After the "torturous" training imposed by Morgan, when Arthur finally returned, his pupils had completely lost their usual sparkle. The young man walked almost mechanically, as if every step demanded a tremendous effort. His body still obeyed him, but his mind had long since gone beyond its limit.
Back in Dun Scaith, he barely had the strength to close the door to his room. The moment he entered, he let himself fall onto the soft bed, sinking into the mattress as if he had been deprived of rest for days on end. The touch of the sheets alone was enough to draw a deep, heavy sigh from his lips.
[A/N: Dun Scaith is Scáthach's castle]
Improving one's use of magic was never a simple process, and practicing an ability as profound as foresight demanded an even greater price. Arthur always ended every magical training session completely exhausted, his body heavy and his mind throbbing, but today had been, without a doubt, the worst of all.
This had been the first time he practiced the skill of prophecy. Unlike simple spells or runic magic, prophecy required his consciousness to expand, brushing against the subtle threads of fate. Repeated use of this ability drained an absurd amount of his magical power, leaving him on the brink of collapse.
And that wasn't even counting the rest.
His physical strength had already been completely wrung dry by Scáthach earlier. After that, Morgan had taken control, mercilessly extracting every last bit of mental and magical energy he still had, without showing the slightest hint of mercy.
It could be said, without exaggeration, that Arthur had reached his absolute limit that day.
Even so, not everything had been suffering.
Arthur had managed to use prophecy successfully. Although he was still very far from truly seeing the future, the level he had reached was already enough to predict imminent dangers during ordinary combat—something extremely valuable for any warrior.
This achievement left Morgan silent for a long time.
She had long been aware of Arthur's absurd capacity for learning. Even so, she had never imagined that he could grasp such an advanced power in only half an hour of actual practice. Even more surprising was realizing that her prediction had been wrong: it wasn't three seconds of anticipation.
Arthur was able to foresee all the dangers he would face up to four seconds in advance.
Four seconds were an eternity in a deadly battle.
Arthur lay sprawled on the wide bed, breathing slowly and heavily. His eyes gradually grew hazy until exhaustion finally claimed him completely. A maid approached silently, carefully covering him with the quilt and adjusting it so he would be comfortable.
Without making a sound, she left the room.
Arthur vaguely heard a girl's voice, as if coming from very far away, but he was far too tired to react. His consciousness sank into a deep sleep, heavy as a bottomless abyss.
"Lady Nessa." The maid made a small bow when she encountered the purple-haired young woman standing at the doorway.
"What's wrong with my brother?" Nessa asked softly, turning her gaze toward Arthur. "Why is he so tired?"
Her tone was gentle and careful, afraid of waking him.
Nessa was Scáthach's adopted daughter, taken in by her many years ago. If Cú Chulainn was Scáthach's most powerful disciple, then Nessa was undoubtedly the most beloved—or perhaps it would be more accurate to call her a daughter.
She looked to be about seventeen years old. She wore a beautiful dress that left her legs exposed, simple yet elegant. Her long purple hair fell freely over her shoulders, and her eyes, the same deep violet hue, were clear and lively, drawing the attention of anyone who met her gaze.
"It's probably because of the training with Lady Scáthach…" the maid replied, stopping short before finishing her sentence.
But Nessa understood perfectly.
She frowned slightly.
"Mother really shouldn't do that…" she murmured. "She always goes overboard with his training."
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Nessa reached out and gently smoothed Arthur's soft hair. Her gaze was filled with tenderness and concern. After a few seconds, she turned to the maid and whispered:
"You may leave now. I'll take care of him."
"Yes." The maid bowed once more and left the room silently.
—xXx—
In the deep darkness of the night, wolves' howls echoed through the forest, mixed with the threatening roars of various monstrous creatures. Among the lush trees, a man wielding a long spear ran at full speed, dodging roots, branches, and obstacles with absurd skill.
Behind him, a chaotic horde of wild beasts and monsters pursued him, roaring furiously. Their eyes shone with hatred and greed, enraged by the fact that this human had dared to steal their treasure.
Cú Chulainn, hero of Celtic mythology, the Child of Light of Ireland, ran as if the forest itself were his hunting ground.
"Oh, heavens… they really are persistent," he commented, glancing back with a mocking smile on his lips.
Anyone who witnessed that scene would be frozen in terror. Those were no ordinary animals, but true monsters, capable of tearing an entire army to shreds.
Without a doubt, if he were caught, Cú Chulainn would be brutally ripped apart and devoured alive, in indescribable pain.
But he only laughed.
His gaze shifted to the object in his hand—something that looked exactly like an ancient skull.
"Definitely…" he murmured, satisfied. "This trip was more than worth it."
He accelerated even more. With a powerful leap, he propelled himself to the top of a large tree. In the next instant, he launched himself back into the air, landing firmly on another tree ahead.
In just a few agile movements, he left the forest behind, while the beasts and monsters remained there, roaring in frustration, unable to reach him.
[Cu Chulainn - Fate/Prototype]
---xXx---
Arthur slept on the soft bed for an immeasurable amount of time. His body, finally free from the rigors of training, seemed to sink into a state of absolute rest. When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was the deep silence around him. The second was the gentle moonlight filtering through the window.
Night had fully fallen over Dun Scaith.
"How long did I sleep…?" he murmured, slowly sitting up. He rubbed his forehead, still a little dazed. "It feels like I slept all day…"
His voice echoed faintly through the wide, silent room of the palace, as if even the walls respected his fatigue.
"Probably an hour and a half," a female voice replied beside him, with a faint note of dissatisfaction. "And honestly, I'm still going to talk to Mother about this."
Arthur blinked a few times, trying to focus.
"She knows you're not physically strong," the girl continued. "But she still insists on training you like that. It's not fair."
"Nessa…?" Arthur finally came out of his haze and turned his head.
Sitting on the edge of the bed was Nessa, her legs crossed in a relaxed manner, watching him closely. To many, she was practically the princess of the Land of Shadows. Scáthach's adopted daughter, raised in that place long before Arthur's arrival, Nessa carried a presence that blended natural elegance with quiet authority.
"I was planning to come visit you," she said, stretching and raising her arms above her head. "But I didn't expect you to be so exhausted that you'd pass out the moment you touched the bed."
She tilted her head, studying him.
"Do you want to sleep a little more?"
"There's no need…" Arthur replied, shaking his head. "Besides, Master only wants me to be strong enough to protect myself. That's why she trains me like this. It has nothing to do with cruelty."
Nessa puffed out her cheeks slightly, clearly unhappy with the answer. Without warning, she reached out and gently pinched his cheek.
"Arthur… did you forget what I told you before?"
"I remember," he replied, nodding. "You said you'd protect me."
"Exactly." She stared at him with a hint of displeasure. "So why are you training so hard? Don't you believe me? As long as I'm here, I can protect you. For sure."
Arthur remained silent for a moment.
"But…" he said at last, looking at her. "I also want to have the ability to protect you."
The room fell silent.
For a few seconds, Nessa simply stared at him, surprised.
Then a gentle smile appeared on her lips.
"I liked your answer."
She reached out and lightly patted Arthur's head.
"You're really very good," she said sincerely. "But it's okay if you don't push yourself so hard all the time. You need to relax every now and then, you know?"
Without giving him time to respond, Nessa lay down on the soft bed and hugged Arthur's arm, settling in as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Arthur felt the soft contact of her body against his arm and, on reflex, tried to pull away. However, her grip was far too firm.
He couldn't move.
"Don't move!" Nessa said in an imperative tone.
Arthur shuddered.
That tone… it's very similar to the Master's condescending, authoritative tone…
"Nessa… maybe it's not a good idea if the Master sees this…" was all he managed to say.
She just laughed.
"It's fine. Didn't we sleep together when we were little? We even bathed together. Why are you so worried now?"
"And it was precisely because of that bath that I got scolded, followed by a training session (torture) from the Master that day…" Arthur replied with a resigned sigh.
"Anyway, it's fine," Nessa said with a calm smile. "Mother is talking with Cú Chulainn in the hall. She definitely won't come up here."
"Cú Chulainn came to the Land of Shadows?" Arthur's eyes widened slightly. "Didn't he already complete his training?"
"Who knows?" she replied with a shrug. "I have no idea what he's doing here either. But don't worry about him. Just rest a bit."
She affectionately ruffled Arthur's hair and smiled.
"Go on, sleep."
"I just woke up… how am I supposed to fall asleep again…?" Arthur murmured, looking at Nessa, who was definitely not behaving like an older sister should.
After all, he was still a young man in the prime of his youth. It would be far too strange to simply fall asleep with her clinging to him like that.
"Nessa… let's go to the hall and take a look."
"No. Go by yourself!" She released his arm and huffed arrogantly. "I don't want to see that man. The way he talks is far too annoying."
She crossed her arms.
"And let me be very clear: if you leave now, I won't talk to you anymore."
Arthur was just about to get up when he heard that. He stopped mid-motion, suddenly feeling awkward, unsure whether he should go or stay.
Nessa watched his reaction and let out a little giggle.
"Just kidding. I'm not that petty." She smiled. "It looks like that jerk came specifically to see you. Go to the hall and take a look. I'll wait for you here."
"All right…" Arthur let out a sigh of relief. "I'll go take a look."
He left the room, closing the door behind him.
As soon as Arthur disappeared down the corridor, Nessa turned over and lay down exactly where he had been sleeping. She hugged the blanket tightly and rubbed her face against it.
"Hm…" she murmured, satisfied. "It smells like you, Arthur~."
Thump!
"Ow! That hurts!"
After tossing and turning several times on the bed, Nessa ended up hitting her head on the side rail. She brought her hands to her forehead, complaining softly as she writhed in pain.
---
(End of Chapter)
[Nessa]