Even though the day had been spent in a dream, the sense of exhaustion was inevitable. I lay down on my bed and fell into a deep sleep, unable to fight the fatigue any longer.
September 22nd.
Monday.
Wayland blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling for a moment before checking his system records.
It felt... strange.
The percentage display for Shadow Realm Spearmanship was gone. It had been replaced by a new designation under his "Fixed Skills."
[Fixed Skill: Shadow Realm Spearmanship C+. An esoteric martial style passed down from the Queen of the Land of Shadows, Scathach.]
'Fixed Skill?'
'Does that mean if I died tomorrow, I could potentially become a Heroic Spirit and trick someone into spending money to pull me from a gacha?'
The thought made Wayland shake his head in amusement.
'No chance. Even if I died right here and now, I'm not giving that mushroom-man another cent.'
Wayland got out of bed and skipped breakfast. He grabbed a quick piece of bread from a street stall and hurried to Druid Street to request leave from Waver. Once that was taken care of, he rushed to the Department of Policies building.
He saw Elena waving to him from a distance.
She was standing at the entrance to the teaching offices alongside a young man.
As Wayland approached, she tossed something pink toward him.
A pilot's helmet--complete with integrated headphones, a microphone, a visor, reflective strips, and a sturdy, bubble-gum pink shell.
Wayland had only ever seen these things on television.
"Was there no other color?"
Wayland looked at Elena, then at the young man, who was wearing a somewhat strained smile.
He was also holding a pink helmet.
"What? You got a problem with pink?"
Elena stood with her hands on her hips, her helmet tucked under one arm. Her expression was set, her small fangs glinting in the morning light.
Wayland's expression immediately shifted to match the other young man's.
"Hello, Wayland. I'm Max Feldman, from the Mineralogy Department. I'm number six in the team. My code-name is 'Secretary'."
'Number six? That's Virgo.' Wayland recalled the Babylonian Zodiac from the archive. 'But wasn't the traditional name for the sixth house in those times "Servant"?'
'Tough break, brother.'
Wayland felt a surge of sympathy as he reached out to shake Max's hand in a friendly greeting.
"Are we the only three going?"
"The Clock Tower needs to keep some people behind for security," Elena explained. "Three other members arrived at the Flannan Isles yesterday. Besides, scouting ruins isn't a task where 'more is better.' The dangers are entirely unknown, and if we weren't careful, the entire department could take a massive hit."
'Hey, hey, hey! How many times have I told you not to throw out death flags before we even leave?'
Wayland followed Elena and Max to a small landing pad near the Department of Policies building.
At the center of a massive concrete "H" stood a helicopter that was painted entirely in--you guessed it--vibrant pink.
Wayland strapped on his pink helmet, and in the reflection of the helicopter's hull, he felt as though he had been transformed into some kind of bizarre plastic action figure.
Max patted him on the shoulder. "Buckle up, junior."
He climbed into the pilot's seat and donned his own pink helmet.
Wayland looked at Elena, who was sitting in the back in her pink dress.
'Just how much do you actually love this color?'
'Then again... I suppose every girl wants to be a princess, right?'
The helicopter's three-bladed rotor began to spin.
Wayland felt the frame vibrate as they lifted off, the roar of the wind filling his ears.
Two hours later, the helicopter touched down.
"We're at the Port of Edinburgh," Elena explained as she stepped out. "We'll cross the Firth of Forth into the North Sea, shadow the coastline through the Pentland Firth into the North Atlantic, and finally arrive at the Flannan Isles."
As she spoke, she set her helmet on her seat. "Leave yours there too. Someone will be along shortly to take care of it. We're heading straight to the docks to catch our boat."
Wayland nodded.
The three of them walked for several minutes before arriving at a large, triple-decked yacht.
"This is our department's vessel," Elena said casually as she stepped on board.
Wayland paused for a moment. 'Is it really true that "Having money means you can do whatever you want"?'
He walked toward the bridge and saw Max and Elena already at the controls.
"You two both know how to pilot a boat?"
"I've been doing it since I was a child," Elena replied, her focus on the instruments.
'What kind of family lets their children pilot yachts for fun?'
'I am literally standing in front of a pint-sized billionaire.'
'Should I try to get on her good side? Or rather... should I try to become her personal subordinate?'
Wayland stood lost in thought as the yacht began to pull away from the dock.
The Flannan Isles were a cluster of uninhabited islands located off the west coast of Scotland, out in the Outer Hebrides.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]