"Of course not. Master, do you remember the primary difference between modern magecraft and that of the Age of Gods?"
"I do!" Wayland's eyes lit up, his voice tinged with excitement. "You mean I can directly connect to the gods and borrow their authority to perform Age of Gods magecraft?"
["Exactly!"] Irigal clapped her hands, seemingly caught up in his enthusiasm.
"With so many gods out there, is the authority I receive random?"
["No... I mean, yes. It's random."]
Wayland paced in a tight circle, trying to steady his pounding heart. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he stopped. "Wait, something feels wrong. This system is supposed to be an auxiliary tool created by Chaldea. How could it possibly contain the complete set of Primordial Runes or have the power to unlock Divine Authority?"
["Eh? I don't know."] Irigal's lips curled into a playful smirk. ["I'm just a tool, you know? How would I know something like that?"]
'Why do I feel a sudden wave of resentment from her?' Wayland shivered.
There was definitely more to this system than met the eye.
But looking at the deliberately obtuse Irigal, he realized there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even pin down where she was. Was she in his mind, or hidden somewhere on his body?
"Wayland!"
Wayland stopped and turned to see Svin running toward him through the twilight.
The blond youth waved a hand. "The Professor wants to see you in his office."
"The Professor wants me?"
Wayland looked at him in confusion. He'd been here for half a month, and aside from a brief meeting on his first day, Waver hadn't paid him much attention.
"Yeah. He's at his apartment."
"Alright, I'll head over right now."
Waver's rented apartment on Slur Street.
Wayland stepped into the main hall.
To the left, in the manager's area, an elderly woman sat in a rocking chair, stroking a cat in her lap. She offered a slight nod as she saw him.
The apartment building was actually a property of the El-Melloi family.
Despite her age, the manager had an excellent memory; she recognized Wayland as a student of Lord El-Melloi II who had visited before.
Wayland returned the greeting with a smile and headed up the stairs.
The building was quiet, with no sound of voices. While his last meeting with Waver had been in the hall, this time it was in one of the rooms on the second floor.
As he reached the door, he heard the faint sound of singing.
A soft, hesitant hum.
Wayland didn't recognize the song, but the archaic English immediately led him to a guess: Gray.
He gave a short, polite knock on the door.
There was a muffled gasp of surprise.
The door flew open almost instantly.
"Professor..."
Gray stopped short when she saw Wayland. Realizing it wasn't Waver, she quickly lowered her head, her hood casting a shadow over her delicate features.
She was holding a small cloth, and the faint scent of shoe polish drifted into the air.
"Hello, Gray."
Wayland spoke softly, trying not to startle her. "The Professor asked me to come. You remember me, right? Wayland."
"I... I remember."
Gray gave a slight nod. She turned and sat on a small round stool by the door. "The Professor... he went out to retrieve some documents. He said that if you arrived, you should wait for a moment."
"I see. Thank you."
Wayland stepped inside and sat on the sofa in front of the coffee table.
Gray returned to her work.
Wayland drummed his fingers against his knee, feeling a bit lost on how to strike up a conversation.
In truth, he was curious to see the face that was identical to Artoria's, but he knew that was a sensitive subject for her.
The slightly oversized sleeve of her coat hid the sharp-tongued Mystic Code, Add, which was rumored to possess a simulated personality based on Sir Kay. It also served as a vessel for the seal on the Holy Spear, along with the seals of several other Knights of the Round Table.
"That song just now was very beautiful," Wayland said, trying to break the ice. "The melody sounds very ancient, even if I don't quite understand the lyrics."
"Oh? Thank you."
The girl fell silent again.
Wayland scratched his head. This was harder than he'd expected.
In his previous life, he'd been a hardcore shut-in. He was an expert at online banter and sarcasm, but when it came to real-life conversation, he was completely out of his depth.
"Is it a folksong from your home, Gray?"
"...It's a song I learned in my village. I'm not sure if it's truly from there, though."
"It sounds like Old English. Like something from the Heptarchy era of Britain."
Gray continued to polish the shoes, but her shoulders gave a slight, involuntary tremor.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]