairy again is quite slim. There simply isn't enough magical energy left,"] Irigal explained.
Wayland wasn't particularly disappointed. The fairy had been corrupted and warped by pollution; now, her essence had been returned to a natural state of growth.
'What about this rift?'
["The Mage's Association will handle it. Besides, you couldn't get in even if you wanted to. The exterior is covered in layers of bounded fields. With your current skill level, it would take years to breach them--and by then, the rift will have long since vanished."]
Wayland began his ascent toward the surface.
"Ah..."
As he broke the surface of the Thames, the oppressive, murky atmosphere vanished. He took several deep lungfuls of fresh air, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.
[Side Quest 4: Ghostly Haunting Complete. Rewards have been issued. Please choose a suitable time to claim them, Master.]
Wayland smirked. 'Irigal, you're actually being timely for once.'
The sky was a heavy, leaden grey. The sun appeared buried beneath the clouds, casting only a dim, hazy glow over the landscape.
Wayland opened his eyes and saw a massive castle loom in the distance.
It sat perched atop a jagged cliff, surrounded by forests of strange, twisted stones--sharp, towering monoliths that looked like the horns of a demon scratching at the twilight sky.
The road leading to the castle gate was winding and treacherous, littered with weathered grey stones.
This was the Land of Shadows--a realm entirely cloaked in darkness, teeming with countless undead spirits. They clawed at the high walls, desperate to return to the world of the living, yet none could cross the threshold.
Because there was a guardian--one who would never age and never die.
Combat. Slaughter.
Whether they were human, spirit, or god, they were all cut down without exception.
"Death is their final resting place."
Scathach stood before him, gripping a scarlet spear. "But you... you are still alive."
Wayland instinctively reached out to catch the spear she tossed him. The weapon was incredibly heavy; it nearly slipped from his grasp as his arms strained under the weight.
"You are far too weak, Master. At this rate, you won't be able to save anything, let alone the world."
Wayland was stunned. Before he could even begin to process her words, Scathach stepped back, a second scarlet spear appearing in her hand.
"Please... be careful."
Wayland nodded. In the next instant, he felt as if he'd been struck head-on by a high-speed train while standing on the tracks.
Pain!
His entire body felt as if it were being torn apart at the seams.
He could clearly hear his ribs creaking and snapping as he was launched through the air. He slammed into a stone wall, his body embedded in the rock, and he nearly lost consciousness.
'How is the pain this real? Isn't this supposed to be a memory?'
"Stand up, Master."
The cold, sharp voice cut through his disorientation.
Wayland blinked, looking up at Scathach, who stood motionless a few meters away.
He hadn't even seen her move.
Bearing the excruciating pain, Wayland used the spear as a crutch and forced himself to his feet.
Scathach skillfully spun her spear, the weapon a blur in her hand. Her expression didn't flicker once, despite Wayland's wretched state.
"I never hold back."
Scathach's long legs, encased in translucent purple silk, blurred as she stepped forward. Her slender waist erupted with explosive power. A violet shadow flickered before Wayland's eyes. Before the sound of her movement could even reach his ears, his spear had been knocked aside, and the butt of hers slammed into his chest like a whip.
His consciousness winked out.
He died.
"IRIGAL!"
Wayland bolted upright as he snapped out of the memory. The sensation of his body being shattered into pieces was still fresh in his mind. He was pale, drenched in sweat, and shaking with rage. "What the hell is with that memory?"
He'd assumed the reward would be similar to Gandr--a direct transfer of information into his brain. He never expected... whatever that was.
And even if it had to be immersive, did it really need to include full sensory pain and 'Hell' difficulty?
'No one would play a VR game like this. This damn system...'
["Is something wrong?"] Irigal asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Wayland pressed a hand to his throbbing temple, his anger still simmering. 'This 'teaching method' is completely unreasonable!'
["That's just Scathach. She's... thorough."]
'No, I'm talking about the after-sales service! Where's the warning?'
["Don't be so angry. There are no shortcuts to true strength. Between the boundary of life and death, your body will forge its own instincts. Even if your physical stats are currently lacking, reinforcing your body with magecraft will allow your spear techniques to grow at an incredible rate."]
Irigal's explanation was soft, almost surprisingly gentle.
Wayland blinked. Was this system's AI actually... empathetic?
'I'm going to end up a madman at this rate...'
Wayland sighed and dove back into the memory once more.
"You've returned?"
Scathach didn't look surprised. "If you've rested enough, pick up your spear. This is pure technique; I am not using a single ounce of prana. If you can't even endure this much, you have no right to call yourself my student."
"I never asked to be your student!"
Before the words had even fully left his mouth, Wayland was dead again.
'Irigal... are you sure this is just a memory?'
Having died instantly for the third time, Wayland was starting to have serious doubts.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]