The night sky, heavy with clouds and steady drizzle, suddenly lit up as bright as day. Lancelot, leading the Enforcement Knights at the main gate, was caught off guard.
He thought the Lion King had unleashed Rhongomyniad to destroy the mountain people's territory.
If that were true, it would be a serious misstep. Though the fortress was under siege, he believed the Lion King's forces could easily overrun the mountain village given enough time.
But that thought only lasted a moment.
As the falling Holy Lance became clearer, growing in size and detail, Lancelot realized—it wasn't the Lion King's spear at all.
No way it would target the Round Table Fortress hidden in the mountains, where three Knights of the Round Table still stood guard.
"...There's... a second Holy Lance?"
Both sides ceased fighting at once. Covered in wounds and grime, Lancelot muttered to himself in disbelief.
Scáthach took a step back, glanced at the sky, and said,
"Oh? They've used the Holy Lance. Looks like things on that side went perfectly. Then, best of luck surviving, Knights of the Round Table."
With those words, she vanished into the night. Only then did Lancelot realize the mountain warriors she led had long since withdrawn.
She had stayed behind only to delay them a bit longer.
Scáthach ran effortlessly along the winding mountain paths, putting distance between herself and the Round Table Fortress.
The spear would strike in less than a minute. Its impact would devastate the fortress and everything within several kilometers. Even the mountain village might be caught in the shockwave.
But thanks to the fortress and barrier Morgan had built, only a harmless tremor would reach them.
Reaching a safe distance, Scáthach stopped along a rugged mountain trail.
It was her first time witnessing a strike of such magnitude from an ally. She couldn't help but pause and take in the moment.
"A truly fearsome Magecraft, Morgan." She brushed back her rain-soaked hair and let out a satisfied sigh.
"Master?"
A voice rang out behind her—familiar, yet slightly unfamiliar.
She turned, surprised.
Tenkei Shiomi stood there on the rocky trail, cloaked in white, his robe splattered with blood.
But it wasn't his own—just blood that had splashed onto him.
After calling out "Master," Shiomi jumped down from the cliffside, landing beside Scáthach.
"Looks like you made it out safely too, Master. Morgan's 'Tower' must've kept them too occupied to chase—mmgh?!"
Before he could finish his greeting, Scáthach took his lips with her own.
There was no mistaking it—it was completely one-sided, as if taken from him.
Shiomi was always the one to initiate, always the one to kiss his master. He knew she was his woman—but even more so, he knew she was still his master.
A master has her pride—he couldn't let her feel cornered.
Normally, he was the one to initiate, gentle and careful in every kiss. But this time, it was she who suddenly leaned in with an "ah—" and fiercely claimed his lips and tongue.
She cradled his face, the silk-like texture of her gloves brushing down his cheeks, then slid to his neck and around the back, pulling Shiomi close with a firm yet tender embrace.
When you kiss someone you love, your eyes close instinctively. Shiomi did the same—but the growing light in the sky nagged at his senses.
After all, they had just escaped the battlefield, and this place was merely a quieter version of it, still soaked in the scent of iron and blood.
But her kiss was so earnest, so full of feeling—and just awkward enough in its uncharacteristic boldness—that it stirred a deep tenderness in his heart.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.
With his eyes shut, only the golden light—so bright it turned night to day—filtered in through the slits of his lashes. He turned naturally, shielding Scáthach's body with his own from the oncoming shockwave.
But the next moment, another light—just as radiant—rose slowly from the Round Table Fortress.
Scáthach broke the kiss, stepped back slightly, and looked over his shoulder.
Shiomi glanced back as well.
The second light was unmistakable: the Lion King's Rhongomyniad.
They either burned alongside the Round Table Fortress, or they stood and faced it.
"In any case, this place is done for. Once the nail is pulled, the Lion King will have no choice but to fall back to Camelot," Shiomi said quietly, turning to look at his master.
He was now almost certain—Morgan's plan had three parts from the very beginning. Scáthach would lead a feint at the front gate. The others would use the opportunity to break into the prison and rescue their comrades. And once the evacuation was complete, they would destroy the fortress with the Holy Lance.
"Even so, Camelot's advantage hasn't changed…" Scáthach murmured, burying her face in his shoulder.
"Yeah. If we don't stop the Lion King, once Rhongomyniad activates, this Singularity will become the end of the world."
"But we still have time. Once we're ready, we'll launch our attack on the Holy City."
Whether it was Morgan's Magecraft or the Lion King's Noble Phantasm, both were merely shadows of Rhongomyniad. The true Tower of the End stood in Camelot. Attacking it—and shutting down its function—was the real objective.
"In any case, having you back on the front lines now is the best news I could hope for," Scáthach said, holding him tightly, no longer hiding her longing.
"But to think I'd catch my master stopping mid-retreat just to enjoy the view…" Shiomi said teasingly. "What if an enemy had come from behind?"
"No one can get that close—except you."
She traced his back with her hand. His warmth, his scent—it made her dizzy.
If she had to describe it…
No. Even metaphors escaped her now.
Shiomi lifted her easily, letting her cling to him like a koala, and quickly slipped into a narrow natural hollow along the mountain path, just wide enough to keep out the rain.
Whether it was the fortress collapsing or Rhongomyniad's shockwaves, none of that mattered at the moment.
They should have been rushing to regroup with the others. Instead, they spent precious time here.
...Then again, maybe it wasn't wasted time after all.
"I give up… I misjudged this…" Scáthach muttered, slightly flustered as she tried to pull away. "We need to catch up with the others…"
"The battlefield's chaos. A little early, a little late—what's the difference?" Shiomi pressed her gently against the rock wall. It didn't hurt.
He'd used Magecraft to create a physical barrier beneath them.
Realizing he'd used a powerful defensive spell for something like this, Scáthach understood—things were no longer up to her.
Of course, if she really wanted to stop this, she only had to push him away and say the word.
But in the end, she didn't.
"The way you smell… it's so familiar."
She didn't want to stop either.
"The way you smell… it's so familiar…"
"…Mm…"
Scáthach clung tightly to Shiomi. She thought she'd grown used to separation.
But after so many days without seeing her beloved disciple, the absence had gnawed at her like something missing from her soul.
Now, that emptiness was whole again.
And from there… things quickly spiraled into chaos.