Ever since Novia brought Typhon back from Novia, Lady Manaka Sajo had endured what felt like five endless days.
How should one put it? When it came to two dragons and a human sharing the same nights, that sort of thing would naturally happen—as inevitable as nightfall itself.
But for the Princess of the Root, a few sleepless nights were only a minor inconvenience. After all, back in her most decadent days, she once played video games for nearly half a month straight without rest. Compared to that, this was… well, tolerable. Barely.
Even without hearing anything directly, her imagination filled the silence. The more she thought about it, the more unbearable it became—so she would roll over, and imagine again.
On the sixth day, Manaka awoke from a dreamless, untroubled slumber on the living room sofa.
The room was shrouded in darkness. The world outside still slept. Silence pressed in from every corner.
She opened her eyes into the dark and lay there quietly. Rested, satisfied, her heart was calm—or so she tried to tell herself.
And this, she decided, was the time she had set for herself to rise and prepare breakfast.
The blonde girl glanced around, rose gently, and stepped down onto the floor. She carefully unlatched the window. A heavy fog and damp, chilling air drifted in, brushing against her face, slipping through the room.
The sun had yet to rise. From the seventh floor window, the garden trees, the neighbor's rooftop, distant poles and treelines were veiled in mist, softened under a faint, inexplicable glow.
Then suddenly—she thought she heard it. A sound. A breath.
Startled, the girl shut the window at once.
Holding her breath, she waited. Then it came again. Louder this time. Pausing. Resuming. The voice was full of pleasure, the kind that spoke of indulgence in something utterly blissful.
The mere sound was enough for her imagination to paint the scene. With each gasp, she leaned closer, listening intently. Before she realized it, she was pressed against Novia's door, eavesdropping for quite some time.
Her pale fingertips hovered dangerously close, trembling with an excitement she could not suppress.
Though she looked like a maiden outwardly, Manaka Sajo was already in her forties. And this—this was a blade of sound and expression that pierced her heart deeper than any steel hammer swung with battlefield might, deeper than any dragon's claw or fang tearing heaven asunder.
It was unbearable! Did Novia truly think her a pure and innocent girl, oblivious to what went on behind that door? It was obvious—they had done everything.
"Hmph. Damn dragonkin… insatiable things, rutting all night as if it weren't enough already. Because of them, even I can hardly stand it anymore… Too arrogant. Far too arrogant. I swear, one day I'll—"
From her fingertip, something forbidden dripped. Her eyes glazed with fascination, lips whispering half-coherent curses, voice trembling like one slipping into delirium. Yet her posture, fragile and still, was as graceful as a stream of clear water.
Even in these days when all she could do was listen, suffering in silence, she convinced herself: this was the price she would pay for future victory. A trial she could endure by obeying her heart.
And when the long-awaited release finally arrived—like a bud blessed with rainfall—this dawn would be remembered as one of the most blissful moments in her life.
"Haaah…"
Her face flushed, she let out a sigh. She cursed Melusine and Typhon in her heart for being so relentlessly vigorous every night, then drank a glass of warm water to soothe the tingling in her body. She was about to head for her usual bath before breakfast—
—when the door to Novia's room opened.
The silver-haired young man, dressed neatly, stepped out.
"Ah—I, um—good-good morning, Novia…"
Caught like a thief, Manaka quickly hid her hands behind her back, terrified he might realize what she had just done.
Taking advantage of the moment, she peeked past him through the half-open door. The scene inside was exactly as she had imagined. The only difference was… her absence.
"Good morning, Manaka. Were you just about to make breakfast?"
Novia looked at her flustered expression. Then, sensing something wet upon the wooden floorboards beneath his feet, he instantly understood.
He knew Manaka liked him. That much had long been obvious between them.
It wasn't that he deliberately ignored her feelings—far from it. But in recent days, she had kept to her routines so meticulously: cooking, cleaning, and retreating obediently to her room at set times. She left him with no real chance to speak of it.
"A-ah, n-no, I was just going to take a bath first…" Forcing her voice calm, Manaka smiled brilliantly—like a flower in full bloom. "By the way, Novia, you're up so early today… is there something you need to do?"
"Yes. I'm going to America. To take part in the Holy Grail War."
His reason was not to claim the Grail. After all, whether the FSF Grail or any other subspecies Grail, none compared to the one in Fuyuki—save perhaps the Fate/Extra system.
No, his goal was simply to participate. To display his power in the Grail War so that Eltrouge could find him. And if possible… to summon Nero once more.
He had even asked Sion and Melusine for news of Nero. But aside from aiding Sion in returning Albion to the Inner Sea of Stars, and fulfilling the instructions he had left behind, Nero had left no trace.
"…The one in America?"
Manaka frowned slightly, as if troubled.
Her reaction didn't surprise him. In the FSF timeline, after all, she had gone so far as to call her younger sister Ayaka to Romania to keep her away from danger.
In this upcoming war, Novia believed only two enemies might pose real trouble: AE Gilgamesh and Heavenly Bull Sea.
AE Gilgamesh—a man who pursued humanity's ascension at any cost, stripped of divinity, never meeting Enkidu, alone in a world where he bid farewell to the gods. Lacking Ea, lacking the Chains of Heaven, yet wielding the genius of Uruk's treasury. A terrifying foe.
His Master, Tiné, had even dosed him with half a vial of rejuvenation elixir, restoring him to youthful form.
And then there was Heavenly Bull Sea—a usurper of divine winds, a would-be avenger of the Greek gods. A "Typhon" reborn.
In FSF, the Amazon Queen Hippolyta herself had declared both of them capable of matching Zeus.
Add to that Count Kaber's resource-forged Berserker, Dietrich Alter—whose mana output rivaled that of a Machine God—and it gave the impression that in the Nasuverse, Zeus and the Machine Gods were measured on the same scale of power.
"It's dangerous there—"
"I'm going to find someone."
Her words were cut short by Novia's blunt reply.
Even that much stung her. She knew it. She was jealous. After all her efforts, she had received nothing in return. It was infuriating.
Days of pent-up frustration suddenly burst. Manaka pounced on him.
Golden hair brushed against the silver-haired youth's neck and shoulder. Her long lashes lifted; her eyes shone brilliantly.
From the very start, her gaze had never wavered—deep, tender, radiant with beauty and overflowing with love.
"Novia… I want to…"
Her soft lips brushed his ear. Her voice, clear as crystal, whispered words fragrant as roses—sweet, intoxicating.
"I want to go with you too—ah!"
No sooner had she spoken than she realized what she had just confessed. Flushed crimson, she sprang upright and bolted toward the bathroom without so much as looking at his reaction.
Perhaps because she had suddenly noticed the wetness on her left hand… and the droplets trailing from her skirt onto his chest when she had thrown herself into his arms.
---
Far to the East, in a certain city.
In a room dimly lit, its walls hung with dried flowers, handwoven charms, and trinkets.
Had Novia been there, he would have recognized the dried bouquets—once gifts he had given to Eltrouge before his journey to Millennium Castle. Preserved carefully for a thousand years, they still carried a faint sweet fragrance. Proof of the devotion spent upon them.
"You're saying… you saw him?"
"Yes. Very much like him."
The White Knight, Brad, nodded. After returning from Alcatraz's seventh labyrinth, he had rushed to report this to his liege.
"This… cough, cough…"
"Princess…"
The knight moved to comfort Eltrouge, whose health had declined since that day. But the black-haired maiden, paler even than a thousand years before, waved him off.
"It's fine. I'm used to it. A Holy Grail War, you say? The closest one is… where, Brad?"
As the Black Princess, the Queen of Blood and Contract, forcing Avia's body into a Dead Apostle form had left her irreparably damaged. It was why she often slumbered for decades, even centuries at a time.
"In America, my Lady… Do you intend to go?"
"Yes. I want to see… whether it truly is him."
The girl pushed open a magnificent door and whispered:
"If it isn't—if it's only a thing that dares wear my beloved's face—cough, cough… I'll make sure it suffers a fate worse than death."
To Eltrouge, anyone who defiled even the memory of Avia was her mortal enemy.
For he was the one she loved—and would love—until the end of her life.