The rain stopped.
Droplets clung to the flowers and grass on both sides of the road.
Somewhere in a tavern in Camelot, Artoria pushed open a window.
She held her cheeks and looked out at the streets freshly washed by the rain.
"This rain really lasted a long time..."
Just like Artoria said, yesterday she took advantage of the thunder to properly "scold" Ian, and not long after, the rain began to pour—lasting all the way into the next day.
"Yeah."
"It really was long."
"…"
Artoria turned around and looked at the boy sitting on the bed.
Yesterday, surprisingly, he hadn't made any moves when they were alone together.
But rather than feel relieved, it made Artoria a bit worried.
"What's wrong?"
"You've been like this since yesterday."
"Are you feeling unwell?"
Artoria sat down next to Ian.
"If so..."
"Maybe you should see a doctor?"
"Is this what they call concern?" Ian suddenly said.
"Artoria, are you worried about me?"
"…"
The closeness made her cheeks flush slightly.
But she nodded.
"Yeah!"
"I'm worried something might be wrong with you."
"You said we're friends, right?"
"As friends... it's our duty to care!"
"…"
"…"
The atmosphere grew quiet.
Artoria didn't think she'd said anything wrong, but also didn't know how to break the silence.
"I heard my mother crying."
Ian suddenly spoke.
"She... seemed like she was crying."
"Should I not have left her?"
"Eh?"
When the thunder started yesterday, Artoria remembered hearing Ian mention something similar.
She thought it was just a passing feeling—but clearly, it wasn't.
After thinking it over for a while, Artoria took Ian's hand.
"That's not true."
"Even setting aside whether that was really her crying..."
"You said you wanted to see the world, didn't you?"
"That means you can't stay by her side forever."
"I don't know what kind of being your mother is, but—"
"If she really loves you, she'd understand your decision."
"Yeah! She definitely would!"
Artoria spoke seriously, but then noticed something was off.
Ian was staring at her.
"What... are you doing?"
"I do have boundaries!" she said, quickly covering her chest with both hands.
"You smell so good—"
Ian hugged Artoria.
"Every time I talk to you, I get this stronger urge to devour you."
"You..."
"Wait..."
"This..."
Artoria had no idea how to respond.
If it were anyone else saying something like that, she would've slapped them.
But with him, it felt... strangely different. Hard to describe.
Also—
All this talk about eating...
They've kind of already done that plenty...
"Can we save that for later?"
Artoria turned her face away and said cautiously.
"Today, I want to go see that sword."
"..."
"Alright." Ian nodded.
"Eh?"
His quick agreement caught Artoria off guard.
But then she thought—
Maybe it wasn't so surprising.
After all, he's always paid attention to her.
"Okay, let's go!"
---
About ten minutes later, at the Camelot plaza—
"Um—"
"So many people."
Artoria stopped when she saw the crowd of knights surrounding the Sword of Selection.
Clearly, she wasn't the only one with thoughts about the British throne.
After all, the idea of becoming king just by pulling out a sword was incredibly tempting.
Naturally, one failure followed another.
The joy they had going up quickly turned into disappointment coming down.
It dampened Artoria's mood a bit.
"You're different from them."
"Huh?"
Artoria looked at Ian beside her.
"Different?"
"Yeah." He nodded.
"They all smell really faint."
"But you smell wonderful, Artoria."
"That's why you're different."
"That..."
A strange warmth filled Artoria's chest.
But she quickly shook her head.
"There's nothing different."
"We're all..."
"Britons."
"But, thanks, Ian."
"You..."
Her face turned slightly red.
"Your scent... is really nice to me too."
"…"
Ian stared at Artoria until their noses were practically touching.
"Then—"
"Then I..."
"Then will you devour me?"
"…"
"Who wants to eat you?!" Artoria pouted.
Still, remembering this was just Ian's usual way of talking, she sighed helplessly.
Looking at the packed crowd around the sword, she started to feel like maybe this wasn't the best timing.
"So many people."
"Maybe we should come back tomorrow."
"That won't do."
"If your wish is to become king, then even one day matters—you have to fight for it."
"…"
Artoria sensed something wasn't quite right.
It seemed a little too late already.
Ian suddenly grabbed Artoria's hand and strode forward boldly.
"Make way!" he called out to the knights ahead.
Of course, no one would normally obey such a demand.
But when the knight he addressed turned around, all he saw was a pair of blood-red eyes.
No further explanation was needed. Just that terrifying gaze alone seemed to say:
"Die or move. Pick one."
Naturally, the answer was obvious.
"P-please, go ahead..." the knight stammered, stepping aside.
Ian pulled Artoria through the crowd without hesitation.
Artoria, thoroughly embarrassed, could only offer an apology on the way through:
"Sorry, Ian's not very... socially aware. Really sorry!"
The dragon's intimidation worked perfectly.
From the outer edge of the plaza, Artoria made it to the front in just a few minutes.
The golden sword planted in the stone gleamed in the sunlight, washed clean by the earlier rain.
Dreams and reality overlapped in that moment.
Artoria gathered her courage.
No more hesitation.
She reached out to the sword.
She could feel it—some deep, undeniable connection between them.
The blade... it was moving.
But then—
Zzt—
Zzt—
The moment she touched the sword, a flash of sinister black light flared and vanished.
Something was wrong.
Something was resisting.
Something was pulling the sword back.