'An elixir of life?'
Wayland's first thought was of the First Emperor, Qin Shi Huang. Had May Riddell actually made a pilgrimage to find him?
"Have you ever heard of Henry Jekyll?" Elena asked.
Wayland looked at her in surprise. Of course he knew the name. The character was the basis for The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
In the Type-Moon world, Jekyll was a formidable figure--a researcher who had succeeded in separating the evil from his own humanity, resulting in the birth of a second personality. He was a Berserker-class Servant in Fate/Prototype: Fragments of Sky Silver, though he appeared as an Assassin in the mobile game. Of course, after unleashing his Noble Phantasm, he would transform into the Berserker Hyde.
"According to the Department of Policies' records, May Riddell assisted Henry Jekyll in the creation of various elixirs several centuries ago," Elena explained. "Furthermore, despite her innocent idol persona, the magecraft she uses is actually a form of modern black magecraft--one of the most taboo subjects within the Botany Department."
Wayland didn't know what to say. To be able to practice black magecraft openly within the Clock Tower and remain unscathed was a testament to her power. She was likely in the same league as those who had successfully evaded Sealing Designations--individuals who stood at the absolute pinnacle of the magus world.
"Why were you so late getting here today?" Wayland asked, changing the subject.
"I got caught up in some business," Elena replied, pausing for a moment before adding, "It's fine to tell you, I suppose. We've discovered a site of ancient ruins in the Flannan Isles of Scotland."
Wayland caught his breath.
Ruins typically meant remnants of the Age of Gods. In other words, they were places where one could find powerful cursed objects, or even catalysts for Heroic Spirits.
"Is the Department of Policies responsible for ruins as well?"
"Normally, that would fall under the Bureau of Secret Remains," Elena said. "But these ruins are different. They were discovered by the mundane government. Our department had to pull quite a few strings--and spend a significant amount of money--just to secure the development rights."
"Then... can I go too?"
"You?" Elena let out a scoff. "With your current strength? You'd just be throwing your life away." But then, she stopped, her eyes widening as she sensed something. "Wait... you've reached the Rank of Count? You went from an ordinary human to the second rank in just twenty days? And you only have seven Magic Circuits? At your aptitude, it shouldn't have been possible to even reach the Rank of Frame for at least six months to a year."
"I don't know," Wayland said, scratching the back of his head. "I just... trained normally, I guess."
He certainly couldn't tell her about the system.
Elena glared at him, her small head tilted back in a show of blatant dissatisfaction. After a moment of thought, she spoke. "I'll ask the Captain. Whether you can go or not will be up to her."
"Thank you!"
Wayland let out a sigh of relief. Regardless of the outcome, it was at least a chance. If his luck held out and he managed to find something useful, his strength would skyrocket.
His Luck EX wasn't just for show, was it?
'It better not be.'
Wayland decided to place his trust in Irigal for once.
"Honored teachers, dear students! Welcome to our annual Freshmen Club Performance! First, let us offer another round of applause for Miss May Riddell's opening performance! And don't forget, she'll be opening again tomorrow night at this same time! Don't miss it!"
The lighting shifted, focusing on a young man in a bright red suit standing in the center of the stage. He was exuberant, his voice booming with passion.
He reminded Wayland of those high-energy "shouting" hosts from professional gaming tournaments in his past life.
Once the applause died down, the host held his microphone high and shouted, "And now, let us give a grand welcome to our esteemed Lords!"
The spotlights swiveled toward the VIP platform at the front of the stage.
"Lord Trambelio of General Fundamentals!"
"Lord Valualeta of Creation!"
"Lord Solonea of Individual Fundamentals!"
"Lord Gaisrey of Zoology!"
"..."
Wayland counted seven Lords in total.
The Lords stood at the absolute zenith of the Clock Tower. Their personalities varied wildly, and most of them preferred to remain in their own research labs rather than attend events like this. The ones present today were likely those who placed a higher value on public prestige or the development of the student body.
This was the first time Wayland had seen any Lord other than Waver Velvet.
After all, Waver was the only one who actually bothered to teach classes himself.
The other Lords were usually reclusive figures, appearing only on rare occasions or in the most classified of records. To see them in the flesh was a stroke of genuine fortune.
"A pity the Lord of the Department of Policies didn't show. I still haven't even seen our own big boss yet," Wayland muttered.
Elena shot him a sideways glance. 'Oh, you've seen her, alright.'
"You're in the department now," she said aloud. "I'm sure you'll see her eventually."
Wayland nodded and fell silent.
On stage, the host began to introduce the second act.
To Wayland's surprise, the next performance was a stage play: The Battle of Camlann.
'Is it just me, or have I been running into a lot of King Arthur legends lately?' Wayland wondered. 'Is it because I'm in Artoria's homeland?'
As the host stepped away, the stage echoed with the thunderous roar of drums. The dreamlike blue sapphire canopy of light shifted into a sea of flickering flames.
On the riverbank opposite the stage, a fleet of phantom ships appeared.
Artoria, the King of Knights, stood upon the deck of the lead ship, her Formless Air spear--Rhongomyniad--held firmly in her hand. Her expression was one of profound exhaustion as she stared across the water at the figure of Mordred waiting on the shore.
The battle began.
The set was so realistic that the audience was pulled into the tragedy of the moment, their applause continuing long after the scene had ended.
The acts that followed were varied--a fire dance where tongues of flame were manipulated into a graceful ballet against the night sky, and then several more traditional magical demonstrations.
By the time the Oriental Culture Research Cabal took the stage as the sixteenth act, the crowd's anticipation was at a fever pitch. But the performance they delivered was something entirely unexpected.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]